Support

More than just a good bra or a pair of Spanx. Support is in those who surround you, those who cheer you when you stand firm, who understand when you fall short and somehow carry you forward against the crushing rush of the tide.

Support is an assorted collection of family, friends and even, sometimes, absolute strangers. Strangers they may be, yet because they've walked in your shoes and you in theirs quite enough in life, these unfamiliar faces ring of familiarity.

Because in them you witness your hard-fought tears slip from their eyes, you hear your selfsame struggles in their voices and recognize the demons they have seen as the very same that have haunted you for years. The scars they bear - some old and barely visible, others fresh and still on the mend - are identical to yours for you have been warriors fighting a parallel battle. Synonymous lives.

I only remember a few of their names but I remember every single face. I remember them because we've come together gathered around a common purpose and have rallied for the same cause. I remember each one, because together we are strengthened by each admission of weakness; we take away a measure of courage in the fact that these weaknesses are normal and only temporary. I remember each face because I look around and I see victory in their expressions. I remember because I hear the triumphs declared in each of the voices. I remember the courage and determination of my circle who, against odds decided long ago, have clawed our way out of the dark prison cells of our own making and in to the light of freedom.

And freedom is a marvelous thing.

Reality Bites

The truth is a tough pill to swallow.

Adages that are true but ever so corny in view of the blog you are reading. But still.

I don't have much to add or say to anything I've written before. Still doing okay. Yes, just okay. I am eating right, exercising and so on. And that is good.

I've reached my 100 pound goal and while that is a huge (pun intended) loss I don't feel as elated as I thought I would. And again, while the thought of the huge loss is circling my mind, there is the thought that immediately follows. Like a remora fish on a shark.

The shark being "Wow! You've lost 100 pounds!"

The remora "Now what?"

There are no easy answers or cures for what ails me. No hair of the dog that bit me. I am on a journey I tell myself. Always. And the woods, they call to me...

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost

The Difference

I step on the scale. 235. Step off. Sigh. Same weight as yesterday and the day before that and the day before that.

I have apparently hit what the bariatric surgery world calls a stall. Different than a plateau because it's shorter, only lasting a week or two. But frustrating none the less.

The ironic thing is, so many people have commented on my disappearing act this week. Perhaps it's inches instead of pounds which is still good....but....It's funny how a number, as insignificant as it may be, can give your spirit a lift every day. Just that smidgen of encouragement you need to go on.

I'm not sure how to react to the comments either. Comments such as:

"I don't even recognize you!"
(How do you know you are talking to the right person then???)
"You look like a completely different person!"
(Like who? Can I be Ashley Judd?)
or
"You must feel like a whole new woman!"

Truly? No. Well, I mean yes, I feel good. I feel great in fact. But a completely different person?

I know, I know, what am I complaining about? These are friends who are loving on me. And if any of you reading this has said these things to me, please don't feel bad. I love you for it. But it's just odd to hear. And I never know quite how to respond.

This is how I usually respond: I look in the mirror. Yep that's me.

Brown hair with more gray than I care to think about at the moment?
Check.
Blue eyes?
Check.
Freckles?
Check.
My mom's nose?
Check.
Nice big arms. Big legs. Good child-birthing hips?
Check. Check. Check
Huh.

I say to the mirror, "well you look like Dana." and then I think, you sound like Dana too.

But in truth, there are differences. Many. Mainly internal. Mostly unseeable. If that's even a word. I don't think it is, I see a red line....

Like I kind of feel pretty.

And I no longer feel like a Macy's Day Parade float.


And I actually want to go for a walk instead of laying around watching The Top-Secret Recently Opened Never Before Seen Undocumented Footage of Area 51 UFO Files for the 16th time in a month.

What?? The cooking channel was showing Emeril. Not a fan. No baby, give me Tyler Florence or Paula Deen or a Bobby Flay Throw Down any day...

So, that said. I am different. Not yet completely different. Or a whole new different. But well on my way.

Perhaps one day my eyes will see what it is you see.

Into the Great Wide Open

Of eating whatever you want...

Well, sort of. Okay, not really. I can eat almost anything, (Remember the 3 things? No sugar, no fried foods & no leftovers.) however, I can't eat much.

What I've tried (that is not considered 'healthy' food) and what's tried me:

Pizza:
Yes. Pizza. Not on the 3 things list is it? It was fabulous. We ordered a supreme with all the veggies. I was a little worried about the Italian sausage. Pero no problemo baby. Hey, you don't get much...maybe 1/2 of a small slice and I only ate the edge of the crust. For the rest of the slice I just ate the toppings.

