Since this whole thing started back in April I have gone from weighing close to 160 to now 130. Last Fall I joined a gym because I hated that my weight had reached almost 160. All I wanted was to get to to 145. I told myself “If I can just get to that weight again, I will be happy.”. I am starting to understand why people with eating disorders speak about their weight the way they do. I know on the scale it says I am 130, but in the mirror when I strip down to just my undergarments, I still see 155.
*Before I continue let me just say I do not have an eating disorder. I have not tried to lose weight throughout my journey, it just happens when you have multiple surgeries. My appetite is back and last night I even made my side of fries into a poutine – so hush down.
That is how sick the female brain is. I know the weight is off my body because all of my skinny jeans now look like a loose pair of mom jeans that at tapered at the bottom. The only things that can cover my behind now are leggings and track pants – but heading into my favourite season, I really do not want to wear those everyday. Jeans, leather jackets, boots and scarves – my Fall staple items. Right now however it seems to be Roots track pants and sweater, Toms, and thick socks. Attractive and fashionable. Sorry fellas but I am taken.
I know the weight will come back, so I am not too worried about it. What I need to remember is what 130 looks like in my head. Not that much different. Now probably if I lost this weight the healthy way by being at the gym, the outcome would have a different reality. I would have a toned stomach instead of one with a big red line down the centre. Even still, I like a steak with a little bit of fat on it – adds more flavour.
Dealing with my pain daily has become normal for me. Who ever thought I would say that? I feel like I have not been myself since July 20th, the day before my first surgery. All of the shit I went through during my hospital stays and all the days in-between really changed me. Obviously I will never be the exact same person I was back in early April 2014, but I would like to at least get back to the person on July 20th. Before I knew how scary life really can be. Before I knew what death looked like. Before I became used to being stabbed with a needle multiple times a day. Before I became comfortable just lifting up my gown to whoever came in that resembled a health practitioner. Before I knew what withdrawal feels like coming off of a pain medication. Before I knew how many days my body could go without eating.
My surgeon is amazed by how “well” I am doing. He says my fallen appetite is normal and most patients of liver surgery lose up to 25% of their body weight – so my 10-15 pounds is nothing. My first surgery was invasive, but he let me know my second was 500x more invasive, and I should lower my expectations on recovery. That is easier said than done. The way I feel in my head does not match the way my body is responding. “How bad do I really have to pee?” – I question this about every hour. That involves sitting up, walking to the washroom, and trying my best to sit on something not even close to comfortable. You try sitting on a toilet without using your abs. Near impossible.
Chemo is starting again in 2 weeks. A new friend appeared on my upper left lung that I now have to tackle. My body is not as strong as it was the first time I was on chemo, but my blood work looks good so back into the stadium I go. Bottoms up to the chemo cocktail.