This morning I weighed myself – 140.6. Less than a pound away from a “new decade” (as I call them). I say the following with total sarcasm – although it is true. Having cancer surgery is a great way to lose weight. I have zero appetite. Yesterday Ron and I went by Miss Daisy’s to get some quiche. I saw the table of muffins and bought one pumpkin chocolate chip and one blueberry lemon. I came home and cut < 1/4 off each one and toasted the pieces in the oven. I enjoyed every bite until I finished eating them, at which time I became so ill I actually tried to throw up so I could feel better. . . but I couldn’t throw up. I had to go to bed and sleep for about an hour to get over it. I threw out the remainder of the muffins, and I’m sure I won’t be eating any muffins from Miss Daisy’s again in the foreseeable future.

Nothing appeals to me. I haven’t had any alcohol since a week before surgery, and I don’t plan to drink any alcoholic beverages anymore. I have only part of my left kidney remaining, and what’s left is now more vulnerable to injury and disease. Alcohol is bad for kidneys. While I might enjoy a Cosmo if we go out, I kinda doubt I will.

I am certain that, as I heal further from surgery, my appetite will return. And as life gets back to normal after all the renal cell carcinoma hubbub of the past few weeks, my tendency to return to bad habits will show up again. For now, though, I feel like my body is telling me it’s past time to get serious about eating only for health.