It goes something like this:

It turns out I should have paid more attention to my frequent vomiting.  I spent most of Christmas Eve and Christmas in bed, when I wasn't in bed I was either going stark raving mad or falling on my face.  I had absolutely no balance and could barely walk.  The night after Christmas was very bad indeed, I was doing everything in my power to escape myself -- besides popping Xanax like Tic Tacs, I ran up $2000 on plane tickets and hotel rooms, even tried to get a passport in order to go to Cancun.  Mother called the doctor the next day and explained my erratic behavior.  The doctor told her to get me to the hospital immediately because it sounded as though my electrolytes were low.  It turns out when your electrolytes plummet towards the ground you tend to go into a manic episode -- kinda like a diabetic attack that doesn't stop.

We drove 2 1/2 hours to Fresno.  Mother had to do some major shaking of her fist to get me a wheelchair and a room immediately.  The doctor arrived and had it in his mind that I was just nuts.  Mother kept insisting this wasn't normal behavior for me.  He asked if I was depressed and I said, I sure am.  He asked if I was suicidal and I replied, you bet!  He asked if I wanted someone to sit in the room with me all night.  I asked, why?  Would they talk to me?  He says no, they'll just watch you.  I said, well what fun is that?

Because I was also severely dehydrated they had trouble gettin an IV started, they ended up havin to put in the crook of my arm, which meant I had to keep my right arm perfectly still otherwise the IV machine would screech. But all is well and the doc schedules me for an endoscopy in the morning.  They take a bunch of blood and the nurse sitting at the end of my bed mentions something in kilograms.  I said, "Huh? Did the bed just weigh me?"  They said yes and I thought that was just too cool.  I asked what that was in pounds and it came 342.  I said, "Wow! I should get sick more often."

The orderly brings in a liquid dinner, unfortunately half of it contains sugar which obviously I can't have.  She comes back and I point out that I've had gastric bypass surgery and cannot tolerate sugar.  She says, "Well you can drink your juice."  No I can't!  Stupid woman it's cranberry juice, high fructose syrup is one of the highest ingredients.  Then she replies, "Well your doctor only specified a liquid meal so you'll have to talk to him."  Whatever, just take the tray and please don't come back.  A cutie pie orderly came in and said he'd try to find some sugarless Jello for me, but to be honest by the time he brought it, I just didn't care.

It just so happened that my very best friend Snookie got me the latest Gameboy for Christmas -- tested and approved by her geeky fiance, bless 'em both.  Unfortunately, I learned it's impossible to play your Gameboy with one arm.  I lead a good fight, but finally gave up.  So I played with the TV and bed instead.

Also because of my spazzing system I'm having the period from hell.  Then I suddenly had the feeling of a mighty poo coming on.  I struggle to get outta bed , unplug the IV machine and drag it along with me.  But guess what?  By this time I've purty much shit my pants.  Now I'm completely mortified and try to clean it up off the floor.  I just threw my underwear away -- I didn't care to ever see it again.  A nurse comes in, I tell her what happened and asked if I could take a quick shower.  Nope couldn't do that, the IV has to stay in.  But she offers to get some towels to help me clean up.  15 minutes pass by and I'm standing in the door way in tears, meanwhile blood and shit are dripping down my thighs.  I give up and try to clean myself up as best as possible and also find some clean undies.  Then as I'm dragging my IV back to my bed, I have to go again.  I made it that time, but I'm still not having fun.  So I drag the IV out to the nurses station and say that I've had diarrhea twice now and am gettin ready for my third, could I please have an anti-diarrhea pill?  She says no because the doctor wanted that medicine in my IV to clean me out incase I had a blockage.  I had never mentioned any problems to him about pooing.

Now I'm raving.  If I'm dehydrated and incredibly vitamin deficient, how the hell is shitting my brains out gonna help me.  I try and call Mom on her cellphone, but because it's long distance I can't get through.  Well a few minutes pass by and she calls me -- just as I'm talking to her Jeremy comes in and said that my Mom had called, I'm irratible and want him to go away so I can ask Mother to take me the hell away from here.  So I say, "No it's fine, you can go now."  Mother says, "Oh ok," and proceeds to hang up.  I screeched NO NOT YOU, HIM! PISS OFF! Poor Jeremy ran scurrying away.  I then told Mother all that was happening, that they were just out to get me and begged her to come and get me. Of course she couldn't do that and I hung up on her.  I went to the bathroom again and figured out how to turn off my IV, then I put my clothes on under my hospital nightie and planned to escape.

