Who decides what kind of body type you get? All my life I've been pretending like I'm one of those girls who can eat whatever she wants and still be fit, though I've never been and never will be. The math isn't as simple as they make it out to be. Even when I ate what I wanted, I never ate as much as I was fat.
All of these ideas rush through my head as I begin "solid" foods this week -- moving on from an all-liquid diet to soft or pureed foods. No one looking at me would know that I'm ingesting probably a max of 200 calories a day -- but slowly and surely, it is taking its effect.
When I went to the doctor this past Monday, I had lost nearly 17 pounds. In 7 days. It is a bit mind-boggling, but what's funny is that it has no longer become my ultimate focus. At this same doctor's appointment, I got flushed, sweaty, and nearly passed out.
As I lay on an examination table in an adjoining room, in front of the air conditioner and limp against the papered table, tears rolled down my face. I was filled with doubt -- who ever said that this was going to be so hard?
The traditional ideals of "hard" when one thinks of this surgery have to do with the food restriction. Yesterday, I ate 3 tbs of cottage cheese, a quarter of a cup of turkey ragu and 2 oz of cod ... for the whole day. But I didn't feel hungry, or deprived, or starved. In fact, it felt like a lot of food.
What's more difficult is the increasing distance from myself. I have always been a hearty, robust, girl. Never weak, rarely sick, always independent.
Looking at this girl now -- crying, dizzy, barely able to make it through a class for 1.5 hours -- I can't imagine what went wrong. The automatic assumption is that something DID go wrong - but no, my surgery went fine, and apparently, my symptoms are "normal." I have to make sure to get out a little bit every day, work my muscles, and avoid Hibernation Syndrome. But however normal these feelings are, they are still so difficult to combat when you've got stuff to do! I'm trying to finish my thesis, get my other homework finished, make sure I'm getting enough ounces in everyday, writing everything down, getting out of bed -- god, it's fucking EXHAUSTING.
Add in some discomfort and constipation, and it feels like a clusterfuck. I spent at least four hours on the toilet yesterday, and when I finally succeeded, after much screaming and pain, I had this feeling like I'd been given a preview of childbirth.
There is also this feeling like, despite having read tons of literature ahead of time, there are certain things I feel like should have been outlined more clearly. Constipation and coagulated blood down there, for one. But really, telling people that they "might be depressed" after surgery does not encompass the PERVASIVE NATURE of hibernation. Everything is not roses, or puppies, or sunshine.
It is cottage cheese, and reflux, and straining, and sweatiness, and discomfort. I'm only hoping it will get better, or that the amassed weightloss at week 2 or 3 or 4 will feel like a balance to my stress and pain.
But until then, more sleep, as I creep forward, slowly, slowly.
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