A week ago I had 0.5ml added to my band. Doesn’t sound like much, but I now have a total of 4.5ml in the band, making my “passage” for food very narrow indeed. Whilst I have now reached a 17kg loss overall (yay), this has not been a fun week. Most days I bring up at least one meal, sometimes two. Breakfast is pretty much non-existent any more, which sucks because I have come to realise it’s my favourite meal of the day. I love going out for breakfast, I love a quiet brekkie at home working my way through a pot of Scottish Breakfast tea and reading the paper. For the time being, at least, breakfast is a no-go zone. For the first time since starting this journey I have felt down this week – really down. I am trying not to let the husband and children know just how dreadful I feel (like a stone is in my chest) a lot of the time – because it won’t help and will only upset them. It hasn’t helped that I am back to work this week and trying to fit in meals around the school day, but mostly I am finding that things I could previously eat without trouble are now causing me grief.
I am sure it will settle down soon, but in the meantime I am eating a lot of mush and soft stuff, which becomes demoralising when I have been able to eat relatively normally up to this point. Racing to the loo to chuck up whatever the latest eating attempt is during the work day is pretty shitty too. That’s what I just spent my lunch break doing. Luckily my colleagues understand what is going on and just wave sympathetically at me as I go back for the second/third/fourth time to get rid of that last little morsel that is causing me pain.
I also realise that in the larger scale of things this is a small problem. I am not dying, I can still eat a lot of different stuff, and I am losing weight. I am not so self-absorbed that I can’t see that to some people this might sound like the woman who got to go where she wanted, and then complained about the scenery. But this blog is as much a venting space for me as it is an account of what bariatric surgery (and the aftermath) entails.
On the face of it, life is pretty good. I am having to think about buying new undies because some are too big. I am going through clothes and now giving away the ones that are too BIG to charity. I feel amazingly well (apart from this week) and physically much more able to control my body and where it is going. Those are the positives and I am hanging on to every one of them. Hopefully I can check in here next week and tell you that things have improved and all is right with the world.
I remain optimistic and happy to be walking this many-coloured path.