So. Yesterday when the circle sharing came to me I was asked how the scars from my reconstructive surgeries were doing and as I began to describe how they were all at different stages of fading a new member of the group excitedly interrupted and proceeded to tell the group she’d had breast reduction surgery and that the scars were practically unnoticeable at which point this 65-something woman flung the front of her shirt up and over her shoulder to expose her bare-naked girlie bumps to the entire group for inspection. I dare say somehow I have managed to get to the age of 53 without ever being flashed someone’s grandma. Apparently the leader of our group had failed to inform our newest member that we limited ourselves to sharing and not show-n-tell.

Weird and all the more troubling because it was the highlight of my day.

Anyway, that leads to posting what will probably be a final review and update on the reconstructive surgery I had last summer and don’t let the opening story fool you….there will be NO photographs of any part of my flesh including my girl bumps. All you get is this image (which you can click on for a larger version), where I’ve gone ahead and added in the incision lines from the tummy tuck, mid-back lift, arm and thigh reduction, and breast lift.

The tummy tuck/mid-back lift took place in August 2009 and at this point those are the scars that have faded the most and I suspect both these scars will barely be visible in another year. The only lingering effect from these procedures is a continuing sensation of numbness just below my belly button where the stomach muscles were tightened but the intensity of the numbness flunctuates from day to day and most days it’s hardly noticeable. The only other lasting side-effects from the surgery is that any crunch work at the gym can cause some uncomfortable pressure across my mid-section and eating or drinking just a little too much at one seating causes an exaggerated feeling of fullness. All these lasting issues (numbness, bloating, pressure) are connected to having my stomach muscles surgically tightened which is a part of the tummy tuck procedure but not necessarily required.

The second surgery involved the breast lift and the upper arm and thigh reductions  and took place in September 2009. The breast lift was the easiest of all the procedures, both immediately after surgery and in the recovery time since then. There’s been little pain or tenderness around the incision sites although I’m still holding off for another couple months on my regularly scheduled mammogram. I’ll make the appointment when I can even think about having my new and improved all-eyes-ahead breasts squeezed between two plates of glass without wincing.

The thigh reduction incisions that run right along the bottom of my bum are also fading nicely but there are a few points along the incision line where the scar tissue has developed some hardness around it. This hardened tissue will eventually break up and soften but for the time-being it feels like I have a pocketful of pebbles when I lay my side on a semi-hard surface like the matted gym floor.

The scars that are taking the longest to heal are the most visible scars, those being the ones running down my inner arms just past my elbow and on my inner thighs running down just to above my knees. The thigh scars remain a darker pink/purple color and partially show when I wear shorts or shorter capri pants. Fortunately the incision lines have remained relatively thin and flat and I’ve been assured that given more time these too will heal to be very close to my natural skin color; and by that I mean to say  Pillsbury Dough Boy White. The most concerning of all the scar tissue to me is on my arms. The problem isn’t the coloring of the scars since they’re progressively fading too but the thickness and texture of the scars. In some areas the incision lines stretched to nearly double their original width and have developed a thicker texture that’s raised the scar tissue above the level of my skin. The reason for the damage to the scar tissue was due to being so physically active several weeks after the surgery when my Mom became ill and subsequently passed away. All the getting in and out of cars and planes, trips to the hospital, and multiple changes of clothing was all necessary for what was happening at the time but didn’t create the best case scenario for healing. Now that it’s nearing summer and I’m living in short sleeves and tank tops, the scars are hard not to notice but during a recent follow-up with my plastic surgeon he assured me even with these scars given a few more months of healing they’d take on a much more blended appearance to match the rest of my skin. The only thing that probably won’t change on its own is the width of the scar tissue but I’d rather live with that than have corrective surgery to repair it.

So the question is, after all the surgeries, pain, expense, disruption to my regular life, and the lasting scars, was it all worth it? I’ll answer that honestly.

