Body size and self image

My thoughts of late have been on one's body image.

Probably because of my "obsession" with my weight as I get ever closer to my goal -- a goal that is important only to me.

In my head, it is the norm for me to be very thin.  But as I've discussed here before, apparently I've lived most of my adult life closer to the obese category -- quite unaware of being of that classification, I might add.

My little chickadee told me last week that in her lifetime, this is the smallest I've ever been.

Yet this is not my "norm," to my mind.

So I started doing the math in my head.

I am knocking on the door of a 40-pound weight reduction.

Yet at this new weight, I am 30 pounds heavier than I was when I got pregnant back in 1974.  At that time, I was seriously underweight.  Had been all my life to that point (I was 24 years old).

I only gained 17 pounds with my pregnancy.   My doctor at the time was a little disappointed that I hadn't gained extra weight, saying that he had hoped the pregnancy would be a perfect opportunity to add some permanent pounds to me.  It all came off.  My baby was tiny but the rest was fluid that left with her.

My medical file indicates that by 1980, I had gained 15 pounds.  

Sorry, my little chickadee, but your memory isn't serving you very well because you were nine years old before I hit the weight that I am today.  I'll grant you that by the time you were 12, I had hit the obese column.  But again in 1993 I was 20 pounds less than what I weigh today.  You should remember that year.

Seeing me today, at this weight, I don't think I would want to be much smaller than this.  I imagine that I would look emaciated if I lost more weight.  I do know that when I was all those lower weights, I was often asked if something was wrong.  Accused of being anorexic.  You get the picture.  I was skin and bones.

The BMI charts -- those dreaded charts that the health care community cling to so tightly as gospel -- indicate that someone of my height should range anywhere from 118 to 159 pounds.  That's a 40 pound spread!

I needed to lose the 40 pounds I lost.  No question.  My current BMI is 24.43 -- just under the overweight classification.  (A "normal weight BMI" is between 18.5 and 24.99.)

But I also recall a period when I was 20 pounds lighter than I am today (a BMI of 20.22), and my doctor was threatening to hospitalize me to force feed me.  I was that thin!

My massage therapist tells me that she can so readily feel my bones now, she would be quite concerned about me should I lose a significant amount more weight.  I would simply be too thin for my body frame.

All this to say that my new, smaller body is close to 30 pounds heavier than my pre-pregnant 24-year old self.  

Bonnie in the summer of 1974

Some say that skinny is sexy.
I for one don't ever want to be that thin again.
And I certainly don't ever want to have that hair again!

Missed my weight loss goal

BUT, there were extenuating circumstances.

On April 8th,  I went to my doctor and got cortisone shots in my knees.  She told me then that I had to take it easy for a week to let the cortisone do its work.  That meant no treadmill for a week!  Since I hadn't yet done the treadmill that morning, it meant I was missing four days of workout (to my goal date).

I'm not allowed back on the treadmill until April 15th.  Factor in the four days I missed, and my deadline jumps to April 18th.

So, I now have until Friday, April 18th to meet that elusive goal of 40 pounds.

Of course, the cortisone also caused a bump in weight.  Not a big one, mind you, but a bump no less.

So now I have 3.6 lbs to go instead of 2.8 lbs.

I must say though, I'm really enjoying this new "skinny" status.

I feel so good about my new look.

Yesterday, I wore a pair of pants that my daughter gave me a few years ago when I had shrunk after being quite ill.  Her cast-offs!  They didn't quite fit me then.  But they do now.  Like a glove!  And they are soooooo comfortable.

You've heard of "not my daughter's jeans?"

Well, I told my little chickadee that I would have to get a t-shirt that says "these ARE my daughter's jeans" or, more rightly, "these WERE my daughter's jeans."

Suffice to say, weight loss goal being met or not, I am very happy with the new me.

Fairly soon now, John is going to get quite tired of hearing me say, "Have I mentioned how much I love being skinny?"

It's good to be boring

So says my dermatologist.

John and I went for our annual once-over last Friday and we were both declared to be "boring."  As she explained, "That's good in this business."  Translation:  If nothing requires further attention, you are boring!  We'll see her again in another year, unless something of concern develops in the interim.  (She is again about to go off on maternity leave; her due date is May 18th.)

When we finished with her, I moved into the examination room next door to wait for her husband.  Time for my two-month check-up following my tummy tuck surgery.  "Boring," he said with a sly grin.  I am healing exactly as I should, everything is coming along right on schedule.  All is good.  I told him he was supposed to tell me I look fantastic, or amazing or something to that effect.  That's what everyone else tells me.  He said he has to stick to medical terminology.  Not allowed to tell me I look fantastic.  

He also gave me the "all systems go" as far as activity is concerned, explaining that I am "healed" although full recovery actually takes up to 18 months.  I admitted that if there were any restrictions on me, I have been violating them all.  Again a sly little grin.  (He's really quite cute!)

I received his clearance to receive cortisone shots in my knees.  So tomorrow when I see my family doctor, she will be giving me those injections.  Finally!  (She has refused to give me the shots until she had an "all clear" from my surgeon.)

By the end of the visit the surgeon allowed that I was "perfect," a designation I assured him I would be sharing with my husband!

I will see him again at the beginning of July when he will take my "after" pictures, and he agreed to give me copies of my before and after images.  Apparently, many patients ask for them.  That will also be our last visit, insofar as my tummy tuck surgery is concerned.

Turns out he also does eyelids so when my eye doctor says it's time for that repair to happen (a surgery that will be covered by OHIP), he will be happy to do that for me.  (I have what is called ptosis - a condition my eye doctor has been tracking for many years  Both eyes are affected, my right much more so than my left.  At some point in the not-too-distant future I will require surgical intervention.)  Now that I have this relationship with him, I would just as soon he do the work as start over with a new plastic surgeon.  I'm confident my eye doctor will have no objection to that approach.

Anyway, all in all, under the circumstances, I'm quite happy to be boring!

It's John's birthday again

Today John get's another year older.

But you'd never know it to look at him.

This is the photo that graces his web page, his Facebook  profile, and any other social media site to which he belongs.

He's looked like this since before I met him.

Obviously, he just doesn't age -- in spite of what the birthday numbers tell us. 

Happy birthday darling!

Love you.

My weight loss efforts

A year ago April 11th I embarked on my weight loss journey, initially setting no particular goal other than to get healthy.

Eight weeks later, I celebrated when I had lost ten pounds.  So proud of myself I was.

That's when I started setting goals.

