Yesterday was a "typical" Wednesday. I woke up around 7:03 to get ready for work. It is earlier than my other weekdays because we have a work meeting Wednesday mornings at 8. This Wednesday we were going to breakfast at Village Inn because we met some referral goals. A normal person would think that it's awesome to get a free breakfast, and I guess it is, but it's not so awesome for me.
My stomach does not handle large breakfasts very, and using silverware I'm not used to can be hard, really uncomfortable, and hurt my fingers. Not to mention, eating sitting straight up is really hard. Then there's the fear of spilling on myself. I can't just run home and change quickly. It's not that easy for me.
When we go out for breakfast, I feel like I have to get something even though I know it will upset my stomach, because I don't want them to question or wonder why I'm not wanting to eat. So I order a my breakfast, even though my stomach is turning imaging the food I'm about to eat in it. I try to order the lightest, least greasy, non-eggs meal there is.
When the food comes, and everyone digs in, I look at my food, trying to decide where to start. What will be easiest on my stomach first? What will be easy to cut into small pieces and fit in my mouth? If I try to eat this, will it spill all over me? Do I have enough water in case something gets stuck in my throat? Questions most people don't ask before digging into a delicious meal. Questions I never asked myself before the Gastroparesis started.
I've become a really slow eater as if I eat too fast, it just makes me even more sick to my stomach. So, as everyone is finishing up, I'm barely through half of my meal. Then comes the debate of, "If I stop eating will my stomach hurt more, or if I keep eating will my stomach hurt more?" Seeing as everyone is ready to go, I usually stop eating. I mean, let's face it, the longer and more I try to eat, the less appetizing the food is.
As this large breakfast ends, it feels as though the food is just sitting on the top of my stomach. I feel the effects of it throughout the rest of the day. When lunch rolls around, I head to the break-room not wanting to add more food to what is already not digesting very fast in my stomach. Peanut Butter and Jelly is my typical lunch. On days like this, I have to force myself to eat the sandwich. Greg cuts it into quarters for me, and I try to make it through at least 3/4. By piece three I'm struggling to gag it down.
Some days I really just eat because I have to. Not because I want to, or because it tastes good, but because I have to in order to survive. I am grateful that I can still eat, and I'm definitely not complaining about that. It just gets hard sometimes.
As the day went on, my stomach was slowly settling. I couldn't just go home and lay in bed, I had to keep working. Plus, later that evening I had a Relief Society Activity I was in charge of. I still had to go help set up, followed by the activity, followed by cleanup.
I got to the church to help set up, and by set up, I mean do what I can and hope I'm not just in the way. It's hard to watch those around me do everything because I don't have the strength to set up the tables, or the energy to pull out chair after chair. They put me on things that I can do, like put the pictures in the frames. I got four/eight done in the time my friend got all 8 tables set up, by herself. I feel as though I'm in the way more than I'm helpful. It's hard. We ended up getting everything ready and the rest of the night went well.
A long day like this would make anyone tired, but by the end of the night I was exhausted. I hurt everywhere, hips, legs, feet, head, etc., was feeling nauseous from the very little salad I ate, and my body was just weak. It's not like I know that I can just go home and crash, because I don't know if I'll even able to sleep later, or how I will feel the next day. It's not like I can just sit at home if I'm not feeling well. I have to work. I have to keep moving. I don't have a choice.
A "typical" Wednesday for me is definitely not a typical Wednesday.
My stomach does not handle large breakfasts very, and using silverware I'm not used to can be hard, really uncomfortable, and hurt my fingers. Not to mention, eating sitting straight up is really hard. Then there's the fear of spilling on myself. I can't just run home and change quickly. It's not that easy for me.
When we go out for breakfast, I feel like I have to get something even though I know it will upset my stomach, because I don't want them to question or wonder why I'm not wanting to eat. So I order a my breakfast, even though my stomach is turning imaging the food I'm about to eat in it. I try to order the lightest, least greasy, non-eggs meal there is.
When the food comes, and everyone digs in, I look at my food, trying to decide where to start. What will be easiest on my stomach first? What will be easy to cut into small pieces and fit in my mouth? If I try to eat this, will it spill all over me? Do I have enough water in case something gets stuck in my throat? Questions most people don't ask before digging into a delicious meal. Questions I never asked myself before the Gastroparesis started.
I've become a really slow eater as if I eat too fast, it just makes me even more sick to my stomach. So, as everyone is finishing up, I'm barely through half of my meal. Then comes the debate of, "If I stop eating will my stomach hurt more, or if I keep eating will my stomach hurt more?" Seeing as everyone is ready to go, I usually stop eating. I mean, let's face it, the longer and more I try to eat, the less appetizing the food is.
As this large breakfast ends, it feels as though the food is just sitting on the top of my stomach. I feel the effects of it throughout the rest of the day. When lunch rolls around, I head to the break-room not wanting to add more food to what is already not digesting very fast in my stomach. Peanut Butter and Jelly is my typical lunch. On days like this, I have to force myself to eat the sandwich. Greg cuts it into quarters for me, and I try to make it through at least 3/4. By piece three I'm struggling to gag it down.
Some days I really just eat because I have to. Not because I want to, or because it tastes good, but because I have to in order to survive. I am grateful that I can still eat, and I'm definitely not complaining about that. It just gets hard sometimes.
As the day went on, my stomach was slowly settling. I couldn't just go home and lay in bed, I had to keep working. Plus, later that evening I had a Relief Society Activity I was in charge of. I still had to go help set up, followed by the activity, followed by cleanup.
I got to the church to help set up, and by set up, I mean do what I can and hope I'm not just in the way. It's hard to watch those around me do everything because I don't have the strength to set up the tables, or the energy to pull out chair after chair. They put me on things that I can do, like put the pictures in the frames. I got four/eight done in the time my friend got all 8 tables set up, by herself. I feel as though I'm in the way more than I'm helpful. It's hard. We ended up getting everything ready and the rest of the night went well.
A long day like this would make anyone tired, but by the end of the night I was exhausted. I hurt everywhere, hips, legs, feet, head, etc., was feeling nauseous from the very little salad I ate, and my body was just weak. It's not like I know that I can just go home and crash, because I don't know if I'll even able to sleep later, or how I will feel the next day. It's not like I can just sit at home if I'm not feeling well. I have to work. I have to keep moving. I don't have a choice.
A "typical" Wednesday for me is definitely not a typical Wednesday.