Chinese food:
No luck. Or should I say no fortune cookie. Perhaps it was my choices, but my body would not have anything to do with beef pepper steak or sesame chicken. I won't give you the ugly little details, but suffice it to say it was awful. Sad.

Nachos:
Sort of...There was a bit of a difference and MUCH healthier than what you are thinking. No chips since they are fried. Black beans, tomato, zucchini, avocado, raw baby spinach & red bell pepper with low fat shredded Monterey Jack and fat free sour cream. Granted I had so little it took longer to put it together than eat it. But it felt good to have a somewhat normal meal again.

And YES, I do eat healthy foods.

Like I eat lots of chicken. Lots of salmon. Lots of oatmeal. Lots of veggies.

Okay wait, when I say lots I guess I mean I eat these foods often...okay, continue....

I love raw seeds & nuts, almond butter, spinach, tomatoes, zucchini, beans, hummus, cantaloupe, strawberries...the list goes on.

BUT I don't love these oh- so-good-for-your-body foods all the time. There are days my mind screams for a Jethro sized hunk of cake, or a mound of french fries, or a huge fat greasy cheeseburger. So very Americana.

Okay, so I can actually have all of the above, just as long as the cake has no sugar, the fries are actually just roasted potato wedges and the meat in the cheeseburger is lean with almost no bun, and they are all in minuscule, teeny-tiny, eentsy-weentsy, Barbie's little sister sized portions.

Yeah, takes the fun right out of that.

But that my friends, is the biggest battle. The hardest part of the whole journey. You have to defeat the lies your mind tells you and has told you for lo, these many years. Food doesn't equal comfort, peace, stimulation or love. Food is simply energy.

Energy that for the most part, tastes soooo good.

There is this misguided belief that because I've (or anyone else has) had surgery that this is easy. Au contraire mon fraire. Surgery is only a tool to force you towards health. I read somewhere it is only 1/4 of the answer. And the other 3/4th's are the hardest things I've ever had to do.

Yes, the weight has come off fast. Yes, I am in much better health. Yes, I am off all of the medicines I was taking (except my anti-depressants). And I wouldn't turn back now for anything in the world - the fruit of this effort has already come forth in abundance. A veritable cornucopia of blessings.

But it has been, and will continue to be, a long and difficult row to hoe. And that row will need constant tending and protection from pests, weeds, drought and me.

Isn't that ironic? I am the one who must fight, must win - yet I am the very one I am fighting against.

I must lose the fight in order for me to win. I must die in order for me to live.

Out in the great wide open, a rebel without a clue.

Morning Drive...Fat Not So Fat Lady Style

A couple of things hit me on the way in to work this morning...

1. I was seriously craving a glazed Shipley's Donut. My first real craving since the surgery. For those of you who don't have a Shipley's Donuts in your area, I am so sad for you. NOTHING - hear me you Krispy Kreme freaks - NOTHING compares. They are they best donut in the world. Hands down. And this morning I could taste the sugary-fried-melt-in-your-mouth-breaded-goodness in my mouth. Then I thought of the damage that one little taste of glazed euphoria could do to me and the drool dried right up. Sigh.

2. I still hear my mom's voice tearing me down. Damnit. I was putting on my make-up when I remembered something she used to say whenever she saw a large woman dress up or put on make-up "That's like trying to make a silk purse from a sow's ear." or this one: "You might as well lipstick up the cow." Here I was 14, obese and hearing this and other little snarky comments all the time. No wonder. I thought the tapes had all been erased, re-taped and singing new songs in my ears. The past will sneak back in unexpectedly won't it?

3. I passed my 50 pound mark! One small goal reached and I feel great about it. Next stop 100! Each pound is another step towards health! That said, I sat down in the driver's seat yesterday and didn't have to raise the steering wheel or move the seat back as far. That was a cool feeling.

Well, that was my morning drive in. No Starbuck's. Just Dana....

Day to Day So Far....

You cannot begin to imagine the ride you are about to take. I know that I've already mentioned that, but each day is a new twist and turn on the rapids.

Please don't read this as negative, it isn't. This is what it is, a life change. And at times it is truly detestable, but at others it is exultation.

One step to the next is a lesson learned and a challenge met. Or not. :)

The past two weeks have gone by tremendously slow.

Tremendously. There has been so much going on, both good and bad. There has been absolutely nothing going on good or bad. There was a return to work, which was both good and bad. And each and every stinking day there was no lost weight, which was bad. Panic began to set in. I did what every normal person does when something goes wonky - I hit the internet. C'mon we are all cyberchondriachs.

I visited various and sundry bariatric websites, blogs and on line journals. For the most part very well put together and quite informative. Others not so much.

