Well, here I am.
I just posted all the previous blogs that I had been holding on to. I guess it's time to get everyone up to date. This post is technical and full of specifics for those that are interested.
My surgery was March 15 at Alabama Weight Loss Surgery Outpatient East. Dr. Lee Schmitt performed my Sleeve Gastrectomy.
Sleeve gastrectomy is a relatively new surgery in the bariatric field. It was initially the first part of a two part surgery called a duodenal switch. The DS was a radical surgery that was reserved for the extremely morbidly obese. These people were not candidates for traditional gastric bypass because their liver was too enlarged. Doctors noted that they were losing weight at nearly the same weight as bypass patients with only half of the surgery performed so the sleeve gastrectomy became a surgery of it's own merit.
In Sleeve Gastrectomy 60-80% of the stomach is permanently removed. This reduces greatly the amount of food that can be ingested post surgery similar to traditional gastric bypass. The difference is that the pyloric sphincter at the bottom of the stomach is left functional and the anatomy of the GI tract is left undisturbed. This prevents the undesirable dumping syndrome from which traditional bypass patients suffer.
I chose this surgery because I didn't want to get ill if i decided to eat a bite of my favorite foods. I chose this surgery because I wanted to lose weight at a slower, more natural weight. I chose this surgery because I wanted my digestive tract to stay plumbed the way it was designed to be.
My surgeon decided that I was an excellent candidate for Outpatient Sleeve Gastrectomy. I was young, I had no serious co-morbidities, and I was knowledgeable of the surgical procedure and the postoperative expectations.
I arrived at the surgical center at 6:30 the day of surgery. I checked in and was sent to a sort of triage station. Here, my history was reviewed and my vital signs were taken.
From there I went to my outpatient surgery room. IV was started, some meds were given and post op instructions were discussed. I went in to surgery at 10am. At 1215 I woke up in recovery. The pain was intense at this point. It's always intense when you wake up from anesthesia. They gave me meds and I went back to sleep.
I woke up back in the room I started in. My husband was there. I was hurting again so at this point they gave me Lortab Elixer. I had to swallow it. After a nanosecond's hesitation I gulped it and it didn't kill me suddenly so I felt like I was ahead of the game.
What seemed like a half a minute later (but i think it was more like 30 minutes) the nurse came back to get me out of bed and walking. I had a drain from my largest incision. She assisted me into my shorts and I was able to tuck the drain into my waistband. At least I had the smallest dignity of not walking bare-butt down the hallway.
I walked. I was a little unsteady at first but I walked regardless. I didn't stop after one lap. I walked and walked. I had ice chips and I walked some more. The nurses oohed and ahhed at my endurance. I explained that I was a nurse too and that I knew that walking would get me out of there.
My plan worked. I was discharged at 4pm. We stayed in our RV near the hospital. I walked the campground that evening. Every time I got a twinge of pain I walked and if that didn't help I walked some more. I sipped water and crunched Ice chips that evening. I did not try to eat anything like broth or jello on the first night. I let my new tummy rest and I walked and I sipped.
I made it through the first night ok. I woke up a couple of times but a good dose of pain meds sent me back to my slumber. I saw the doctor first thing the next morning. He checked my incisions, they were all fine, and told the nurse to pull my drain. She jerked it out and it felt like she pulled my belly button out with it, but turns out it was just the drain. My belly button lives to fight another day.
After the drain was pulled my pain went from about a "5" to a "1". I took one more dose of pain meds just because pain meds are fun but after that I was fine. Within 4 days I was back to my "normal". I was doing my regular household tasks, I was driving, I was cooking for my family.
It was a breeze. It was the easiest surgery I had ever had. All my presurgery worries were for naught. I hope if you are reading this and consider surgery you realize that my results may not be your results. I had an easy time but some have a harder time post op.
The dietary requirements post op are discussed in detail at the preop nutrition meeting. I felt prepared in my post op days. My only recommendation is do not over purchase supplements and soups before surgery. My tastebuds changed dramatically after surgery. You don't want to be stuck with 48 vanilla protein shakes if vanilla shakes make you want to hurl. Also, listen to your body and take it slow. It's not a race to get better or advance to the next diet stage. You will get there when your body is ready.
