Wednesday, June 25, 2025 – Day 316

Wednesday, June 25, 2025


Good morning!

I’m happy to be home from the hospital—but honestly, I wish I felt a little better. I’m surprised by how much the incision still hurts. Dr. Ujiki, my GI surgeon, told me to expect pain similar to getting my ears pierced. I’ve never had that done, but if this is what it feels like… I’m definitely checking it off the list. Ears pierced? No need—I’ll just hang jewelry off my belly.

Ever since the anesthesia wore off Monday, I’ve done a whole lot of whining, wincing, and writhing. Every movement comes with a face full of pain and a soundtrack to match. I may not be able to sing anymore, but my groans are Grammy-worthy.

This morning I’m up with my coffee and pills, and I even managed to add a piece of toast to the mix. My stomach, however, seems to be voting “no” on this breakfast combo. I’ve got a garbage can in my lap, just in case it stages a full protest. I’ve gone through the motions of being sick, but so far, so good—and fingers crossed this journal isn’t interrupted by a mid-entry emergency. Otherwise, it’s “Stop the Presses!” for the wrong reason. 😱🥺

We did my first tube feeding yesterday at 10:30 a.m., and that part actually went better than expected. To ease my stomach into it, we started small: 150 ml of formula with 20 ml of water before and after to flush the line. The whole process took about 15–20 minutes, and I didn’t feel much different afterward. That first feeding totaled about 9 ounces of liquid—small but solid start. 😀

Eventually, the plan is to work up to 16 ounces of formula, plus 4 ounces of water before and after—so around 20 ounces per feeding, three times a day. If I eat by mouth, I’ll adjust the formula accordingly. That’s going to be a fun math problem to tackle with every bite. The nutritionist pulled out her calculator multiple times while we talked through different scenarios. In the end, we’ll play it by ear—or some other body part—and let the bathroom scale be the final arbiter. Monday’s baseline weight was 157 pounds. We’re aiming to send that number in only one direction: up.

When we got home from the hospital around 1 p.m., I was wiped out. All I wanted was sleep. I’m terrible at napping during the day, but I gave it a shot and laid down until about 4:00. Even though I hurt, it felt good to be home in my own bed.

Tim was waiting at the house when we arrived—completely unnecessary, but appreciated all the same. He helped me inside and up the stairs, then asked if there was anything else he could do. He spotted the stack of artwork in the corner and offered to hang it. We talked through where things belonged, and while he went to work, I relocated to another room to rest. Less than an hour later, everything was on the wall, and Tim headed back to Mundelein… a 45-minute drive. Oh—and he brought fried chicken for dinner. Thanks, Tim! (And thanks for the added challenge: how to count chicken calories and adjust my formula intake accordingly.)

After my nap, I woke up feeling bloated and had zero appetite. We figured we probably introduced some air into my stomach during the feeding. We looked up how to relieve it—basically reverse-flushing the PEG line—and sure enough, bubbles started gurgling out. We did that for about five minutes. It helped, but didn’t completely solve the problem. I got a few burps out, but still didn’t feel great. I ended up skipping the second and third tube feedings and instead had one chicken leg and a bit of mashed potatoes. Not exactly a caloric victory, but at least it was something. We’ll try again today.

Last night was another restless one. The pain woke me up every time I shifted positions. I also had to get up five times to pee. No idea where it was all coming from—I didn’t drink that much. Each trip out of bed required bracing, grunting, and wincing my way to a standing position. Same pain getting back down. I briefly considered ignoring the bladder alarm, but that could’ve led to a whole new mess—and Cindy ends up cleaning up any messes I make. So… yeah, not worth it.

If this becomes my new nighttime routine, I may need to consider a serious pee strategy—adult diapers, a bedside urinal, or even a bucket. Because five bathroom trips a night? That’s just too much damn effort… even after I’m healed.

I have high hopes that this feeding tube will be a game changer—I just need to take it slow and temper the expectations.

Have a great Wednesday.

Love you guys! ❤️