All meats & fish (except for whole cuts of meat; haven't tried steaks yet);
Grapes (w/skins)
Apples (w/out skins)
Bread
Butter
Crackers
Almonds
Eggs, however, sit in my pouch like a lead ball.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Poop Report
This is my last Poop Report until such time it changes:
It's not a fluke. I REPEAT. It's not a fluke. It's a trend. I'm regular again. Maven: 1; Impaction: 0.
Here endeth the Poop Report.
#itonlytookfiveweeks
It's not a fluke. I REPEAT. It's not a fluke. It's a trend. I'm regular again. Maven: 1; Impaction: 0.
Here endeth the Poop Report.
#itonlytookfiveweeks
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Open Letter to My Colon
Open Letter to My Bung:
Wait a cotton pickin’ minute. Srsly.
A BM yesterday? A BM today? Doesn’t take much to please me these days. Pls don’t lead me on and let me down tomorrow. I’d rather cut off a pinky toe (with polish!) rather than go one more week of unpreditable, paining, straining ahem “activity.”
Colo-rectally yours,
Maven
________________
Today was the 5 week post-op visit w/the surgeon. All went well. Only a miserable .5# lost since the 3 week visit. He told me not to get hung up on it, and that plateaus happen. Next visit: April 19th.
Wait a cotton pickin’ minute. Srsly.
A BM yesterday? A BM today? Doesn’t take much to please me these days. Pls don’t lead me on and let me down tomorrow. I’d rather cut off a pinky toe (with polish!) rather than go one more week of unpreditable, paining, straining ahem “activity.”
Colo-rectally yours,
Maven
________________
Today was the 5 week post-op visit w/the surgeon. All went well. Only a miserable .5# lost since the 3 week visit. He told me not to get hung up on it, and that plateaus happen. Next visit: April 19th.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Lunch Today
Nutritional content of this serving suggestionCals: 171.35/Protein: 10.95/Carbs: 10.813
My home made chicken liver pate stuffed in a mushroom cap, multigrain crackers, sugar free gerkins and 1/2 a hard boiled egg w/Old Bay seasoning on it.
NOM.
Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures
Dear Colon,
It's not me, it's you. Something's gotta give, and by "something," I really mean YOU, and by "give," I mean a regularly occurring bowel movement which involves neither strain nor pain, and doesn't leave me wondering if I need to go to the ER.
It was fun while it lasted, (FOUR WHOLE WEEKS)but really, your behavior is just "asking" for it.
Yours in firey rectal revenge,
Me.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Things I'm Tolerating Thus Far (3 Weeks Out)
Omlettes/eggs
Meatballs
Peanuts
Turkey Jerky
Cheddar Cheese (regular, not low-fat)
Dim Sum
Clam Chowder
Bread (w/butter)
Coffee
Sushi
Seaweed salad
Steamed, chilled shrimp
Grilled chicken on a stick
Salad greens
Meatballs
Peanuts
Turkey Jerky
Cheddar Cheese (regular, not low-fat)
Dim Sum
Clam Chowder
Bread (w/butter)
Coffee
Sushi
Seaweed salad
Steamed, chilled shrimp
Grilled chicken on a stick
Salad greens
Three Week Post-Op Follow Up
Alrighty, I've been a bit remiss about posting how my three-week (which really should have been my two-week) follow-up with the surgeon went.
For starters, it's a huge-o-la PITA to get to his office. My choices aren't great: MetroNorth to (East) 125th, then either find a cab or a cross town bus to (West) 125th to take the #1 all the way up to 168th. But really? I don't feel *safe* at East 125th. So I took the most convoluted route, because my other option would have been to drive into NYC, and well, that's just something I. DO. NOT. DO. (or at least something I do not do AT THE MOMENT) So the route was MetroNorth to Grand Central, passing 125th en route, Grand Central to Times Square via Shuttle, #1 all the way back up town to 168th, passing 125th a second time, then walk to 165th for the appointment. I was exhausted before I even got there.
Considering my "impaction" issues I've been having lately, I grabbed the smallest cup of coffee I could from a street vendor, thinking it would help loosen things up a bit so I could purge more before my weigh in. But no such luck.