I'm six weeks post now and I have lost 60 pounds since that day I stepped on the scale and decided to do something about my weight. I'm smaller now than I have been in 4 years. It's not easy. It wasn't the "easy way out" I'm working harder now than I've ever worked before. I will address that in a future post. If you're considering surgery.... Good luck. Make the decision for you and no one else. You are worth feeling healthy and happy.
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
WLS Journal Part 4: History of My Addiction
March 10, 2015
March 15.
That's my surgery date.
I'll be honest it freaks me out a lot. I LOVE food. Absolutely love it. I love that it makes me feel better when I'm feeling fat, ugly, sad, lonely, anxious, angry, happy, or bored. I love the way it smells. I love that full feeling I get from food.
I'm not going in blind. I have cut all the carbs out of my diet since the day I got on the scale and saw my highest weight. I have started walking... not much of an exercise routine unless you are morbidly obese... I am morbidly obese. I've also started to deal with the emotional aspect of my eating disorder. It's funny writing that because people don't see obesity as an eating disorder. Anorexia, sure... put those poor souls in a rehab program... Obesity, tell those fatties to back away from the table. The general public is cruel and that's probably why obesity is one of the biggest killers.
But back to me.... I can't blame any particular family member or event from my past for my problems. I was a healthy happy kid. I do have some small triggers that have stood out to me in my reflective journey. I'm sharing those now in hopes that others may identify. I don't want to harm anyone by placing blame, I simply want to be honest and address my problem.
My pattern of self abuse via junk food started at a rather early age. My maternal grandmother had a host of her own anxiety/depression issues and she felt like she could reinforce our affection with sweet treats and salty snacks. Whatever we (my brother and I) wanted she would buy it. My mother limited the amount of sugar we ate. It could have been because we couldn't afford all the prepackaged goodies on teacher's salaries or that she just didn't want us to have it; regardless, I do remember her trying to help us avoid it. Grannie, on the other hand, took advantage of the fact we couldn't get it from Mama and provided it in excess. She meant well. I'm sure after growing up the youngest of nine during the depression she didn't have the means to have those things as a child. Little Debbie and King Size Snickers bars was full on grandma spoilage and she took pride in it. I don't think badly of her for that. I just don't think it helped my emotional coping skills, or my pants size.
In the fifth grade I weighed 110 pounds. That's not super heavy for a girl that age, but it's more on the heavy side, especially in 1992. We were the last kids that probably remember playing outside. We got our first game system in 1987. Computers and satellite tv came shortly after that. So now I had all the junk food that I could get and all the TV and video games that a girl could want. As a class project we made posters called "All about Me" ... these posters included our physical statistics. The teacher put us against a wall and measured our heights. She then put us on a scale and measured our weights. We wrote both down on the poster which was promptly colored and laminated and placed in the window for all to see. It wasn't a big deal. I mean, it wasn't a big deal until the boys noticed my weight. They also noticed my best friend's weight which was four pounds lighter than me. Instantly we became the butt of many jokes. We got nicknames too. Hers was Kix 106 and mine was big (1)10 tires. We had boobs and bellies and we were surrounded by skinny prepubescent boys. We were targets. We handled it as a team though. We shook it off and made the boys feel immature and small, like true women do.... We were sisters and we could handle it together, always. I was good with my size. But, through it all the food waited in the background. All I needed was emotional trauma to really rocket my weight problem.
The next year, in August 1993, my best friend was killed in a car accident along with her little brother. I don't know if that is directly responsible for any of my eating problems, but I have watched enough Oprah to realize that it didn't help. My sixth grade year is a blur. I coped with other friends and with Grannie's king size candy bars. I made it through that year without a therapist and by today's standards that's quite an accomplishment.
The sixth grade melted into the seventh grade. I was involved in extra curricular activites. I wasn't particular atheletic but I did make cheerleader in the seventh grade. I remember that year I squeezed into a size 13 cheerleader uniform. I was the biggest girl on the squad, but at least I was on the squad.
