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Apr
18

The Final Countdown

Yes, I just referenced an ’80s hair band. 😛

Pardon my weird humor, it’s this damn liver diet making me loopy. Yes folks, I’m less than a week away from surgery and it ain’t pretty. As soon as I adjusted to my two shakes/two proteins/one lean and green meal regimen, it was time to switch gears again. To five (count ’em), FIVE shakes a day. Plus 64 oz of water. And that’s it. Thursday was my last bite of solid food for almost three weeks (including my post-op full liquid diet after I get home). It happened to fall on the day I had a professional nursing meeting at Ruth’s Chris, of all places. I ordered with Steve in mind, allowed myself a few delectable bites of filet mignon, and ignored my tummy’s angry howling for the rest of the meeting. The hubby and the dogs were happy at least.

I’m in hell and the only consolation is that it will all be over soon. That and I’m 15 pounds lighter (and down a pant size) from my highest weight last month. So it’s not all bad. 😉 But I don’t recommend this part of the process as a weight loss strategy. It’s wholly unpleasant.

I’m not going to say that the shakes were the worst part of this experience because I haven’t had to recover yet. But I’m not a fan. I’m foggy and exhausted and irritable all.the.time. Writing end-of-semester papers is an exercise in sheer willpower. I think the dogs are trying to hide from me. And Steve, wonderful, steadfast, loving Steve continues to take care of me because, well, he’s the best. Thank God for him.

As far as how I feel about this huge step, I have my moments of wondering what the hell I’m doing, but I know it’s the right decision. But my anxiety seems to be taking the subconscious route and last night I started having some CRAZY dreams, to the point that I woke up at 3 am and was afraid to go back to sleep. I have a prescription for benzos to get me through the night before surgery, and I’m thinking I might need to start those a few days early. Nurse Teeny needs her sleep, preferably not riddled with nightmares about my surgeon having a crisis of confidence and begging me not to go through with this. Yikes, huh?

More than anything, I just want to do this thing. Enough waiting, enough shakes (blech), enough worrying. Just get me on that table so I can keep moving forward…

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