The mid-back lift and tummy tuck, absolutely yes, they were completely worth it. The first week after surgery following the tummy tuck I experienced an incredible amount of pain related to the muscle tightening but I had pain medication for it and by the second week the pain was completely manageable. The time it took to really start feeling normal again took about four to five weeks but then it took a few more weeks beyond that to get back into my regular routine. And the results are fairly amazing. Before the surgery I had spent all of my adult life with an apron of fat and skin that sagged low over my abdomen and rested on the upper portion of my legs when I was sitting. My back and bum were loose and droopy from all the excess skin. The mid-back lift completely smoothed the surface of my back torso and exposed the natural lines and curves of the female anatomy. My stomach wins the award for “most improved.” My abdomen is completely flat and my belly button has been relocated to front and center.

The breast lift and the arm reduction is another unquestionable yes. I was totally surprised in the days following surgery as to how little pain or even discomfort was involved with either of these and the most discomfort I experienced with my arms came about a month after surgery when the skin around the scar tissue was itching and burning like crazy as a reaction to the natural healing process. There have been sporadic and temporarily painful hot spots on the incisions around my breasts as they’ve healed. The results from both of these procedures are better than I had expected. My arms now have a normal amount of sag for a woman my age and my breasts have less sag than normal for a woman my age. No complaints all the way around.

Had I truly known how painful and complicated the thigh reduction was going to be, I honestly don’t know if I could have gone through with it. It really was miserable in every possible way, beyond what I can and would describe here. At the same time I’m not sure if knowing every little ugly detail would have prevented me from going ahead because my inner thighs have always the thing I liked least/hated most about my body. I didn’t feel comfortable wearing shorts because most shorts weren’t long enough to cover them completely and bathing suits were out of the question! My thighs were so wide that to buy pants wide enough to fit over them meant wearing pants that hung loosely on my waist. And the issues I had with my thighs were far more than about vanity. The added weight put an extra load on my body and forced me to have a wider than normal gait for my size frame and the skin was more often than not irritated and sore from the friction of rubbing against the skin on the other leg. Not pretty. Not fun.

So yes, I’m thrilled and relieved I had the inner thigh work. My gait is natural. i can walk and ride a bike easily. My thighs are in proportion to my waist when buying pants. No rubbing and no chafing. But even so I’d be hesitant to encourage anyone else to have the procedure for themselves unless they were bound and determined. If you are, write me. Let’s talk.

So there you have it.

There’s a theory that’s bantered around that after years of yo-yo dieting, and I have about 40 years of up and down and up, that we actually cause change to our metabolism which makes our bodies resistant to losing weight and it’s the only thing I’m able to come up with that explains what’s going on.

Here’s how the theory goes: Our body takes in calories as energy and metabolism is the process by which those calories are burned to keep our body fully functioning. The calories that aren’t burned as energy are either expended as waste or stored as fat; fat being the body’s warehouse supply for backup energy. In case you’re sent to Mars in a space ship and forget to pack lunch as a for instance. When we reduce our calories through dieting our body isn’t getting enough energy in and so it turns to the back up supply, burning stored fat which leads to weight loss. When we stop dieting and raise the calories we’re taking in again, the body stops tapping from the stored fat and returns to it’s usual process of processing all the energy from what’s incoming and then sending the extra to storage or waste.

It’s a good system. The problem is that when the amount of incoming calories radically fluctuates from scarcity to abundance repeatedly as it does through dieting and binging, dieting and binging, at some point the body makes the calculated decision to reset the metabolic rate to burn fewer calories permanently so it can continue to function consistently regardless of the unpredictability of the incoming energy supply. The effect that has is that to lose weight it takes eating fewer calories to lose the same amount of weight that could have been lost years earlier with more calories and the only way left to raise the reduced rate of energy (calorie) burn is to increase physical activity, forcing the body to convert more incoming calories and stored fat (reserve calories) into energy.

Thus concludes all I know about metabolism 101.

So this is my best guess as to what I’m currently experiencing in terms of my weight. Through years of yo-yo dieting my metabolism has been reset to function at a much lower rate that it once was and because my physical activity has been severely reduced as a result of my surgical recovery time and now that physical limitations are again in place to not aggravate my hernia until it’s repair in another month, my body is needing very few calories to keep going. That leaves me with three options.