In ten pound increments.

It took eleven weeks to drop the next ten pounds.  But by August 15th I was down a total of 20 pounds.  (I had wanted to hit that mark for my birthday on August 9th.)

The next ten pounds took even longer -- eighteen weeks to shed a mere ten pounds.  Not so proud of myself any longer but at least I was down a total of 30 pounds by Christmas!

This was taking way too long!

But I stuck to my regime anyway and started to make arrangements for that long-wanted tummy tuck.  That happened at the end of January of this year.

Then my weight loss stalled.

Totally.

Wouldn't budge an ounce.

Of course there was a lot of swelling with the surgery and once everything settled down I was only smaller by the four pounds that the surgeon had removed.

Now, with only eight more days to go until the one year mark since I started this journey, I still have 3.4 pounds to lose.  With that, I will hit the 40 pound weight loss goal that I some time ago decided would be a nice round number to achieve. 

Another tummy tuck would just about do it.  Of course I jest.

I'll let you know when I reach this newest, and final, goal.   If I reach it by April 15th, it will have taken me another 17 weeks to lose the last ten pounds.

Then, my challenge will be to maintain my new weight.  And that my friends, will be a real challenge for me because I am eating all I want to eat.  And I'm eating healthily.  So how do I continue doing that and not continue losing weight?  I also certainly won't want to gain weight.

Balance, balance, balance ...

World Autism Awareness Day

Today, April 2nd, is World Autism Awareness day.
A day set aside to help promote awareness of and raise funds for research into the disorder.
Wear blue today to show your support for the initiative.

More importantly, give where and when you can.
Help promote awareness.
Help support research.
The more we learn about the disorder, the more we can help those who are living with it.

Hello, spring? Are you there?

Here we are, March 30th and I wake up to snow.

Enough accumulation that the snow plow had to come by.

Really?

On March 30th???

Are you kidding me?

Man oh man, therapists must be having a banner year with their S.A.D. patients this year.

The winter that just keeps on giving.

Yesterday, I received an e-mail directing me to a Chatelaine magazine article:  "Seven wardrobe staples to add to your closet this spring."
As you can imagine, I need a new spring wardrobe this year since I've lost so much weight.  So I was interested in checking out the article.

Never mind that the suggestions put forward in the article are way out of my league.  They are also not even all that nice.  (OK, they're meant for a younger demographic too.)  But a bracelet that costs $375.00???  Does anyone really actually need one?
I expect to buy my entire wardrobe for not much more than the cost of that one bracelet!

Anyway, I might not ever need a new spring wardrobe.

Since winter refuses to leave, apparently spring is never going to get here.

The new "skinny minny" me

The other night, my little chickadee told me I was skinny.

The next day when I got home, my cleaning lady called me "skinny minny." 

Did my heart good.

Then my little chickadee retracted, saying that I was "very slim" rather than skinny, explaining that skinny implied not healthy.

Whatever.  I'll take it.  It's been so many years since I've been called either.

Yesterday my massage theraaahpist arrived shortly after we had a photo shoot.  She too said that I surely am a "skinny minny."  (Then we giggled because she commented that it is so rare that she sees me dressed -- I'm usually in a dressing gown, ready for my treatment, when she arrives.)

Anyway, here I am now, a mere five pounds and two weeks away from my goal.

The photographer forgot to say "smile" before he took the photo.  He took several shots, this being the least of all evils.  (Let the record show that I don't like any photos of me.)  My beauty queen daughter I am not!

Spring is coming, is it?

Spring, you say.
Really?
This is the view out our living room window this morning.

You do know that it's March 27th!!

At least my massage theraaaaahpist was able to get to me today.  And wow, did she have her work cut out for her.  After two weeks of no therapy, my back was quite the challenge. I best not be missing two consecutive weeks of treatment again.  Just not good for me.

Anyway, the robins are starting to arrive.

Poor things.

Success, finally!

Remember my previous posts about that darling photo that had come into my possession of a baby named Philip Nowlan?  

Over a year ago, I had FaceBook messaged a person I knew to be Philip's younger sister, Teresa.  I had also messaged Teresa's daughter (Philip's niece); and another woman whom I was fairly certain was Philip's daughter.  A message was eventually sent to a gentleman named Philip Nowlan whom I thought could be him.

I had given up, thinking that the family simply didn't want contact.

Well, turns out I couldn't have been more wrong.

Yesterday I received a message from Teresa and she was beside herself with joy at my having found the lot!  She can't figure out how she missed my earlier messages but it turns out that the Philip to whom I sent the message was actually her cousin on her father's side (just happened to have the same name).  He finally contacted her and told her that it looked like someone really wanted to be in touch with her.  Only then did she discover my attempts to find them.

Didn't take us long to share stories.

By telephone.

We'll be talking again.

Lots.

And she lives just over the border in New York.

So we'll likely be visiting.

Soon.

I've also upped my friend count on FaceBook by several people.

Enough already!

OK, even my Saturday massage had to be cancelled because -- once again -- old man WINTER reared his ugly head and rendered our road impassable.

I've had more than enough of this nonsense now!

First day of spring you say?

This is Thursday, the day my theraaaaaaaaaaaaahpist is supposed to show up.

Yet we had to postpone 'til Saturday because our roads are more like skating rinks.

*Sigh*

I have one thing to say ...

Everyone's Irish Today

To all my Irish friends and family -- and to those who today wish (or pretend) they were Irish --

Our Trifecta Birthday Celebration

Our blended family has three birthdays to celebrate at this time of year.

• No 2 stepson on March 8th.
• Son-in-law Pauple on March 10th.  (He's 40 today!)
• And step grandson on March 11th.   (He'll be 18 tomorrow -- where have the years gone?)

We always get together on the Sunday nearest those dates at Tucker's Marketplace in Ottawa because they serve an awesome buffet brunch.  Sometimes, one of the birthdays actually falls on the Sunday and that birthday boy gets to eat free.  Not so this year though.

But we don't go for the free meal; we go for the joy of getting together and having an awesome feed.

And celebrating three birthdays of course.

The Birthday Boys - Sunday, March 9, 2014

(Don't ask about the hat on grandson. He was having a bad hair day and the hat HAD to stay!)

Did you remember ...

... to move your clocks ahead one hour?    

Perhaps it will actually bring Spring!

Remembering My Brother John

My brother John would have been 60 years old today.
He passed away in 2010, at the young age of just 56 years.  He had been diagnosed with lung cancer earlier that year and lost his battle a few months later, after a valiant fight.

