I Lost 15 Pounds in Two Weeks and So Can You! But Don't!

Fifteen pounds in two weeks, you say?  Yes!  It's possible and done in a most horrible, horrible way!  What, you still want to know how?  Okay, loony.

1. Stay in the hospital for a week and gain six pounds from IV fluids.  This was a shocker.  I figured when I was released and got on the scale at home I would have dropped some of those lbs.  Imagine my surprise when I found I'd actually gained six pounds.  Wha?  I guess a week of getting 150-200 ml of IV fluid per hour adds up.

2.  Catch a nasty cold from your spouse/partner/someone you live with.  Charlie picked up a nasty chest cold while staying with me at the hospital which I caught from him after I got home.  No fun.

3.  Live on a diet of Mucinex and cough drops.  Holy poop, Mucinex really does work!  Sure I'm still hacking up a lung but at least all the grossness is getting out of my system.  I hate their commercials tho.  So nasty.  Unfortunately for me medicines like Nyquil and Mucinex, which advertise helping you sleep, have the reverse affect on me.  They make me wired.  And cough drops?  Total appetite suppressant.

4.  Learn to live without your gallbladder.  Some medicinal changes were in order.  Enough said.

So week two post surgery was quite the adventure in misery.  On the plus side my incisions are healing up nicely.  I missed my post-op appointment because of the cold but will see the surgeon this week where he will finally meet my true skin color, uber pale, as opposed to jaundice.  I also had a scary blackout this week which resulted in me falling into the claw foot bathtub.  I don't remember much about it but, luckily, came out with only a few bruises.  I don't recommend losing weight this way to anyone.  I can't wait to get both my strength back and the all clear to start exercising again.  I have to get my moving muscles in shape.

We're supposedly getting another snow storm starting tomorrow night which is par for the course in March.  I am so ready to turn the calendar to April.  March 2013 can suck it.

Cloche Hat 2: Movin' On Up to Fur. Also I HATE BELLY BUTTONS

First and foremost NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THE FUR FELT HOOD.  It's rabbit fur.  No death required.  Just some nice Czechoslovakians brushing bunnies for their fur.  OKAY?  Okay.

For the first cloche hat I blocked the entire thing in one piece.  This time there will be cutting and sewing and pleating and probably other things I haven't thought of yet, but they will occur.  When I was boiling water to soak the hood Charlie came in to the kitchen and said, "Ah.  Fumes.  Again."  Meaning the high inducing felt hat stiffener.  No, no fumes babe.  Just steam.

This hat is a wonderful aubergine shade.  You're going to look at pictures and say, "PURPLE, IT'S PURPLE YOU SNOB!"  But I'm sticking with aubergine because that's the color I ordered.  So meh!  No pinning at the start.  I'm liking this already.

Now I wait for it to dry.  Oh yay, another week of waiting!  Also you are becoming so familiar with our current kitchen.  I can't wait to move into our new place where I will have my own studio.  SWOON.  My parents can't wait either because then they can dump all my childhood paraphernalia on me, including the easel my dad built for me when I was in high school.

I have been out of the hospital for eight days now after a lovely week long stay.  My gallbladder was removed on March 8th.  The surgeon informed me prior to surgery that three small cuts would be made, no biggie.

LIES!

I wasn't prepared for one of those cuts included cutting into my belly button.  I have an extreme phobia about belly buttons that dates back to when I was a kid.  I remember visiting my aunt in her home after a cousin was born.  I volunteered to help change a diaper (stupid eight year old me) and saw the shriveled up end of the umbilical cord attached to what would become my cousin's belly button.  AUGH!  And guess what?  During that diaper change the black, shriveled up umbilical cord end FELL OFF.  Trauma!  Yeah, fine, call it weird or stupid but it's no different from having a phobia about feet or...whatever bodily phobia you have.  Oh!  I also had a drain in my side because some fluid from the pancreatitis  was floating around in there.  Fun!  The day I was released a different surgeon came in to remove the drain WHICH WAS SUNK SIX OR SEVEN INCHES INTO MY BODY.  So glad I had a private room.  Also I almost passed out when the surgeon went into detail about how big the scope was that went into my belly button incision.  I'll stick with counseling, thanks.

So for now I've been ordered to take it easy which is awesome cause it gives me an excuse to pick paint colors for the new abode and dream of hardwood floors as opposed to carpet.  Also I've had too much time to be introspective.  Well, more so than usual.  Also hyper analytical.  I just want to KNOW what makes people tick.  How they come to decisions, make choices, the meaning behind what they share.  Blah.  Psychology.  Anyway being in the hospital made me hyper aware that I hate asking for help.  After surgery the nurse told me to call for help when I needed to use the bathroom.  I only did once and that was because my drain was leaking.

I've been self reliant for a long time and there are probably times when I should ask for help but I don't.  I don't know it it's a pride thing or a long history of asking for help but not receiving it.  So I just don't.  It's really stupid, especially when you have the kind of support system that I do, and that I never, EVER take for granted.  Most of the time asking for help doesn't even cross my mind.  I just do it on my own.  And then afterward when I tell someone what I did they inevitably say, "I would have helped you with that" but honestly?  Asking doesn't even pop into my head.

This is definitely something I need to work on.  Tomorrow a moving company comes to give us an estimate on moving to our new house.  So soon I will be packing.  And cleaning.  But I won't be alone because I WILL ask for help.  Just not with my studio stash.  Thieveseses are everywhere!!

Whatever. I Don't Need It Anyway

Greetings from the hospital.  I'd send you a postcard but the ones in the gift shop aren't that funny.

I was admitted yesterday after a diagnosis of pancreatitis.  I seriously hope you never, ever experience such pain.  The doctor switched me over to morphine for the pain today, but luckily I'm feeling better after a nice surgery that removed 20 gallstones from a duct that was blocking drainage from my pancreas.

I was also informed that my gallbladder needs to take a hike.  The sooner, the better!  I haven't eaten anything since Sunday which really isn't a big deal since I have no appetite.  What REALLY sucks is I can't drink anything either.  I still have to take my meds and I nearly cry with relief when I'm handed a tiny cup of water with which to take the pills.  The occasional cup of ice chips is also amazing.

I would not wish this on my worst enemy.  Much like MS it's something that can't be controlled. At least this time though it's hereditary on my mom's side.  Thanks for this, ancestors!