To the Newly Sleeved, and the Pre-Op
by
, 08-19-2013 at 08:10 AM (2520 Views)
Hang in there.
Exactly one week ago, at the minute I am typing this, I was lying on an operating room table being told to breathe deep. The next thing I remember (though this is hazy) is waking up in recovery being told that everything went just fine.
The remainder of the day was spent in my hospital room dealing with the pain of the remaining air bubbles in my abdomen as they worked their way around. The only blessings I had at that time were the pain pump in my hand, my wife, and my mother. Together we pulled through.
The first night was restless, mostly. Walking helped to get everything in the position it needed to be in, so when not under the influence of the dilaudid, I was slowly walking laps around the wing I was in. This by the way, was much to the delight of the nursing staff.
The next day, under the stress of pain and little sleep, depression and regret worked its way into my psyche. I was taken down to radiology for my swallow study, and sent back up to my room. As I was wheeled in, I saw my wife was there. She smiled at me, and I lost it. She held me as I came to terms with myself.
I was given a small one-ounce cup of water, and told to drink it over the course of one hour- 1/4 ounce every 15 minutes. This seemingly simple task took on epic proportions as I learned after that first sip, my stomach was not yet ready to cooperate.
As the day progressed, I graduated from one ounce every hour to two. If I could manage three, then I would be discharged. I couldn't. Later that evening, they gave me a very small but powerful narcotic pill, as the pain pump had been removed. It couldn't have been bigger than an uncooked grain of rice, but at that moment it looked to me to be bigger than a horse pill, and the mere thought of taking it made me hurt. After the nurse assured me that I would be able to digest it, I complied. That night I finally slept.
Wednesday I awoke feeling better. By now I was taking the wing in two-lap walks, and I was able to tolerate the full three ounces. By 11:00 AM, I was discharged under the care of my wife. I felt great! Well, as good as I had been in the last couple of days. On our way home though, we passed a restaurant. I could smell bacon cooking, and the part of my brain activated by this scent came online. This section wasn't aware of what had taken place this week, and demanded food. The feeling of hunger was almost actual. I wanted to stop- to reward myself for having gone through this. But, I knew that there would be no chance of digesting anything they offer. I realized in this moment that what had occurred on that operating room table was permanent.
Depression had arrived with its bags packed for a long stay.
For the days following, I was constantly distracted by depression, regret, and self loathing that I had done this to myself- of and under my own volition. My wife, whose patience could overflow the world's oceans, was my saving grace in this period. She kept me on my protein shake schedule, kept me walking, woke me up in the mornings when all I wanted to do was sleep and not face reality. Every ounce of liquid hurt. "The Pinch," I've heard it called. Apropo.
It seemed that every commercial was for some type of delicious tempting food. I loathe mushrooms, but if one had been in one of these commercials, I would have felt hunger for it. I knew that this was all in my head, but at the time this knowledge did not help to reduce the desire- realization- regret- depression cycle I was trapped in.
But, every day got a little easier. On the Tuesday after my surgery, as I sat in silence trying to cope with what happened, my nurse, Jen, came in and told me that all of the patients that she's worked with have felt remorse in the first week. She said that most of the regret would pass by next Monday.
As I sit here and type out this one-week odyssey, I revel in the fact that she was right. Little by little the spoiled monster that lives somewhere in my id has been quieted, his temper tantrums are growing more and more silent. I have steps to go- two more weeks of protein shakes and I graduate again onto pureed food. I'm looking forward to eggs again.
For the recently sleeved, I write this in the hopes that you will gain from what I was not prepared for. The first week is not sunshine. For some it takes until the fourth week or farther. Take hope, however- things will get better. Each time you feel like looking back and saying "I'll never eat X again..." Change it to "I can't eat X right now, but I will someday, and it'll be great"
For those who are pre-op. Don't be too afraid of recovery. Take what I've been through and try to get through it. It's worth it. My weight right now is the lowest it's been since I was a freshman in high school
I feel great.