1. Feel sorry for myself, throw in the towel and hurry down the street to In-N-Out for a double-double animal style burger. Not an option.
2. Stay with my bare-bones food plan and accept where my weight goes until I can return to my full activity level, allowing me to gradually lose any increase that’s occurred in my weight. While this seems the most sensible route to take, my weight is so unstable that I have genuine concerns as to where my weight would be by the first of March when I would be back to my full activity level.
3. Return to the full liquid fast until I can bring my weight back to the range where I feel it needs to be for optimal health and to achieve a 25 BMI I should weigh between 145-152 pounds. I decided a couple days ago to go with option 3 which reduces my caloric intake to well under 1000 calories and has already caused my body to release about four pounds.

Obviously I don’t want to be fasting. It’s not fun and I don’t like it. Call me crazy but I enjoy eating food. I like sitting down at the table with my adorable little portions of chicken, veggies and rice and spending a few minutes together. But the honest truth is, that after the surgeries I’ve had to remove the excess skin and the new shape that came with them, the anxiety level around shifts in my weight has been heightened off the charts. You know how it is after you’ve worked really hard to stick with a diet that you’ve had some success with and then to come off that diet and see the pounds slowly start to add up again? Multiple your feelings by five and you have some idea of how this feels.

So for now, until the weight settles back down (hopefully within a couple weeks) and I can get my crazy head together (I suspect that might take a little longer), I’m back on the fast. Aside from my whining in this post, I realize there are just some things I’m going to need to learn how to accept in terms of my body, how it responds, how it looks, and where it will ultimately end up leveling off poundage wise. I can only do what I can do and then leave the rest to God and my metabolism to work out together.

I am of course equally irked to learn at this point in my life that they were right all along.

The past couple months have been uncharted territory for me and more than a little complicated around issues of weight loss, body image, and adopting a lifestyle that includes a sustainable activity level and satisfying plan of eating that will allow me to maintain my weight and lead me into my golden years.

Here are the stats. I set my original goal weight at the first of this year at 160-165 pounds. I weighted 217 at the time. I reached 165 when I had my first surgery to remove some of the excess skin I’d accumulated over the years. Following my second surgery about two months later my weight had reached 147 (for about an hour and 15 minutes) but then tenuously balanced off around 152.

Now, this word tenuously is important because while it’s normal for body weight to fluctuate between a 3-4 pound range, my weight can leap anywhere from 3-6 pounds overnight. I don’t even need to eat a quart of ice cream or a large pizza with extra cheese to do it. It literally just takes a little more salt or fat or rounding up my portions of my usual food plan and my weight will bounce up like a Wham-O Super Ball. I’d love to tell you that my weight bounces back down just as effortlessly but then I’d be creating a work of fiction rather than reporting on the facts. Instead it takes not only paring back down to a bare bones food plan but kicking up my normal activity level to have it drop back down again.  People who don’t know me might think I’m making this up; that I’m eating more than I realize or making poor food choices that are dense in fat and calories but that’s not the case. There’s no question as my blog attests, I’m a full-blown foodie at heart. I appreciate food and I love cooking and baking. I thoroughly enjoy pouring over cookbooks and creating a beautiful meal or baking something ridiculously decadent but when I’m whipping up the baked goods and other gooey wonders, except for a bite or a taste, they all go out the door to church or to my eager neighbors or are tossed into a shipping box headed to family or friends.

