#exhausted from being out and doing housework yesterday. then got a last-minute job with very urgent deadline today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whosebody · 7 years

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now

Well here I am, seven weeks out. I have lost 81 pounds from my highest ever weight, and 41 pounds from my surgery date. I am currently in some kind of stall/plateau, but at least I broke the 300 pound barrier before that happened.

I think a lot of what I lost was water. I had a lot of edema in my legs before all this started, and now I have almost none. My shoes are loose. My super-expensive compression socks are not so compress-y. Most of my rings are loose. I moved some of these to fatter fingers, and ordered a cheap temp wedding band to wear until something stabilizes. Too bad I can’t do that with shoes!

My fat man t-shirts hang past my shorts, but I love them and plan to wear them until they fall off or are half-past rags. My shorts still fit, all but one pair, because they are elastic and were too tight anyway. Of course that one pair is my absolute mostest favorite. My underwear is still hanging in there, but honestly quite a few of them were too small as well.

I feel cranky about the number of friends, relatives, and acquaintances who are circling like vultures hoping to make off with my clothes. Mostly because the sheer numbers require me to decide who to give things to, and I don’t want to pick and choose. I’d rather cart everything to goodwill and let capitalism do its job.

One lesson I’ve learned here is never save things! I am still saving a suit and a pair of dress shoes, for however long they fit, for funerals and job interviews (heaven forbid I should ever have to use it for either thing). But other than that, if I love it, I’m wearing it! All these nice clothes that I saved for some day, and now I’m nursing a migraine because I have to figure out who needs them more. If I had worn them out, this would not even be an issue. The shoes I love would be all worn out instead of like new and flopping around on my feet.

I had bought these fancy dessert plates to eat off of because they say we should eat off small plates to make the food look like more.

They are flowery and girly and utterly unlike me, but I love them ridiculously so of course I didn’t want to use them, but I did, and then I broke one by dropping it in the sink. I froze for days, afraid to touch these plates again. But you know what? I bought them to use and enjoy. I got them at goodwill, for dog’s sake. I am going to use them until every single one is ceramic dust in the landfill.

Use it. Use it up. Wear it out! It is more of a waste to leave it for my kids to send back to goodwill when I die than for me to wring every drop of use and enjoyment out of it while I am alive.

This is my new philosophy. Wear the shoes you love. Don’t save them for a later that might not come.

The high point of a given day should not be finding a coupon in the cat chow bag--even though that is pretty cool. Enjoy that, too.

You know what else I didn’t do? I didn’t try to glue that plate back together and keep using it. I thought about a quote by Tupac and threw that plate in the trash.

Here’s the quote:

“You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.”

My pieces were in the sink, and even if they were on the floor I wouldn’t leave them there for people and critters to step on and bleed, but the point remains the same. It was a plate. Clean it up and keep living. Get over it.

So that is a major change besides my weight.

At my one-week follow up they took out the JP drain. Goodbye you hateful piece of shit, how I hated you. That is the only wound that still has a scab. Ugh, it grosses me out so much.

At my one-month follow up we mostly discussed food. Like, everything tastes foul and I’ve begun occasionally vomiting. The PA, a fella this time, told me that is typical for this stage in the healing process. Tissues apparently thicken, and some people begin having trouble swallowing. This was two days after a pill got stuck and I had my first encounter with “the foamies.”

I have issues with mucous. I can’t even discuss them for any length of time without gagging and vomiting, never could. When the pill got stuck--a (half a) metformin, of course--and all this slime started arriving to grease it free, I thought I would die. The slime was worse than the pain, and the pain was considerable, which is to say I felt like I had been shot.

It has happened quite a few times since then. It is so miserable, ugh. I am unhappy and uncomfortable a lot. The PA said it’s normal and the next two months would be rough and to ride it out. To back off on my diet and give my stomach a rest when I need to. And to call if the vomiting gets persistent. It’s happening twice or four times a week, so I’m not sure if that’s persistent. It occasionally interferes with my ability to take my medication, but do I need metformin if I had nothing to eat? I’m thinking not. I think not being able to keep down the disolvable calcium and vitamin Ds is going to be more of an issue long term.

