Role Change

I had an appointment with my therapist this morning. We discussed my progress weight-wise, we discussed my issues with my job and my family and then she touched on something she immediately regretted mentioning at just 5 minutes before the end of our session. But given my reaction (spontaneous tears)... clearly we have our work cut out for us!

Our conversation this morning turned to the fact that people are probably going to treat me differently as I lose weight. I've been thinking about that all day now.

I guess that deep down I know that my interactions with people will change. I think I just really hoped they wouldn't. I've heard the stories about women who suddenly get attention from men once they lose weight. I'm not even talking about that... Although, the whole suddenly not being invisible phenomenon has crossed my mind. I sort of expect that... what I'm talking about is how those near and dear to me are going to react. And how I will handle those reactions.

As I work to lose 150+ lbs (yes, I realize that's pretty much a whole other person) I also need to work at not losing myself.

I certainly hope that I will be taken more seriously at work (whether it's my current job or another one) once I'm thinner. I also hope that social situations will be less awkward for me.

But what about my friends? I hadn't considered that there might be some fallout if I'm no longer "the fat friend"... you know, the one that people keep around to feel better about themselves and deal with their own insecurities? I don't have a fat friend. I am the fat friend. I've come to accept it. I don't love it... but, hey, it keeps me from being a recluse. But what will happen if I can no longer fill that role for people?

And what will happen if, God forbid, I'm not the fat sister anymore? My sister is barely 18 months younger than me. She's been up my ass since she was born. I love her to pieces, but I hated (and still do hate) feeling like I was inferior. It always seemed that she was just that much better than me. But, truth be told, we are both smart, we are both successful in our own rights, we are both decent people... but because she's the pretty one, she's just always had an edge. What will happen if she no longer gets to claim that distinction?

I don't mean to think too far ahead... I mean, I've barely lost 25lbs, so I still have a way to go to even my lowest adult weight... but I'm putting this out here now so you all can remind me when I lament down the road why some people seemed to have stopped talking to me. I hope that you will remind me that the problem isn't actually me.

I can not let myself fail just to make other people feel better. If friends, co-workers or family members have their self-worth tied up in me and my weight, that's not my issue. I can't make it my issue. Just like it's not their issue for me to have my self-worth tied up in what they think of me.

I'm taking this journey for myself. And I'm not going to sabotage myself just to keep peace.

Post-Op Visit

Well, I was supposed to have my first post-op 10-14 days after my surgery. But, my surgeon only has office hours at the satellite location on Mondays. It's kind of a hassle for me to drive into Boston to see him at the main hospital any other day. Since last Monday was a holiday in Massachusetts, I had to wait an extra week. So, I'm 19 days post-op and already on the next food stage. (I didn't mention that I actually started that about 4 days earlier than I was supposed to) I was just so sick of shakes and wanted desperately to chew something!

I'm doing very well though. Not a lick of nausea. No vomiting at all. Minimal soreness only where the port is now. The incisions are healing nicely. I had an issue with numbness in my right thigh. Very weird. I noticed it when I got home from the hospital. The good Dr. R told me that it was likely an uncommon side effect from how I was laying on the operating table. I probably did something to a nerve and it will take a few weeks to heal. It is getting better, and I'm glad it's not something completely off the wall. Seriously, given the fact that I had next to no pain throughout this, I'll take the occasional dead leg for a few weeks.

I have to say I was a little disappointed in my weight, though. Only down 5.5 lbs from my pre-op weight. I had actually been down about 15 as of last week, but then I started on soft foods and gained weight steadily throughout the week. He didn't seem overly concerned, nor did the dietitian so I'm just going to chalk it up to my bizarre metabolism and remind myself that this time is about healing, not losing weight. If I look at it as I've lost 25 lbs since June 7, that makes me feel slightly better.

I got the all clear to resume cardio activities at the gym. Still no weights over 15lb (which means I can safely pick up the cat now). And in 3 weeks I'll go back for my first fill. I guess that's when the fun begins.... when this thing inside me gets "turned on".

I'm hoping the weight thing will at least stabilize after next week when I start eating "real food". And I'm banking on the idea that getting my activity level back up will help as well. I saw the bill that was sent to insurance for this little procedure and all told it cost just north of $40,000. Yikes. As happy as I am to "stick it" to my husband's former company (whose health plan we are still on for the next month) and have this done on their dime... I'd really hate to feel like I wasted that much money... even if it wasn't my money. So I'm going to refocus my energies... make sure I track, measure and follow the rules.

Thanks, everyone, for the words of encouragement! It's so helpful in this process.

One Week

One week ago today I was sitting in admitting waiting to be prepped for surgery. It feels like time has flown by, but also crawled. Weird phenomenon.

I've been doing okay this week. Hardly any pain. Soreness, but not actual pain. I haven't even taken any Tylenol since I got home. One thing, though... when they tell you not to lift anything over 10-15 lbs... yeah, that includes an 11 pound cat. I had to take the Grimace to the vet yesterday. I put him in his travel bag rather than the crate because I knew it would be easier for me to handle. But I must have picked him up wrong because my largest incision started to hurt more yesterday after I got home. Feels okay now, but lesson learned.

My incisions itch like crazy. Words can not even being to describe how badly I want to use my long manicured fingernails to scratch the hell out of my stomach. But I'm resisting.

I'm so beyond sick of the liquids. I haven't chewed anything for almost 10 days. And since I'm housebound for the most part, I've been watching a lot of TV... and have been tortured by commercials for pizza and fried chicken. I'm not even all that hungry. I just want pizza. And fried chicken. And a cheeseburger. (Guess who still has a lot of brain work to do!)

