Masterpiece in Progress by Smith, TL (beginner reading books for adults .TXT) 📗

Jerry had been in the bathroom and missed it all. I went back up to the stage to start the next song when he marched up there and got IN MY FACE, pushing me, yelling at me. The owner's son in law and another regular immediately jumped on stage and escorted him out the door. He cussed me the entire time. I felt sweet satisfaction to be perfectly honest.

It was then that I realized these people didn't have any respect for him, but they loved me and had my back. I needed to know that people (other than my family) saw HIM as the one who screwed up, not me.

They didn't come in much after that (at least not when I was working) but one day I got a call from the daytime bartender. She told me they were there drinking mixed drinks, paying cash.

She told me because she knew I was working three jobs and he was paying NOTHING in child support. What did I do? What any mother would do (I think).

I got in my car and drove up there. The owner (Bobby) was there and I think he knew I was coming. Jerry was sitting at the bar and E was sitting in a booth with another regular. I told him he wouldn't have a pot to piss in when I was done with him and called him some other choice names.

I turned around and she was now between the pool table and jukebox and I hollered at her. "I hope you heard everything I just said to him, because it will affect you too, you homewrecking bitch." And then it happened. She got in my face and started yelling back at me (I had it coming). But she SPIT on me and that set me off.

I shoved her so hard, she fell backwards into the jukebox, then I was on her, throwing punches (I think I connected once) and kicking. Bobby (the owner) let us fight for a bit then came over and in his raspy voice said, "Terri, knock it off, stop it! Don't make me call the cops damnit!" And so, I stopped, apologized to him and walked out.

The whole time we were fighting, Jerry sat at the bar, on his barstool and watched.  Like he was enjoying every minute of two women fighting over him.  In retrospect I wonder. “How messed up is that?”

I had once scratch on my arm when I got home. Paige insisted I clean it good because I could have some horrible disease from that woman. (I'm not proud that I showed her fighting was a constructive way to handle things but...)

Turns out, I knocked the diamond earrings right out of her ears and they only found one. She laid low, but I was told later (by Jerry) that her face was pretty bruised and scratched up and her eye swollen.  And me, not being a fighter, felt pride.  (I shouldn’t, but I did.)

Then I did something. I had my weight loss surgery.

As always, my amazing sister came to be with me on surgery day.  I remember being TERRIFIED.  Like legit scared.  My sister (who’s a RN and worked in surgery for years) would later tell me she’s never had any patient react that way.

I had already had a signed, notarized document that should something happen to me, my sister Dottie would take Paige.  NO WAY IN HELL was she going to Jerry and E.  Then, I made my surgeon and operating room staff pray with me before surgery.

I think my fear of abandonment goes way back and the terror I feel is visceral and sometimes debilitating.  As if the worst-case scenario is going to happen.  I wish I could tell you that I have that under control now, but my brain still thinks in these terms a lot of the time.

And yes, I’ve tried all kinds of things.  Cognitive behavior therapy, medication, subliminal mediation, prayer.  But I think it’s just something I’m going to always have.  PTSD (even though I haven’t been “officially” diagnosed, I’m pretty sure that’s what it is).

I was 307 pounds when I went in for surgery.

Those first 24 hours in the hospital sucked though.  Nothing to drink, only blue ice chips so they could make sure there were no leaks in my now super small stomach pouch and connections.

I was up and walking and released to go home a day later.  They (the hospital staff and my surgeons) would call me the “Super bariatric patient”.  I was determined to be home.

The first few weeks were rough.  I questioned if I had done the right thing.  I wasn’t hungry, but my mind was playing tricks with me.  AND you have NO idea how many food commercials come on TV until you can’t eat.

I began losing weight FAST.  I was down 90 pounds in less than 6 months.  But I was anemic, so I had to supplement iron pills, which in turn upset my stomach.  But they helped and I started feeling good and getting used to my new way of eating.

Chapter 20

Getting Along

Jerry, E, and I had come to an agreement that we had to get along for Paige’s sake.  Her kids would come visit and later move to live with them.

E hated my old house.  (It was bigger than the one Paige and I lived in currently, but okay) and insisted they move.  Her son once told Paige we had lived in the “ghetto”.  I thought Paige was going to punch him.  It was NOT the ghetto by any way, shape, or form, but it wasn’t the west side either.

They got a HUGE duplex on the West side of town (we had lived in central Norman) that is still considered the “upper class” side of town.  (I still live in central Norman).