27

Today is my birthday and I'm turning 27. This is the first time that I feel closer to my thirties than I am of my twenties, and it's bitter-sweet. So I have decided to make a list of a few things to remind myself of how productive my twenties were. This is not intended to be a list of crimes I have committed, even thought some items might lead one to believe so. But let's keep in mind that this is a somewhat parent-proof list, so I might have been a little more productive that it seems.

1. Sold all my CDs to an used-CD store and borrowed the rest of the money to go to Los Angeles spend 4 days with my then boyfriend who had moved away.

2. Stayed at a motel called "Vagabond Inn" with then boyfriend at some ghetto in Long Beach, CA.

3. Spent $700 on a car on Wednesday afternoon and totaled it on Thursday morning.

4. Stopped taking my meds for almost 4 years because I thought I had cured my panic disorder.

5. Fell in love with and bent over backwards for a boy who had "INSANE" tattooed across his back. Literally.

6. Jumped on the road at 3 o'clock in the morning by myself, leaving Chicago at 95mph.

7. Bought a 30 lbs. dog in my first year in the US, and hid it for 6 months because the building where I used to live at the time did not allow pets.

8. Gave a old, ugly, and nasty-looking cop my cell phone number to get out of a ticket.

9. Had gastric bypass surgery.

10. Moved back to Brazil.

11. Went to school drunk. More than once. More than twice.

12. Accumulated almost $700 worth of parking tickets in a 4 year period. Had to pay it all off one snowy afternoon when my car was towed.

13. Almost got arrested on Memorial Day weekend in 2004. Here's the story: the Indianapolis 500 was going on down the street from my apartment. The police blocks 90% of the streets at a certain time so the crowd attending the race can get off on the highway only, and every road that led to my place was a dead end. It was storming badly, the tornado warning sirens were going off, and I could see a tornado from a small distance. So I decided to run over a road block and get home as fast as I could. Couldn't get home fast enough, so I had to hide a an Arby's kitchen.

going through withdrawal

Don't tell anyone, but I would do all kinds of very dirty things to get me one of those at this point.

gastric bypass and my nightmare week

As some of you who read this blog might know, I had surgery last week. Gastric bypass surgery. I spent about 4 years playing with the idea of getting it done, but not until about a couple of months ago that idea had become more of a tangible goal. I spent most of last month in and out of hospitals, getting my pre-surgery exams done, making sure every organ in my body is functioning to its premium, that my hormones are in place, having my veins raped by laboratories a few times a week, just to make sure I was in good shape to go through the surgery. So it finally happened last week. I checked myself in on Thursday afternoon and came home on Sunday.

This has been, by far, one of the most trying weeks of my life. I went into the operating room way too over-confident, way too relaxed and totally underestimated the severity of the post-surgery period. It was hell. I woke up from the anesthesia right when I was being moved from the operating table to the stretcher, and there could not have been a worst time to start to return to my senses. It felt like I was inside a washer, only there were people outside it letting me know that everything went well and that I would be fine. I wasn’t. At least it didn’t feel like it. Not for a couple of days.

The first night was by far the worst one I’ve had in my entire life. I can’t really recall the type of pain I was in, all I know is that it made it especially hard to breath and laying on a sheet of hot nails was pretty much just as comfortable. My panic kicked in and I had cold sweats all night. I didn’t sleep at all. My parents sat on each side of my bed holding envelopes and x-rays that served as fans. They took turns shaking them above my body to alleviate the crazy hot flashes I felt.

Next day was bad too. I still felt a lot of pain, I was thirsty and couldn’t drink anything. The needle they stuck in my hand to inject medication burnt me like fire. My back was killing me and I still couldn’t feel my legs completely. The second night wasn’t any better either. I stared at a clock hanging on the wall counting down the seconds for my next dose of painkillers. Nothing worked.

The third day was a little better physically, but mentally I was starting to get irritated and felt desperate. I cried because I was so tired of feeling pain. I was exhausted and there was nothing anyone could do. I was sick and tired of the hospital room, I was tired of that hospital smell that made it so obvious I wasn’t at home. My nerves really started to get to me, and as much as I tried to be patient, feeling agonizing pain 24/7 is just not something I’m cut-out for.

Then Sunday I came home. I was never so happy to leave a place in my whole life. I wanted out of that hospital. I wanted to be at home with my dog, with the smell of my sheets, my TV, like any other person would on a Sunday. I was craving normalcy.

My pain hasn’t been as strong ever since I got home. I still feel a lot of lower back pain, and it’s difficult to walk and to find a comfortable position to sleep at night, but it’s bearable. My nerves are shot, though. My anxiety is back, and my panic symptoms kicked-in full force last night. My hands were sweating, I felt dizzy, like I was going to pass out at any second. I couldn’t sit still and couldn’t calm myself down enough to even talk to someone on the phone. I look back now and I see that I totally underestimated the effects of a surgery, let alone this kind of surgery, on me. I’ve been on a “liquid diet” for 4 days now, and I’m only allowed 50ml every hour or so. Just soup and juice. I feel deprived and I have cravings like a crazy pregnant woman, but I’m not hungry. It’s just that your brain can’t process the thought of a stomach that is tiny now. It’s a humbling experience. Everyone has seen me naked, and all of a sudden I don’t care. At one point I had about 6 people in my hospital room while I had no underwear on. And did I mention I have a drain coming out of a hole in my stomach, right under my left breast? Yeah, I do.

So, in a nutshell, it’s been a crazy, fucked-up week that is supposed to change the way I am for the rest of my life. I can’t tell you right now if I’m happy, or if I regret the whole ordeal, or if I’m super excited about what’s to come, because at this point, happiness to me means not having a tube coming out of my insides.

So ask me that again when I have no back pain or when I can’t see any red fluid constantly coming out of my guts. I believe I’ll be happy with the surgery soon. Right now I fucking hate it. Actually, right now there’s very little people or things I like, but this will change soon. At least we all here hope so.

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I don't mean to sound like a brat here. This has been really hard on my family too. My dad has helped me get up from a chair more than 200 times, my sister has seen more angles of my private parts than she would like to in a lifetime, my mom spends countless hours awake with me and cooks for me all day, my brother took such good care of my dog. I couldn't have done it without them, and going through this with the four of them only reassures me that moving back home was the right move for me at this time. Nobody will ever take care of you like your family does, and that is the most absolute truth.