Fortunately the family dinner we were supposed to have last weekend was postponed to this weekend. My mom is going to make me soup for the Saturday night fete. But on Sunday or Monday we are going out to eat for my father's birthday. There will be 7 of us. My parents, my sister and her husband, me and my husband and my cousin. Everyone but my cousin knows what I've done. I've asked my father to pick a place he wants to eat at by today so that I have time to make a plan as to what I will order. I'm moving myself to my doctor's Stage 3 diet a few days early so I can have something other than soup. I've been doing so well. I think that I will be okay. And if it turns out I'm not, I certainly won't push it. I'm pretty sure rushing from the table to throw up will garner a bit more attention than me ordering something completely uncharacteristic for me.

I've been trying to enjoy not working this week. It's hard. I've put in about 3 hours on Mon and Tues. And feel guilty about only doing that much. I'm on vacation! I have 120 hours accrued so far. I can only carry over 80 of those hours and I'm still going to accrue another 48 hours. I think I deserve the downtime. Why can't I give it to myself? (I guess food isn't the only issue I need to work on!)

Well, that's my update for the week. I feel truly lucky that I've been doing so well post-operatively. Fingers crossed that this continues!

Oh, and I'm down over 10 lbs from my pre-op appointment which means I've lost over 30 lbs since my initial consultation.... almost at the 10% mark. Yay me! It's nice to see the scale start with a 2-- instead of a 3--. I haven't seen that in quite some time.

I did it!

The headline is that I'm home and I'm banded. For the gory details... read on.

I went to bed nice and early on Tuesday night. No trouble sleeping so that's good. Woke up to the realization that I had started my period. Really? Nothing for 5 months then the day I'm supposed to have surgery it makes an appearance? Someone's idea of a joke? So that just added a fun dimension to the whole experience.

We got the hospital right on time and I was brought back to the pre-op holding area around 7:45. I was fortunate enough to be in a my own room as opposed to the large room with just curtains separating everyone. My husband was with me and was a trooper through the whole thing. Everyone coming in to ask questions, start the IV and whatnot. They took me into the OR a little before 9:30. As they wheeled me away I started to feel buzzed. I asked if they already gave me something and was told yes. Nice.

I clearly remember scooting myself over to the operating table, getting the pressure boots put on (like a massage on my legs... very nice) and an oxygen mask being pushed onto my face. The next thing I remember was being on the move again and someone telling me it was over. I remember asking if I did okay and was told yes. I then remember crying. I was so cold and shivering so much that it hurt. I don't remember when I opened my eyes again, it was some time later and I was in the recovery room.

Surprisingly I was not in much pain. I expected more pain. It really just felt like I had overdone it at the gym. I was just sore. And my throat hurt from the breathing tube. All I wanted was something to drink... but that wasn't going to happen.

I hung out in recovery for over 4 hours because my room wasn't ready yet. That was annoying. By the time I got up to my room I really just wanted to go to the bathroom and (sorry for the TMI) get out of the pad I'd been wearing since pre-op and switch to a tampon. Because the nurse didn't have a chance to evaluate me yet to see if I could stand up and go the bathroom by myself she was going to get me a bed pan. I said I'd hold it. She didn't want me to hold it. I cried and begged for just a little bit of dignity. This was not a good way for me to start off behaving, but I didn't really care at that point.

She got me up and it was clear I could do this on my own. So I got myself cleaned up and into my own undies thank goodness, then back to bed. Nurse Ashley and I made up after that.

My hubby went home around 6pm. He had to get home to take care of the cat who had his own hospital visit scheduled for Thursday morning. I didn't want him to go but the kitty needed him.

I was doing well. Not much pain still, hardly used the pain meds at all. Tired and sore. And thirsty. So ridiculously thirsty. My sister came to visit me (yeah, my mom told my sister) and I asked her to sneak me in some water so I could at least rinse my mouth. After she left they finally let me take tiny sips of water. Phew. Basically a shot of water every hour. But better than nothing!

I slept okay. Off and on, but mostly because people kept coming in to take vitals or give me shots of heparin.

Thursday morning I went down for a GI to make sure everything was in the right place. Yup... then I could move on to Stage 2... proteins shakes, broth and jello. Yum. No lie they brought me 3 trays over the course of the day. It was a little overwhelming. I did as much as I could and by 5pm they felt I was doing well enough on my intake to be discharged.

I'm not going to lie... the pain is much worse now. I think all the movement from getting home did a number on me. I couldn't handle the stairs to go to bed last night so I slept on the couch. I'm trying to get myself up and moving at least once an hour. I'm just taking Tylenol for the pain. I got the "good stuff" they prescribed me just in case, but I've never enjoyed taking Percocet so I will only take that if in dire straits. That said, the pain isn't unbearable. It just hurts when I switch positions. I don't even think I have much in the way of gas pain. This is me knocking on wood!

Well, there you have it. My adventure. I honestly don't feel any different inside. I feel like a truck ran over my gut, but it feels very superficial. I have 5 tiny incisions and 1 bigger one which I'm assuming is the port. They itch like hell right now. I desperately want to take a shower and scrub them off... but I will resist.

So that's the beginning of my little adventure. Tomorrow I have the pleasure of a family bday party. It's for my cousin and at my mom's house. If anyone asks, I've had a stomach bug for a few days and that's why I'm only eating soup and why I will likely go home early.

Thanks everyone for the well wishes!