Counting Forwards

After the Monometry, things went steadily. I endured the upper GI series...what felt like a gallon of barium required to be swallowed at various consistencies, (thinned out milk and thick like glue) and in various positions- laying down, standing up, turning from one side to the other from my back to my stomach.

I wondered as I lay there if they could possibly come up with a more uncomfortable way to examine the inside of your stomach. Don't eat or drink for 15, 16 hours, so your nice and hungry. Then, you want a drink? Sure, here's a nice hefting glass of thick white foul-tasting goo and then mix it around good and well so you're on the verge of puking it all back up.

I wasn't sure if I felt flattered, or annoyed at the X-ray tech's postulation that I wasn't very big, and how he'd seen oh so much bigger. I was more than annoyed when he asked me how much I weighed, but he backed down when I glared at him. Beforehand he had asked how much I wanted to lose, "what, maybe 40 or 50 pounds?" I nodded to shut him up. He was nice, perhaps overly so, but wanted to know more than I wanted to give. What I wanted to ask him in a fitting sarcastic tone was something more along the lines of "Look guy, you do this every day. Do you really suppose they're willing to cut you open and clamp your tummy if you only need to lose 40 or 50 pounds? Come now...be reasonable." But I remained silent. I just wanted it to be over.

After all, I had waited in the waiting room a solid hour and a half past my appointment time. Par for the course, at this juncture in the game. The GI doc who took the actual images was in fact, very sweet. Grandfatherly is how I'd characterize him. He made the experience slightly more bearable.

As I walked out the door, the tech said "good luck with those 50 pounds, sweetie"....

So here I am...a couple short weeks away from the surgery. I'm not exactly afraid of it. The surgery itself doesn't frighten me at all. A quick hour under anesthesia, and I'm done. The scars...well, I'm not overjoyed about them, but I see them as a necessary sacrifice to getting healthy. What I worry about, what really scares me is what happens that first time I want to gorge myself ridiculously on foods I can't eat....when I'm sitting in my office, and I want that chicken parm wrap from Fresco, or I want that turkey sandwich, and I'm looking at a half cup of barely edible protein shake as my lunch. That terrifies me, and I know I'll be leaning a lot on others, the people I've met in the support groups, friends.

But that's SOOOO very not me. I'm the independent "I don't need anyone else in this life" bitch, aren't I? Isn't that what I tell myself when things are difficult, when faced with pain? It's going to be tough to learn to depend on others.