Week Twenty-One

Seven weeks post-surgery. I am feeling better, but still short of breath, pulse rate around 100, no weight gain.  However, the thirty minute walks are a little easier, and I can eat more things.

We saw the surgeon this past week and when I complained that I wasn’t gaining any weight, he said not to worry.  He said I looked fine, just keep eating!  I told him I get bummed out when I see my weight drop….he said that’s okay, don’t worry about a two-or-three pound day-to-day change, everybody’s weight fluctuates on a daily basis.

Okay, I said, feeling better with his encouragement.  Then this morning when I weighed myself, it was an all-time low…123.9 lbs.  Despite the good doctor’s encouraging words, I was bummed.  I actually thought I would have gained weight after all I had eaten the previous couple of days….but no, not today.  Maybe tomorrow.

After moping about a bit, I got back into my 2 hour eating routine.  I also spent some time looking at recipes recommended for cancer patients seeking to gain weight.  Some of them looked pretty tasty, particularly a baked, curried chicken recipe, very high in calories and protein.  We may have that in the next night or two.

We all (Carol and I, Andrew and Mel) are going up to Grants Pass for Thanksgiving.  It will be fun to have the Gray clan together.  I will need to bring up some handy items to eat for my ‘every two hour’ regiment.  Hopefully, I can maintain my weight while away from my comfy abode for a few days.

We are going down to San Francisco on Saturday for a matinee performance at A.C.T.  It’s in their new, small theater and supposed to be quite funny.  Andrew and Mel are coming with us, and we are going to have early dinner in North Beach before heading back to Woodland. The outing will take some thought in figuring out eating opportunities between driving to SF, seeing the play, dining in North Beach, and returning home.  This will be my first dinner dining-out experience with a reconfigured stomach.  We’ll see how it goes.

On that note, that’s about it for this week.

And, if you don’t mind, here’s another old poem:

O, Poetica

I like it back here

Under the leaves of the ginkgo, in the shade of the ash.  I like the way the quiet is broken only by the mockingbird or the dove,

and the alder marks the time.

I like the morning sunlight filtering through the trees and the gentle breeze aflutter in the leaves,

while inside

the radio drones, the newspaper beckons, the clock says to go, and winter and spring

pass by the door.

In the midst of all this, an alarm is sounding. After the work is done, and the travels are through,

where will I be?

I have a gnawing that says there’s more to this mix than lampshades and fences

And it struggles to get out before dark.