Brother John was the seventh of eight children -- but only the second boy among six girls.  In the 1961 photo below, that is my hand on his shoulder.  (Do you suppose he's holding his hand over his mouth in wonder at what he's in for with the realization of his birth place in the family of six girls and two boys?)

By the time he came along, after one boy and five girls, he was a welcome addition to the family.  Growing up, with five older sisters all acting like other mothers, he was especially tight with his one younger sister.  They were seldom apart as children and shared a friend-pool throughout high school.  In fact, when the baby of the family relocated to Kitchener/Waterloo in 1978, it didn't take long for him to make the decision to move his family to that area.

John married in June 1973, and his first daughter was born a year later.  He and his wife actually lived with me through the summer of 1974, with their infant daughter, and oh what a heat wave we were having!  I recall sitting outside in our very small yard trying to get relief from the August heat but there was none to be had.  We would sit up through the night, talking and reminiscing, rocking his daughter, hoping that she would at least drift off for a while.  It was a brutal summer!

His son was born only four months after my little chickadee came along and we visited back and forth often.

When I returned to work after my little chickadee's arrival (at that time, maternity leave lasted all of six weeks!), my brother John would pick me up every morning to deliver my daughter to the infant care centre so that I wouldn't have to take the bus with her.  I recall that it was an especially heavy snow-fall that winter of 1975/76, and he never missed a morning!

Once he moved out to Southwestern Ontario, our contact became less frequent.  In fact, the last time I actually saw my brother was the summer of 2005 at our niece's wedding.

He had relocated to Fort Erie some ten years earlier, a considerable drive from here, and my health issues had prevented me from making the trip (any trip, actually) because I simply could not travel.

In the intervening years, his first marriage had ended in divorce while his children were teenagers, and he remarried, welcoming another daughter to the fold in 1993.

By the year 2000, he was the father of three (one boy), and grandfather of three (all girls), so he was still outnumbered by women, but he was  fiercely proud of his family.  His youngest grandchild is not in the photo below, which was taken in 2008.

Throughout the summer of 2010, he enjoyed visits from family members and close friends, many of whom he had not seen in several years.  My little chickadee was able to make the trip and he was delighted to see her.

He was especially pleased to have the opportunity to meet my little chickadee's family (Pauple and his daughter were also there), having only met my beautiful boy once before (at the aforesaid niece's wedding five years earlier).

My brother John with my beautiful boy -- July 2010

Rest in peace, brother John.

Robert John Cherryholme
8 Mar 1954 - 27 Aug 2010

Seven pounds to go

And I have only five weeks left to do it.
Surely, that's doable!
But, trust the internet to show me the way.

Nothing like finding a way to merge a love of wine (although mine is white, not red) with the need for activity.
Thank you Aunty Acid!

Spring Forward

Technically, we "spring" forward at 2:00 am on Sunday, March 9th this year.

BUT, it's prudent to actually put your clocks ahead one hour as you're going to bed on the Saturday night.  That way, you won't be late for whatever appointments you might have on Sunday morning.

For instance, our family has three birthdays on that weekend.

Step-son #2 is March 8th.

Son-in-law Pauple is March 10th (and this year is his 40th!).

Step-grandson is March 11th.

We celebrate the trifecta birthdays on the Sunday.  Have done so for many years now.

Sometimes, it falls on one of their birthdays. Not so this year.

You can be sure our clocks will be set ahead appropriately to ensure that we don't miss the party that is happening at Tuckers Marketplace at 10:30 am Sunday March 9th!

It's Shrove Tuesday

Yipppeeeeee!

Breakfast for supper.

I have no idea why this is such an exciting day for my little chickadee and me, but every year we have the same reaction.  We salivate in anticipation of this day.

As if we need permission to have pancakes for supper!

The day is really supposed to signify the beginning of Lent, which kicks off tomorrow (40 day fast before Easter).

That means we're supposed to think of something to "give up" for the next 40 days.

I'll think on it.

In the meantime, I get to have breakfast at both ends of my day today!

What more can I say?

It's been a long, cold winter this year.

Our Tax Dollars at Work

Gotta love government policy wonks.

Our provincial health care wonks have been beating their heads trying to shorten wait times for certain surgeries in this province.  They've done an admiral job, for the most part.

But sometimes, they just don't quite cut it!

A few years back, it was decided that a central assessment body should be established for knee and hip replacement surgeries.

Not a bad idea.  Take a lot of the surgeon's load away, freeing up time for actual surgeries.

So the Total Joint Assessment Clinic was established for the Ottawa region.

Three years ago, I was referred to that Clinic.

And that Clinic assessed me as needing to have both hips replaced.  My choice which one was done first.

By the time I saw the surgeon, it was very obvious which hip should be done first and we proceeded with replacing my left hip.

That went very well indeed.  I am two years post op and doing mahvelously darling.

I am now that surgeon's "patient," being seen by him on a regular basis and as he follows up on my left hip, he has also been monitoring my right hip.

Some six months ago, we decided that I should get in the queue to have the right hip replaced.  Given the length of time it would take to surgery date, seemed like a good plan.

Well, last week don't I get a call advising me that I had again been referred to the Assessment Clinic.

"If it's been more than two years," she told me, "you have to come through again."

Bizarre!  Policy changed last November in an effort to further shorten wait times.

Now I ask, if my surgeon was monitoring me, and has assessed me as part of a prior surgical follow-up, how does that assessment impact on his time in a negative way?  He was seeing me anyway.

So I have to take an afternoon out of my life to go to the big city to be reassessed.  Did they really think the hip had improved in the intervening three years?

That reassessment happened yesterday afternoon.

It cost me a round trip to the city that I could have done without.

It cost me a tremendous amount of walking.  (Why do they always locate these units furthermost from the entrance door?  They have to know that the majority of their patrons are mobility challenged!)

It cost me a $14.00 parking fee.

For what?  To spend five minutes with a nurse while she reviewed with me the risks associated with the surgery and had me sign off on having been advised of such risks.

That was it.

It was an assessment on paper only!

No check up.

No "assessment" whatsoever really. 

All in the name of allowing the hospital to bill the province for an assessment, claiming that they saved the surgeon the need to perform an assessment that he had already done.

Our tax dollars at work!

Is it Thursday yet?

This is day four of five without wine.

That's how I'm marking my days on antibiotics.

Days without wine.

One would think that I'm a troubled alcoholic who simply can't get through a day without wine.

But one would be wrong.