First up, they made an appointment for me with "their" nutritionist. I have to say I am glad I went with my first impression ("Blink" really made my life a lot easier by going with my gut instinct instead of thinking too long or hard about things). Her personality (such as it is) is dry, I did not come out of the appointment with any further information than I already had (or anything else that MY nutritionist did not provide on Tuesday), suggested I take in Benefiber 3x a day, and then admonished me for being "non-compliant" when I said I was already integrating soft foods into my diet, a few days before being officially transitioned. WTF.
Then I met with the surgeon and a "fellow" (who assisted with my procedure), who is in training to learn how to do bariatric surgery. The consultation went very well. I'm healing nicely. The time with the doctors was very positive and uplifting.
Talk ranged from concerns about my arthritis (and yes, I can take children's liquid motrin now if the pain gets THAT BAD, provided I take a prilosec first), my impaction, my energy levels, and yes, I came clean on the fact that I was already integrating food into my daily intake. Surgeon seemed actually jazzed about this, and didn't blink or react negatively when I said I was eating things like peanuts or turkey jerky. If anything, he seemed pleased that the things I was eating were protein intensive.
The surgeon progressed me to where I can take my medications uncrushed (yay), provided they are no bigger than the diameter of a pencil eraser. So another benchmark for me. Great!
The overall vibe of the meeting was good, supportive, friendly, "light," and the surgeon obliged and removed the last two steri-strips which I was afraid to just yank off. Suture sites have all but healed up at this point.
Had lunch at Nice Matin. Appt w/the surgeon was great, and I was invigorated, and felt I owed it to myself to celebrate. So I treated myself to "brunch." Had their veggie/sausage frittata and coffee. Sipped coffee until right before my meal arrived. Then I took my time, sitting in the sunny window, people watching then reading my book. Sitting there with my "Jackie O" styled sunglasses, trying to get into a "South of France" mindset (afterall, I *have* visited NICE, FRANCE in 2008). Envisioned myself a french woman, and took small bites, savoring my food. And I'd say maybe I ate 1/3 of that frittata, maybe 1/4. But it's not like I had a scale on hand. I eyeballed it. I also had some of the soft part of a piece of multigrain bread (and YES I put butter on it). Took my time. Eventually had the waiter pack it up for home, then asked for a container of the soup du jour for home. Continued to sit there long enough until I could sip a little more of my coffee. Really enjoyed this.
Also, while there, I found out about the "Stinky Cheese Festival" which is coming up. I hope to go back to Nice Matin for lunch. I've already picked out what I want to eat: "Limberger Steak Hache." I can't wait. I can get maybe 3 meals out of that burger. This new lifestyle of mine is really appealing to my sense of thrift. Rather than snarfing down one meal and not be satisfied, now I'm eating considerably less, enjoying it more, and have enough leftovers for 2-3 meals. WIN WIN WIN.
Oh? And FWIW? I ate four mini-meals from that frittata I ordered. I have to say that this really appeals to my thrifty nature!
After lunch, I yarn shopped, and went to the drug store, and ran some smaller errands, all the while I could feel my custom orthodic shift in my boot, causing a sore spot on my heel (left foot is smaller than the right). Going to have to get some moleskin to snug it up in the boot.
So I continued the subway route in reverse, and while on the Times Square shuttle back to Grand Central, the car was full of high school kids, acting very ghetto and foolish. At first words were said back and forth (the most ridiculous and low class was a girl saying "Suck my dick" and dropping the F-bomb repeatedly), which then progressed to a shoving match between the two groups of teens. Mind you, I'm sitting dead center between the two groups. At first I thought it was just horseplay, but once out onto the platform fisticuffs broke out, with the two groups of teens totally unaware that the rest of the world was trying to get the hell out of their way.
For starters, it's a huge-o-la PITA to get to his office. My choices aren't great: MetroNorth to (East) 125th, then either find a cab or a cross town bus to (West) 125th to take the #1 all the way up to 168th. But really? I don't feel *safe* at East 125th. So I took the most convoluted route, because my other option would have been to drive into NYC, and well, that's just something I. DO. NOT. DO. (or at least something I do not do AT THE MOMENT) So the route was MetroNorth to Grand Central, passing 125th en route, Grand Central to Times Square via Shuttle, #1 all the way back up town to 168th, passing 125th a second time, then walk to 165th for the appointment. I was exhausted before I even got there.
