Week 4: Tea cosy (theemuts)…

Seriously, I just don’t understand. If something so intrusive and life-changing has just happened, why does it seem like absolutely nothing has changed? I have the feeling that I have this big neon arrow hanging above my head saying “Look at her! She’s just experienced something very special!”, only nobody sees it and people just continue to live their lives. Of course, I’m happy that I’m doing fine, have very little pain and am not sick etc., but I just think I haven’t yet mentally adjusted to my new walnut-stomach.
I’m scared to eat too much, and I’m scared to eat too little. Why can some of the people in my group only eat a very small bowl of custard while I can already eat a normal dinner (just a small size and on a baby plate: 50 gr cauliflower, 75gr chicken breast, 2 tbsp rice)? So far, I haven’t lost a kilo yet and I’m already 2 weeks post-surgery. Maybe that whole operation failed or maybe they just didn’t do anything? Oh wait, the latter is of course not true because I do have 5 gunshot wounds as proof that they really did poke my stomach (actually 6, but one has already healed). And what about those stupid 6 ‘eating moments’? Geez, I literally just finished a bowl of cement-yogurt and my alarm goes off again telling me that it’s time for a snack. Really? I DON’T WANT A STUPID SNACK BECAUSE I’M STILL FULL FROM THE CEMENT YOGHURT.

I know I didn’t look like it, but again… I never really ate a lot because I don’t care for food. You could put anything on the table and I wouldn’t touch it. It just didn’t interest me. But I could also just as easily finish the entire plate by myself. A whole day without food? Not a problem! But now after the surgery, I have to eat 3 “big” meals and 3 “little” meals. For example, in the evening after finishing my dinner I’ll set my timer to 30 min to remind me when I can drink something again. First, I take a few gulps of water to take those million-gazillion pills and then I take a cup of coffee. It’s now around 8pm. I watch some TV, put a few tiles down in Wordfeud and around 9.30pm my youngest daughter and I will walk The Muppets. Around 10pm I have to swallow the big vitamin bomb with a bit of water, then I inject myself with the anti-thrombosis stuff and then, off to bed. So, someone please explain to me when exactly it’s time is for another snack-moment?? It’s simply impossible! Some yoghurt or something isn’t allowed because there must be at least 2 hours between calcium-containing products and that vitamin bomb. A mandarin? Oh puh-lease… there is absolutely no more space in that tiny walnut-sized stomach. In the past I didn’t eat anything after supper (I’m not fond of desserts) and I never even had a cookie with my coffee, so how can I eat a stupid snack after dinner?

Oh dear, I’ve become a bit aggressive, did you notice? I certainly did. The world hasn’t changed, but I have! Or maybe that’s just menopause that’s lurking around the corner…? Anyway, it’s moments like this when people are eating fries in front of me that I want to shove each fry up their nostrils. Don’t they realize how hard it is for me right now? It feels a bit like drinking a glass of wine in front of an alcoholic who quit cold turkey. Hopefully this is just all about finding the right balance. How Zen of me!
You know what sucks the most? Coffee. Yes, you read that right. Coffee! I just don’t really like it anymore and I hate that. I used to be crazy about coffee, without milk or sugar, just black coffee.

Fun Fact: In Dutch, we have a lot of names for a cup of coffee. We even have a saying for it: “een bakkie doen”, or we call it: “een bakkie troost”, “een bakkie leut” or “een bakkie pleuâh”. Sorry, this is untranslatable. Maybe not so funny after all 😦

Anyway, In the morning I still drink a small cup, and 30 minutes after dinner another one. Those I drink more out of habit and I don’t really like it. After the surgery I started drinking more and more tea, and I think it’s awful (not the tea, that’s tasty, but tea instead of coffee is just so sad).
In the Netherlands we have these things called a “theemuts”, which is basically a tea cosy. However, we also use this word ‘theemuts’ to describe people. For those who aren’t Dutch, just Urban Dictionary the word “muts” and do the math. Hehe. Anyway, my apologies to all ‘theemutsen’ out there, but tea is just a very dull drink.
By the way, I just realized I made a mistake. I (my stomach) is not the only thing that’s changed, as my foot has too since it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Maybe it’s because of the elegant pulsating pressure stockings that they made me wear in the hospital? It was to have a better blood circulation in my leg, and maybe it also helped my foot. Or maybe because my foot had more rest in the past few days. Anyway, I don’t understand, but you can’t hear me complaining 😊 I’ve been to the forest a few times with the Muppets on my beautiful new leather slippers, and I was able to do that with considerably less pain in my foot than before the surgery.

To test out my new and improved foot, my mom and I went on a 10km walk today. We walked through the dunes and it was lovely. The pace was much lower than before my broken foot but hey, who cares? It wasn’t a competition and we didn’t have to cross the finish line before a certain time. We had to walk quite a bit through the sand and that was quite challenging, but my foot was okay-ish. After walking 6.04 km, I had to give up, my foot was hurting. I did feel very satisfied though and from now on, things can only get better. We already made a schedule. On Wednesday and Sunday, my mother and I will walk long distances and small distances on the other days (as long as my foot is okay).

I’d like to walk more but that just seems to be impossible with a household, a husband, children, Muppets, my shop and a job. Those are the long-term balls that I have to keep up in the air, in addition to the short-term balls (Camino, broken foot, gastric bypass). I have to keep them up whether or not I’ve had surgery, whether or not I can lift things and whether or not I can bend over to pick something up, it doesn’t matter at all. The washing machine doesn’t automatically fill itself (unfortunately the laundry basket does).

Beep beep beep, there’s my alarm! What a beautiful closer. It is time for me to eat a stupid snack again. Today it’ll be a handful of unsalted nuts, I have no inspiration.

Until next week 😊


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