A month ago I weighed in at the medical clinic (where I go every week to attend my follow-up maintenance meetings) on a Wednesday afternoon at 153 which I held for a couple days. That Saturday D and I went out for dinner at The Slanted Door, a most excellent Thai restaurant at the Ferry Building in San Francisco where I ate too much of a good thing and by good thing I mean the menu leaned heavily toward vegetables and low-fat protein sources. If memory serves me, which it seldom does, I don’t remember whether I had dessert or not but looking at their online menu nothing stands out as familiar so I’m hazarding a guess that I passed. Passing on desert is my default. But as I said, I ate more than I normally do with my indulgance in white rice and some other off my normal food chart ingredients like eggplant cooked in coconut milk and caramelized tiger prawns. The next morning I weighed in at 160 (7 pounds overnight) and have held steady at that weight through this morning. And as a side note, while others might be having their annual Thanksgiving meal over-stuffed regrets, I’m okay with how I handled the meal we had at Cafe Beaujolais in Mendocino. I had a diver scallop appetizer, two ounces of turkey (hold the gravey), a half-cup of brussel sprouts, one single bite of each other item served on my plate, and for a rare happening I admittedly didn’t pass on dessert.

It comes back again to a fact I’ve resisted accepting. I’ve blogged about having a survivor’s type metabolism; an explanation given to me by a doctor with more than 30 years of experience with bariatric patients when explaining how my weight held numerous times for 2-3 weeks in a row with no weight loss while on the liquid fast causing me to lose weight at a much slower rate than most other patients. My body tends to grab onto calories with a tight fist and then refuses to let go without a rigid food plan and stepping up physical activity. Is there a hereditary factor involved? Is it a consequences of 30 years of extreme dieting and equally extreme overeating? Does it happen when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars? Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. All I can tell you is that while I’m not particularly happy about things being this way, I’ve come to learn this is what is and I can either accept and adapt accordingly or continue to ignore the evidence and go all delusional which is going to ultimately lead to some miserably tight pants.

So here I am at 160 at the low end of my original weight loss goal but at up 8-13 pounds from where I was a couple months ago at the end of the fast and surgeries. I have a whole world of body image issues that are going on in my head that are making it extremely difficult for me to decide what weight is right for me and where I can be with my body and be satisfied. That’s too big of a discussion for this long enough already post but I’ll be blogging more about it in the coming days because body image is something we don’t talk enough about when talking about obesity or weight loss. I just know that to maintain any particular weight on the scale, I’m going to have to accept how my body responds to nutritional fuel and eat accordingly. I’ve taken a couple months to find my way around with the food and now the time has come to return to a clearly defined plan of eating….and for anyone interested, if anyone is still with me, I’ll spell that in detail tomorrow.

And just so you know, I’m being totally honest and out there with all this. I tend to not soften the edges much or paint the picture in unrealistic colors. Instead it’s about keeping it real both for myself and for anyone who might find themselves struggling with similar issues or celebrating similar successes in the future.

In terms of how the scar tissue is healing it’s coming along and I have to keep reminding myself that it takes more than a full year for the deep red, pink and occasional purple of the scar tissue to return to a more natural flesh color. Some of the scars will disappear completely. Others will remain but as the skin color returns they’ll become less noticeable. The only area of some concern is with the scar tissue that begins under each arm and extends along the underside of the arm to the elbow. The scar lines have widened minimally (due to excessive movement) and there continue to be stitches breaking through the surface from underneath which is more common for people who have more fragile skin as I do, a result of the skin being over-stressed and over-stretched for years combined with my…..oh let’s just get this over with….age.  Anyway, each time a stitch breaks through the skin it creates a small pimple-like irritation and until it stops happening I’m not to apply the silicone or kinesio tape (that provide aid healing through compression and moisture) as the skin needs to remain exposed to the air as long as abrasions exist. I also think, as does the surgeon, that part of why the scar tissue on my arms and on the back of my legs seems slow in healing is due to the premature movement that was required in traveling around the time of my mom’s death, burial and memorial service, but looking back I obviously wouldn’t have done nothing different and any scars that remain matter little compared to the time I was able to spend with Mom and my family during those days.

Aside from some difficulty in lifting my arms completely above my head (the pull on the scar tissue under my arms is uncomfortable but not painful) and the most minor amount of pain when I sit on my sore bum, I’m enjoying, and I do mean enjoying, full mobility. Nothing like losing something to appreciate it when you get it back again. I’m back to the gym three times a week to work on strength-training and weights with my personal trainer and three times a week I’m doing cardio whether on the treadmill at the gym or on the trail outside our front door.

