Fearfully and Wonderfully Made...

As a friend of mine says "more fearfully than wonderfully!"

And I have to agree. This past month I haven't written much on here. To tell the truth there's not been much to say that you haven't already heard or read.

Because I'm sure that eventually you will get tired of reading: I lost a pound. I didn't lose weight for ___ long. My clothes don't fit. I ate that. I can't eat this. I lost another pound.

So, I think I will hold off until the weight loss surgery muse strikes. Which may be never. I wonder what her name is? We could have fun with that.

For now I will give you this. God, our God. Yahweh Himself. Has one heck of a sense of humor.

I'm probably not informing any of my adoring fans of anything that they didn't already have a clue about.

You know He's so crazy because well, look at giraffes and zebras together on the same playing field. Think about kangaroos and toucans. Odd aren't they? Then there's everyone's trump card when arguing about Mr. Stand Up Comedian in the Sky, the platypus. Don't tell me they were left over parts. He don't need no stinkin' leftovers. Nope, I think Jehovah Laughter was feeling a tad bit silly one morning during the creation process and threw that one in as His own inside joke with the angels.

And then there's us. Enough said right?

And he loves showing off His humorous side. I remember once when I was going through a time where I could not drag my butt out of bed in order to spend time in the word and in prayer. I would hit the snooze until 10 minutes after I should be in the shower. And then whined about it.

I was feeling the effects of not talking with Him and listening to Him. So I begged Him one night to not let me touch that stupid snooze button and make me get out of bed. You know what He did?

Well, He happily obliged of course. In His way. The next morning the alarm went off and Mrs. Stick to Your Guns rolled over to slap that clock silly and I kid you not I rolled right out of that bed and on to the floor.

I laid there for a bit till it hit me that He'd answered that prayer quite nicely. And then I laughed. Pointed my finger at Him and said, You got me didn't you!?!? He's so crazy!

Then there's my recent struggle with the scale. I'm losing, I'm losing - it isn't that kind of struggle. It's the obsessive kind. The kind where I weigh myself every day. And not only that I cannot wait to weigh every day. And every day when the scale moves all of a pound I am thrilled to no end. And every day when the scale stays put, I am woeful beyond sense. Which is crazy.

All this in spite of the fact that I know I should not weigh every day. As women our weight can fluctuate several pounds from day to day. Especially well, you know when.

So what am I doing hopping myself up on that happy-o-meter every day? I. Don't. Know. I thought I had gotten past the part where I found my joy in numbers. But yeah. There I am. Every day. And here I am confessing.

I've told other friends as well. They've chastened me properly. I go home tail between my legs swearing I am going to wait THREE WHOLE DAYS before I step on the sardonic little thing again.

Riiiiiiight.

So, God in His wonderful wisdom has broken my scale.

Broken it. Has to be what has happened because folks this is a brand new state of the art digital scale. Brand new.

What happens when I step on it? Oh, lets see...a range of as much as 30 pounds difference each and every time I get on to weigh.

And this is only for me.

No one else. The danged thing works JUST FINE.

It's. Just. Me. I get on and I weigh 245. Get off. No way that's right. I mean I weigh somewhere around 220. Get on and I weigh 212. Get off. That would be nice but no. Get on 228. Get off. Get on 236. Cuss words. Seriously?

"Jesse?! Will you come weigh yourself?!?!?" Gets on. Number is correct give or take a pound.

"Again!" I tell him. He gets on, it's the same. Exactly the same.

I get on 200. Waaaaahhhhh....

Then it hits me. And while it wasn't so funny at first, I can now see the amusement in it. He has fixed my little problem. He knows I don't like any other scale. I won't know the progress if I weigh at work or at the doctors.

He knows I've been finding joy in the wrong places. Looking for happiness in the wrong direction. Seeking consolation and comfort where there is none. He knows I have no strength apart from Him. And He knows just how to take care of everything. Including my scale.

I am fearfully and wonderfully made. He has made me beautiful. He has made my heart to sing. He has brought me from the wilderness. He. Him. Not the numbers. Not my weight loss. Him.

And that stinking scale - for sure - didn't do any of this.

And that makes me laugh out loud. That was a good one God. You got me on that one!

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.

Off to See the Wizard

I have no clue why that movie came to mind. Well, maybe it's because I just saw my Dr. for my 6 weeks post-op follow up visit. Say that six times fast.

Everything went well - weight loss, blood work, blood pressure and so on. He seemed very happy with everything. Now that I am at 6 weeks post-op, my diet changed once again. I am so happy....

