Here's a frightening revelation...I was having trouble flushing (yuck) my feeding tube (which I still have and which I'll talk about later) so I called the doctor's office and a nurse told me that the only way to clean it out was to use either Coca Cola or Adolphs Meat Tenderizer. What! She told me that the first thing they learn in nursing school is that when all else fails, use Coke. Hello! They can replace an entire liver and the best thing they can come up with to flush a tube is Coke! But it did work and I don't know if it was just psychological but I felt all bubbly inside and kind of...Happy. God knows what I would feel like with Adolphs Meat Tenderizer. Kind of soft and rare, I suppose.
So I went to the doctor's last Friday and he told me that I was way ahead of the game as far as recovery was concerned. I think that's because, once again, I picked the right outfit. Something with a little color to perk up my cheeks and help me look almost normal. I wore a purple sweater. He remarked on it. What he did not see was that my pants were falling down. I decided to take the plunge and actually put on a pair of real pants instead of sweatpants but what happened was the PANTS themselves took the plunge and when I stood up they were way below handyman position. Normally this would be rather exciting, the loss of ten pounds. I just don't want to lose anymore. Guess I'll have to buy a belt.
What he didn't do was take out my feeding tube. First of all, you can't just pull these things out. It's an operation. I don't know if you're asleep or not (forgot to ask) but he told me he can't take it out until I can eat two weeks of just "table food". I still plug myself in at night and feed myself that Ensure type of stuff and I think I need it but boy do I want to get rid of this tube. But here's how much I can eat at one sitting...Make one peanut butter and no sugar jelly sandwich...Cut it in half...Cut it in fourths...Cut it in eighths.
Now eat HALF of one of those eighths. Then...You're full. FULL! My stomach is full but my brain wants the whole damn sandwich. Last night I went to Panda Express. They loaded my to go Styrofoam dish with a bunch of fried crap. None of which I should eat but I was determined to walk of there like I was just regular and I was going to go home and scarf it all down. (Scarf? Is that a word? It can't be spelled like...scarf...Or can it?) Anyway, I brought it home and I had...Three bites. They were fabulous bites. I put it all in the fridge and I'm thinking about having some right now......................
Okay, I'm back. Here's the thing, for all of my adult life I have eaten nothing but healthy food. I think I ate more broccoli than Alicia Silverstone. But what good did it do me?! So now...Now I'm going to eat crap. Eat crap and live. I told someone that I was eating a lot of peanut butter. They told me that at Whole Foods you could get freshly make peanut butter with just salt. No fucking way. I am eating Skippy with as much crap in it as they can fit in the jar. I'll eat Skippy from China. Why not? And I'm eating white bread, not that stupidass multi grain. What is the point? White bread you can roll into little balls and you can tear it apart into different shapes and toast it until it turns black. What's better than that? Smothered in butter. I eat that now and I'm not kidding. I'm going to die anyway, whether it's tomorrow or twenty years from now. A person has to take risks. Do something daring. When I finish eating white bread I feel so good I put my hands in the air like I've just finished a turn on the parallel bars and I've gotten all tens. Yes! She ate crap and lived! What a brave, brave woman!
Next week I begin the Table Food Olympics. Can she go two weeks without assistance? Can life be sustained without broccoli? Does anyone really care?
Hmmmm. Wonder if there's anymore chow mein?