And on a final note, last night D and I had a conversation about tattoos that was sparked by some tattooed characters we were watching on TV.

“Honey, I really want to get another tattoo sometime.” (Yes, I have one. Left shoulder blade. A heart. A butterfly. Rays of light. The meaning more than obvious I’m sure.)

“Well, okay then, but just where among all your stitches do you intend to find room?”

“Oh. That’s right. I forgot I have limited space available. Never-mind.”

]]> http://www.anitasblog.com/surgery-recovery-status/feed/ 1 http://www.anitasblog.com/unexpected-benefits/ http://www.anitasblog.com/unexpected-benefits/#comments Mon, 19 Oct 2009 02:01:50 +0000 Anita http://www.anitasblog.com/?p=495 Last week my sister called me. Mom was in the hospital and the doctors were saying that any family who wanted to see her needed to come quickly. D and I were on the next flight out that evening and the plane ride was the first time I had sat upright... Don't stop now...keep reading!

While it’s assuring to know this is a common experience following a surgery such as this, I just want to go on record that it’s a wee bit inconvenient and I’m getting ever so slightly tired of walking around with a gauze pad the size of a toddler’s diaper affixed to my hip. And then again in a world where people are truly suffering, a little annoyance over something like this is a rather trivial event to complain about but hey, at least it gave me something to blog about!

Now, after that little gory story, go enjoy lunch!

The funny in a strange way part has been the spontaneous bleeding I’ve been having from various incision sites. I don’t even have to move to spring a leak. I’ll just be laying here minding my own business and blood will start dripping from here or there. This morning I woke up to find my super suit (D’s name for my compression suit) and my teeshirt soaked through from an incision leaking near my hip bone. There wasn’t any pain or discomfort involved, just a whole lot of blood. I didn’t know this in advance but apparently this is perfectly normal; that as the swelling goes down around incision sites there can be spontaneous bleeding. Ergo, the post title of “The Crimson Sprinkler,” my temporary nickname around the house.

As to my weight, I went into surgery weighing just over 150 pounds and as of this morning that’s what I weigh again. That means I’m still carrying about 8-10 pounds worth of swelling which could take several months to lose. I’m really not concerned about the weight at this point but I’m being intentional in what I’m eating and how many calories I’m taking in which need to be less than I’ll normally eat due to the total lack of activity but at the same time should be higher in protein since the body requires more of it to heal properly.

While I haven’t taken any after photos yet due to the sutures, bandages and swelling, here’s one  couldn’t resist taking. I realize it shows nothing at first glance since I just held my iPhone camera out in front of me and pointed at my waist, but the after of this photo is that the jeans I’m wearing are size 8. They’re a baggy style jean from Life is Good which is why I think I’m actually able to wear them but hey, the label says 8 so 8 it is! It’s really hard to absorb; that I’m wearing small/medium tops and size 8/10 pants when I remember the days all too well of barely being able to squeeze in size 30-32 jeans and a man’s 3XL tee shirt. To be able today to walk into just about any clothing store and not only find something that fits but be able to choose from a number of clothes that do…it’s just surreal.

I won’t ever take it for granted, I won’t ever stop being grateful, because I know as sure as I know anything that what has happened in my life is a miracle. I always thought of miracles as something extraordinary only God could do, and I still believe that but I also believe now more than ever that Divine intervention requires human participation. When we work in partnership with God; when we do our part, then we make ourselves available to receive the part that only God can do. I went to the gym. I monitored my food intake. God gave me the strength I didn’t have in myself to do both. That I weigh less than half of what I once weighed was a team effort. No doubt.

Time to end this post as I’m heading to the doctor’s in another hour to have some of my sutures removed and I need to pop a few pain pills in preparation….just in case any ouch is involved. Fine. I’ll admit it. When it comes to pain I’m a total babypants.

