After finally deciding to proceed with bariatric surgery, then changing my mind about ten times before deciding on which type to have I finally made my choice and proceeded with the workup. I’m going to have a gastric sleeve (more info on choices here) and so had to have an EGD to look for any abnormalities in my upper GI tract that could cause problems during the surgery. Aside from a little gastritis all was well, which was a miracle considering the stress of the last few years combined with daily anti-inflammatory medication.
It was absolutely the easiest procedure I’ve ever had, start to finish. I was due one, right? Seriously, I had blood draws by the home health nurse from Hell that were worse than this. Everyone was polite, friendly, and helpful. Except for the pigeon.
Since I arrived mid-morning the parking structure was full. I literally had to park on the roof. John and I had to go down a flight of stairs to get to the elevator. At the landing this huge pigeon started dive-bombing us. My natural response was to scream, curse, and run. John just ran, so he didn’t look like such an idiot when we reached the open part of the parking garage, which we had to cross to get to the elevator (handicapped accessible my ass). Of course there was a women getting out of her car, and I would have been completely embarrassed except that John started talking about how he thought the pigeon had a knife, and he was pretty sure it had a teardrop tattoo under its eye. By the time we got to the elevators I was laughing hysterically.
I had originally planned on going alone, and just having Michael pick me up when he finished work. But I was really glad I took John. You should always take someone entertaining to any medical procedures. He even signed me out because Michael wasn’t there yet when I woke up enough for the surgeon to tell me my results and the nurse to give me my discharge instructions.
In fact, I was still relaxed enough from the diprivan for John to drive me home (following Michael, of course). I remember telling him he was a really good driver except for the one stop sign he ignored. At that point I think he just wanted to get me home ASAP so he wouldn’t have to listen to my nonsensical ramblings.
I’m looking forward to the surgery. Once you’ve had someone cut your neck open and shove aside your trachea, esophagus, and major blood vessels and then yank out stuff compressing your spinal cord and line your vertebrae back up like dog-chewed brio track someone fishing around in my gut does not worry me. My only concern is that I get pain pills and muscle relaxers for my neck postop.
Next job: dividing all my clothes by size, so that I’ll have what I need ready as I lose weight. It’s going to be an adventure, and as always you’re all welcome to join me for the highs and lows
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