Told ya I was nuts.

I was back in bed and Jeremy timidly entered, I asked him if they just put magnesium phosphate in my IV bag.  He said that he'd get the nurse to come in answer that question.  I asked what was in the bag and she said that it was loads of vitamins.  Then I asked about the crapping part and said that I haven't had a problem with constipation.  She said that I could still have a partial blockage. Then I asked how the hell am I getting rehydrated and getting in vitamins if I'm goin to the bathroom all the time?  She said that I was getting 200 cc an hour and that my electrolytes were dangerously low, that I was a very sick girl and they were just trying to figure out what was wrong with me.  She also said she herself had gastric bypass surgery and knew what it was like.  This made me feel much better so I told her that I was a very smart girl and figured out how to turn off the IV, so she might wanna turn that back on.  She plugged the IV into the bathroom so I wouldn't have to be dragging it with me, she moved all obstacles outta my way and then propped my arm onna pillow so I'd be more comfortable.  She also jimmy-rigged the IV so it wouldn't screech at me all night.  

I finally stopped running to the bathroom, but was freezing my ass off.  So the nurse turned up the thermostat and shut the door so the room would heat up.  The bed kept makin sounds even when I wasn't playin with the buttons.  I asked the nurse and she said that it contours to your position.  The bed cost $7000 but it's damn worth it.  Oh my God, I'd move my toe and it would adjust for me. So around one I finally fell asleep.  

About six I woke up to a different orderly, Eddie, takin my blood pressure -- he was a very sweet man and reminded me exactly like Joel Grey.  Then at a quarter to eight a couple of nurses came in and asked if I was ready for the endoscopy.  Well woohoo!  By this time I was much steadier on my feet and was able to walk to the gurney myself.

I told the nurse that the last time I had this done I felt everything and didn't have enough anesthetic.  So she said she'd give me more this time.  And it was much better this time.  I was still awake, but didn't feel much until he dilated, because unlike Dr. Chang, he balloons it for five minutes.  But I looked up at him and he said, "She opened her eyes, give her some more."  Woohoo!  I also had an ulcer that probably caused the stricture.  So he concluded I wasn't nuts and was really sick.  I told him about my updated weightloss and he patted me and said that I was doing great and actually ahead of schedule, and to stop worrying and being depressed.  So I got a prescription for my ulcer, my very wonderful Joel Grey orderly got me some towels to clean up with then wheeled me outta there.

During my nutso time I took many a spill, but I wasn't lucid enough to feel the pain -- now I'm covered head to toe with bruises.  I was also ashamed and mortified at all the things I said to folks not including the bills I ran up.  After a chat with a hotel manager and a few rounds with Priceline I got the $2000 debt down to about $750.  But I still felt really really bad and while I was in the kitchen with Dad today I asked him, "Do you still like me?"  He hugged me and said of course, I even loved ya when you were nuts.  I apologized for the things I said and he said that he knew I didn't mean 'em.  I apologized for the money and said that the check (from closing out one of my E-Trade accounts) I deposited into his saving's account he could keep and that would make up for the difference. He said, "You think I'm very concerned with money, but I'm not. I figured the money was gone and that was that.  My main concern was you."

Then I got the courage to tell Mom I ordered Xanax off the net and was popping 'em like mad.  Then I said I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry dozens of times then asked, "Do ya still like me?"  She cried and said she coulda lost me and of course she still loves me.  I gave the pills to her and vowed never to do it again.

Reflections

Christmas may be a loss this year, but there will be others.

As I look back over the following weeks I can see the signs were forming.  I thought the vomiting was normal and was afraid of sounding like Chicken Little, "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!"  From now on I won't be ignoring symptoms.  And though I already knew this, this situation only cemented my belief in how much I'm loved by friends and family -- to so quickly and easily forgive me for wrong doings.  I am lucky.  

