15 days post-op

I'm grateful for where I am today.

I've made some online friends who've also chosen weight-loss surgery, and found some support groups, too. I'm able to walk around, drink my fluids and get in my protein. I'm slowly expanding the foods I'm taking in to include more on my list (this week I added a few low-fat smooth soups, butternut squash and pureed broccoli cheddar, along with blended low-fat cottage cheese and part-skim ricotta). It usually doesn't hurt to get up or sit down, and I'm able to feed the dogs without much discomfort. 

I've figured out how to take all my meds — crushed in sugar-free pudding — except one. And the last med... well, it's one of my antidepressants. I used to take the 300 mg time-release version, but before surgery, the psychiatrist's office switched me to a crushable 100 mg pill three times a day (no time-release meds, at least for a while; there's not enough stomach acid to break them down). I've been managing once a day. The manufacturer adds ingredients to stop people from crushing it to get high — so it tastes AWFUL and numbs my mouth. 

Yesterday I called back the bariatric nurse, and she gave me permission to quarter the pill and swallow it. Thank goodness, because I started to feel a slide into depression. Not my brightest handling of something... but I caught it, and I'm back on track. 

Lessons

That's been one of the real gifts of this journey — and I mean my 21-year struggle with weight. Each weight-loss attempt has taught me something important. I've learned that each food choice is separate from others; if I make one unhealthy choice, that has no affect on my next choice. Each time I choose food, it's a chance to be healthy. From a company that supplies all your meals, I've learned that overly processed foods don't suit me and my body. And I've learned to be gentle with myself, to notice things and collect information without judgement. 

Scale and non-scale victories

The scale shows I'm down 27 pounds from where I started last July. One more pound, and I'll have lost what our puppy Daisy weighs. I really like that kind of visual; it makes things concrete for me. 

I have a non-scale victory (NSV), too: I tried on a few rings in my jewelry box that haven't fit for years — and they slid on my right ring finger. Woohoo! 

Hives!

A few nights ago, I was horribly itchy. I thought it was dry winter skin and showering less than usual. The next morning, I noticed little bumps all over my arm. The itching was insane. My first guess was my microwave hot pack, which has been a staple in my life post-surgery. It's filled with grains and sits around my neck, keeping me warm and loosening my muscles. Saturday, I left it in bed after a nap, and that evening, we found Daisy had chewed a hole in it, spilling grains into our bed. I vacuumed it up. 

That night, I didn't sleep in bed; our dog Roo had surgery Friday night, and I slept with him in the living room Saturday. Sunday we forgot to wash the sheets... So Monday morning, after the hives broke out, I hopped in the shower while my husband stripped the bed and carried the linens down to the laundry room. 

As soon as the pharmacy opened at 7 am, I went and bought Children's Benadryl (and I'm getting smarter about children's meds — no liquids this time, but chewables instead). One dose helped the itching, but the hives kept spreading. I called the doctor and went in. She thinks it was probably the hot pack, too. Another possibility is the gallbladder med prescribed after surgery — which is why I'm including this long story here. It has a 2.6 percent report of rash with use. 

(And just so she doesn't feel left out, here's our third dog, Becca.)