I looked at my calendar and it turns out my depression isn’t scheduled for today, or even for the time being. This, despite my decision to stop taking, cold turkey and against some medical advice, a few little white pills every night. I’m still taking the blue ones when I wake up, but I’m finished with the whities. They were nothing but trouble.

In case you don’t remember, these are the same little white pills that gave Dr. J. pause a few weeks back. I’ve struggled with depression for years, and he was concerned I’d be cutting off a potential lifeline by having the gastric bypass. Due to the mal-absorption properties of the bypass, it’d be difficult and maybe a little dangerous to swallow the white ones post-op.

But upon research and reflection, it turns out that the dangers of taking the whities post-op aren’t as great as we originally thought. That’s assuming I ever need them again. Some of my health care folks think that’s unlikely, since it isn’t even clear whether they did much in the first place. It’s the blue pills that helped most. I’m willing to take the risk, as is Dr. J., so I’m having the bypass May 10.

Oy, the drama. This is worse than buying a new car. Nothing is certain until Dr. J. picks up his knife and cuts