My “pre-op to do list” is covered with scratched out entries, with a few left to do on my Wed. day off. I’ve stocked up on 5 million flavors of Crystal Light and Ocean Spray sugar free drinks, and vacuumed and cleaned bathrooms. Dusting and cleaning the kitchen comes Wed. My sorority pin is cleaned and will be mailed tomorrow to my old chapter.
Prescriptions have been turned into crushable or liquid forms. I ordered new winter boots and shoes. Food that I know I won’t eat has been given to the food pantry (if sealed) and mostly tossed if open. My glasses were adjusted. Bills are paid. Tubs of protein are on the way, and my Bari-Bear is ready for me to hug tight when movement and pain are hard.
Today I had this plan of having one last meal of pancakes because I love them and haven’t had any in a long time. I checked the menu and knew what I would order. Except when it came down to it, my tummy didn’t want it and I decided the rest of me didn’t, either. I was frankly afraid I would be sick on all the sweetness. I’ve passed multiple ice cream opportunities and didn’t even blink for one last taste; I just didn’t want them. I did opt for lunch at McDonald’s but a single hamburger, small fries, and water didn’t blow my food plan for the day, and I’m satisfied. I’m not eating low-carb all the time, but definitely most of it.
My two weeks of clear liquids will mark a clear break from old habits, and I’m almost there. Thank God. This waiting time has been way too long. Am I worried? No, but I am anxious about dealing with it alone. I have family and tons of friends who care about me, but I’m a long way from most of them, and I know I will be in a lot of pain when I come home – if not from my stomach, then from my poor pitiful knee. I will be fine, but I just want to get on with it.