Dr. F said (read with a thick Argentinian accent) "Now you can eat anything you want. Except 3 things."

When I told my husband this part he starts quoting Monty Python's Holy Grail...
Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out.

Which made me laugh right out loud...

So, back to the three things I cannot eat...no sugar, no fried foods and I kid you not, no leftovers.

Go figure.

And I want to know, just do I get away with that? And who doesn't love chili or spaghetti more on the second day?

So, I am happy my food choice horizon has just opened up by like a million miles.

The other thing that made me think of the Wizard of Oz was following the yellow brick road. Or, one step at a time towards health.

Truly, if I stopped losing weight this very day and stayed here, I would not be happy number wise, but the surgery will have been a big success.

Just a few milestones:
You know I no longer take any blood pressure or blood sugar meds. But did you know?

I now walk about 3 miles a day without stopping. I started out with a half mile, stopping every once in a while. And have worked up to 3.
I can now sit (fit) in the chairs at Minute Maid Park and watch the Astros. (Ali, I saw you once asked what Minute Maid was and it's the stadium where the Houston Astros baseball team plays)
I can tie my shoes without becoming short of breath.
I can dress, shower, get out of the car, cook, talk without becoming short of breath.
I can get in the car without having to move the seat back and the steering wheel up.
I no longer have to go into the handicapped bathroom stall. TMI? Sorry. Major accomplishment.
I no longer know what size I wear. I was in a 26/28 and I only know that even a 22 is way too large.
I've reached my second small goal of weighing 250. Next goal, having lost 100 pounds.

These all may seem insignificant or small to you, but they are each one more step in the path of my transmigration.

1 Month Post-Op

Last night when the family took our walk to the park I told my daughter I wanted her to take pictures of me for my blog. She asked why and I told her tomorrow (today) is my 1 month anniversary of my surgery. Really, my husband asked. Really.



He thinks it's been much longer than that. It does feel like it at times.


So, here are my 1 month pictures (once again I apologize for the quality. These were taken by a camera phone. At 6 am. By a daughter who had emails to read.):

Still wearing black, but I did mix in some white.

Just a side shot so you can see the belly is starting to go...

Sorry, this was my momma face.

That's better...NOT.

Just so you know...I reached my 50 pound goal. As of today, March 10th I've lost...

53 pounds!!!

That is all. Thank you.

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....

First Post-Op Dr. Visit

Wednesday was the first time I saw my surgeon since the day he told me I was going home. I was a bit nervous, excited and rather anxious - yes the day he told me I was going home...but I mean this day - to see how I was doing in their eyes.

Of course my scales and their scales differ. I normally weigh in the morning in a nightgown and they weighed me in the afternoon in jeans. So their scales said I was a little heavier than my scale at home. BUT there is only about a 5 pound difference and I am just fine with that.

Incisions look to be healing just fine. Both the largest incision (about 2 inches) and just to the right of it tend to hurt especially towards the end of the day. He said most of the operation is performed via this incision and there are quite a few stitches in the area that burn. Give it time he said.

The only bad part of the visit was that I walked in with about 5 questions in mind to ask but I walked out with none of them answered. Not because they aren't forthcoming with answers, but because I stinking forgot to ask. Even wrote the questions down. If I only had a brain.

Most of the questions came from having read so many blogs and articles, both before and after surgery, regarding Gastric Bypass and all things related. I've read and learned so much and feel more and more that my Dr.'s office isn't as informative as others. Unless you ask. However, with some of the subjects exactly how would you know to ask.

And while those blogs/articles/websites give me many answers, they also filled my mind with what does my doctor want/expect/require in regards to _____?

That said, I still think my Dr. is awesome. He is a skilled surgeon with many successes, zero mortalities and is highly esteemed in the surgical field. Not to mention he is friendly, he does not speak to you in a condescending manner, he jokes, he tells it like it is. So, while I could stand a little more information being shared, I wouldn't trade him in simply because I am the type of person who, no matter how much my doctor or his nurses tell me, I am going to do my own research on the matter.

Why am I writing this? Because if you are considering this surgery (or any kind for that matter) you have to know 1. exactly what you are getting into & 2. what you are looking for in a doctor & 3. what you are willing to do without in a doctor - because you know you will not get a perfect Doctor - like the perfect human, they don't exist.

I am almost to my 1 month post surgery date. I will post updated pictures then.

I'm also VERY close to my first 'small goal' of 50 pounds. WOO HOO!!!! I won't post pictures then....but I may post something.

Lastly I want to say, thank you everyone for your encouragement, love and support!