Remember when I went six weeks without, just because?  Silly, for sure, but I did it.

I just like having fun with these countdowns.

And truth be known, I do miss my evening glass of wine.

But I can go without.

I just prefer not to.

So now I need only get through today and tomorrow.

Then finally on Thursday, I can again sit down at 4:00 pm and enjoy a glass (or two) or wine.

And enjoy I will!

Infection Update

Had an interesting visit with my family doctor on Wednesday.

Ooops, first I have to tell you how impressed my physiotherapist is with my new flat tummy.  We had a great time comparing notes on Tuesday.  (She had hers done about five or so years ago.)

Back to my family doc visit.

After she got through teasing me about being a "trouble maker" (for the ER visit), she asked to see my incision so she could assess the status of the infection.  She too was suitably impressed with my new flat tummy.  She declared the infection cleared up and asked when I finished the antibiotic.

"I take the last one at 2:00 pm today," I declared.  "And I can finally have a glass of wine tomorrow!"

She cautioned me to watch the area carefully for the first 24-48 hours after I finished the antibiotic.  Could be rebound flare-up.  If I experienced any pain, I was to get back to her pronto because I would need another round of antibiotics.

Well, I thoroughly enjoyed my glass(es) of wine yesterday!

Good thing too.

By the time I was making my way into the city today to see the surgeon for my follow-up appointment, I anticipated that I would be going back on antibiotics.

Why, you ask?

Because yesterday, the site of origin had become sensitive to touch again.  (That was the first indicator that something was wrong before, I just hadn't recognized the sign.)

I explained to the surgeon that the area was more painful today than it was yesterday, so I was a tad concerned that it was the very rebound effect about which my family doctor had warned me.

He checked the area very carefully and he had to agree.  It is inflamed again, and beyond just the site of original entry.  So it's already starting to spread again.

Another round of antibiotics it is.

At least this time it's only five days without wine!

The crisis is over

All right, the crisis is over.

Infection is under control and I am officially "better."

I saw my surgeon last week (Wednesday) and he was quite intrigued to hear about my little excursion to the hospital ER.  He was very interested to hear that I hadn't really realized how sick I was until I felt somewhat improved.  But of even more interest to him was how fast the antibiotic took effect and had me feeling better.

And because of that hiccup in my recovery, I have to see him again this week so he can make sure that everything is healing as it should.  (I see him again on Friday morning.)

I am soooooo delighted with my new flat tummy.  I would have preferred not to have had to go over that rough patch with the infection, but now that that's over, I am really looking forward to completing the healing process.  I mean really, it looks so good now, and I'm told it will improve with time.

To be sure, I don't regret spending that money!

It's not always fibro!

I've had a time of it since my last post.

I might have been coming along remarkably well in that first week of recovery, but it was downhill from that point.

The day after that follow-up visit with the surgeon, I had a fibro flare-up, presumably because the trip into the city was too much for me.  So I spent the Wednesday on enforced R&R while my body recovered.

On Thursday -- my massage day -- I was feeling much better although I had started having some lightheadedness.  Enough to mention it to my husband who suggested I check my blood pressure.  It was 95/64, which is abnormally low for me but not outside the "normal" range for an adult.  I wasn't too concerned, but I cut my BP med in half, figuring I didn't need to take something to lower my BP if it was already that low!

On Friday, I again woke feeling like I was in a fibro flare-up.  Now, it's very unusual for me to have a flare-up on top of a flare-up but there's a first time for everything.  I spent another day on enforced R&R.

Saturday morning I just had to get cleaned up because I simply couldn't bear myself any longer.  I washed my hair by leaning over the bathtub and using the spray arm (I had done this earlier in the week with no consequence).  When I finished, the dizziness was so bad I had to call John to help me back to the bedroom.

There was no way I could then take the bath that I had been planning to take.  And I had to cancel the planned visit from my little chickadee and family.  I had so been looking forward to seeing them!

A blood pressure check revealed it to be 96/58 and John banished me to my bed for the day.  I made sure I ingested salt throughout the day and eventually got my BP up to 104/61 by 5:00 pm.

That BP held through to Sunday morning but by 10:45 am it had plunged to 72/52 and I was really not feeling well.  I continued to ingest salt but the best I could get my BP up to was 88/52.  Finally, around 4:00 pm I called TeleHealth Ontario, outlined what had been going on and they insisted on calling an Ambulance to take me to hospital.

The attending physician thought we were dealing with a cellulitis (skin infection) so she immediately started me on an antibiotic and she drew an outline of where the infection was evident.  She sent me home with a prescription for 10 days of antibiotic treatment, a requisition to have bloodwork done in the morning, and instructions to see her at the clinic the following morning so she could track the infection's progress.

I woke at 2:00 am Monday morning and knew that I was already feeling better.  The difference was amazing.  I had expected to need antibiotics for a little while longer before seeing much change.

By the time I saw the doctor in her office I was markedly improved.  When she checked her ink outline, she was amazed to see how far it had subsided in such a short time.  That meant she had "guessed right" and she was very pleased to have done so.  She explained that if these infections are caught early enough, antibiotics work very quickly.  Otherwise, they take a little longer to take effect.  But, had I waited until my scheduled appointment with the surgeon on Wednesday, I'd have ended up on IV (if I had made it at all!).

I truly had no idea how ill I was until I felt better.

Now, I have to wonder if that second fibro flare-up on Friday was in fact a flare-up at all or if it was the early stages of the cellulitis?  I know I am always getting angry at doctors for blaming fibro for everything that is wrong with me, always.  And yet, I may have been guilty of having done just that myself!

Scary business that.

My 'One Week Follow Up' Appointment

Today I went to see the doctor for my one week follow up appointment.  My surgeon is away this week so I was seeing one of his colleagues.

The purpose of the visit was to remove the drainage tubes (I call them blood buckets).

He came into the room and was familiarizing himself with the file when he said, "You had your surgery a month ago?"

"Um, no," I replied.  "A week yesterday."

He couldn't believe it.  He said I was doing remarkably well for just one week out.

