VSG Maintenance Group
Sunday January 21, 2018
Hope your Dad's appointments at Mayo go okay. Yes, we know all too well the stress induced by waiting for those danged test results (or getting the tests approved by insurance in the first place which has been a thorn in our sides!)
5' 4" tall, HW: 242, SW:215.4 Weight Loss - pre-op: - 26.6, M1: -15.4, M2: -16, M3: -11.4, M4: -11.2, M5: -12.2, M6: -7.4, M7: -7.8, M8: -2.0 Goal of 130 lbs. reached at 8 months, 2 days post-op!
Weight: 130.2
Macros: Cals - 1,508, carbs - 179, fats - 37, protein - 94, fiber - 30
Veggies/Fruits (goal 8): 8
Sleep (goal 8 hours): 7 + a 3 hour nap yesterday afternoon
Exercise: None
Slept 7 hours last night after taking my last half-tab of Ambien. That was in addition to a 3-hour nap yesterday afternoon. More about that in a minute.
Yesterday's 8 servings of V/Fs came from a small apple, raw carrots, cherry tomatoes, fresh greens, amalgamated veggies in high-sodium (yikes!) Progresso vegetable soup, carrots, broccoli, water chestnuts, and fresh blueberries grown in God knows where, but boy were they huge and delicious.
Still no pie.
Rather than recreate what happened yesterday, here's an unedited, unredacted excerpt from the grief journal I'm keeping:
Day Eleven. I'm deep in the anger phase of grieving, which comes with irritation, sarcasm, frustration, and feeling completely misunderstood. I am not angry with my husband or even about his death, at least not that I can decipher. But I'm furious at idiots who won't do what I ask them to do, which mostly is to leave me alone right now, and to whom I've said they can't fix this and that I must do my grieving alone in any ways I can.
By this point, given how many people don't seem to understand what I'm saying, I've become terrified of being psychologically assaulted by people who want to forcibly pray with me, pray for me, bring me to Jesus, worry about my husband being a Christian, assume that we both are/were Christians, or who are upset when they sense that heaven/hell aren't end-goals by which we ordered our lives.
As a result, I've considered canceling his memorial service for fear someone will stand up and offer some inane, canned, pathetic, yokel prayer because that's their model and they assume without a second's reflection that their prayer will comfort me and earn their daily brownie points with God. I abhor this kind of intrusive, disrespectful, un-self-aware religiosity.
Yesterday morning, X came over uninvited AFTER I told her I wanted to be alone. And she sat here in my living room telling me of the depth of her pain over my husband's death -- for two and a half ******g hours. So here I sat with my hair washed and wet, but not combed out, wearing no shoes, no underwear, only a bathrobe. (Yesterday was to be my Home Spa Day, but her arrival was the end of that plan.) As a condolence gift she gave me a "Damnit Doll," which I'm supposed to beat against a wall when I'm feeling angry (it wasn't the doll I wanted to beat).
By the time she left I was in a terrible state of uncommunicated rage and resentment. Her take-charge, alpha-female fixer mode of "knowing what other people really need even if they don't know it" triggered the **** out of me. She ******g ruined my day. I fell asleep in my chair for almost three hours, missing not only the rest of my spa day, but the walk I'd planned to take.
So that happened.
Today is going much better. The seven hours of Ambien-induced sleep helped. This morning I asked a different, much saner friend to meet me in town, where we walked fast for an hour. Then one of my nieces who's a nurse practitioner at MD Anderson called, and I downloaded to her my frustrations about yesterday's visit from X. Her response was perfect. She wasn't judgmental at all. Actually, she WAS judgmental, but she just agreed with me. Because isn't that what we all need and want during the worst times of our lives - to be understood?
Today's Theme: You really cannot fix stupid.
P.S. I'll be so glad when this anger phase ends. It's exhausting. Interesting, but exhausting.
ANN 5'5", AGE 74, HW 235.6 (BMI 39.2), SW 216, GW 150, CW 132, BMI 22
POUNDS LOST: Pre-op -20, M1 -10, M2 -11, M3 -10, M4 -10, M5 -7, M6 -5, M7 -6, M8 -4, M9 -4,
NEXT 10 MOS. -12, TOTAL -100 LBS.
I am glad you are documenting this as it happens. The portrait of your external disarray combined with internal seething and a Damnit Doll at the ready might seem unimaginable in time.
HW:361 SW:304 (VSG 12/04/2014)Mo 1:-32 Mo 2:-13.5 Mo 3: -13.5 Mo 4 -9.5 Mo 5: -15 Mo 6: -15 Mo 7: -13.5 Mo 8: -17 Mo 9: -13 Mo 10: -12.5 11/3/2015 Healthy BMI Reached! Mo 11: -9 Mo 12: -8 12/27/2015 Goal Weight Reached!
As my Pops says, "If stupidity hurt, she'd be taking morphine."
Totally am on your side with this one. My mother was not a religious woman. To avoid any discomfort on my father's part, we did not allow an "open mike" portion. Ron and I wrote, organized and ran the service. We had a catered reception afterwards. Done. Was much easier on my dad that way.
The afternoon after my mom died everyone was inside looking at photos and reminiscing. I couldn't. I went outside and pruned all her rose bushes (it was January) so my dad wouldn't have to do it. The roses were my mom's and it's what I had to do.
Do what you have to do. Your life, your love, your grief.
Love you.