I’m also feeling weak and tired most of the time. I get dizzy if I bend over. I’m watching my blood pressure, and have stopped taking the amlodipine (it’s a throat-sticker anyway) and one of the two losartan hctz. I didn’t consult my primary before doing this because, frankly, I’m afraid he’ll want an appointment. I feel very much interfered with all the time, and I just don’t want any more appointments all the time.

I quit trying to take the huge statin also. I’d need to run over that sucker with my car to grind it down far enough to swallow.

Another change we went through around here, unrelated to #wls, is Tom changed jobs. He hung on at the old one until my surgery was over because his old company’s insurance covered it and the new company excludes it. I’m very nervous about this because if I have any complications, the new insurance won’t cover that either.

He also had cataract surgery. I felt a little resentful of how soon he scheduled it after mine. I’ve had cataract surgery also, so I know a person wants to see for crying out loud, but I didn’t feel like I had time to get my feet back under me before I was expected to slip into the exhausting role of caretaker (and chauffeur).

Honestly, I’m still not up to it, and he’s already back to normal, although he hasn’t had his new spectacles cut. It’s still too soon for that.

I forgot to mention, during my one-month follow up the PA released me to try any food “as tolerated” although, as I’ve mentioned, I haven’t tolerated much. He also released me from physical restrictions. I was allowed to vacuum again...during Shark Week. That amused me greatly, since I have a Shark vacuum. I was glad too, because the housework help around here was not all I had been promised it would be.

Today I am exhausted and run down. Yesterday was a foamy day, ugh. And for the last two days I have had cramps in my left leg. I need to do some laundry, which will involve climbing up and down the stairs somehow hopefully, but I am a little worried about not making it due to the cramps and weakness. Some days I am so weak I can’t make it up a curb. I still try though. But I will be so glad to get to the end of the three months and start feeling better.

I really wonder how people with small children and/or jobs manage. But they do, and presumably I can too. Because I have shoes and pretty flowered plates and problem solving skillz. Look out, world. I’m feeling like onion soup with protein powder.

#wls #rny #gastric bypass surgery #my life

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summertime-writing-blog · 7 years

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When Stars Align and Worlds Collide- Chapter 1

Summary: Life is made up of good and bad times. It’s always better to experience both with others by your side.

Kim Seokjin learns this when he ends up collecting a ragtag group of boys who somehow end up teaching him much more than med school ever could. Min Yoongi learns this when he realizes there are some people you can trust. Kim Namjoon, when he figures out how heavy grudges can be to carry. Jung Hoseok, after he sees that not everyone leaves and forgets. Park Jimin, recognizing the importance of self-care. Kim Taehyung, when he finds people who love him without hurting him. And Jeon Jungkook, when he finally understands how precious and limited time can be.

Through all this, ‘they can smile as long as they’re together.’

Genre: Angst/fluff, Coming of age, HYYH-based AU

Pairings: Hoseok x Jimin, Taehyung x Namjoon, Taehyung x Jimin (minor) Jungkook x Yoongi (minor) Jin x Yoongi (minor)

Rating: M

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, Unhealthy relationships, Underage drinking, Referenced drug use, Mentions of suicidal thoughts/attempt, Anxiety attacks

5 years earlier

Seokjin

It was raining, and he was going to be late. He was so going to be late. Of course, the one time he was running late for work had to be today of all days.

Jin was currently tearing the room apart, cursing his apartment and his job and his life, and everything else under the sun. He stopped and stood in the middle of the now messy living room, eyes frantically searching every inch.

‘I must be losing my mind. It has to be around here somewhere,’ he helplessly thought. He decided to call for backup.

“YOONGI!”

He heard a low grunt coming from his best friend-and-roommate’s room through his closed door. Sighing, he stomped down the hall to the last room and banged on the door (against the homemade ‘do not disturb’ sign’s warning).

“Yoongi, have you seen my work hat,” he began, “I’ve looked everywhere in this house, I’m going to be late! Then I’ll be fired, which means we’ll go broke, which means both of us will be out on our asses in the street! Do you—”

The door slammed open, cutting Jin off from his rant. Yoongi stood there—looking way too exhausted for his 22 years—with Jin’s work visor hanging from his bony fingers.

