My baby tummy fusses

I think of my new stomach as a baby tummy: baby in terms of size but also in terms of newness. And just as babies sometimes fuss, my tummy sometimes fusses, too. 

It fusses if I swallow my medication pieces too quickly during the day. It fusses if I take my nighttime medications too closely together. That fussing is really unpleasant. I can get horrible heartburn, and then I excessively salivate — known as "sliming." Yeah, it's as pleasant as it sounds. I've tried walking it off, as I'm supposed to, but mostly I end up propped up in bed, holding my pink basin from the hospital — colloquially known as "the puke bucket" (sorry, parts of this journey aren't fun) — until the sick feeling passes. (Happily, the puke bucket has so far been an unneeded precaution.)

Sometimes, in conjunction with my taste buds, my baby tummy fusses about the food I try to eat. I've always been quite a picky eater, but since surgery, there's no pushing something that doesn't suit my taste buds. That's happened with artificially flavored yogurt, a scrambled egg slightly overcooked and made with light Swiss instead of light American, a turkey meatball that went down fine the night I made them but not as a leftover. 

This isn't as gross as sliming — the food just won't go. My tummy must tell my brain "no," and my brain obeys by making me stop eating. No drama there, but it's frustrating. I'm having a heck of a day today. I've eaten half a scrambled egg and half a turkey meatball. I'll make a protein shake soon to keep myself going.

Hormones and grief

The other frustrating thing is that as I lose weight, my body releases the estrogen stored in fat. That creates, among other things, mood swings. 
 
My mood isn't helped by the fact that we're close to having to say goodbye to our dear, dear Roo. Roo is 14 1/2 and has been with me since he was 1 year old. He was my first rescue and has been an amazing companion. I never thought I'd have the gift of this many years with him; when he was younger, he used to love to escape and explore — and I worried he would be hit by a car. Poor Roo is slowing down, and I think we're down to mere days with him. My heart is breaking. 

Food as fuel

I've been thinking a lot about my relationship with food. Years ago, my dear friend Thomasin told me she thinks of food as fuel. It was a revelation. I'd never thought of food as fuel. I thought of it as necessary, and generally something that tasted good and I enjoyed — but never as fuel. 

Surgery, of course, has completely changed my physical relationship with food. Because my focus is on my health (rather than on being a smaller size), I'm following my fluid and food guidelines. This means I eat protein and not much else right now. And frankly, protein has never been my version of comfort food. 

If this was before surgery and I was faced with losing Roo, I'd probably retreat to my bed with a bag of chips. Physically, that sounds repulsive — but the surgery didn't change my mind and my emotions. I need to learn new ways of coping, mentally and emotionally, since food really has become fuel for me. 

I told my therapist this week that 75% of me is thrilled and happy with my progress and the changes, but 25% is struggling. She replied that if I said I was 100% happy, she'd be worried I wasn't processing. 

I don't have answers yet. I'm just feeling my way forward in this new way of being. And that's a strange feeling for someone who usually puts her head down and charges forward.