Mourning

It's morning. And I'm pretty sure I'm mourning. This morning I'm to have a 'light' breakfast and then on to a clear liquid diet in preparation for my colonoscopy on Friday. Followed by three more days of clear liquid diet leading up to my gastric sleeve surgery on Monday. Had a couple of squares of Dove chocolate last night before bed. Taps played in my head. We went out to dinner at Carrabbas, there's a new one out at Denver West. Didn't like what I ordered. The salad was lousy and the pasta dish mediocre. Not a great 'last supper.' Practiced taking teeny tiny sips of my water and teeny tiny bites, chewing thoroughly. Even tried to swallow slowly. Knowing that this is my future.

Attended a two hour prep class for the surgery yesterday and tried really hard to feel a part of the group of women who shared the table with me as we went through our binders and learned all the ins and outs of getting through the weeks after surgery. Two of them have their surgery just ahead of me on Monday. They all seem really nice. They have been in a class together for a few weeks doing supervised weight loss that I don't have to do. Their insurance required it. Medicare didn't. There is a support group that I want to attend. But that's later. Since that class I've bought protein powders, protein drinks, shaker bottles for mixing said powders with milk (skimmed or 1%). I even got a couple of cook books and a book that claims to be an emotional support book for life after bariatric surgery. I bought vitamins. Multi-vitamins, calcium chews, B-12 chews, Today I need to get Gatorade to mix with my laxative for my colonoscopy, baby spoons and forks so I don't choke myself eating...when I can eat again.

The cherry on the sundae of my day was that I lost my debit card. Used it to buy my and David's dinner at Carrabbas and when I went to get it out of my wallet to order a Valentine's present for granddaughter Ashlinn on Zulilly.com it was not there. So I reported it missing and had it cancelled...7-10 days to wait for a replacement. Not that I'm going to be going anyplace for the next 7-10 days. I have a few checks and my Amazon Chase credit card, so it could be worse.

So far this post has been pretty negative. I'm sure my angst is showing. But like I said, I think I can safely say I'm in mourning.

As I came out of my sleep this morning, Dave had his arms around me, and as he usually does, he was moving his fingers over my hip and thigh under my nightgown. Very nice. Then an ugly picture came into my mind. In most of the cities we visited in Europe there was a monument to the victims of the medieval plagues, the Black Death. One monument pictured an old crone, emaciated with shriveled breasts and a grimace on her face being held down by a pudgy, winged, cherub wielding a weapon of some sort. A trident? A sword? This scene was the representation of the plague being vanquished by God's avenging angels. Anyway, for some reason, that's the image that popped into my mind as Dave lovingly ran his fingers across my skin. An emaciated crone with the rectus of death on her face. BTW it occurred to me when first looking at this particular monument that it was patently offensive to depict the plague in the persona of a woman!

So, it's time to put some stuff in perspective.

This surgery will not change who I am. My skin will still be soft, and while I will inevitable end up with what I only half-jokingly call 'witch tits' when I lose a lot of my excess weight, the positive will more than make up for the soft, round body I'll be losing.  I look forward to being able to lace up my boots while sitting on the ground inside my tent come fire season. I envision myself bending over with ease when I drop something on the floor, getting up gracefully from my favorite chair, without the muffled groan that I suppress now, feeling the extra stress I'm putting on my knees. I look forward to walking up Green Mountain in May, when the wildflowers bloom up there, with a spring in my step and breathing easier on the trail. I see myself scrambling up the mountainsides in American Basin at the base of Cinnamon Pass in the San Juan Mountains, in pursuit of a cluster of columbines to photograph. Maybe, and it's a BIG maybe, I'll even do a cartwheel again.

I am trading my soft, Rubenesque curves for a more healthy, albeit bonier frame. When I told Dave what I had decided to do, all he said was "I just want you to be healthy." That is what I want, too.

But as part of that decision, I will never, ever, be able to have the same relationship with food that I have had for almost all of my life. That is where the mourning comes in. I am putting aside my last physical addiction. And it will most likely be the toughest of all. I quit smoking. I quit drinking. I cannot just quit eating. This upcoming adventure will require more spiritual and emotional fortitude than any other endeavor I have attempted.

In the words of the inimitable House Speaker John Boehner, (and the only time I will ever quote him, I might add) "So be it."