I have only been in the hospital two times in my life, and each time I came home with little bundles of joy that I could not live without. Those bundles are my children, just in case your wondering. This time I came in because I was getting bariatric surgery, and I wasn’t leaving with anything really fun. I would come home with a smaller stomach, so I would be able to eat less and lose weight faster and get to a healthier weight faster. So, there’s that. Lol! A gold medal in my book. However, I kept thinking like we forgot something at the hospital—so I do feel a little empty handed. HA HA HA!
More importantly, surgery went on without a hitch. The last thing I remember was saying goodbye to my husband, mom, and dad before they rolled me away to surgery. I remember the prayer my dad lead before I was taken back, that was truly something—if the nurse wouldn’t have walked in and said it was time, I probably would have burst into tears at that moment. I didn’t have time to get emotional. I was told by the nurse that I would be having two stages of anesthesia. First would be the relaxer, they gave that to me in my IV. I have no recollection of anything pretty much for the rest of the day after that. Apparently, my body liked the anesthesia. It really knocked me out. I remember bits and pieces, but they are jumbled, and it was seriously like I was in a dream. All of Friday, I was so out of it. I remember my husband, David. I remember my mom coming in and my dad coming in. I think I said something like “there’s my daddy.”
Finally, the anesthesia’s hands let go and it was close to midnight and I finally took my first steps after surgery. They want you to walk around so blood clots don’t form. It reminded me of the pain from my C-sections. So, I was ready for that, no problem. I hurt, but I knew I would. I walked around my hospital unit about 3 times that night.
On Saturday I went to the radiologist to make sure that my surgeon did his job and closed up everything properly, so there was no leakage. I wasn’t told about this part. Probably because I was told in the radiologist’s lab that I would have to drink two very disgusting drinks back to back for this test. The test was short, all was fine—I had a great surgeon. But that drink had me sick.
The rest of Saturday I was never sure how my stomach nausea was going to exit my body, by my mouth or by –well down below. So, I was pretty miserable all day and most of Sunday—all because of the drink. We finally got my nausea under control, sort of, and I was sent home late Sunday afternoon.
The nausea has been pretty much a constant companion. The pain, I can deal with. The pain as of now is pretty much gone. It’s the nausea. I think it’s because my stomach is trying to heal and my body is hungry. I am drinking water, soup, jello, pudding, yogurt, and protein shakes. But my hunger come back pretty quick, but that’s normal. When I get too hungry is when I get the most nauseated. That’s my un-official diagnosis for myself.
I go back to the doctor on Thursday, so I will let you know what he says. Other than that I am doing well. And I just want to thank you all for your continued prayers and your support. I will keep you updated on my progress. And I hope to have some recipes starting to come up within the next month or so.
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The diary of two former fat girls
Written by: Amy Shaw-Chilson