I stayed active during my teenage years. I wasn't super overweight but I remember feeling like I was. I had terrible self esteem. This trickled into all of my romantic relationships as a teenager. That didn't help the eating at all. I remember a summer where I drank apple cider vinegar mixed about half and half with sunny delight. A friend suggested it as a weight loss tactic. I drank only that and ate a few saltine crackers at bedtime. That was it. I now realize it was borderline anorexia seeing as we didn't eat anything else. Thing is I was a terrible anorexic... I loved food way too much to go without it.
Enter the binge and purge lifestyle. I don't know that many teenage girls haven't tried to throw up a meal. I tried a couple of times but turns out I'm not very good at that either. Laxatives were suggested by a friend because they weren't the same as throwing up but I never could get into that either. I tried dexatrim, metabolife, and the glorious yellow jacket pills that you used to get from the truck stops.... those didn't really work either.
I finally got comfortable with myself around 17. I had a boyfriend that made me happy and I was involved in some extracurricular stuff that kept me busy and kept my mind off my weight problems. I found self confidence.
Then I got pregnant. (maybe a little too much confidence?) Try being pregnant and married your senior year and see if you don't resort to eating your emotions. (disclaimer: please don't try that at all, i was just making a point. don't have sex and don't get pregnant when you are a teenager.... thanks.) Anyway, my new husband and I moved away from our parents and we both finished high school. He worked after school and we brought home around $150 per week.
I learned quickly that poverty makes you fat. It's true what they say on the news. We ate fast things and canned things and quick things and processed things and boy did I pack on the pounds. I gained 80 pounds during my pregnancy. When it was all said and done I had a beautiful baby boy and 60 pounds to lose.
I did ok for a while after that. I maintained around 190 and for my 5'7 frame that's a good size. It's still plus sized but pretty much my dream size now. I got into college and coasted for about a year juggling a new baby and life out of high school.
I was accepted to nursing school a year later. Ask a nurse what happens in nursing school and they'll tell you really quick that you get fat. We ate all the time. After clinicals, before clinicals, between labs, after classes. Nurses LOVE to eat and food is always around to be had. Throw in my second unplanned pregnancy in three years and voila fat Heather emerges once again.
Nursing school ended and my marriage deteriorated rather quickly. But for the first time in my life I didn't cover my problems with food. Separation and divorce combined with being thrown in to being the sole provider for two little boys was the best diet I had ever had. I worked 50 - 60 hours a week and the Atkins craze was at full swing. I did really well. I lost over 100 pounds and at my lowest i saw 140 on the scale. That was skinnier than I had been since I was 13.
I maintained around 150 for a while. I met my (best) husband during that time and during the happy dating process the pounds began to slowly come back. We ate out a lot. He lived two hours from me and so that equalled a lot of time on the road and at fast food restaurants. I was happy and I felt loved and beautiful and confident and so I let my diet slip to the back burner. When we married I was 185 lbs. Six months after we married I found out I was pregnant.
We moved to Alabama (I ate). I lost touch with a lot of friends (i ate some more). I started a new job (eat, eat eat). I stopped smoking because I was pregnant (eat everything in sight). I rapidly found the 2oos on the scale again. I believe i weighed in at 243 after I had my daughter.
After I went back to work I worked nights, and it's extremely hard to diet and exercise when you are working weird hours. I didn't gain much during that time but I developed some nasty habits. I started smoking again and the junk food got out of control. My weight crept up and up and I maintained around 250 for a few years.
In 2010 I fell and broke nearly every bone in my foot and fractured a ligament. I was off work and stuck in a wheelchair for 8 weeks after surgery (mainly because i was too heavy to carry my weight on crutches). For the first time in my life I saw 300 pounds. In that period of time the hospital that I worked at faced financial hardship and my job was one of the first ones to go. Here I was, the heaviest that I had ever been and no job to go back to. Hello, crippling anxiety, where have you been?
300 was always a big deal for me. It's the number people use to describe really really big people and in my head I didn't feel really really big. I decided to deal with that number by ignoring it completely. After I got back on my feet I did lose back down into the 280-290 range, but I couldn't make myself successful at dieting and my foot had a lot of post op pain so it was really hard to exercise.