Then we got down to the business at hand.  He reviewed my record of drainage from each tube and quickly informed me that tube #1 would not be coming out.  (That had been my fear.  I knew that there had to be 20cc or less for two consecutive days for the tube to come out.  Tube #2 met that criteria handily, but #1 had output 30cc last night.)
So he removed tube #2.  And OMG it hurt! It stung big time.  But that area had been very sensitive anyway so I wasn't surprised that it hurt.
The pain didn't last long, thank God.
Then he changed the tape on my incision and changed the dressing on the other tube, which bucket I had to empty there because all of a sudden it was full.  He explained that now there's only one tube, it will likely drain more, doing the work of two.  So I'm starting over to reach that two consecutive days of 20cc or less output!
When I got up from the table and put my boots on, he commented again about how well I'm doing.  He was genuinely impressed with my progress. He said that most patients, one week after surgery, are still walking very hunched over.  I am almost walking normally.
Suffice to say, I left there feeling pretty damned pleased with myself!

One week post-op

Here I am, one week later, and the progress is amazing.

Day by day, I'm feeling much stronger but I'm still having excruciating pain in my lower back.  I don't know how much longer to expect this pain to continue but I sure hope it stops soon.

I expect that the pain is a result of my not being able to stand upright.  (Imagine having to do everything with your body bent ever so slightly forward.)  I'm almost straight now, but my back is screaming to be stretched out -- something I'm sure I won't be able to do for quite some time to come.

Tomorrow, I go to have my drainage tubes (I call them my blood buckets) removed.  My surgeon's colleague will do the honours in his absence.  I have no idea what to expect, other than I think it will be painful.  My research of the topic indicated that it is anywhere from totally no pain to extremely painful.  I guess I'll find out for myself tomorrow.

Once these blood buckets are removed, I'll finally be able to take a shower.  I've had to make do with "whore's baths" for the past seven days so I'm really looking forward to being able to get properly cleaned.

In any event, it's almost drinky poo time in the Fowler household so I must sign off and get ready to accept my first glass of wine in two weeks.  (OK, I had that celebratory glass of wine for our Anniversary on the 25th of January but who's counting?)

Later.

I have a flat tummy!

OMG, I am soooooo impressed!

I look down and my tummy is flat.

Yet there is still swelling that needs to subside.

And my weight?

Well, it's down by 5.4 lbs!

That puts me within striking distance of 20% body fat loss.

You'll recall that I had set April 11th as my goal date to reach that milestone.

Methinks I will meet that goal, and then some.

Have I mentioned how pleased I am that I finally had this done?

It was and is soooo worth it! 

I'm going home!

The surgery was a resounding success.

And there's really very little pain.

Not at all what I was expecting. I mean, I have pain but not much.  Compared to the hip replacement, this is a walk in the park!

I was hooked up to a pain pump that would allow me to administer a 1 mg dose of morphine every ten minutes, for a maximum of 24 mg in four hours.  When they came to check it, I had used only four mg in five hours!  I was only needing a shot at three hour intervals.

I'm going home with Tylenol #3 for pain control, which I may or may not use.

The doctor is mightily impressed with my progress.

I'm mightily impressed with my flat tummy.  And it's still swollen!

Am I sorry I spent this money?

Not one bit.  Worth every penny!

This is it!

Finally the day has arrived.
Thirty-five + years I've been waiting for this.
Now, there's only a few hours more to wait.
Wish me luck!

Only one more sleep to go

Tomorrow is the day.

Finally!

I have to be at the hospital by 6:30 am for my scheduled 8:00 am surgery.

It should all be over by 11:00 am.

The surgical part, that is.

John will receive a call from the surgeon (or someone from the surgical team) immediately that the surgery is completed.  I, of course, will be sent to recovery.  (John will call my little chickadee and my Angel; my little chickadee will call her list of people who need to know.)

I can expect to be in the recovery room for at least one hour, possibly two. (My breathing issues require my being in recovery longer than most.)

Only once they have my breathing stabilized will they send me to my room.

And only once I'm in my room will they allow visitors.

I can expect to be in a  lot of pain.

Been there.  Done that.  Got a few t-shirts.

I remember it well.

As I've said, I'm really not looking forward to the recovery portion of this journey.

But I so can't wait to wake up in that recovery room tomorrow!

OMG, 17 years!

Today marks 17 years that John and I have been married.

Who'da believed it?

It's really true that time flies when you're having fun!

Dry Mouth Woes are OVER!

It would appear that my respirologist has solved my dry mouth woes.

I took my CPAP machine in for a "check up" the other day, just to ensure that all was as it should be pre-surgery.  He made a minor adjustment to it in light of the surgery but all was otherwise OK.

Then I raised the matter of my dry mouth issue again and suggested that perhaps the problem was coming from the mask.  I wondered if perhaps it didn't quite fit and was pinching my nostrils such that I couldn't breathe through my nose, forcing me to breathe through my mouth.  

He checked the mask against my face, determined that it was the right size for me, in that the next larger size would be too big.  But he opined that perhaps I was "between sizes."  

I explained that I had noticed that the only time I breathed through my mouth was when I was wearing the stupid mask.

He whipped out a nasal mask and fitted it to me, turned it on and said, "try this."  The force of air making its way through my nose was heavenly.  And I had no problem keeping my mouth closed and breathing through my nose!

So he gave me the nasal mask!

That night, I used the nasal mask rather than the full face mask.

No Biotene Oralbalance gel.

Went the entire night without waking with dry mouth!  (I did waken, but not for dry mouth issues.)

The second night, I wakened repeatedly because I couldn't get the damned thing to sit properly.  (Turned out I had put it on upside down.  My "dry runs" the next day quickly identified the problem and I figured out how to properly wear the damned thing!)

And last night?  Well again, I went the entire night without waking with dry mouth.  (I did waken once, but it wasn't because of dry mouth.)

I am sooooooo delighted to have that issue resolved, especially before going into hospital.  I wasn't relishing the experience of dealing with the post-surgical discomfort combined with the dry mouth intensity that would have come with the use of the CPAP machine while in there.

Dry mouth?

What's that?

Weight Loss Progress

I haven't talked about my weight loss progress (or lack thereof) for some time.

There's a reason for that.

Over the Christmas holiday period, I kind of gained a few pounds.

OK, I gained four pounds.

Had a bit of a challenge shedding those four pounds too.

But now, I'm happy to report that not only have the four pounds gone into fat heaven, so too have an extra 1.2 pounds.

So, now, I am officially down 30.8 pounds (don't lose sight of that .8 -- it's significant!).  I'm almost at the 16% loss mark.  Do you realize how close that is to having lost 20% of my body fat?

I am so close now, I'm feeling a bit like the little engine that could (well, perhaps like the big engine that could -- or maybe the medium engine that could ...).

Obviously, I won't hit the 20% threshold before my surgery, but I think what it means is that, combined with the surgery (which will only account for about two pounds), once I've healed and the swelling subsides, I should be at least at that 20% loss.

