The last week has really tested my strength and my conviction. To put it bluntly--this surgery is kicking my butt. When they explained--pre surgery--that you'd have to drink all day to stay hydrated, it sounded like an easy task. I figured I'd be so hungry, that I'd HAVE to drink all day to stay sane.
Oh how naive that Dayna was.
My first week after surgery I struggled with EVERY sip, and I mean SIP, of any liquid. I was supposed to drink about a communion-cup full of liquid every 15 minutes. It sounds laughable. Who couldn't do THAT?!
Apparently me.
It's difficult to explain WHY it's so difficult to stay hydrated. Part of it, of course, is the pain. The sutures--the strips where they cut through skin and abdomen--were very painful. Especially the larger ones, where the cameras and tools were threaded through for surgery. But that pain was mostly superficial compared to the real problem--the pressure. In surgery they pump your abdomen full of CO2 gas to lift your fat away from your organs, so that they can have room to work. So, it makes sense that the larger you are, the more fat, the more gas it takes to create that space.
It took a great deal in my case.
This gas doesn't magically evaporate. And because your intestines have been re-routed and are swollen significantly, it's not as if you can belch or toot the gas out. The gas just sat there, pushing out at my recently severed stomach, at my abs, and at my sutures. It's like being blown up like a balloon, full to bursting. So though the suture pain was debilitating, it was really the bloating that beat me up.
That and my pouch--the shot-glass sized new stomach--was not very welcoming. This might be too much information, so tune out if you're not up for it. For every second or third sip of water I took, I was rushing to the bathroom to throw up. Imagine throwing up on less than half an ounce of water, and being told that I have to drink 64 ounces every day. You can understand the battle with dehydration.
That battle really summed up my entire first week. I sipped, threw up, ached, felt bloated, walked a little bit, and that cycle repeated itself every 2 hours. I slept fitfully because every position was painful. I regretted having surgery about every 10 minutes, and cursed myself for being so fat that I couldn't lose weight like a normal person. I wondered if I'd tried hard enough. I wondered if I was strong enough to make it through recovery. I got nauseous at the very sight or smell of food. I didn't want to see anyone, talk to anyone, email anyone. I just slid, slowly, into this depressed, painful funk.
And then my little brother called from California, and said that he and my parents wanted Ben and me to come down. For those of you who don't know, my mother had the surgery just over a year ago and has been extremely successful. They were all worried about me, and he said mom wanted to help. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle a car-ride, so I told them no. But Ryan (my adorable 19 year old brother) bought us train tickets, and said that I could walk around whenever needed that way.
So sweet.
So we made arrangements, and 2 days ago we boarded the train. I don't know if it was coming home, or simply the passage of enough time, that was the turning point, but I've definitely improved since being here. First of all, I decided--at my mom's insistence--that hydration was not optional. She asked whether I'd rather pay a few hundred dollars in co-insurance to have IV fluids, or if I wanted to suck it up and hydrate myself. Put in monetary terms with Ben still out of work, the decision seemed so much more simple! Ha-ha. So I did something stupid--that actually worked.
I took a glass of water, about 12 ounces, to the bathroom. I decided that I was going to drink every drop in that glass before I left that bathroom. If I threw up 8 times, then so be it. If I was miserable afterward, ok. Whatever it took, I was going to hydrate myself. I wasn't going to be a victim.
I drank every drop. I was SHOCKED! Yes it took me about a half hour to force it all in, and I felt miserable for several hours afterward, but you know what? I survived. And I perked up. I felt less depressed--even though I felt physically bad. I started to feel like I might be able to do this. I walked more. I took another glass into the bathroom that night. It was the first time I'd topped 10 ounces for a DAY, and I'd done it in the span of a half hour!
I don't have to do that anymore. It's been 2 days since then, and I am sipping without much trouble. I'm still not meeting the requirements, but mom says that I'm less pale, and that I'm looking much better. I'm FEELING better. The pain is still there, and the bloating, but I am finally re-gaining a positive attitude, finally grasping onto the will power and courage that walked me into that hospital to change my life.
It's not smooth sailing yet. I'm still struggling constantly, and mom--again, speaking from experience--says it will probably be another couple of weeks before I start to feel like a normal human being. It will probably be another couple of weeks before I start to remember WHY I did this. Start to feel that motivation to lose weight and get healthy again. But for now, the fact that I've re-gained the motivation to LIVE, is progress enough. Ha-ha! Anything else is just a bonus at this point.
And so I keep truckin' along!
I'll be in Redding another 3 days, and then I have to prepare for my new job. I start in a week, and I know it's going to be extremely difficult to put on my capable-and-enthusiastic face while battling with recovery, but on the other hand it might be a welcome challenge and distraction from what my body is doing and feeling! I'll try to post more often now that I'm back in the land of the living.
:-)
Adios!
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