I take a shower every morning that requires walking upstairs, removing my compression suit, showering, gingerly toweling myself dry, wrangling my body back into a clean compression suit, doing a little spot bandaging, and then heading back down the stairs. From start to finish the whole procedure takes about 3 hours and 20 minutes; 20 minutes to actually take the shower and 3 hours to lay in bed and recover from taking the shower. Aside from the daily shower I’ve also tried to get outside everyday for a five minute waddle around our neighborhood courtyard and on Sunday D managed to get me dressed and to church to attend a baby baptism I didn’t want to miss though we left as soon as the baby was splashed since sitting down on anything that resembles a chair or a pew still remains out of the question.

Today was the biggest outing of all. I took a spin around the salad bar at the grocery store and then walked the distance of about 15 car lengths to Starbucks. By the time we got home 45 minutes later I was clammy, panting and aching but it was totally worth it to have been outside on such a beautiful afternoon. I so enjoyed the cool air coming in through the car window that I probably looked a little like a tail wagging golden retriever riding in the passenger seat with my head all but hanging out the window.

There’s been a lot of emotional stuff coming up for me during this process but honestly, I’m too worn out and focused on pain management to reflect or dissect any of the deeper stuff. I can only tell you that most of it’s good. Intense feelings of gratitude top the list but there’s also a little low-grade depression that often comes in the aftermath of surgery. I was warned to expect it and so was prepared when it arrived. I know it will lessen as I get more of my strength back and a little further away from the regular routine of pain medication so I’m just noticing the feelings for what they are and not giving them much more of my attention than that. When I’m back on my feet again, I’ll be more ready to take on any emotions that continue to stir around below the surface. I just think it’s important to notice this because what happens to our body isn’t disconnected from the rest of who we are unless we’re gifted (?) at being able to compartmentalize our lives. Being whole people means that when our body is going through any kind of trauma or transformation, the rest of who we are reacts in its own way, and likewise when our hearts are broken or we’re emotionally wounded, our physical bodies might well respond with mysterious symptoms or general ill-health. The beauty of being whole people means that suffering or celebration is felt through our entire beings.

As expected my memories around surgery day are sketchy at best. At my request I wasn’t given Versed, the amnesiac sedative they gave me the last time, but being on general anesthesia for so many hours is going to mess things up. It’s just a little odd what I can and can’t remember. I don’t remember riding in the car to the surgery center but I remember checking in at the registration desk. I don’t remember D whispering a prayer into my ear as I headed into OR but I remember walking into OR and laying on the table as the staff made final preparations. I don’t remember changing into the hospital robe but I remember the surgeon doodling on me with Sharpees.

What I remember most clearly was feeling love and prayer surrounding me in a way that was as tangible as something I could hold in my hand. It was so incredibly comforting and moving to me and for those of you who prayed for me that morning, thank you. Your care made a difference. I truly believe that. I had absolutely no fear or anxiety and while my pain was off the charts immediately following surgery and then running high the first 24 hours after returning home, the pain was just pain. If that’s any sense. Through the worst I knew I was being held in love and would be okay. I went into this second surgery holding it as part of my spiritual journey and now having been through it I know that’s exactly what it was but all that it means I’ve yet to uncover.

The surgery itself was an incredible success. The surgeon removed another 10-12 pounds in excess skin from my arms, legs, thighs and breasts even though I weigh 8 pounds more today than the day of surgery due to all the fluids I was given and the swelling that occurs with this type of procedure. Over the next month or two I’ll end up dropping all that weight as the swelling goes down which means my weight will likely level out somewhere around 145. Even with the noticeable swelling the physical results are beyond what I can believe and once I’ve healed up you can expect to see some before and after photos.

So here I am three days after surgery laying in a rental hospital bed in our living room in a new pair of jammies my sweetie bought for me. Renting the hospital bed was a last minute decision made at the urging of a friend and what a great decision it was! With sutures running up my inner thigh from knee to groin and then splitting into a T that runs around nearly 75% of the circumference of both legs, getting up and down is a challenging task at best, made all the more so because I have limited use of my arms since I have sutures running from elbow to armpit that split into T’s of their own. The second gadget I couldn’t be without for more than obvious reasons is my pink-plastic female portable urinal and last but not least my little reaching stick with the pinchers at the end for picking up stuff that’s out of reach and these days nearly everything is. I’ve been swinging that thing in every direction much to my wife’s amusement.