I never went back to work. I decided to stay at home with my kids. That was 5 years ago. I have slowly packed on around 5-10 pounds per year since then. At the end of 2015 I was the heaviest I had ever been. The day I stepped on the scales and decided that I had to do something to save my life I weighed 334.4 pounds.
It's a bad vicious cycle, but the truth is once you let it get out of control it's almost impossible to get that control back on your own. I always think about alcoholics and drug addicts. No one ever really expects them to quit without help. Surgery is my help. I'm addicted to food and surgery is going to help me conquer that addiction.
It freaks me out. I'm scared and excited. I have a goal to work toward though and I have already found that I recognize when I'm stress eating and I will stop myself. The pre op diet is a serious mind trip. Already it has helped me face emotions and confront my "head hunger" straight on. The reason I'm boring you with this is that I realize that my past is a big important part of my future. I have to look back at the triggers that made me as big as I am. I have to recognize these triggers so I will be able to avoid them or at least see them coming in the future. If you have read this far then maybe you understand and have triggers of your own. We're all fighting our own battles. Mine just likes Hostess Cupcakes and Krispy Kremes.
March 15.
That's my surgery date.
I'll be honest it freaks me out a lot. I LOVE food. Absolutely love it. I love that it makes me feel better when I'm feeling fat, ugly, sad, lonely, anxious, angry, happy, or bored. I love the way it smells. I love that full feeling I get from food.
I'm not going in blind. I have cut all the carbs out of my diet since the day I got on the scale and saw my highest weight. I have started walking... not much of an exercise routine unless you are morbidly obese... I am morbidly obese. I've also started to deal with the emotional aspect of my eating disorder. It's funny writing that because people don't see obesity as an eating disorder. Anorexia, sure... put those poor souls in a rehab program... Obesity, tell those fatties to back away from the table. The general public is cruel and that's probably why obesity is one of the biggest killers.
But back to me.... I can't blame any particular family member or event from my past for my problems. I was a healthy happy kid. I do have some small triggers that have stood out to me in my reflective journey. I'm sharing those now in hopes that others may identify. I don't want to harm anyone by placing blame, I simply want to be honest and address my problem.
My pattern of self abuse via junk food started at a rather early age. My maternal grandmother had a host of her own anxiety/depression issues and she felt like she could reinforce our affection with sweet treats and salty snacks. Whatever we (my brother and I) wanted she would buy it. My mother limited the amount of sugar we ate. It could have been because we couldn't afford all the prepackaged goodies on teacher's salaries or that she just didn't want us to have it; regardless, I do remember her trying to help us avoid it. Grannie, on the other hand, took advantage of the fact we couldn't get it from Mama and provided it in excess. She meant well. I'm sure after growing up the youngest of nine during the depression she didn't have the means to have those things as a child. Little Debbie and King Size Snickers bars was full on grandma spoilage and she took pride in it. I don't think badly of her for that. I just don't think it helped my emotional coping skills, or my pants size.
In the fifth grade I weighed 110 pounds. That's not super heavy for a girl that age, but it's more on the heavy side, especially in 1992. We were the last kids that probably remember playing outside. We got our first game system in 1987. Computers and satellite tv came shortly after that. So now I had all the junk food that I could get and all the TV and video games that a girl could want. As a class project we made posters called "All about Me" ... these posters included our physical statistics. The teacher put us against a wall and measured our heights. She then put us on a scale and measured our weights. We wrote both down on the poster which was promptly colored and laminated and placed in the window for all to see. It wasn't a big deal. I mean, it wasn't a big deal until the boys noticed my weight. They also noticed my best friend's weight which was four pounds lighter than me. Instantly we became the butt of many jokes. We got nicknames too. Hers was Kix 106 and mine was big (1)10 tires. We had boobs and bellies and we were surrounded by skinny prepubescent boys. We were targets. We handled it as a team though. We shook it off and made the boys feel immature and small, like true women do.... We were sisters and we could handle it together, always. I was good with my size. But, through it all the food waited in the background. All I needed was emotional trauma to really rocket my weight problem.