Considering my "impaction" issues I've been having lately, I grabbed the smallest cup of coffee I could from a street vendor, thinking it would help loosen things up a bit so I could purge more before my weigh in. But no such luck.
First up, they made an appointment for me with "their" nutritionist. I have to say I am glad I went with my first impression ("Blink" really made my life a lot easier by going with my gut instinct instead of thinking too long or hard about things). Her personality (such as it is) is dry, I did not come out of the appointment with any further information than I already had (or anything else that MY nutritionist did not provide on Tuesday), suggested I take in Benefiber 3x a day, and then admonished me for being "non-compliant" when I said I was already integrating soft foods into my diet, a few days before being officially transitioned. WTF.
Then I met with the surgeon and a "fellow" (who assisted with my procedure), who is in training to learn how to do bariatric surgery. The consultation went very well. I'm healing nicely. The time with the doctors was very positive and uplifting.
Talk ranged from concerns about my arthritis (and yes, I can take children's liquid motrin now if the pain gets THAT BAD, provided I take a prilosec first), my impaction, my energy levels, and yes, I came clean on the fact that I was already integrating food into my daily intake. Surgeon seemed actually jazzed about this, and didn't blink or react negatively when I said I was eating things like peanuts or turkey jerky. If anything, he seemed pleased that the things I was eating were protein intensive.
The surgeon progressed me to where I can take my medications uncrushed (yay), provided they are no bigger than the diameter of a pencil eraser. So another benchmark for me. Great!
The overall vibe of the meeting was good, supportive, friendly, "light," and the surgeon obliged and removed the last two steri-strips which I was afraid to just yank off. Suture sites have all but healed up at this point.
Had lunch at Nice Matin. Appt w/the surgeon was great, and I was invigorated, and felt I owed it to myself to celebrate. So I treated myself to "brunch." Had their veggie/sausage frittata and coffee. Sipped coffee until right before my meal arrived. Then I took my time, sitting in the sunny window, people watching then reading my book. Sitting there with my "Jackie O" styled sunglasses, trying to get into a "South of France" mindset (afterall, I *have* visited NICE, FRANCE in 2008). Envisioned myself a french woman, and took small bites, savoring my food. And I'd say maybe I ate 1/3 of that frittata, maybe 1/4. But it's not like I had a scale on hand. I eyeballed it. I also had some of the soft part of a piece of multigrain bread (and YES I put butter on it). Took my time. Eventually had the waiter pack it up for home, then asked for a container of the soup du jour for home. Continued to sit there long enough until I could sip a little more of my coffee. Really enjoyed this.
Also, while there, I found out about the "Stinky Cheese Festival" which is coming up. I hope to go back to Nice Matin for lunch. I've already picked out what I want to eat: "Limberger Steak Hache." I can't wait. I can get maybe 3 meals out of that burger. This new lifestyle of mine is really appealing to my sense of thrift. Rather than snarfing down one meal and not be satisfied, now I'm eating considerably less, enjoying it more, and have enough leftovers for 2-3 meals. WIN WIN WIN.
Oh? And FWIW? I ate four mini-meals from that frittata I ordered. I have to say that this really appeals to my thrifty nature!
After lunch, I yarn shopped, and went to the drug store, and ran some smaller errands, all the while I could feel my custom orthodic shift in my boot, causing a sore spot on my heel (left foot is smaller than the right). Going to have to get some moleskin to snug it up in the boot.
So I continued the subway route in reverse, and while on the Times Square shuttle back to Grand Central, the car was full of high school kids, acting very ghetto and foolish. At first words were said back and forth (the most ridiculous and low class was a girl saying "Suck my dick" and dropping the F-bomb repeatedly), which then progressed to a shoving match between the two groups of teens. Mind you, I'm sitting dead center between the two groups. At first I thought it was just horseplay, but once out onto the platform fisticuffs broke out, with the two groups of teens totally unaware that the rest of the world was trying to get the hell out of their way.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Monday, February 07, 2011
The Poop Report
Rather than go into the particulars of today's *ahem* movement, I've decided it best to share what I call "hai-poos," which is to say, haiku about POO.