Everything one reads about weight loss talks about the benefits derived from just a 10% reduction.  Well, I've almost doubled that.  Does that mean I get twice the benefit?  Or just increased chance of gaining those benefits?

Whatever it means, I'm danged pleased with my progress and I plan to continue my "healthy living" approach, so natural has the lifestyle become to me.

My new goal is to reach a 20% loss.  I now think that's doable and it will put me at a not unreasonable weight for me.

Perhaps I'll now set a date by which I would like to have reached my new goal weight.

I'm choosing April 11th.  That will be one year from the date on which I started this journey.

Only eight more pounds to go ...

... and twelve weeks in which to drop them.

Surely I can pull that off!

It's getting closer!

Ten days 'til my tummy tuck surgery (OK, my abdominoplasty).

A mere ten days.

Yikes!

It'll be here before I know it.

Am I ready?

You bet you're sweet bippee I'm ready.

Been ready for nigh on 35 years.

(Can you tell I'm looking forward to having it done?)

Dry Mouth Woes

I believe I've talked here before about my issues with dry mouth (known as xerostomia).

My dry mouth issues are made soooooooo much worse by use of the CPAP machine.  That machine just sucks everything right out of me.  It was such an issue that, when I first started using it, I was waking with severe headaches and was prepared to abandon using the unit altogether.

My respirologist encouraged me to stick with it and advised me to try various products that help with dry mouth.  He recommended a few such products and I bought the first one that I found.  

Mouthkote.  It's a spray that I was told to use on my way to bed.  It would help keep me salivated.  It tastes great.  But I still woke every two to three hours, parched.  Had to struggle to "wet my whistle," as it were.

It became such an issue that, a year ago, I stopped using the CPAP altogether.  I was simply waking too frequently and it was more of a hassle to use the machine than not.

Fast forward to this past October when my family physician and I were discussing my desire to have this tummy tuck surgery and I expressed my concerns about the anaesthetic.  She encouraged me to start using my CPAP machine.  She was concerned that I wasn't using it and felt strongly that I should be.

I revisited the respirologist to have my CPAP machine checked out (it had been "stored" for some ten months by this point) and started over in my search for something that might help with the dry mouth. Clearly, the Mouthkote wasn't doing the trick so my respirologist offered the names of a few other products that might offer better relief.

This time, I did some serious research before making another purchase.  One of the recommended products was Biotene and it was during my research of that product that I discovered that the sprays are designed to only last two to three hours.  Duhhhhh!  Biotene offers a gel that is meant for overnight use.
Sounds promising, I thought.  So I went on a mission to find a tube of Biotene oralbalance Gel.  That proved to be a little more difficult than I would have thought.  Eventually I found a supply at Shoppers Drug Mart, where I also found a new product, OraMoist Dry Mouth Patch.  It too is supposed to offer overnight relief.
I decided to buy both the gel and the patch to give them each a try to see what worked better.
Having used the gel and patch a couple of times now, I can honestly say that the Biotene Gel wins.
No contest.
A small amount of gel is applied to the tongue and worked throughout the mouth.  The taste is not at all unpleasant.  And its effects truly last all night. While the CPAP machine still sucks everything out of me, when I waken at various intervals, I have no difficulty re-establishing salivation.  (One night, I actually slept seven hours straight through, presumably having managed salivation without waking.)
The patch, on the other hand, is a small disc that affixes to the roof of the mouth.  It dissolves over the course of the next two to three hours.  It tastes awful.  It feels dreadful.  And when I awaken at those three hour intervals, I have great difficulty garnering any salivation.  Apparently, it works for the first three hours. That's it.  Yet, when morning comes and I hit the bathroom to brush my teeth, there is still a residue of the disc left on the roof of my mouth -- I'm guessing whatever is used to affix it to the mouth.  It still felt horrid. And I had to fight to peel it off.  Not a fun experience at all.  I would not recommend the OraMoist Patch for overnight use.  In fact, I don't think I'd want to use it during the day, so uncomfortable is the disc on the roof of the mouth, not to mention the unpleasant taste.

So, having tried all three of the above products, I can readily recommend Mouthkote for daytime use.  I know that Biotene also has a spray (as well as toothpaste and rinse) but I have not tried them so I can't attest to their efficacy.  To my knowledge, Biotene oralbalance is the only product meant for night time use that in fact works for that purpose.  Don't waste your money on OraMoist.

Wow, where have I been?

Happy New Year everyone!

I have no idea why I've not posted anything since last year.  All I can say is, "I've been busy?"

I've certainly been busy this week.  Had to make three round trips to the big city -- Monday for my pre-op at the hospital; Tuesday for my physio session; and Wednesday for my pre-op with the surgeon.

Couldn't be helped so I had to do it.  But that ate up three days away from home.

Of course, yesterday being Thursday it was my massage day.  The day I otherwise do "nothing."

The other days were spent doing household-related stuff.  They're rotten jobs but someone has to do them!

Now, I'll be busy readying myself for the "big" day -- tummy tuck time on 27 January.  

Having had the hospital pre-op really helped put my mind at ease with respect to the process and protocols that will be followed.  The anaesthesiologist assured me that I would be well cared for.  The only stumbling block might well be over post-op pain management.  We seem to have different philosophies about that but the surgeon assured me that my views will prevail.  (My view is that I prefer to have minimal pain meds because of the adverse effect they have on me.  I'd prefer to suffer the pain of the surgery -- who expects to come out of surgery without pain?  That surgical pain will subside with time.  The side effects of the pain meds often last much longer with me.  Don't subject me to that extra suffering, please!)

The pre-op with the surgeon was very helpful too.  He answered all my questions and explained again the surgery in detail, then he took the "before" photos.  ("Now let it all out," he said.  "I know you've been holding it in for 30+ years, but this is the time you must relax and let it out."  Too funny!)  He'll take "after" photos at about the three-month post-op mark.

I am sooooo looking forward to it.  Well, I'm not really looking forward to the recovery portion of the journey, but I am surely anxious to get to the other side of the exercise.

It's interesting you know.  I'm not actually "broadcasting" the fact that I'm having a tummy tuck. (Let's face it, my readership here is very low.)  But when the topic arises, those people I do tell all seem to respond the same way:  "Wow, I wish I had the nerve to have one."   What that tells me is that secretly, every woman really does want to have a tummy tuck.  I'm just perhaps the first to be so open about the fact that I'm having one?