The next year, in August 1993, my best friend was killed in a car accident along with her little brother. I don't know if that is directly responsible for any of my eating problems, but I have watched enough Oprah to realize that it didn't help. My sixth grade year is a blur. I coped with other friends and with Grannie's king size candy bars. I made it through that year without a therapist and by today's standards that's quite an accomplishment.
The sixth grade melted into the seventh grade. I was involved in extra curricular activites. I wasn't particular atheletic but I did make cheerleader in the seventh grade. I remember that year I squeezed into a size 13 cheerleader uniform. I was the biggest girl on the squad, but at least I was on the squad.
I stayed active during my teenage years. I wasn't super overweight but I remember feeling like I was. I had terrible self esteem. This trickled into all of my romantic relationships as a teenager. That didn't help the eating at all. I remember a summer where I drank apple cider vinegar mixed about half and half with sunny delight. A friend suggested it as a weight loss tactic. I drank only that and ate a few saltine crackers at bedtime. That was it. I now realize it was borderline anorexia seeing as we didn't eat anything else. Thing is I was a terrible anorexic... I loved food way too much to go without it.
Enter the binge and purge lifestyle. I don't know that many teenage girls haven't tried to throw up a meal. I tried a couple of times but turns out I'm not very good at that either. Laxatives were suggested by a friend because they weren't the same as throwing up but I never could get into that either. I tried dexatrim, metabolife, and the glorious yellow jacket pills that you used to get from the truck stops.... those didn't really work either.
I finally got comfortable with myself around 17. I had a boyfriend that made me happy and I was involved in some extracurricular stuff that kept me busy and kept my mind off my weight problems. I found self confidence.
Then I got pregnant. (maybe a little too much confidence?) Try being pregnant and married your senior year and see if you don't resort to eating your emotions. (disclaimer: please don't try that at all, i was just making a point. don't have sex and don't get pregnant when you are a teenager.... thanks.) Anyway, my new husband and I moved away from our parents and we both finished high school. He worked after school and we brought home around $150 per week.
I learned quickly that poverty makes you fat. It's true what they say on the news. We ate fast things and canned things and quick things and processed things and boy did I pack on the pounds. I gained 80 pounds during my pregnancy. When it was all said and done I had a beautiful baby boy and 60 pounds to lose.
I did ok for a while after that. I maintained around 190 and for my 5'7 frame that's a good size. It's still plus sized but pretty much my dream size now. I got into college and coasted for about a year juggling a new baby and life out of high school.
I was accepted to nursing school a year later. Ask a nurse what happens in nursing school and they'll tell you really quick that you get fat. We ate all the time. After clinicals, before clinicals, between labs, after classes. Nurses LOVE to eat and food is always around to be had. Throw in my second unplanned pregnancy in three years and voila fat Heather emerges once again.
Nursing school ended and my marriage deteriorated rather quickly. But for the first time in my life I didn't cover my problems with food. Separation and divorce combined with being thrown in to being the sole provider for two little boys was the best diet I had ever had. I worked 50 - 60 hours a week and the Atkins craze was at full swing. I did really well. I lost over 100 pounds and at my lowest i saw 140 on the scale. That was skinnier than I had been since I was 13.
I maintained around 150 for a while. I met my (best) husband during that time and during the happy dating process the pounds began to slowly come back. We ate out a lot. He lived two hours from me and so that equalled a lot of time on the road and at fast food restaurants. I was happy and I felt loved and beautiful and confident and so I let my diet slip to the back burner. When we married I was 185 lbs. Six months after we married I found out I was pregnant.
We moved to Alabama (I ate). I lost touch with a lot of friends (i ate some more). I started a new job (eat, eat eat). I stopped smoking because I was pregnant (eat everything in sight). I rapidly found the 2oos on the scale again. I believe i weighed in at 243 after I had my daughter.
After I went back to work I worked nights, and it's extremely hard to diet and exercise when you are working weird hours. I didn't gain much during that time but I developed some nasty habits. I started smoking again and the junk food got out of control. My weight crept up and up and I maintained around 250 for a few years.