Okay, two stories and then it’s time for another nap in a series of unending naps.

My surgery was on Tuesday morning at 9:00 a.m. I checked out of the surgery center the following morning at 6:00 a.m. and was asleep in my little living room hospital bed within an hour and apparently still drugged out of my mind because a couple hours later when I woke up and saw that the time on my iPhone read 9:00 a.m. I thought it was surgery day and I’d overslept. In a panic I jumped out of the bed, stitches and all, and started yelling “Oh Honey, wake up wake up, we overslept! I missed my surgery!” There I was standing at the bottom of the stairs in my full body compression suit, stitches throbbing and in a full blown panic because I missed my surgery date. It took D assuring me that I’d actually already had my surgery before I realized what was going on and only then did I happen to notice my entire body was hurting like crazy.

I was drifting in and out of sleep the first day home from surgery and my throat was so dry from all the hours of surgery that I had the passing thought of how nice it would be if we had frozen grapes I could suck on. The thought was still in my head when I heard D over on the couch and with my eyes closed I asked her what she was doing. “Oh, I’m just bagging some grapes to put in the freezer for you.” I love it when that kind of thing happens.

That’s all I can pull out of my cotton-stuffed brain for now.

Okay, I’m not doing it for more drugs, at least that’s not my primary motive. As feeble as it sounds cookies are my way, beyond slapping a sizable check in their direction for services rendered to say “thank you.” These folks were so attentive and kind to me when I was there less than seven weeks ago and I never had a chance to thank them at the time because I spent most of my stay there drifting in the land of narcotics and when I was awake and heading out the door the only thing I could think of was “Ouch! Ouch! Mommymommymommy!” So I’m taking them cookies to say thanks for last time and along with that  I’m using much of the baking time, except now because I’m here with you if you hadn’t noticed, praying for the surgeon, his assistant, the anesthesiologist, and the two assisting nurses, all of whom will be in the OR with me throughout tomorrow. I’m praying for the nurses who will be with me through the night. Sure. I’m praying they’ll do some of the best work of their lives but mostly I’m praying that they would be blessed in their own lives; that they would know joy, that their families would be safe, that whatever their faith might be, they would always know the God of love loves them. Tomorrow they’ll be spending nearly nine hours caring for me and so it seems the least I can do is spend a couple hours today baking and praying and thinking of them. You do what you can.

AND I’m here at home this morning waiting for a special delivery; the rental hospital bed that will be adorning our living room. I hear it’s the latest in home decor and so I couldn’t help but follow the trend. Actually, several friends and my wife had suggested I consider getting one but I resisted because….well…..good grief. A hospital bed? It wasn’t until after the occupational therapist was here showing me how to maneuver myself in and out of the couch and the bed that I thought maybe these people knew what they were saying and so I called this week and ordered one. The company woman on the phone said, “Unfortunately we don’t have any partial electric beds available at the moment. The only ones we have in stock are fully electric, ” to which I answered, “That sounds good to me since I want one with the capability to flip me over. The less I have to do the better I like it.” I think she got my humor…but I’m not so sure. Anyway, now all I need is a buzzer to ring every time I want a new straw for my water glass and I’m set. On second thought, I don’t think I better push it with my home nurse, a.k.a. my wife.(By the way, the bed pictured is the actual one that will be delivered any minute. I’m sure hoping a mattress is included otherwise I don’t see how this is going to be more comfortable than the couch!)

So once the bed has arrived and the cookies and praying are done, I’m going to take a break and watch the season’s opening episode of “Fringe.” I was going to save it for when I got home from surgery but that show requires all my synapses to be firing to understand. With medication I wouldn’t stand a chance.