I was horribly anemic before my DS.  I know my numbers were always marginally low due to extremely heavy menstrual bleeding for – well – decades!  But they went way south when William was born via emergency c-section – his head was so stuck in my pelvis they had a hard time getting the kid out, and I lost 9 units of blood in the process.  For over 5 years before my DS I was *always* battling anemia.  Tried all sorts of iron supplements, but my doctors didn’t feel like anything horrible was happening because of my anemia.  So I accepted it for what my normal would be.

Had my DS.  Started taking different iron, and lo and behold – my iron numbers finally came up in the normal ranges – and stayed that way for over 5 years!

The past year or so my H & H were kinda wacky, so when I went in for my hip replacement in August my surgeon felt strongly that I needed a 10-day course of Procrit injections to get me ready for my surgery.  He went majorly to bat with my insurance company – finally talking them into covering the injections.  (Which is good, because even with great insurance coverage, our co-pay was still over $500!)  So – had the injections.

The day of my hip replacement surgery I remember waking up in recovery and seeing a bag of blood hung and being given to me.  I asked the nurse about it and she told me that they’d harvested my own blood and were giving it back to me.  (I’d been told beforehand that hip replacement is a very bloody surgery.)

So, I go on with recovery – nicely, I might add.  Did notice some kind of different things going on over the past few months – some insomnia, some itchy skin, some little owies that took AGES to heal, and then this big need to consume sour stuff (was keeping Smartees in business!).  Went in for my labs at the end of December and the next business day I got a call and letter – both – from my PCP notifying me that my ferritin level was 10!  Good grief!  It had been fine in August!

So, it was determined that I needed to see a hematologist and pursue iron infusions.  Saw the hematologist on Monday of this week.  His opinion was that the Procrit injections, combined with the hip replacement is what finally did my ferritin levels in.  They scheduled me for an iron infusion – had it on Thursday, actually.

Had iron dextrose given – which can sometimes cause an allergic response, and being that I’m the queen of the allergic response, they proceeded cautiously.  I was given 50 mg of Benadryl via IV and then given a test dose of the iron.  No reaction – woo hoo!  So, I got cozy in my comfy recliner, and slept through the 4 hour infusion!

I'm pretty amazed at the changes that I've noticed since the infusion:

I've slept through the night both nights - I've not slept through the night in over a year - before the hip replacement it was from hip pain, since then, from anemia!

I haven't had a single sour candy - don't want them, don't care about them.  Amazing!

I'm not as cold.  It was taking four quilts and a heating pad on my side of the bed with me wearing flannel PJ's and 45 minutes to get me warm enough to fall asleep.  I love that I'm warmer!

I feel more satisfied with what I've eaten...  I don't know if that's the right way to say it - but it seems that I'm not as hungry or something.

Just a few things.  So far - only positives from the experience.  I'm so thankful for a proactive PCP, a really educated hematologist, and the wonderful care I received during my infusion!

Blessings,

dina

Okay - not since the last post, but since I had my right hip replacement.  I am AMAZED at my recovery thus far.  I can't believe that it's only been that long!

I went for my *almost* two week post-op appointment last Wednesday, the surgeon took one look at me and said, "You look more like a 4 week post-op, not an almost two week post-op!  Amazing!"  and then he immediately upgraded me to a cane from my walker.  Cool!

So - interestingly enough, while I was still in the hospital, one of the pharmacists at the hospital came to talk vitamins with me (ha!) and try to understand all that I take and why...  We got into a talk about how smoothly my surgery and recovery had gone thus far.  He said the first thing, of course, was having a fabulous surgeon, and the other he felt was diet.  He asked if I'd had any diet changes of late.  I said no, not much - well, except I'd given up High Fructose Corn Syrup May 29th and that I hadn't had any sodas since then.  HIs eyebrows raised and he said, "Interesting!  I was just reading about how folks who abstained from carbonated beverages healed up faster!  I wonder if you'll be my first in real life confirmation of the theorum?!"  VERY interesting, huh?!