In 2010 I fell and broke nearly every bone in my foot and fractured a ligament. I was off work and stuck in a wheelchair for 8 weeks after surgery (mainly because i was too heavy to carry my weight on crutches). For the first time in my life I saw 300 pounds. In that period of time the hospital that I worked at faced financial hardship and my job was one of the first ones to go. Here I was, the heaviest that I had ever been and no job to go back to. Hello, crippling anxiety, where have you been?
300 was always a big deal for me. It's the number people use to describe really really big people and in my head I didn't feel really really big. I decided to deal with that number by ignoring it completely. After I got back on my feet I did lose back down into the 280-290 range, but I couldn't make myself successful at dieting and my foot had a lot of post op pain so it was really hard to exercise.
I never went back to work. I decided to stay at home with my kids. That was 5 years ago. I have slowly packed on around 5-10 pounds per year since then. At the end of 2015 I was the heaviest I had ever been. The day I stepped on the scales and decided that I had to do something to save my life I weighed 334.4 pounds.
It's a bad vicious cycle, but the truth is once you let it get out of control it's almost impossible to get that control back on your own. I always think about alcoholics and drug addicts. No one ever really expects them to quit without help. Surgery is my help. I'm addicted to food and surgery is going to help me conquer that addiction.
It freaks me out. I'm scared and excited. I have a goal to work toward though and I have already found that I recognize when I'm stress eating and I will stop myself. The pre op diet is a serious mind trip. Already it has helped me face emotions and confront my "head hunger" straight on. The reason I'm boring you with this is that I realize that my past is a big important part of my future. I have to look back at the triggers that made me as big as I am. I have to recognize these triggers so I will be able to avoid them or at least see them coming in the future. If you have read this far then maybe you understand and have triggers of your own. We're all fighting our own battles. Mine just likes Hostess Cupcakes and Krispy Kremes.
WLS Journal: Part 3 --Three Types of Losers
Author's note: I wasn't ready to write about weight loss surgery before I had actually been under the knife. I still wasn't confident to publish until after I had seen some results. This is my story. It was basically my diary in the days leading up to my sleeve gastrectomy. I hope someone that reads this can identify.
Feb. 22, 2016
There's a great divide in the Bariatric community about who to tell about your surgery and when to tell it. There are a small faction of surgery deniers out there. They skulk in the shadows of support groups, usually under false names and facebook profiles. They proudly post their before and after shots but the reason behind those fabulous transformations exists only in the virtual walls of that support group. Their closest relatives may know about their surgery but the outside world at large never knows. They assume the denier has found some magical secret trick to dieting... which, I guess, is partly true. But, to me, to leave out the part that you had a life altering surgery when asked the famous "What are you doing?" is a bit misleading.
The second faction is the over-sharer. This is the person that starts telling EVERYONE from facebook friends to postal worker that they are having weight loss surgery. They start telling everyone as soon as they make the decision; probably not realizing that even best case scenario the wait time is at least 4-6 months from deciding to surgery day. They post pics of their meals and their fit bit screen shots and their weekly transformation pic collages are always cluttering up your news feed. There's some sound thinking in that too, I guess, knowing that people are expecting great things can keep you accountable.
I consider myself to be part of the third faction. I'm not really shouting it from the rooftops. My family all knows that I am working toward surgery. Some of my church family knows. A few friends know. Other than that I've kept to myself. At least I have during the approval process. I'm planning on just being honest. If someone tells me I'm looking great, I'm just going to say thank you. If some one asks me "what are you doing?" I will probably tell them. I just don't want to get into a debate with an almost-stranger about the benefits and risks of weight loss surgery. I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking that I magically obtained the miracle solution to my obesity either.
People are judgy. People judge you if you are fat. They treat you differently when you are obese. But, strangely enough people are also judgy when you try to do something to combat your obesity. They giggle at you when you are on the elliptical at the gym. They stare when you are at the walking track. But fat people are judgy too. Maybe they're more jealous than judgy. It's one or both. I think they envy the courage that a decision to cut out part of your stomach takes. I think they envy the fact that we are brave enough to step back from our addictions and face that we have a problem. I used to be that person. Anytime anyone suggested that I look in to having WLS I would lash out with anger. I accused people of taking the easy way out. Now, I realize that this way isn't easy at all. I will be fighting my addiction to food for the rest of my life. I will have this surgery as a tool to help me fight. I tried for 15 years to beat my obesity on my own. I can't do this on my own anymore.