What I learned is, that at regular intervals the body must rest. It is tired and instead of losing weight you are more than likely losing inches. Huh. Let's give that a look see shall we?

Sure enough, several pairs of pants that did not fit the week before, now slid on with ease. Ahhh. The panic scampered away and settled in the bushes waiting for the next opportunity to strike.

Despite the fact that I lost inches, the scale still needed to show me love. I am selfish and needy that way.

Alas, this morning was the first loss in two weeks and it was a whopping 6 pounds. May not seem like much, but that is a change from 12 days of nothing to one morning 6 pounds. Yes, one day. So, for me, that was quite something my friends.

I've also started attempting to eat soft foods along with my liquids. Fun. You don't know quite what will disagree with you until you try. And trust me, your body will definitely let you know.

We visited a little cafe' that was recommended to us and I ordered the baked tilapia and potatoes and green beans. There is no way I can eat even 1/8th of this meal, however everyone else in the family decides to go for the chicken fried steak. Definitely not on my menu.

Three bites of tilapia, pretty good, one small taste of potato - yes it is allowed - and boom. Throat closes up, chest feels heavy, waves of nausea and the frothing begins. Just. That. Fast.

Truly I should know better, potato has not gone over well with me before. I tried cream of potato soup and honey it was all over but the crying. Wait, I think there was some of that as well.

The nausea doesn't last long, 10 minutes or so and then you start to feel better. But you truly wish with all your heart you could take back that one bite for those 10 minutes. And for me, the oddest part is the frothing at the mouth. I think your body produces the excess of saliva in order to digest the offensive food quickly as there is no longer stomach acid.

Whatever the case, nasty business. Trade off? I can have sugar free popsicles. I can have hummus. I can have salmon. I can have a lot of things. Just not potatoes for now. I'll take it.

Well, speaking of for now I'd better go. I have rambled on long enough and I have other blogs to attend to. I am quite sure they are feeling just as neglected. I will write soon!

Week One

Well I made past seven days.

Guess I didn't really have a choice. The Lord did, but not me.

Each day has had a life of its own. Many varying degrees of emotional and physical responses and reactions.

The first day of surgery you are so medicated that everyone is your best friend and this is the greatest thing ever. Until they won't give you a damned sip of water or an ice chip to save your life.

Seriously, I felt like I had French-kissed a wool sweater for several hours on end.

The problem is, they can't give you anything to drink. They would love to if only to shut up your perpetual whining. But your stomach just met the butcher and needs a bit of rest before you subject it to some marinade.

Relief comes, sort of, soon. On the second day they wheel you down to CAT scan hand you an impossibly small bottle of vile tasting chemical that you suck down immediately because in all seriousness you are so thirsty Pine-Sol would look like the most satiating artesian water right about now.

Once they give you the good to go, you go back to your room and inhale about all the water you can. Blessed, cold, liquid, wet water. Then and only then are you able to pull the wool fibers off of your tongue.

The first meal looks like you'd expect. Chicken broth, a Popsicle, decaf tea, water and a straw. Have at it girlie. Right. You cannot truly understand that you don't have a stomach now until you think you can actually consume all of what is before you.

Several sips in to the warm delicious (yes, delicious) broth and you are FULL. Hurting full. Like you've spent several hours at the Chinese Buffet full.

The next few days are spent rather as if you had the flu. You become cold, (nice feeling actually) you are tender, you get hot, you run to the bathroom as often as you breathe, and you sleep.

Home is a welcome, yet scary sight. Scary because there are no professionals here. Just me and the family and the dogs. And they get real food.

For me the hardest days, both physically and emotionally were my first two days at home. My husband had to work, my kids were at school, I was scared, depressed and not sure of what to do with myself.

In retrospect I am glad I shopped for the vitamins and the liquid diet items before hand. It was wise to do so since you are not to once you get home. That is unless you have the constitution of a California Redwood.

A couple of shopping tips:
Don't get the usual. You will have had chicken & beef broth for breakfast, lunch and dinner for all of two days and will feel quite ready for a change. Not to mention it isn't enough, nutritionally or otherwise.

Do go to a store that has more than your usual groceries. A store such as Central Market or Whole Foods. There you will find more nutritious options as well as variety of soups that are a wonderful addition to beef and chicken bullion routine.

Do get skim milk, fat free and almost sugar free yogurt, apple or grape juice, crystal light and sugar free popsicles. These items will be great in between soup and such.