I also figure if I can survive all that, I can purty much count on making it through anything.

Yo

I must say, without a doubt, this Christmas will go down in history as being the worst ever.   I'm actually purty tired and don't feel like gettin all detailed at the moment.  But ummm, with all the vomiting I've been doing I became severely dehydrated and my electrolytes plummeted to the ground.  Turns out when this happens you tend to be in a psychotic and irrational state -- alot like when a diabetic wigs out.  I had absolutely no balance, I'm covered head to toe with bruises.  I also learned the hard way that I could do the splits.  But I wasn't even lucid enough to realize it hurt a damn lot.  

Doctors get called and turns out Dr. Schwartz was unaware I had three strictures so he said to get me to the emergency room.  Piled in the car, went to Fresno, hung out in the emergency room with zillions of flu victims.  Mother was completely irate, and demanded I be admitted and put on an IV immediately.  She succeeded in frightening the lil man working behind the desk and we got a room.  

Dr. Schwartz comes gets up to speed on my symptoms and just thinks I'm nuts -- Mother keeps saying that this was not normal behavior for me.  So they took lots of blood and found out that indeed my electrolytes were purty damn low.  In the morning I was much more steady on my feet, they did an endoscopy and not only did they find a pinhole stricture, they also found an ulcer.  Dr. Schwartz seemed very remorseful for not believing and was extra kind.  *thumbsup*

I'll tell ya the fun-filled details later -- like how I wigged out, figured out how to turn off the IV and escape from the hospital.  

The house was clean and I was reluctant to drag all those boxes in and mess it up.  Obviously no baking this year, and we're doing a lean Christmas this year because I plan on going to Vegas for my birthday.  But by God, there will drinking!

I had a shot of vodka last night and it didn't kill me, so Poinsettas here I come!

A couple weeks ago I had my first instance of eating out.  Because of all the vomiting I'd been very weary of the idea.  We went to Applebee's and I ordered the grilled chicken caesar salad -- nibbled on some chicken, drank a lil water and shoved the plate in front of my Dad to finish.  Later on I actually stole a few more bites of chicken and a few bites of his garlic mashed potatoes.  All in all I was very pleased with the outcome of not hurling.

Speaking of hurling, it's been exactly a week since I barfed -- this is the longest length of time since surgery.

I also went nuts at the Coldwater Creek Outlet in Gilroy, but what are ya gonna do?  It was 70% off and stuff.

I also updated my measurements, admittedly this time they were less than stellar.  So I decided to add Pilates to my routine.  Those are hard!  And far from fat friendly.  I roll around, attempting to do a half-ass version, cussing the instructor out all the way.  But!  They work!  I'm not kidding.  After a couple of sessions and three days, I'd already lost an inch off my belly and hips.

No climbing the bell tower today and pickin off folks.  My three month anniversary is almost upon us.  Because of my weight and staggering BMI, I assumed by this time that I woulda lost 80 to 100 pounds.  This is one of the biggest mistakes I made -- predicting my weightloss before surgery.  For all you pre-ops out there, absolutely positively, without a doubt, do not do this -- you'll be so disappointed afterwards I guarantee it.  

Things I can do now: I can walk up and down a hill without keeling over. I can take a shower without becoming exhausted and reach almost all of my, according to Lever, 2000 parts.  I can take a bath again!  I can sit up in bed (my stomach was so big I couldn't before). I now wear a size 7 W shoe as opposed to 7 1/2 W.  I can sit indian style on the couch and my back no longer kills me.

I bought some Erythritol and tried making some brownies with it, but they sucked.  The problem with Erythritol is that it has an almost minty aftertaste -- I'm not sure how to get around that.  The reason why I'm interested in it is because it registers a zero on the glycemic index and has only .2 calories per gram.  While Splenda does have Maltodextrin in it.  I was, however, able to make a purty damn comparable low carb eggnog.

Thanksgiving wasn't a problem as we decided to skip it.  I must admit though, I'm not sure if I can make it through the Holiday Season without a drink.  Poinsettias... *drool*  It just seems sack-religious.