First night out of the hospital in the hotel was very restless. I had a very hard time falling asleep and felt slightly feverish, which worried me. By the time morning came the fever had left and I felt good. The incision where the drain was was slightly sore and I would call it discomfort versus pain. I was warned that the number cause of a return to the hospital was dehydration so I've been sipping fluids constantly.
I was able to hop on an earlier flight and was home before sunset. At this point the only way I can tell I had the surgery is a lack of hunger and slight gurgling as I process liquids. Oh and the number 2 process is not pretty or fun. Enough said.
I slept comfortably night 2 out of the hospital in my own bed.
I paid $4,708 for someone to remove 85% of my stomach permanently. How do I feel about that decision? I feel great - better every day. In Mexico I ran into people that had the operation years ago and are enthusiastic - other patients I got to know were influenced by people close them that had their lives changed by the operation.
Every time I do a thing today that's just a little harder because of my size I take great comfort in knowing that it will not be that way for me forever. The more I consider my feelings about being obese the more I realize it's like being in a self-constructed prison. My movements are limited and potential joy connected to some movements are inaccessible to me. When I say self-constructed I am not being self-deprecating. My obesity was constructed by my DNA, body and mind in a way that made it close to impossible for me to overcome without outside help. That's not to say others cannot find a natural, more gentle way to find health, but this is about me and who I am and what I think I need to flourish.
I think there will be unexpected negative side affects to this surgery yet to be discovered but I am willing to accept all of them as consequences for my decision. My best information tells me the benefits will far outweigh the potential problems.
Today is my birthday. I am 55. It is also the 55th anniversary of the death of my mother, Clara Wakeley.
Beautifully written and poignant, I love you, little brother.
ReplyDeleteI didn't know about your blog posts until Annie told me, so I found my way here this morning. I am so moved by what you write, Rob, and I look forward to keeping track of how you continue to flourish. Watch out world! Prepare to be dazzled!
ReplyDeleteI meant to tell you that on your birthday, I sang at Hospicare for a small group of grievers. We had a little check-in before the group started and I told them that you were on my mind and that it was your birthday. It did not dawn on me until later (and it never does) that it was the same day as mom's death - even in that environment. You and your life have always made that day better for me, Rob. Love you...