Personal update! As I was writing this today I received a phone call from my surgeon and my date is set for March 15! My birthday is Wednesday and this surgery is the best way I can think of to start my 34th year! It's gonna give me many, many more birthdays and for that I can't wait!!
WLS Journal: Part 2 -- The Boring Details....
Author's note: I wasn't ready to write about weight loss surgery before I had actually been under the knife. I still wasn't confident to publish until after I had seen some results. This is my story. It was basically my diary in the days leading up to my sleeve gastrectomy. I hope someone that reads this can identify.
I'm going to attempt to document the entire process of my WLS journey on this format. I hope to have it as a personal record and if my journey helps someone else along the way, all the better.
So here's where I am now: I made the decision to have a sleeve gastrectomy in September 2015. I began my research and chose a surgeon. I watched his online seminar and filled in all my information for them to contact me. I then completely panicked when the patient advocate called my cell and didn't answer. I needed a little more time to adjust to my fate. Also, I figured I should tell my husband what I was about to do first.
His reaction was probably typical. He was about 75 pounds overweight when I told him what I was planning. So what choice did he have but to go on a crash diet and prove that weight loss was easy. The holidays were closing in so I did the opposite. I went into a denial binge. I lived it up and ate anything I wanted. He lost 2-4 pounds a week and I packed on another 20 pounds from September until December.
December 26 I stepped on the scales at a whopping 334.6 pounds. That's the heaviest I have ever been in my life. I resolved to change my life then (again). I started a high protein low carbohydrate diet. January I called and made the appointment with Dr. Schmitt for my initial consultation. In the mean time something happened with my husband. After many talks and lots of tears he decided to support my decision. He's still not excited... I think he's mostly nervous. He is happy for me so that makes me more comfortable going forward.
My first consult was honestly kind of disappointing, to be honest. I don't know what I was expecting but whatever that was didn't happen. I met with a patient advocate, she told me what I was going to have to do in order to get a surgery date. Bariatric surgery is excluded on our insurance (thanks obama). The bright side of this is that for around $13,000 I can have the surgery out patient without having to go on a medically supervised diet (which is required with most insurance policies). This gets me closer to the goal but I still have a few hurdles to jump. I have to have a visit with my GP to obtain a letter stating I am physically cleared. I have to have basic labs drawn. These include a Chemistry, CBC, Thyroid Panel and Cholesterol. Lastly, I have to be evaluated for sleep apnea. This one is the biggest hurdle in my opinion. I have to meet with an ENT or sleep specialist and they will evaluate me and if deemed necessary set me up for a sleep study. My appointment with the ENT is next week. I will let you know how that goes when it happens.
So that's what's happened so far. It's an emotional journey and I haven't even gotten through the first steps. Currently I'm battling my food addictions when there's a voice inside saying "go ahead, eat it now, you won't be able to have that later." I'm fighting those urges but it's extremely hard. Over the next few weeks I hope to cut all sodas out of my diet, I only drink diet soda but I drink way too many and carbonated drinks are advised against post surgery. I am starting an exercise program so that hopefully my body will bounce back quicker. Right now I'm just walking and trying to get steps in on the fit bit. I'm also buying my protein drinks ahead of time. The are quite expensive so I hope to have my pantry stocked by the time I have to start the liquid diet.
So that's what's happened so far. It's an emotional journey and I haven't even gotten through the first steps. Currently I'm battling my food addictions when there's a voice inside saying "go ahead, eat it now, you won't be able to have that later." I'm fighting those urges but it's extremely hard. Over the next few weeks I hope to cut all sodas out of my diet, I only drink diet soda but I drink way too many and carbonated drinks are advised against post surgery. I am starting an exercise program so that hopefully my body will bounce back quicker. Right now I'm just walking and trying to get steps in on the fit bit. I'm also buying my protein drinks ahead of time. The are quite expensive so I hope to have my pantry stocked by the time I have to start the liquid diet.