So - I'm walker free.  Have the cutest cane - it's white with little blue flowers all over it.  (The little old ladies at the memory care facility where my Mom lives want it!)  Not only am I getting proficient with the cane, but I can actually walk a little bit without it.  AMAZING!  I'm still getting used to the fact that my right leg is now 5 mm longer than the left - a little wild how that feels.  But, it seems to all be easing into place, and I'm feeling more and more "normal."  Hooray!

Interestingly enough, since my hip replacement surgery, I've actually lost some weight.  I've lost about 10 pounds.  I'm not eating less.  I'm not eating much differently from what I would normally eat.  BUT - walking does take a lot more work...  Who knows.  But it's kinda fun! 

Hugs,

dina

I will praise your mighty deeds, O Sovereign LORD. I will tell everyone that you alone are just.
Psalm 71:16 NLT


I had always felt - as a pre-op - that when I hit the 5 years post-op mark that I'd be "real" - or at least a little bit "grown-up" as a post-op.  But honestly, if you think about it, I'm only a kindergartener!  LOL!

So today, July 2, 2007, I am 5 years post-op.  I can't believe it.  On one hand it feels like it was just the other day.  On the other - it seems like aeons ago.

Of course, I was just as sick as they came back then.  I'm still amazed that Dr. Baltasar would take a risk on me.  What an honor to have him as my surgeon - and now five years later - a dear, treasured friend.

I remember saying about a year or so after surgery that I'd never be able to forget how badly I hurt, how difficult it was to live, how hard it was to get through even the simplest tasks - living my life as a super, super morbidly obese woman with a BMI of 64, and pretty much every co-morbidity in the book.

Here I am five years later, and I can say that it - the remembering how hard it was, how bad it hurt, how difficult it was to live - all of it - remembering it - is a little hard.  I can see someone who is struggling to make it under the weight of morbid obesity and my heart just literally aches for them.  But do I remember the acute pain?  Do I remember clearly what it was like?

To be honest, I think it's fading.  I think the crisis of the day to day living is becoming a more faint memory.  And in a way, that sort of makes me sad.  Not that I would want to go back there and relive it.  But it makes me want to be careful to NEVER take this amazing gift I've been given for granted.

And that's what I firmly believe my DS is to this day.  It's a gift.  I feel honored and privileged to have been given this amazing opportunity to be given my life back.  I am still in awe over the generosity of that amazing (still anonymous) faithful follower of God who went to my bank that morning of April 22, 2002 and deposited $15,000 into my surgery account so that I could have a chance.  I'm still moved to tears that God would value me so - even though in my head I know He holds me precious in His sight.

I still wonder - Why me, Lord?  Why did you choose to bless me so incredibly?  How can I ever say thank you enough?  How can I ever give back enough to begin to show my gratitude for you faithfulness and amazing mercy and grace - for me, someone who totally just doesn't deserve it?

But God...

My favorite phrase.  Just when it all should have been over, it wasn't, simply because God chose to step in and willed a miracle to happen.  I guess I could ponder it forever, and I likely will, but I've learned some over the past five years just when I feel overwhelmed by it all, to stop, to be still and know that HE is God, and to simply thank and praise Him.

So five years later.  Had the bounce.  Bounced back to the place I stayed FOREVER before I hit my all time low.  I'm not so stressed about the number on the scale, as I am about the excess skin that I would SO happily say goodbye to!  But in the scope of the real world, it's not that important.  There are far more important things that need to be dealt with in the world.

I still have an incredible quality of life - the likes of which I had no HOPE or ability to fathom I could ever have as a post-op.

My labs are pretty darn good.

My marriage is the most amazing and precious thing ever.

My children are a blessing to my heart.

And God continues to bless me - even in the midst of personal storms and heartaches.  My Mom is dying.  There are other difficulties in my extended family that I can't go into at the moment.  When hard times hit I am amazed anew at the fact that God brought healing to my life when he did - and that I'm able to do so many things I couldn't have ever dreamed of doing now five years ago.

