R.J and I went out for BBQ tonight and I started crying in the parking lot.
I was tired.
Let me explain.
I was freshly awake from my fourth 2-hour nap of the day. My port was still sore and making me feel like I couldn’t take in a full breath. The anxiety from wondering if something was even more wrong and not wanting to go to the ER or mention anything to my doctor in case it was nothing and we did something extreme for prevention…you might say that concern was on my shoulders. And one last thing: I’ve been on a diet that I’ve been STARVING on all week and I haven’t lost a single ounce.
Like are you fucking joking, universe?
It’s the Paleo diet, if you’re wondering, and yes, it (like every other diet) sucks about as much as you’d imagine it would. Why Paleo? Well, I figured if I cut out bread, rice and pasta there might be nothing left for me to eat with gastroparesis. But I proved them wrong, didn’t I?
Between the fatigue and the hunger, I was just a god damn mess. What can I tell you?
Our table was ready just in the middle of this meltdown, so we went inside and R.J took my hand from across the table.
He told me a few things, the first is that I did in fact do more today than just sleep. I went shopping with my mom in the morning. I took Happy down the street to play fetch. I was out for dinner. That’s a day.
He also said that I have to give a diet more than a week to work. That I just have to keep at it.
And he said that if we look at the bigger picture–if we compare where I was:
I might be able to see just how much life has improved.
And it has.