Sunday, June 1, 2014
More Bellyaching About Food
Written Friday May 30, 2014
I’m not eating much food. I have two protein shakes a day with 48 grams of protein in each, so I’m meeting my protein requirements and taking all my supplements, although I just discovered I’m taking the wrong kind of iron. Not a bad kind, just not as easily absorbed by the type my surgeon recommends. I wish I’d known it sooner, I wouldn’t have bought the current supplement I have.
Nothing really tastes that great. Maybe for one bite, then it starts tasting metallic and I either spit it out or don’t have any more. I never imagined that I would be spitting out food. Ha ha ha! Things that I liked yesterday, today taste like ass. So weird. And things I used to love, like donuts, I know wouldn’t taste as good as they do in my head and will probably give me near instant diarrhea. Pass! It’s just not worth it.
So I’m learning to listen to my tongue, my mouth, my stomach and stop if something doesn’t taste good, has a weird texture, or I’m full. I stop. I have taken “tastes” of my husband’s food if he’s having something really yummy, and I seem to be satisfied with just a taste (what I can get on the end of a fork, usually a sauce). I’m learning to ignore cravings—they just don’t live up to my brain’s hype.
It’s a weird journey.
Food is becoming less important in my life, but I still have a ways to go as far as wanting something to be entertained—and I believe that’s what I used food for—entertainment. And also during emotional times, although generally if sad and depressed, I would not eat at all. I want every bite to taste as good as that first bite, but it doesn’t, so I’m learning to be happy with that first delicious bite, and then maybe move on to something else on my plate. Anywhere between 5-10 bites of any combination of food, and I’m done. I’ve always been a slow eater, but I’m trying to teach myself to eat even slower. One day at a time.
Fortunately for me my husband still has a relatively high metabolism and will eat anything I can’t or don’t want—he ate my salad and Spanish rice at a Mexican food place we like in town. I had half a cheese enchilada, about five bites of beans, and I was done. And rice plugs me up like a cork. So no rice unless I’m having the runs to counteract it.
I had half of a small apple last weekend and had to make three quick runs to the bathroom within the hour, then it stopped. (the doctor just released me to have small amounts of fruits and vegetables.) I did really well with the green bean chicken from Panda Express (we’re packing our house to move, so eating out more than usual). One helping of that fed me for three meals. And I love their hot and sour soup (2 meals).
This week I’ve lost a pound a day three days in a row. I don’t know why, but I’ll take it.
I still can’t believe I’ve had this surgery and that my diabetes is about 95% resolved without medication. It’s just unreal. On the downside, I’m going to have some flappy skin. I’m not excited at the thought of more painful surgery and anesthesia brain, but we’ll see how bad it is in the rash / pain / itchy department and decide in a few years. There’s no need to think or worry about it now. I already had my day running down the beach in a bikini when I was a young teen—I’m in my fifties now and I wouldn’t do that anyway even if I was built like a starlet. Age with grace, that’s my goal, and age appropriate.
My energy is up—thank goodness—we have a lot to do, and I feel pretty good. Well, except for the fact that I may have an URI. (Upper respiratory infection.) I went to see my regular doctor today for some refills, get my poor re-injured previously broken ankle x-rayed (really hurting), and talk to her about losing my voice yesterday and sounding like James Earl Jones today. She examined me and wasn’t 100% sure whether it was allergies or an URI. She asked if I’d been around anyone sick, I said my mom two weeks ago and who has pneumonia, so she decided to err on the side of caution and prescribed a Z-pack. I took two with dinner per instructions, and I found that I did feel much better later on as I packed up four boxes of stuff in the kitchen when we got home.
I’m starting to feel the way I was hoping I would feel with this surgery—unshitty, energetic, active, and interested in doing things besides sit in a reclining chair. Gawd am I grateful.