*AHEM*
I once knew your name very well!
My ass has grown mute.
DEMON DOWN BELOW!
Breach birth’d anal alien
Tear me limb from limb.
Such a cosmic joke
Anal. Hellfire. Damnation.
Won’t sit right for days.
On every third day
I have to birth a demon
It holds me hostage.
*AHEM*
Oh puckered o-ring
Bearing down, extrude! extrude!
Won’t you stop throbbing?
Throb, throb, throb, throb, throb
Flames, shooting out my ass, still
Still throb, 9 to 6.
A total standstill
My G.I. tract a dead end
Did I eat concrete?
I once knew your name very well!
My ass has grown mute.
DEMON DOWN BELOW!
Breach birth’d anal alien
Tear me limb from limb.
Such a cosmic joke
Anal. Hellfire. Damnation.
Won’t sit right for days.
On every third day
I have to birth a demon
It holds me hostage.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Note To New Readers
If you haven't dug thru my archives, here's a tidbit of what I've been dealing with in regards to my PCOS. My testimonial is about five years old at this point, but gives insight into how I eventually decided on my WLS.
Day 15 Out
Woke up exceedingly dizzy. The room spun HIGH SPEED, round and round. Had equal amount of nausea but no vomitting. A bit shaky and scared. Husband still went off to work, leaving me by myself.
Sat for a while watching t.v. w/a bowl in my lap just in case I hurl, then went to bed around 10 a.m. until almost 4 p.m. Feel a bit better, tho not 100%. Called surgeon's office to talk to NP, no call back.
I've put myself on clears until I feel a bit better. Even my shake seems off putting.
Not hungry so much as I am parched, and concerned.
Sat for a while watching t.v. w/a bowl in my lap just in case I hurl, then went to bed around 10 a.m. until almost 4 p.m. Feel a bit better, tho not 100%. Called surgeon's office to talk to NP, no call back.
I've put myself on clears until I feel a bit better. Even my shake seems off putting.
Not hungry so much as I am parched, and concerned.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
"The Easy Way Out"
Some folks out there, I'm sure, think of WLS as something folks slink off to do... the easy way to dump off weight.
To me, there's nothing easy about it. Sure, it's great that the surgery (for now) seems to have curtailed my ravenous appetite; however, there's nothing easy about those times during the day when I take in my purees. One ounce, one slurp, and pretty much it's gone. There's no savoring. These are called "mini meals," but to be honest, if the total volume of your "meal" is less than that of a shot glass? That's no meal. What it is, is the dietary equivalent of Chinese Water Torture, slowly killing your will, one drop at a time.
To me, there's nothing easy about it. Sure, it's great that the surgery (for now) seems to have curtailed my ravenous appetite; however, there's nothing easy about those times during the day when I take in my purees. One ounce, one slurp, and pretty much it's gone. There's no savoring. These are called "mini meals," but to be honest, if the total volume of your "meal" is less than that of a shot glass? That's no meal. What it is, is the dietary equivalent of Chinese Water Torture, slowly killing your will, one drop at a time.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Two Glib & Fatuous Sayings I Do Not Need To Hear or Read
Two glib and fatuous things NOT to say to me (now or ever):
"Nothing tastes as good as THIN FEELS?" Well, ya wanna know what? Nothing tastes as good as a rib eye, roasted to perfection, served with its own juices.
“Pre-op you were living to eat, and now you’re EATING TO LIVE.” This, too is bullshit, because slurping down one ounce at a time (every other hour) is neither eating, nor is it living.
Pls. STFU, then FOADIAF. Oktxbai.
"Nothing tastes as good as THIN FEELS?" Well, ya wanna know what? Nothing tastes as good as a rib eye, roasted to perfection, served with its own juices.
“Pre-op you were living to eat, and now you’re EATING TO LIVE.” This, too is bullshit, because slurping down one ounce at a time (every other hour) is neither eating, nor is it living.
Pls. STFU, then FOADIAF. Oktxbai.
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