“You left it in the washer with my laundry yesterday. Stop screaming, it’s 6:30 in the morning,” Yoongi mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“And you couldn’t have told me this earlier? I have to be at the café in 10 minutes!” Jin yanked the hat from Yoongi, hurriedly snapping it around his head, his fluffy brown hair sticking up around the crappy Velcro flaps.

“Didn’t know you had work today,” the blond boy responded, heading back to his bed.

“We’ve lived together for almost two years and you don’t remember which days I work?”

“I don’t have enough brain cells left for remembering shit like that, Hyung.”

Jin sighed, fingers rubbing at his temples.

“You’re lucky I like you. I made pancakes for breakfast, there’s some left in the kitchen. I should be back around two, so we should have time to do dinner before I have to be at the bar.”

He got another grunt in response.

Taking that as an “okay”, Jin grabbed his pink Princess Peach umbrella (“it was on sale, Yoongi!” “Jesus Christ, I live with a child”), his keys and his wallet and headed out the door, rushing down the apartment building stairs.

Jin normally loves his job at ‘The Grind’, a small and homey café and bakery. His boss, Mr. Choi, is incredibly helpful and friendly for the most part, letting “his best baker” Jin take home some of the leftover stock when possible. The rough part is, having to be there a half an hour before opening time to get started on the baking. Which he wasn’t going to be, since the café opened in 5 minutes.

Today they were getting annual inspections done, and of course the universe would make him be late on the worst possible day.

That’s Jin’s life. Universe fuckery and Princess Peach umbrellas. Oh, and disappointing his parents, of course.

Jin subconsciously stepped harder on the gas pedal. He needed this job.

He also works nights part-time as a bartender at ‘Good Tymes’ an honestly questionable and seedy bar, which is decidedly less pleasant of a job than the café. But he’d been working there since he started university, and even though he dropped out and got the extra job at the café, he still needed both jobs. So, he deals with it. Like everything else.

“Jin, sweetie, your father and I just think you’re making a rash decision. You’ve already gotten this far, there’s no sense in quitting. What are you even going to do if you drop out now?”

“Mom, I just…can’t do it anymore. I don’t think I ever really wanted to in the first place.”

“You’re just going through a rough patch, that’s all. Everyone goes through moments like that in college. You’ll be fine; forget this dropping out nonsense. Your father is paying good money for that program.”

“Mom! You’re not listening to me. I don’t want to be a doctor! I feel like I’m turning into someone I’m not. This isn’t…this isn’t my dream. This isn’t what I want for my life.”

“Well, why don’t you just switch to another program then? Still a bit of a waste of the program tuition, but at least you’ll be working towards something. The law program there is very good too, they say. Or accounting!”

“I…don’t want to be a lawyer either… or an accountant. I don’t know what I want. That’s why I want to take a break. I need to figure out for myself what I want.”

“This is ridiculous Kim Seokjin. You’re being ridiculous. I knew that Min Yoongi character would be a bad influence on you. After everything your father and I have done to help you, this is how you’re repaying us?”

“This has nothing to do with Yoongi! I only ever started med school because you guys wanted me to!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me, young man. Your father wants to speak to you.”

“Mom I—"

“Seokjin. If you think we’re going to sit here and let you drop out of college, you must be out of your mind. I won’t have my only son throwing his future away because of some delinquent from the streets putting absurd ideas into his head about dreams, like he knows anything about life.”

“Dad, I’ve felt like this since before I even met Yoongi. I just can’t do it anymore, it’s driving me insane. I don’t want to quit school completely, I just need a year or two to figure myself out again.”

“…Alright. If you promise your mother and I that you’ll go back to university within 2 years, with a REASONABLE major picked, we’ll go back to helping you pay for school, and keep paying the truck’s insurance. BUT, you have to keep your job, start working full time. This isn’t a vacation. You’ll have to keep paying your rent on your own.”

“Yea, of course, definitely Dad. I promise. Thank you, thank you so much!”

“You better be sure about this Seokjin. This isn’t some game you can just start over.”

“I know. I’m sure. This is what I need to do.”

Yoongi

Shaking out his hair, still wet from the shower, Yoongi headed to the kitchen on a hunt for the pancakes Jin said he left for him. It was around noon, and Yoongi had a lot to get done before Jin got home. Dishes, probably, and vacuuming. Oh, and he promised Jin he’d take out the trash.