Do keep whatever protein shake powder you have. Yes, I know, after two meals a day for fourteen days of the not-so-delicious stuff you will never touch it again. But you will. And if you use skim milk to make it instead of water (even though Isopure calls for water) you will find it is actually a bit more palatable. Besides, loaded with protein and vitamins that you are not getting anywhere else.

Don't disobey. This is critical to success in all areas of this life change. But especially now when you are one, just beginning and two, your digestive track has just been traumatized beyond what you can imagine.

Do walk, walk, walk. Walking is beneficial for so many reasons, digestion, circulation, activity, family time and just plain ol' mental stimulation.

I know it is almost week two, and I am just a little behind. I will write soon, I promise!

This Is It...

Reality is a deceptive word. It seems that you know exactly what you are headed for, but later you find that the reality of then, was only what you thought it was.

Not a mirage. Not fantasy. Not even a misguided belief. More like a belief that is at each moment evolving, once blurred by thought and now sharpened by experience.

Two weeks ago, in reality, I fully realized that in 14 days I would have surgery. I knew the reality was that this surgery would absolutely change every aspect of my life - permanently. And I, being of sound mind, had done my homework thoroughly and was, or so I thought, prepared for the road ahead. No regrets, no fears, no worries.

And one week ago, in reality, I had said surgery and all things I imagined it to be, were brought in to focus and no longer what I originally thought, but now what I knew.

And then there comes a moment, when you wake up several days later, have chicken broth for breakfast for the third day in a row, have absolutely nothing you recognize as hunger for the third day in a row, have six large incisions across your belly and no idea if what you are doing is even going to work, when you say to your educated self, "Oh me, you had no clue. What have you done?"

All those so called well-informed-ideas that kept away any presentiments you might have had, go tearing out the door leaving it wide open for those nasty neighbors known as doubt to walk right in and make themselves quite comfortable. And you? You have not an inkling of what to say to them, how could you? You've never been here before.

This is not to say that I now feel some form of regret. Not at all. Just reality, sinking its sharp little claws deep into the very pit of my brain better known as the heart and the soul. The innermost being as it were.

And too, reality is a word pregnant with possibilities. Possibilities that, when given breath, put to death the shadowy doubts that cower in the corners of your mind. Possibilities have their own reality, a reality that itself evolves.

The hope of victory becomes a tangible reality one day at a time. The desire of perseverance takes yet another step on solid ground. The thought of resolve pounds in your heart one beat to the next, drumming out the whispers of what if and not you. And these realities become more and more at home in your mind than the doubts, the words of naysayers and the fleeting fears that once tried to nest.

And what was, transmigrates in to what is. And this day, this is it, this is your reality. Make it what you will.

Shaking My 'Tude

Fair warning: This post is very frank. Deal with it.

So.

I started the liquid diet.

(Two meals replaced with a protein shake every day for two weeks.)

And at the same time I started the antibiotics.
(1000 mg of Amoxicillin & 500 mg of Biaxin taken with Prevacid twice a day.)

And at the same time I started my period. And to top it off, despite the fact that I've eaten yogurt EVERY day, I am starting to get a yeast infection. Oh great.

Can you say 'miserable', children? I knew you could.

Needless to say, I am not feeling my best nor am I behaving my best. I have an attitude from hell.

Days 1 & 2. I am determined to carry on. This is nothing in the scheme of things. I am not hungry in any way, in fact I have a problem trying to finish the shake. But as well all know, hunger often has nothing to do with why we eat. To top it off, I have a very bad attitude towards everyone and everything. Perhaps this is a combination of carb detox and my period. The shakes are not horribly tasting, but they are in no way delicious. And I guess they aren't really meant to be. Of course the antibiotics leave a strong metallic taste in my mouth and that probably does not help.

A few tricks I have learned:

Add half ice cubes half water. Put everthing in the blender, blend well and then pour into a shakeable container. Then place in the freezer for 30 minutes or so. When you take it out shake well.

You can leave it in a bit longer (in a cup otherwise it will freeze inside the bottle and you won't be able to eat it) and eat it like an ice milk.

Add a small spoonful of instant coffee and half a packet of splenda. (to the dutch chocolate flavor.)

Add bitter fruit to the vanilla or dutch chocolate, such as blackberries or raspberries.

For some reason drinking it through a straw makes it easier to go down.

Day 3. Attitude slightly better, although I feel shaky and weak today. I am having a problem with nausea. This is primarily due to the antibiotics I know, but it isn't making chugging down 10 ounces of brown vitamin sludge any easier. We went to the grocery store and that was a challenge. Throw me in front of a bus why don't ya? But once I think about the effect this food will now have on the outcome of my surgery, on the progress I've made thus far and the mental effect - in other words one taste of the forbidden - I am able to look away. This was a small triumph that I celebrated with, you guessed it, a protein shake.

