Climbing Back in the Saddle, One Joke at a Time

>> Friday, June 11, 2010

I have not sat down to write a blog post in well over a week.  Between the cold I had, the gall bladder surgery, the recovery, and now this new cold, I just haven't had the drive.  Plus, I made a pledge not to blog under the influence of narcotics, so that limited my options.  I know, you think that maybe reading a blog I wrote while wacked out on codeine could be amusing, but I think it might have just lead to a lot of typos.  Just ask my friends on Facebook.  Apparently I spelled "diapers" as "diamers" and "Pampers" as "pamers".  My ideas were coherent, but my fingers were not.

So ... here I am ... trying to get back up on the horse again.  I feel like I'm starting all over. Even better, I just finished watching a commercial about abandoned and abused pets from the ASPCA, so I am in exactly the right mood to be funny (... not).  (Get out the tissues.)

Thanks to my mother and Darling Husband, Entropy has only been able to make small gains on the house during my convalescence, but it certainly has made long strides in disrupting my meticulous planning for my trip to Egypt.  What can I say?  I am a bit ... particular.  Let's call it ... very detail oriented.  I find being so behind on my list of things to do ... nerve wracking.

Toddler has handled my retreat from active scrubbing, cooking, and potty training with about as much grace as any almost-3 year old can possibly do.  Of course, he has become exuberant and enthusiastic in his need for affection from me, especially after Grandma and Daddy have told him he has to be gentle.  The risk of random head butts has increased, usually aimed right at my incisions.  Also, I have noticed a distressing habit.  When Toddler wants to sit on my lap, he leans his tushy against my boobs, and slides down.  Apparently he is incapable of just sitting normally, or stay sitting when I place him gently in my lap without sliding. He always tries to stand up and scootch down "his way."  Oof.  Funny how I never noticed that before.

Oddly enough, removal of my gall bladder has radically affected my taste buds.  No one has any idea how these two things are related, but I can't deny the evidence.  The morning after my surgery, the hospital gave me black coffee with sugar, the best tasting thing I have ever had.  (Normally I use cream and artificial sweetner, with black coffee being a sign of desperation.)  Then, I had the good fortune to drink a cup of beef broth that tasted like the nectar of the gods.  I am not kidding.  I was in heaven. 

I have mentioned several times in this blog that I consider myself "salt" not "sweet" (I'd find the link, but I'm too lazy, and it isn't that important.  I just told you the important part.)  Yet, after the surgery, my sweet tooth went through the roof.  For my second meal after surgery, I ordered cholesterol free eggs and a blueberry muffin.  I ate the muffin and left the eggs.  The pre-surgery me would never have done that.  Then, later, I began craving waffles.  Now, the old me didn't hate waffles, but if given a choice between waffles and eggs platters, I was always about the eggs, potatos, and toast.  Logically, I would have thought I would be craving bacon, even though it was out of the question, but waffles?  And blueberry muffins?  Huh?

Even eating my favorites (those I still could) didn't make me happy.  I came home, and got a pickle from the jar in the fridge.  I love dill pickles, and family lore claims I always have.  This time, I could barely eat half of the thing before putting it away on a plate -- it tasted too strong.  How the heck does that happen?  The only other time I didn't want a pickle was when I was pregnant with Toddler.  (Nope, not pregnant, so don't go there.  I checked -- officially.)

Now over a week post-op, and my taste buds are not back to normal.  Of course, with the tonsilitis and sinusitis, I feel like I can't taste much of anything, but I'm still dreaming of fluffy breakfast breads, and the idea of a piece of pizza makes me a little bit queasy.  I understand if I had had time to make the association that what I ate was often the cause of my distress, this aversion would make sense, but from the time we found the cause of my problem, and the time my gall bladder was removed, I didn't even have time for more than one meal, much less time to make any associations.  I am even drinking juice and gatorade, things I just never wanted before.  I can't explain it.

I also can't explain how removing my gall bladder seems to have affected my appetite and my stomach capacity.  Prior to the surgery, I knew of only two states -- "able to eat" and "too stuffed."  Even after not eating for days, I didn't have any real "hunger" mechanism left, nor did I have any reliable "full" mechanism.  Now I have a raging version of both.   I am starved if I don't eat every four hours, and I leave food behind on my plate even if I like it.

I don't even know who I am anymore.  I can't deny the changes aren't good for me, but sheesh, why couldn't I do this when I wanted to?  I have spent the better part of my life in a battle with my appetite, knowing only will power as the guide to "enough" and "the right choices."  Now, instincts seem to be leading me the right way.  Man, if I could bottle this effect, I would never have to work another day in my life.  Pity I can't solve this one for the good of all mankind.

On second thought, maybe I'd better reconsider how much I publicize all these effects of my surgery.  I'd hate to give the food nazis of this country the opportunity to consider mandatory gall bladder removal of the population.  I think i know a few people that might think this is actually a good idea.  Quick! Surf to another blog page!  Don't let them catch you reading this!

1 comments:

Susan June 12, 2010 at 4:37 AM  

You are too funny! Hope you're feeling better soon.

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