Technically, Jin doesn’t make him do all the housework. In fact, Jin is always telling Yoongi that he doesn’t mind cleaning, and that they can share the workload. However, Yoongi would often end up doing most of the work anyway. It’s the least he can do, he figures.

After all, Jin took him in when he was at his worst. And Jin’s the one working two jobs to pay bills and keep them from starving. Meanwhile Yoongi is just barely managing to sell enough of his music to get by with his part of the rent.

He leans against the wall and rubs his eyes, trying to ignore the stress and constant worry and guilt that always threatens to bubble up. No sense in thinking about all of that right now. He stands up straight and keeps walking.

‘I should be able to get everything done before two, no problem, it’s not too—’

His train of thought cuts off when he walks into the living room.

“Jesus Christ, Seokjin. What the fuck.”

The room was a sight. It looked like a mini tornado had torn through the small space. Couch pillows and throw blankets strewn all over the floor, bookshelves and side tables all disarranged, shoes everywhere except the shoe rack, and was that a Pikachu pillow pet on the floor? When did they even get that?

Yoongi lets out a deep breath. Alright, maybe some of this can wait until Jin gets back.

It was raining, and Yoongi was drunk.

Making his way down the familiar city streets at 1 in the morning, most of the usual places were starting to close up for the night. He wasn’t trying to go back to the party house yet though; too many fucking people, too much noise. So he was determined to find somewhere else to sit and have another beer... or two.

Jiho had told him about some bar that stays open until 3, but right now he couldn’t remember the name if he had a gun to his head. So he just kept walking.

After what felt like way too long in drunk-Yoongi time, he finally found a bar that looked like what Jiho had described. Some of the name sign’s lighting was out, and it was missing a few letters. Probably would have taken him a few seconds to figure out the name even if he was sober. He shrugged to himself and headed inside.

Surprisingly, there was still quite a few people there. Mostly depressed looking old men, but still. He wasn’t the only one, then.

Yoongi sat down at the end of the bar, looking around. It wasn’t very clean; smoke hung in the stagnant air, and there was a mysterious stickiness to the floor tiles that were broken and chipped in some spots. The worn out jukebox in the corner by the other end of the bar was currently playing some old, mumbling sad country song over the crackling speakers, too quietly for Yoongi to hear it clearly. There were a couple of ancient looking pool tables and some electronic dart machines in the back, one with an out of order sign carelessly taped to the front.

“Hey, you want to order something, or are you just admiring the beautiful scenery?”

Yoongi’s head snapped up toward the voice, and he tried to focus on the person speaking to him, his head swimming.

His eyes widened.

In front of him was a gorgeous guy, probably around his age or a little older, broad shouldered and tall. He was smiling at his own joke, his deep brown eyes shining and crinkling at the corners; his white teeth seemed to glow. His black hair fell effortlessly in place—it looked so soft, feathery. Yoongi wanted to touch it.

“Uh…yea. Just a. I mean. Just a house draft, please.”

“ID?”

Yoongi clumsily dug his ID out of his ratted wallet, thanking whatever deity above that he didn’t lose it somewhere back at the house.

The bartender looked closely at the ID, concluding it wasn’t a fake. He looked again at the reddish brown-haired boy sitting in front of him, looking like he had lost everything he had in the world—way too skinny, his face sunken in, triangle shaped eyes displaying a lifetime of exhaustion.

He offered another smile, giving back the ID, “Yoongi, hm? What are you doing out so late by yourself?”

Yoongi glanced at the man, wondering whether or not to answer that question. He was tired, so tired. But he wasn’t sure about spilling his guts to some random dude at the bar, either.

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to, it’s fine. My name’s Seokjin, by the way, but you can just call me Jin.”

“Like the drink?” was the only thing Yoongi’s alcohol and weed soaked brain could think to slur out of his mouth.

Jin rolled his eyes, “Yes, Yoongi, like the drink,” he complied, sounding like he’d heard it a thousand times. However, he was smiling just as brightly as before.

Then, his facial expression suddenly looked a little more serious, and he nodded to himself.

“I’m going to go get your beer really quick. I’ll be right back, okay Yoongi? Don’t disappear on me.”

For the first time in a long while, Yoongi smiled.

“I’ll be here waiting, I won’t go anywhere. Promise.”

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