Of course it is always easier to plan something difficult off in the future than it is to actually DO it. I’d been on liquid diets over Christmas or Thanksgiving in the past and so I figured that it would be no big deal to do it one more time. Maybe it was the fact that I knew that this was not like the previous times in that I would not be going back to being able to eat whatever I wanted sometime in the future that made it so difficult; or the fact that I decided to cook Prime Rib for Christmas dinner and have everyone over to my house, but it was next to impossible not to give in and eat more than the liquid broth I was allowed to have. There were two things that kept me from giving in. One was that I didn’t want to have to reschedule now that I’d finally made the decision. The other was that I really didn’t want to aspirate my own vomit and die the next day because I just HAD to have some Prime Rib. So, I smiled and got vicarious joy out of watching everyone else eat the Christmas feast. Mom was spending that night and the next couple nights there because I’d need a ride to the hospital and someone to stay with Alex while I was in the hospital. I was supposed to stay at least one night.
The surgeon had a few surgeries before mine so I was prepped and then lay there waiting for the surgeon to come see me beforehand. I asked him if he was tired from being in surgery all day because I wanted him to be wide awake for mine. He didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor about my question, which bothered me a little. But he also seemed like he was alert and knew what was going on so I wasn’t too worried. They were going to do the gastric bypass and, while they were in there, fix my hiatal hernia that had been contributing to my reflux for years.
The surgery turned out to be twice as long as normal because of lots of scar tissue the surgeon had to clean up that resulted from my gallbladder removal surgery in 1988. In that surgery they had to remove 22 stones and so it was very long, and involved a lot more than my gallbladder. So, the surgeon never did fix the hiatal hernia, although if he told me that after the surgery I didn’t remember it. I didn’t realize he hadn’t done that repair until a couple years later when I went to a follow-up visit. In fact, I don’t remember talking to him at all after surgery, but I know he talked to Mom and Alex about what had happened during the surgery because later Mom told me what he’d said.
So, I went to my room, still groggy and resenting being awakened by nurses coming in and out of the room. But they try to get you up and walking as soon as possible because they say it helps you recover more quickly. I’m not sure I agree with that. I think they are just trying to get you out of there as quickly as possible because that’s what the insurance companies demand. But I was very diligent about having my ice chips and getting up and doing a round of walking with my IV pole every hour. The nurses appreciated that I was making the effort and if they’d been giving out awards for following the rules I’m sure I would have gotten a gold star.
I had absolutely no desire to eat and had to work at getting the water down they wanted me to have, although I felt parched and so I did appreciate the wetness. I kept forcing myself to get up and walk, even in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. I also had to use that little plastic spirometer they give you to help you expand your lungs and cough up any secretions that are left over after surgery. I hate that thing, I’m not sure why. But I did challenge myself to get that marker up to the level they said I needed to get it to even though I hated doing it. So, I followed all of the rules and expected to be released the next day. But surprise, surprise, that was not to be. My blood oxygen levels would do well for a while and then they kept dropping and setting off alarms, so the doctor decided to keep me there another night. A part of me resented staying there, but I figured I’d much rather be around a bunch of medical people if something happened to go wrong.
So, I spent another night following all of the rules, but the next day my oxygen levels still kept dropping whenever I wasn’t consciously thinking about taking deep breaths. At first the nurses were telling me that I might have to stay over again, but then a new doctor came in and said that I seemed to be fine despite the oxygen levels and so maybe it was normal for me. He released me with instructions to come back if I had any trouble breathing or started feeling worse, and home I went.
Those first few days weren’t too bad. I was on pain pills and the only problem was having to crush them and swallow them in a cup of water. I couldn’t take regular pills and tried to get medicine in any liquid form I could so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the horrible taste, but that wasn’t always possible. I really didn’t have any hunger and had to force myself to drink a bit of water every few minutes to try to get enough in. You are supposed to just take little sips, but that’s a lot of unlearning of life-long habits. All food is liquid for the first week or two after the surgery. I had purchased protein shakes and those weren’t bad, although they took me a long time to drink.
At first I had no desire to eat at all. I had no hunger and my main worry was getting enough vitamins and food in. But that slowly changed. I was not hungry, but my brain kept telling me that I should eat more. I realized that I got joy out of being able to eat a lot of a food that I enjoyed, although, at the same time I’d always wanted to be able to eat less and still enjoy it. For the first week or two I didn’t lose a lot of weight, but then it began falling off steadily. But I had no idea what was in store for me when I began to go out into the world and try to participate in the American pastime…everything planned around big meals.