Days 4 & 5. Muuuuuch better. Better attitude. Better feeling. Better day at work. Shakes still stink, but oh well. I am doing good. The only time I get hungry is before lunch. Then I eat a big salad with chicken and I feel so much better. I get full faster at lunch as well. I weighed myself on day 5 and I've lost 10 pounds. THAT makes me smile.

I guess I will take this part of the challenge one chug of protein shake at a time.

2 Weeks and Counting

In just two weeks I will have my surgery. These past few days, and I am sure the ones to come, have been like awaiting the birth of a long hoped for child. A new beginning. A new life. Expectation for the future.

I want to be clear that I in no way perceive or believe weight loss surgery to be the magical solution to all my weight issues. That would be a foolish belief. And momma didn't raise no fool. The one analogy that I've used with people is that this surgery is more like a bundle of dynamite. Not enough to take down the whole mountain, but enough to make the mountain a bit more manageable.

Nice to compare myself to a mountain right? Well I've heard worse about me. I've said worse about me! And that is way up there on the list of things I will not miss. The stares, the comments, the snickers...(snide laughing, not the candy bar I will miss those).

I've been on both sides of the women's department so to speak. Having lived for many years as a size 8 to 12, I know what gets said of those in the 18+ sizes. And no not everyone is childish and mean, but there are some very mean spirited people in the world. Folks who have no clue what it's like to walk in a size 22 outfit. People who think the 22's need to have a little self discipline, push away from the buffet table and stop having a side of beef with a gallon sized milkshake for lunch.

But no one could be as mean to me as I am was. It is was probably more of a protective measure than self loathing - you know, I make a fat comment/joke to let you know that I know you are thinking along those same lines. That way you don't have a chance to hurt me I've already done that.

I look forward to working on letting that go. I will be losing and gaining at the same time.

This week was spent taking various medical tests and that along with much busyness at work helped the week to pass quickly. There was bloodwork, and echo cardiograms and more blood work and so on.

Test results are all in. I have very mild sleep apnea, not enough to warrant a machine. Which I am glad about since I understand the cpap machines can run expensive. My heart is very healthy, all things considered. My blood did show me to have an infection, taken care of easily enough with antibiotics.

This week I will start the liquid diet in order to lose weight before my surgery date. Yes you read that right, I will need to lose weight before I have the surgery. Only 10 to 15 pounds. Why? Because just that little bit will reduce the risk of surgery on my morbidly obese body. It is also shown to help speed recovery and increase weight loss during the first year. My doctor recommends Isopure protein powder which comes in Dutch chocolate, mmm yummy. I am trying to psyche myself up here folks!

I am hoping it tastes half-way edible. I've heard it said "Nothing tastes as good as thin." That is a load of...and that person's momma couldn't cook. There is a lot of stuff that tastes better than thin. If that were true, we'd all be thin. Now, I am not aiming for thin. No way honey, I did that for too many years with tragic results.

I am aiming straight for healthy.

Aria Overture

This is me....

And this...

Oh and this...

Apparently I think black is slimming...

My name is Dana. I am a mother of 4, wife, friend, wannabe writer and 315 pound woman and I am about to have gastric bypass surgery.

Like most people who are morbidly obese, weight has always been an issue. Always. I cannot remember a day in my life that I've not worried about the numbers on the scale and on the tag of my clothes. For much of my life, despite the efforts of many, both the happiness I felt and the quality of life I enjoyed were relative to those insignificant digits.

So much so, that for 13 years I offered up my soul for servitude in the hopes to have the happiness I just knew waited on the other side of 5 pounds less. The demon from hell I offered it to - bulimia - held me down and stripped me of control and freedom and held me on a very short chain of idolatry, squeezing my spirit until it was bled of every drop of dignity.

Salvation from this has been my hardest fought battle.

The months after recovery were slow, however the weight came on quickly. It's not that I ate so much, it was that I ate and kept it down. I ate and didn't exercise for 4 hours. I ate and had no laxatives to follow. And my body was tired from years of subjugation. Very tired.

I've tried to lose weight in the years since my recovery. I would have some slight measure of success, only to end up right back where I started or even heavier.

Then my blood pressure began to creep up. I now take 2 blood pressure medicines to keep it under control.

Then the depression flared again. I now take medicine for that as well.

Then two years ago I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Not a condition that is weight related, however, it does tend to exacerbate the symptoms.

At the same time I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, my blood sugar must have felt left out because it began to have itself a fit and I was diagnosed as a diabetic.

And then I turned 40. Lovely.