I do know a few people who have undergone the surgery.  They are very happy with the results.  But none of them is "readily open" about the fact that they have had the procedure done. (They reveal it in a whispered tone, so as not to let others hear.)  I, on the other hand, expect to be quite proud of my new body, come spring.  Why wouldn't I?  I've carried this albatross around for 35 years and I'll be delighted to be rid of it. I'm thinking I'll be extremely grateful to anyone who notices my new silhouette.

It's almost 2014

Can you believe it?

Another year gone, already!

To bring in the new year, I'm going to try to stay awake late enough to watch Royal Canadian Air Farce - Best of 2013.  Let me guess, who might they be spoofing???  (Ummmm -- four specific Senators; Rob Ford; Miley Cyrus; the Kardashians -- are just a few that come to mind.)

The show airs at 8:00 pm.  Wonder if I'll make it????? 

Even if I do, I won't see midnight to be sure.  So the rest of the world will have to welcome the new year without me I'm afraid.

Christmas 2013

Christmas was wonderful.

The day was spent moving from house to house and eating.

We started by joining my little chickadee at her home for what has become our traditional Christmas morning breakfast.  It's such a delight to share that time with them and I continue to count my blessings that they still include us in their morning.

From there, we stop in briefly to visit my good friend, LC -- my other daughter's mother.  This year, she is recovering from surgery so she was a bit of a captive audience, of sorts.  Her daughter (MOD) was there from Toronto tending to her mother so I got to see both this year, which was a nice bonus.

Then it was off to my step-son's place for lunch.  He would have been otherwise alone for Christmas so we took lunch to him.  We had a lovely visit while lunch cooked (chicken gumbo and rice) and we followed it up with tea and dessert.

I ate lightly at both breakfast and lunch because, unlike previous years on Christmas Day when we usually came home and had "beans and weiners" for dinner, this year we went to join my best friend sister and her husband at their table.  My brother-in-law has spent the past several Christmases in hospital and since he would be home this year, my sister was delighted to be able to make a proper dinner.  She was extra delighted to have us join them.  We had a fabulous visit.

Some twelve hours after we had left home that morning, we finally arrived back at our door.

It had been a very long, but fun day.

On Saturday, the 28th, we had our blended family Christmas.

That's the day we all get together (although this year we were missing step-daughter and her family since they were down in Arizona for the holidays) for Christmas brunch.  I no longer do the full-out dinner deal -- too stressful.  So I just do brunch-style eating.  No fuss, no muss. (Well almost, no fuss, no muss.)  I find it much easier than trying to put on a sit-down meal for a large group.

We open gifts, which are handed out by Santa. This year, #2 step-son had the honours (that's him wearing the requisite red hat).

There are always so many interesting gifts passed around.  

And of course, we have to take the group photo.  Nutbar #1 step-son insisted that we take one with everyone in the following pose.

We're thinking we might make it a Fowler tradition.  Perhaps next year, everyone will participate properly.

It's Christmas Eve!

(Photo © John T. Fowler)

This is a photo of my two-tiered Christmas village -- last year's version.

This year it is much lovelier. My little chickadee visited and helped me put the snow in properly.  There was a blizzard went through town!

We haven't taken a photo of it yet and we really should have done so immediately because now the main building (the focal point of the train circle) has lost its lights.  They are fibre optic and not replaceable or fixable.

So, while the photo that will be taken will depict the snow storm (how fitting, with all the snow we've had already!) it will not present quite the dramatic effect that we see as we admire it each evening.

And of course, the arrangement of presents under the tree will be different too.  There seems to be more this year (and Santa hasn't even arrived yet!).

In any event,

Merry Christmas!

Memories of a past Christmas

For some reason, the closer we get to the big day, the crisper my memories of Christmases past (go figure!).

And this year, I can't seem to get images of one particular Christmas out of my mind.
I've told the story here before, but I'll tell it again for recent readers' enlightenment.
It was Christmas, 1963.  I was thirteen years old and I desperately wanted a pair of patterned stockings -- they were all the rage that year.

About a week before Christmas, I was home from school. (I don't recall why; obviously I must have been sick.)

I had the house to myself and decided I should go snooping for gifts.  I just HAD to know if I was getting a pair of those stockings!

Well, I found the cache of presents and eventually identified one that had my name on it that felt like it might be just what I was hoping for.

I oh so carefully opened the package -- and there they were.  They were blue and black with a diamond pattern.  Truly the most beautiful pair of patterned stockings in the whole wide world!

Then I did the unthinkable.  I just HAD to try one on.

I remember shaking as I put the stocking on and pulled it up my leg.  And then I pranced around my parents' bedroom, admiring the sight.

I was still shaking as I took the stocking off and carefully folded it to put it back in the package.

But look!  Now the one I tried on was all stretched out, noticeably bigger than the other one.

So I quickly put the second stocking on and stretched it up my leg so the pair would match again.

Then I very carefully rewrapped the package and returned it to the hidden stash of gifts.

And I remember on Christmas morning being very nervous when it came time to open that gift.

My mother, who knew how badly I wanted those stockings, was watching closely as the package was handed to me.

What was I going to do?  I knew I had to act surprised and excited.  And I figured I could do that easily, since there was so much other commotion going on with our large family.  But would someone notice that the stockings were already stretched?

So I opened the package, let out a squeal of delight, and immediately proceeded to put the stockings on.

There, of course they're stretched, I'm wearing them!

That was the year I learned a very important lesson:  the surprise is so much sweeter if it is shared.

Here we are 50 Christmases later, and I have never again gone snooping for gifts.

Let's try again

I've decided to try yet again to find Philip Nowlan.

Remember him?

He's the cute baby in this 1957 photo:

He's the grandson of my maternal grandmother's sister, Mary Jane Gizzard Docker Danaher, making him my 2nd cousin.

All I can surmise from the paper trail I've found is that he was born in June 1957, possibly in Canada but could have been in the USA, to parents Joan A. (nee Danaher) and, I believe, James Nowlan.  He has two younger sisters, who of course would also be my 2nd cousins.  Their mother died in October 2004 in Silver Springs, New York.

It blows my mind to learn that this family lived so close to us and I only found out about them last year.

You see, my research from years ago had indicated that Joan Danaher had moved to Canada from England to become a nun.  I stopped looking for her.

It was only when the above photo surfaced last year that I started tracking who the child could be.  It is inscribed on the reverse, "Philip Nowlan To Aunt Sarah & Uncle Sam with love from Philip aged 3 months Sept 15 1957."  (Sarah and Sam were my maternal grandparents.)

