Pre-Op Behind the Scenes!

 Oh man. I did not know what I was in for with the pre-op liquid diet and the sheer weight of the anxiety that I experienced last week. Seven days ago, I was having my last day of "regular eating", which if you take a look at the truth behind my regular eating, you'd see that it wasn't regular at all. Food had become a comfort to me in the crazy chaos of motherhood over the last 16 years, and especially since I started working from home exclusively since 2014. These aren't excuses, just more foundation for you to understand where I am coming from in this decision, and why I chose to go the surgery route. 

Liquid diets are really terrible. Especially for someone who has issues with texture (Jell-o isn't my friend) and an awful gag reflex. Super bad combo. Starting on Monday, April 24th, I was on a clear liquid diet in preparation for my surgery on Wednesday, April 26th. I started that week off at 273.2 pounds. That is so embarrassing to even type it out, but I know in six months, I'll be far away from that number and celebrating my successes, so here goes. Full transparency. 

My lovely diet on Monday began with protein shakes, Gatorade Zero, chicken broth (gag), sugar-free popsicles and sugar-free pudding. The Jell-o, I really gave it a shot, but it's just not my jam. Even with very limited options, I'll pass. I was so cranky by the afternoon on Monday, I was seriously second-guessing my decision to go through with this. I talked to my husband about it, and he was rationally supportive, per usual. Telling me that I needed to focus on my goals, and not get caught up in how I felt at that particular moment. He was probably right, but it was incredibly aggravating to hear. On a liquid diet, no less. 

By Tuesday, I was freaking out. I didn't know how to tell people, I had only let four people know at that point. Four people that I knew I needed the support of and trusted to keep my best interest in mind, even if they were concerned or worried about my decision. I still hadn't told my kids when I went to sleep on Tuesday night. They knew I was having surgery, but they didn't know why or what the process would entail. They knew I couldn't eat food prior to the surgery, but since they're kids and have their own stuff at the forefront of their minds, they didn't ask too many questions. 

Tuesday evening, I was starting to get a little more excited about the possibility of the end game here. The results. The solution. The feeling better. The dropping of excess weight I'd been carrying around for so many years. Then I woke up on Wednesday morning and was scared all over again. It was a back-and-forth emotional roller coaster, and it was exhausting. Not to mention that I am anxious by nature, and was suddenly thinking about what would happen to my kids if I didn't make it through the surgery. I was already worried about who was going to get them to and from school and sports and friends' houses, and now this. Wednesday was one of the longest days of my life. I was supposed to be at the hospital at noon, but then we waited around, of course, and I was in pre-op stressing out and worrying about things until about 3pm. I think I went into the pre-op room around 3pm or so. The thing is, I'm not scared of surgery. I've had 7 or 8 surgeries in my life. Anesthesia is usually fine for me, no complications. I don't have a really difficult time with pain management, I usually have a pretty high tolerance for pain and can muster through it. I remember going to a high school play a day or two after I had my gallbladder removed when I was 17, no problem. Now granted, I've added a few years of wear and tear to this body, but even back in 2019 when I had a procedure requiring anesthesia, I woke up happy and fine and in minimal pain. 

So I went into the surgery anxious and worried, but not scared of the actual procedure. More scared of what was to follow, and rightfully so. The best (and worst) was yet to come.