When I was unconscious in the operating room, my chest was shaved. It was expected, but I was a little disgusted by my smooth belly when I woke up. I’m happy to report that the chest hair is growing back, and I’ll be back to my hirsute self in no time at all.
Now I just need to cross my fingers and hope that I don’t experience any more hair loss. From everything I’ve read and heard, it’s not uncommon for people to start losing a little head hair about three months after surgery. It’s usually not noticeable, and the hair grows back a few months later.
I am not too worried about hair loss on my head. For one thing, my hair is ridiculously thick (Footnote 1). For another, finding a few hairs on my pillow for a few months is a small price to pay for a surgery that has already drastically improved my quality of life.
1. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.
After the surgery, I had a somewhat large gray blotch on my inner right thigh. It didn’t look as colorful as black-and-blue mark, but I thought maybe it was a sign of internal bleeding or a blood clot. However, because the size and shape didn’t change, and it didn’t hurt at all, I thought I’d wait till I met my surgeon again to mention it.
On Monday, I had an appointment with a dermatologist for an unrelated issue. As she was looking me over, I showed her the blotch. “I have no idea what this is,” I said. Continue reading
I recently bought some unflavored protein powder to mix into Jell-O pudding. Even though it’s unflavored, the package promises “five-star taste.” Hmmm.
There’s a great New York Times article about how many developing countries are dealing with obesity now that prepackaged foods are widely available. Companies like Nestle aren’t seeing much growth in saturated markets like the United States, so they’re looking elsewhere to sell Kit Kats. And they’re taking steps to make sure that anti-obesity legislation doesn’t go through.
Part of my problem has always been access to cheap, convenient, sugary food. I don’t know enough about food science to know if this kind of food is actually addictive, but I suspect it is. This is why it’s so important that I learn good eating habits now so that I won’t fall into old behaviors in the future.
From Toothpaste for Dinner
The Complementary Spouse, Lucy the Wonderpup, and I have evacuated to my parents’ house in Jacksonville. This means we’re going to see a lot of rain and wind, but we’re far away from where the storm will come onshore. The power here will likely go out.
The Complementary Spouse have the ability to turn away hurricanes. Call it specious reasoning or magical thinking, but it works. It all started in 2005, when Charlie threatened the Tampa Bay area. The night before the storm was about to hit, we had dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. The very next morning, the storm make a strong right turn and we were spared.
Since then, we’ve gone to the Cheesecake Factory whenever a hurricane was in the forecast. And every single time, the hurricane didn’t hit.
No surprise, then, that the Complementary Spouse and I headed to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. Since I’m still on a very limited diet, I planned to order scrambled eggs. However, we got there at 5 p.m. to discover that it had closed at 4 p.m. So, no Cheesecake Factory.
The only logical conclusion is that we’re doomed.
A hurricane is on track to hit Florida this weekend. Right now, the path is heading toward the east coast of the state, which means that Camp David might be spared the worst of it. However, in my many years of living in Florida, I have learned that any predictions made this far out are usually wrong. The Tampa Bay area has been lucky for many years, but luck always runs out (Footnote 1).
People are taking the storm seriously, especially after Harvey. This was the water aisle in Walmart this weekend.
If the storm turns in our direction, we have evacuation plans in place. However, if the storm hits elsewhere, we’ll probably still have very strong winds and blackouts. If the power does indeed go out, I have a significant problem. Nearly all of the foods on my pureed diet need to be refrigerated. So does the milk I need to make my protein shakes.
Without electricity, my eating choices will be limited to cans of tuna or chicken, mushed up to a pureed consistency. I can also have applesauce, but that doesn’t have a lot of protein. I’m not looking forward to this possibility.
One thing that works in my favor is that Camp David is located near a hospital, and we’re on the same electrical grid. When the power goes out, it’s restored very quickly — after all, they’re going to prioritize getting power to a a hospital than a Burger King.
1. See this great Washington Post article.
I know I haven’t been blogging as much as I did before the surgery. I am not sure why. I think part of it has to do with the fact that life is slowly returning to normal, and I’m simply not having as many thoughts about the process as I did earlier. Part of it is also that I’ve returned to work (albeit working from home), so after I spend all day writing I don’t feel inclined to write any more.
No matter the cause, I’m going to recommit myself to keeping this blog up-to-date.
Well, it has finally happened. My wedding ring is too loose, and I have had to take it off for fear of losing it. This is a victory, but it makes me unhappy.
When the Complementary Spouse and I first met, there was never even an inkling that we would get married one day. It was simply an impossibility. When the supreme court in California ruled in favor of marriage equality, we immediately made plans to fly to San Francisco to be married. A few days after same-sex marriage became the law of the state, we were married next to the bust of Harvey Milk in San Francisco’s beaux-arts city hall.
To me, the wedding ring wasn’t just a symbol of commitment. It was a political statement. It showed the world that the Complementary Spouse and I were equal and deserved the same rights and respect as anyone else. I had never planned to take it off. But now I have to.
I will have the ring resized as soon as I reach my final weight. However, right now, it’s waiting for me in its box, tucked safely away in a drawer.