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Tuesday, July 1

Happy (CRAPpy) July

This blog post is nothing but CRAPpy because it has to do with my CRAP machine.
Today I had booked myself a double appointment at the hospital to get a kill two birds with one stone outing. My first appointment was with pulmonary and my second was my surgical maintenance.

At pulmonary I see a Nurse Practitioner and have to bring in the memory card from my CRAP machine I sleep with every night, the third party in my marriage. I was hopeful that there would be a change, because I have been busting my ass and because all of my other numbers have been great ie. blood pressure.

Sadly, there are no changes to be made because there are no changes with my sleep apnea. My machine started at a steady setting of 9, then was changed to a variable setting of 5-9 in the hopes that I could start weaning, but the memory card showed that I am still needing between 5-9 whatever measurement of air pressure through the night. So it is staying put. She said she didn’t even need to see me for another YEAR unless there was a major weight change or health history change and at that point I can request a sleep study if I want one. Um okay. Why go through all of that when clearly my sleep apnea appears to be more genetic than weight related? I\It seems as though it was just because of the weight loss surgery requirement that we caught it all at.

I know people have FAR more important problems in their life but I would be lying if I didn’t say I was a little disappointed. I had already told myself not to have my hopes up that I would be kicking my sleep machine to the curb in the near future…but still, I was hoping for a miracle or a least a pleasant surprise.

So what do I do? Decide to hit the cafeteria for lunch and stumble upon a taco salad bar. If you ever have the distinct pleasure of visiting our hospital one day, it really is a high-class joint. The food is amazing, and ironically enough not really health centered which means it tastes phenomenal. I decide against the huge fried taco bowl, but I grab a bag of baked Doritos and a diet Pepsi just because I’m pissed and I can. All I had eaten thus far was the splenda in my morning Joe so I figured there was no point in starving now. I already knew I was going into my next appointment a few lbs heavier than I had been all week because I had too much salt and not enough movement for one goddamned night. I was hoping the two huge capfuls of miralax would have solved this problem but it didn’t. Weight is funny that way.

I don’t even drink the Pepsi of course after a sip because the carbonation feels gross and I dump it. When I get to my surgeon’s office, I find out according to their biggest looser scale, in kilograms,  that I have lost 3 pounds in 3 months. But I didn’t gain so they were thrilled as fuck with my progress. Going as far as to say I am the poster child for Lap-Band surgery and that I have accomplished much more than the majority of their patients. Blah, blah, tell that to my CRAP machine.

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