I'm in the Chelsfield Park hospital on Day 3 after a Gastric Bypass operation. Basically I've had 7 small incisions in the stomach, been blow full of gas, had my stomach dissected into two with a little pouch remaining and the edges sealed with titanium staples. Then the bottom of the new pouch has bypassed the ileum and duodenum and enters the intestine lower down. This means that not only do you have a greatly restricted capacity, but some of the constituent parts of your food can no longer be absorbed - in particular a large part of the fats and sugar, which are normally absorbed in the upper intestine. This operation can practically cure type 2 diabetes over night. Whilst not diabetic, I recognise that the sugar rush I've had in recent years from pure orange juice, for an example, is a precursor. Now if I eat too much fat or sugar at once I will experience something very unpleasantly called 'dumping syndrome'. Today I'm having the first soup of my new life - one spoon at a time - tomato and chorizo thin and slightly spicy into my tiny stomach. Thing is, I've eaten whatever I liked (and most of it good, admittedly) for certainly 40 years of conscious memory - it's no real hardship to do it differently now, if it will give me better health. I've seen it, done it and got the t-shirt, you could say. I can move on.
This really is delicious. One sip at a time, let it trickle down. No need to hurry; the first few weeks will all be like this, then I can start trying tiny helpings of pureed food. I will work my way back up to savouring low-fat houmous (chick peas are on the good-for-you list from our surgeon). I have a role model too, my gorgeous daughter who can tutor me through the whole process, having been through it all before.
So it took me an hour to eat the soup. At home I can warm it when it cools of course - but for this first week I'm not rushing anything. Managed to swallow my pills though - impressed there - and the gurgling in my stomach is a wonder to behold. This will continue, I'm told - a result of the interesting plumbing.
Yesterday lunchtime I had my catheter out. I'd been wanting it out for a day, but they won't do it until you actually start drinking. Paul, the EXCELLENT day nurse (couldn't be smarter or nicer) told me he'd give me 12 hours to pass water or it would have to go back in. People are scared to go when they've had an op. I've had a knife cone biopsy (cutting away half your cervix) and gone within a few hours. A stomach realignment is no problem. Proving I could sip water (they have to watch the first sips) he brought me a pot of tea. 30 minutes later I have the first specimen for him. On an empty stomach I'm like a sieve with water - in and out in no time. Oh the bliss of the first little bit of milk in tea for two weeks. I got through 4 small pots of tea and 2 pots of peppermint tea throughout the day. Wonderful.
Interestingly when you've had your surgery, before you go to recovery, they put you under an X-ray and send some dye down through the whole system to make sure the new valve and stoma aren't too tight to pass fluid. Now that's impressive.
Last night Paul gave me a happy pill. A mixture of opiate derivatives I had wonderful morphing imagines on the back of my eyelids whilst I tried to sleep, galloping horses, wild creatures, mysterious forests and trees - I could watch them fascinated. Such a nice happy feeling too and no pain (glorious) from the trapped air, but I hardly slept more than a couple of hours. But it was not only the pill I think - it's the realisation that I'm on the way. I will, come some way down the line, be able to wear the clothes I like, get rid of my old big things (really for good this time) and embrace being me. Yes, I'm on the way.
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