WLS Journal: Part 1 The Decision Making
Author's note: I wasn't ready to write about weight loss surgery before I had actually been under the knife. I still wasn't confident to publish until after I had seen some results. This is my story. It was basically my diary in the days leading up to my sleeve gastrectomy. I hope someone that reads this can identify.
I'm not quite sure when my thinking changed course. At some point in time, probably in the midst of yet another failed diet, I made the decision that I couldn't fight this disease on my own any longer. I decided after much prayer and many heated arguments (yes, arguments) with my spouse. You see, he's a quick loser. He's not hopelessly addicted to food. He wants to lose weight; he just stops eating. I try to explain that it's more complicated than that for me. I guess it isn't really. I'm weak. I try to stop eating and I fall every single time. I end up eating twice as much as before. I cover every emotion with something sweet and chase it with something salty. I freaking love the way food makes me feel. So, here I am 200 lbs overweight. I have high blood pressure, pre-diabetes, i've had a ruptured disc in my back and my joints ache and pop every move I make. I'm only 34. I shouldn't feel this way. I should be active and healthy and energetic. I'm not.
I'm not quite sure when my thinking changed course. At some point in time, probably in the midst of yet another failed diet, I made the decision that I couldn't fight this disease on my own any longer. I decided after much prayer and many heated arguments (yes, arguments) with my spouse. You see, he's a quick loser. He's not hopelessly addicted to food. He wants to lose weight; he just stops eating. I try to explain that it's more complicated than that for me. I guess it isn't really. I'm weak. I try to stop eating and I fall every single time. I end up eating twice as much as before. I cover every emotion with something sweet and chase it with something salty. I freaking love the way food makes me feel. So, here I am 200 lbs overweight. I have high blood pressure, pre-diabetes, i've had a ruptured disc in my back and my joints ache and pop every move I make. I'm only 34. I shouldn't feel this way. I should be active and healthy and energetic. I'm not.
There's a reason behind the lack of energy and general motivation. It's the extra 200 pounds. That and the crippling social anxiety that comes with the extra flab. I'm a typical textbook fat girl. I make jokes. I'm cynical and sarcastic. I'm usually the loud one in the group. The whole time I'm laughing on the out side my anxious brain is over analyzing every glance from every person in the room. The anxiety tells me that everyone is looking at the way your shirt gets caught at your waistline, "quick pull it down so they don't see how high you have to wear your pants. Wait, don't cross your arms, put your hands in your pocket, stick out your chest more so they don't notice your belly, what are you doing with your arms? wait did she just look at you funny? she thinks you're a slob." The anxiety gets me so worked up that i feel like a drug addict that needs a fix. I drive home from a social gathering and can not wait to get to the junk food I have stashed where the kids won't find it. Or, better yet, I stop and get a burger and some nuggets and a big box of fries and eat them while I'm driving, because if I stuff it all down before I get home no one will know how much I eat. Of course I feel guilty about this afterward. Guilt is easily dealt with... with more food.
I recognize all of this about my psyche and my body. So, just as an alcoholic has to recognize that they have a problem, I decided that I was ready to confront my addiction. Food addiction is tricky, though. I can't completely eliminate food from my life as one would drugs or alcohol. I have to have food to live. I can eliminate the bad foods. I have some success with that on my own. But here's where the surgery comes in. The folks in the support groups call it a tool. Basically the doctor will remove over half of my stomach and create a physical barrier to overeating. It's a scary thought. I've watched the surgery more times than I can count. I know all the things that can go wrong. I also know that I will be a burden on my family by the time I'm 50, that's if I make it to 50 and right now that's not a guarantee.
I don't think this is going to be easy. I think this is going to be the hardest thing that I have ever decided to do. My brain goes into panic mode when I think about all the things that I will crave and have to go without. The hopes and dreams out weigh the panic and dread, though. I want to be able to run and ride bicycles and take hikes with my husband and kids. I want to be able to enjoy social events without my weight and my crazy anxiety brain. I want my self confidence back. I want to ride a roller coaster (I don't fit in them right now).
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