There was also a photo of my grandmother's sister, Mary Jane:

Inscribed on its reverse was, "Taken in 1940 died 1946 aged 56. To Aunt Sarah from sister Jane from your niece Joan Nowlan."  This helped me further identify the baby's mother and his relationship to me.  Read about Mary Jane's story.

I would love to connect with my 2nd cousin Nowlans and share with them information they might not have about their mother's lineage.  Surely they would be interested!

That EASY button must be broken

I shop on-line all the time.

Hate shopping in malls.

Too many people and too much walking.

I am a somewhat frequent buyer from Staples for our many office supply needs.

Generally, I love the convenience of ordering today and receiving tomorrow.  Works like a charm.

Anyway, MHYC's school recently held a fundraiser wherein one could buy gift cards for various retail outlets and the school would receive a percentage of the value of the purchase.

Generous Grandma bought a significant number of cards, several of which made their way into Christmas packages.

But a few were to be used specifically by us in our day-to-day operations.  Like the two $50.00 Staples cards I bought.

Last week, Staples sent me some discount cards. (OK, I'm sure they sent them to lots of people, but I only received the ones they sent to me.)  These cards offer savings of $15.00 off an order of $100.00 or $20.00 off an order of $200.00 -- but only for on-line or phone orders.  They cannot be used in stores.  OK by me, since I rarely shop in store.

I save up my orders to wait for these discount cards.  (Sometimes, the discounts are even higher.)  They are routine promotions.

Yesterday, I sat down to place my order of just over $100.00.  I wanted to use my $15.00 discount card and then pay for the order with my gift cards.

No can do.

I couldn't find anywhere in the process to enter the information about the gift cards.

This morning, I called their toll-free number to ask how I use gift cards to pay for an on-line order.

Can't be done, I'm told.  Gift cards can only be redeemed in stores!

Says so right on the site, I'm told.  (Yes, if you look up information about gift cards.  The cards are not explicitly referred to anywhere in the on-line purchasing experience.)

Quite perturbed, I decided to take advantage of the $15.00 savings so I placed the order, paying for it with my credit card.  (I'll use the gift cards quickly enough throughout the year, I'll just have to go into the store to do it!)

Imagine my surprise when I received the order confirmation and saw the following advice at the bottom of the statement:

Hold on to your Staples Rebate Visa Cards and Prepaid Gift Cards

until your order has been received."

Now how, I ask, can there possibly be a need to hold on to a gift card for an order that could not be paid with a gift card?

I've sent an e-mail of complaint/inquiry to Staples, suggesting that their EASY button is not so easy to use after all!

Strange Week

It's been a strange week, indeed.

I ended up in a fibro flare-up this past Sunday, for reasons I can only surmise, but the difficulty persisted through to Tuesday evening.

Truth be known, it had actually started on Saturday when my little chickadee was visiting but I didn't recognize the signs.  Sometimes these things have to hit me -- hard -- before I know what's happening.

Anyway, by Monday I sure as hell knew what was going on let me tell you.  I could barely put one foot in front of the other.

Needless to say, I hadn't done the treadmill on Sunday, and I didn't do it again on Monday, or Tuesday.

As the flare-up worsened, my hands became terribly inflamed.  I couldn't even pick up a pen to write.

Tuesday morning, very early, I called and cancelled by physio session.  There was no way I was up to making the round trip to the big city.  I ended up sleeping the morning away and that was obviously what my body needed.  By that evening, it was evident that the flare-up was fizzling out.

When I woke Wednesday, I was feeling alive again, with only the normal level of pain and discomfort.

Good thing, too, because I was lunching with my Angel that day and I don't get to see her nearly often enough so I would have been really upset had I been forced to cancel that date.

Of course, yesterday being Thursday, that's my do nothing day because my massage therapist comes to my home.  (I did do the treadmill on Wednesday and again Thursday though.)

My massage therapist asked me what I had done to bring on the flare-up and as I answered her, I realized that although I pace myself when putting up my Christmas Village, it really does take a toll on me.  I had hauled stuff out of storage on the Wednesday, did minimal assembly on the Thursday morning, considerably more assembly on the Friday, and had help with the rest on Saturday.  But the damage had been done by then and I suffered for the next three days.  As much as I love having it, it is evident that I pay a huge physical price.  

Today, I've been up since well before dawn (as I have been every day this week) and caught up on the housework that hasn't been getting done all week.

So there you have it.  Not sure how I'll handle Christmas next year.

But my village is now in place, and every evening I turn on the lights and enjoy the beauty of it.

It's worth every bit of pain!

This is last year's village.  It looks infinitely better this year, with the snow that my little chickadee helped arrange.  ("There was a blizzard came through.")                                             (Photo © John T. Fowler)

My generous, thoughtful RMT

Yesterday was my aaaaaaaahhhhhh day -- best day of the week.

And my massage therapist made it an even better day by showing up with a present in tow.  She brought me a hand-made hat and scarf set, in honour of my having allowed Suzanne to shave my head again.

It's a lovely, comfy, very warm hat that will do a wonderful job of keeping my noggin protected through the winter months while my hair grows back.

Such a thoughtful gesture.

I guess, to paraphrase Sally Field, "she likes me, she really likes me."

Busy day tomorrow

Today, I'm headed into the big city.

Originally, I had a hair appointment for this afternoon but obviously I don't need that now.  The appointment had been made to coincide with my early morning dental visit scheduled for tomorrow morning.

Now, I'm essentially going in so that I can overnight at my little chickadee's place because of that early morning dental appointment.  Saves trying to make the commute in the early morning, which is often a challenge because of the high traffic volume.

I have a few stops to make on my way into the city so I'll leave here early enough to allow me to get them done and still arrive before dark (which descends upon us soooooooo early now).

Tomorrow, MHYC and I will do our usual breakfast routine, after which I will go to my dental appointment.

After the dentist, I have physio which I moved from its usual 1:00 pm spot to 10:30 am so that I could get out of the city as early as possible.

Following my physio session, I'll head back home and stop at the grocery store which should put me right on time to make my 1:00 pm doctor's appointment.  I called last week to book time with her to discuss blood work prior to my tummy tuck surgery.  Just want to make sure everything is as it should be before going into that.

Better safe than sorry has always been my motto.

So I should arrive home tomorrow some 24 hours after having left home today.

But I will have covered a lot of ground in that 24 hours!