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!

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.

The "S" Word

Surgery.


The big day cameth...ith.

I wasn't nervous, scared or second guessing this decision. The day was here and it all seemed so routine or methodical. Surreal is probably more what I was actually feeling. I kind of just went through the motions, no excitement, no chit-chat, rather calm and ready for whatever.

They sign you in. Take you back. WEIGH you AGAIN. Put you in your gown, your socks and lay you on a slice of cardboard big enough for Barbie and maybe, just maybe if Ken sucks it in, him too. Definitely not wide or long enough for you to relax. Go figure.

The pre-op nurse asks you a thousand questions, most of which you have answered already. Questions such as...Any allergies? How do you react to them? When was your last period? Anyone with you today? What's his name? Does he have a cell phone?

She takes your blood pressure, your temperature, and so on. And then she shivs you with a needle as big around as your finger. Don't let that little piece of pink plastic fool you. There is nothing cute or dainty about starting an I.V.

As soon as the I.V. is started they bring back whoever is with you. They tell you this a thousand times. The person who walked me to the pre-op check-in area, the receptionist at pre-op check-in, the nurse who walked me to a room to get dressed for pre-op (pre-pre-op?) and the pre-op nurse all said "Anyone with you? We will bring him back as soon as your I.V. is started."

What they don't realize is, a husband/wife/sister/mom whoever is going to wait for the next few hours with 50 strangers and their misbehaving children and or screaming babies while you go under a knife in the hands of strangers will need their caffeine.

What they also don't figure is, the cafeteria is about 10 miles away from pre-op & surgery center. NO coffee in the waiting room. WHY? Who knows. But someone needs to consider it. Because when they called my husband oh, 50 times, he was walking back from beyond-far-Egypt with his precious thimble of $2 coffee. And he ALMOST missed seeing me before surgery.

Then another person comes and asks you...Any allergies? How do you react to them? When was your last period? Anyone with you today? What's his name? Does he have a cell phone?

Then the doctor comes. I don't know what your doctor will talk to you about, but my conversation went like this:

Dr. F: Are you ready?
Me: Yes, are you?
Dr. F: I am always ready. See you in a few minutes.
Me: Okay.

That was it. We don't dance around our conversation. No small talk for us. Just down to the nitty-gritty and we're off.

Then the anesthesiologist comes to visit. He asks you a couple of questions. Questions that seem VAGUELY familiar. Repeat after me: Any allergies? How do you react to them? When was your last period? Anyone with you today? What's his name? Does he have a cell phone?

Can they NOT read a chart? I am sure it was written down somewhere at some point. See, I think they are trying to trip you up. They want to see if they can catch you in a lie or find a bit of new information you hadn't divulged in the last 6000 times you were asked these very same questions.

But I held firm. I gave them nothing they could use against me. My offish-ee-al membership in the Harriet the Spy Club was worth every one of those 83 boxtops of cereal I ate at the age of 10. Yes it was.

At this point things go a little fuzzy. Having told the anesthesiologist that anesthesia has, in the past, made me deathly ill he came in with a little happy juice for my veins. He injected it into the gaping hole that was my I.V. and I was out. Okay so fuzzy wasn't a good word for what I fest at this point. Blackness. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Lights out. I was a goner.

Woke up in my room. Okay, so here is where it is appropriate to use the word fuzzy. People came to see me. Talk to me. Called me. No memory of it. Any of it. Apparently I am quite the funny girl on pain meds. Who knew?

So that was my surgery day in a nutshell. Or in a post or whatever. I cannot promise yours will go the same. But my hopes are that it would. Uneventful and successful are good outcomes for surgery.

The hospital completely followed through with my original expectation, I had surgery. The Head Nurse/Ring Master would be so incensed to know I answered right.