Monday, June 30, 2025 – Day 321

Monday, June 30, 2025

Good morning, everybody!

Hard to believe it’s only been a week since my “easy peasy” feeding tube procedure. If you’ve followed the blog, the last week, you know it was not so easy. And not so peasy.

I went in last Monday feeling confident…Dr. Ujiki was my surgeon, and he came highly recommended. One of the nurses even ranked him higher than Dr. Bilimoria (whom I’ve basically placed just below God on the talent-and-personality chart). Dr. Ujiki told me the surgery would be like getting my ears pierced. Though in hindsight, I should’ve asked, “Whose ears, exactly?” The procedure went smoothly—but here’s where the surprises began.

#1 – Pain:
I was not prepared for how much it would hurt. I felt like I’d been shot in the stomach. (Note: I haven’t actually been shot, but if it’s ten times worse than this, count me out.) Maybe the pain management strategy was to not mask the pain—so patients don’t get cocky and overdo it. If so, mission accomplished. I barely moved for days.

#2 – Poop:
Constipation became a weeklong ordeal, well-documented in previous entries for those craving the full scoop on my poop.

Things are better now, though I’m getting some surprise “uh-oh” signals from my gut. Definitely time to scale back on laxatives and stool softeners. My body needs hydration—and the dark pee has been a not-so-subtle cry for help. I’m also limiting alcohol. I’ve been able to enjoy a drink now and then over the past week, but I can’t even finish them. Something’s got to change.

#3 – Feeding Fiasco:
The actual feeding process is simple: flush with water, push in formula, reflush, tape it all down. That’s it. But every time I try, I get nauseous and break into cold sweats. I’m supposed to take in 474 ml, three times a day. My best effort so far has been 200 ml in one sitting—and some days I tap out at 60 ml. Since Tuesday, I’ve only managed about 1,500 ml total. I should’ve had closer to 8,500. The rest was supposed to come from food, but I doubt I made up half of it by mouth.

This week has forced me to pause and reassess. I thought I’d be gaining weight and energy by now—not continuing to waste away. A few weeks ago, I was 165 lbs. Today, I’m flirting with 150. My legs are weak, and every step feels precarious. It’s scary. This isn’t the path I envisioned when I signed up for this phase of the journey.

So, I’m calling the surgeon’s office. There has to be a way to get this back on track. Because this can’t be my “new normal.”

The Bright Spot:
Sunday afternoon, we visited the Walker farm. As soon as we pulled in, Dave met us in his ATV and whisked me off for a tour. It had been two years since I was there, but it still felt like home. The crops looked great, and to my surprise, my old John Deere tractor was sitting outside—tuned up and looking ready to roll. The last time I saw it, it was buried in the back of the shed with a flat tire and a dead battery.

Turns out, my friend and mentor Ron has been working on the equipment to get it ready for sale. Thank you, Ron—I’m sorry for leaving you with such a beast of a to-do list. There’s still a combine the size of a barn door that needs to go. Anyone want to drive a self-driving monster machine down a two-lane road to the scrapyard or a new home for a second life.

We spent the afternoon on the porch, enjoying 90° heat and even better company. I feel so fortunate to have called that place my second career. Farming was the hardest job I’ve ever had—and hands down the most rewarding.

As we left around 4:30, I got emotional. I’m not usually one for long goodbyes, but this one got to me. Thank you, Dave and Terry, for your friendship and patience. And to Ron and Cheri…for mentoring me and making me believe I could actually be a farmer. Those years at the farm will forever be among the best of my life.

Here’s to better feedings, fewer surprises, and friendships that never need maintenance.

Love you guys! ❤️