I am so sleepy -- between the Xanax, anesthesia, sleeping pills, lack of vitamins and not eating since last Friday, I'm zonked.  However, mentally I'm bouncing off the walls, but we must start at the beginning.

Three years ago with the stress of moving and serious culture shock, I developed Agoraphobia.  It took about a year to summon up the courage to visit the doctor's office and get a prescription.  Woo!  Paxil!  Unfortunately because of the stenosis I hadn't taken my medication in the past few days, and with the added stress of this surgery I've been considering upping my dosage.

So here we are, driving over to Fresno for my appointment and fifteen minutes into the ride I start having a panic attack.  I focus on slowly breathing in and out.  Another fifteen minutes pass and I cannot control it -- no amount of self- rationalizing with subdue my panicking. Oh crap, now what?  We're still about 90 miles from Fresno, there is no way I'm going to last that long.

I don't wanna tell my Mother cuz it'll upset her.  But then my hands and arms begin to go numb, I lose almost all my feeling and I can't even move my fingers.  Now I'm freaking and rationalization just didn't take a backseat, it hopped out of the car to hitch a ride with someone else.  I'm going to start clawing at the window any second.  I'm really squirming around in the car seat and Mother asks if I'm alright.  I tell her no and that I'm having a panic attack and I'm wigging out.  She asks if I want her to stop the car and walk around a bit.  I say, "No.  I don't know...  Yes, yes."

We pull into a gas station and I get out of the car.  I'm shaking like a leaf and my calves are like Jello, I can barely even walk.  And the only thing that keeps going through my mind: WANNA GO HOME WANNA GO HOME WANNA GO HOME WANNA GO HOME WANNA GO HOME! Wanna turn, go home and be safe.  But shit I can't do that, I've got to go to this doctor's appointment.  So I just stand there wobbling in the parking lot and repeating, "I don't know what to do."  Mother suggests putting the seat back and maybe laying down would make me feel better.  Yes.  I get back in the car -- the fresh air made me feel better.  I turn to Mother and say, "I have a plan."

Mother, "Let's hear it."  I told her, "I'm going to call Dr. Chang's office and ask if it's alright to take a mild sedative or tranquilizer (Because I wasn't supposed to take anything by mouth after 7 that morning and it was 8:30).  If they agreed I would call my PCP, tell her the situation and ask her to prescribe a tranquilizer and have it sent to a drugstore in Los Banos (which was about 10 miles away)."

A few calls and wrong numbers later, we got our prescription. One number I thought was the hospital ended up being a high school newspaper.  Seeing as how all I'm armed with is a cell phone and numbers verbally given to me, I'm freaked.  But bless this ladies heart, she says, "Here, let me look that up for ya." Just another nameless, faceless angel.

Anyways, we're at the Walgreens' drive-up pharmacy waiting for the prescription and who should call at that exact moment but my wonderful guardian angel of a friend, Kristy -- you'll remember her from pre-surgery days when she again called at the perfect time when I was feeling worried about the surgery.  So I tell her, "Boy did you ever call at the most perfect time."  I filled her in on the day's challenges and she told me Xanax was great stuff and always knocked her on her ass.  We also talked about my problems with the lack of weight loss  and she told me not to worry and it would come off.  So by the time I was off the phone with her the drugs had kicked in and I was feeling mighty fine.

That Xanax is some good shit.  It's quite a lot like being drunk -- I felt as thought I was staggering around after a couple Long Island Iced Teas.

Got to the hospital about 45 minutes later than we were supposed to, but no one seemed to mind, they were all smiles and thumbsup.  I saw Dr. Chang, poor guy he must have squeezed that procedure in for the day because he was wearing a nice suit and tie.  He asked if it had worked before and I told him that it was going great up until this past weekend.  So he put on his lil paper nightie and got to work.

I woke up in the recovery room and the staff was talking and giggling about Michael Jackson.  One of the nurses came over and said, "Isn't it sad?  We don't have a life."  I pointed out to him that everybody else was sleeping and I was awake.  He said, "Well ya sure are." And then wheeled me off to a lil room.  Dr. Chang had talked to Mom and said that he was able to get the opening a lil bigger than last time, and then I got dressed and they wheeled me outta there.

But the absolute best part of the day?  The part that made the whole day worth while?  The thing that everything else pales in comparison to?  The reason why I'm so nauseatingly happy?

They weighed me.  With my clothes and shoes on!  We'll all remember that 2 weeks ago I weighed 400.  

You on the edge of your seat yet?

I weighed 382.

Woohoo!  That's 18 pounds in two weeks and about 50 pounds total.

It makes all the past misery... Ok now..:)