I'm still just awed over the fact that just a little over five years ago I'd never even dreamed of going to Spain - once - and here I am five years later, having made the trip nine times!  LOL!  Who would have thunk I'd be a world traveler some day?  Or that I'd have the incredible privilege to be able to accompany thirteen other patients to Spain as their support person for their surgery?  Or that I'd get to scrub in and observe - pretty up close and personal - four DS surgeries (one open, three lap).

Wow.  I'm so thankful.  I'm so awed.  And I'm so humbled that God would bless me so.

Here's to the next five years!

Hugs,

dina

I cannot believe I've made it 23 whole days without any HFCS *or* Coke!

AMAZING!

So - it's blowing my mind how infrequently I have ANY inclination to grab and down a Coke.  Today was probably the first time I felt like I had to fight an actual urge to drink one.  My cousin and her children were over for lunch - her daughter decided to have a Coke as her beverage.  She popped the can and poured it over ice, and I seriously nearly grabbed the thing!  From a 7 year old!

What's kinda wild is that we bought some Coke before Memorial Day weekend when it was on sale.  It's all pretty much still there.  Good thing we're having a few BBQ's here at the house this summer - we'll have to pawn them off on other folks!  LOL!  Actually - I guess no one ought to be drinking them.    Scary stuff that HFCS.

Several people have asked for more info as to the WHY I'd do such a thing as give up HFCS, so here are a few:

http://www.ajcn.org/cgi/content/full/79/4/537
http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn/A8003-2003Mar10
http://www.westonaprice.org/modernfood/highfructose.html
http://www.westonaprice.org/motherlinda/cornsyrup.html

Well, there's a little to get you started.  I'll bring out some more later.

Blessings,

dina

So what got me to this place of going past my laughing dismissal of my pathetic addiction to Coke, to a deeper level of contemplation as to what was really going on with me – and what I needed to do – in good conscience – in response?

 The scale.

 I “came up” (to borrow a great Southern term) in the group of post-ops who lived in the shadow of some of the early “greats” of the DS online world.  They told us to eat anything and everything – and lots of it.  That there would be complete liberty and license from the day of our surgery forward – with the acknowledged adjustment period of the first months post-op.  We were told nothing could do us harm (i.e., cause us to not lose weight, loose slower, or make us gain weight) – and dang, that was a message we wanted to hear!

 I’m the rebellious type – so I wasn’t willing to take that as gospel, and started doing some digging on my own.  Long before my DS I was leaning more toward optimism on the liberty front than not.  People that I was meeting (online and IRL), studies of anatomy and the resulting DS alteration, clinical data, etc., seemed to support a huge level of liberty with the DS – nothing like what was seen with other forms of WLS.  Cause for rejoicing!  However, guarded rejoicing – I did a lot more digging (and honestly, have never stopped researching – this is the surgery that I’ve chosen to live with for the remainder of my life, after all) and realized that yes, there would be great liberty (better than ANY diet I’d ever taken part in!), but also great responsibility.  Responsibility to eat a balanced diet, responsibility to stay hydrated, responsibility to supplement appropriately.

I had my DS.  I weighed 365 lbs on the day of my surgery, with a BMI of 64.  By the time I was flying home from 2 weeks later I’d already lost more than 20 pounds.  By 1 month out I was down 34 lbs.  Down 65 lbs the 2^nd month, 80 lbs the 3^rd month, 105 lbs by the 6^th month, and 175 lbs by 1 year post-op.  For the longest time – honestly, the better part of a year, I stayed at 183 lbs – right at the 182 pound lost stage.  I was thrilled.  No, I was beyond thrilled – I was ecstatic.

I had made wise choices with my diet in those first 18 months post-op – hadn’t been an actual food saint of course – but I’d worked hard at getting the right kinds of nutrients in my newly altered body, and worked hard at supplementing, and worked hard at continuing to try and understand my surgery.  The one thing I could never give up, though – try as I might – was Coke.  I’ll confess – I was only 1 week post-op and still in when I had my first sips of Coke as a post-op.  Tiny sips, yes, but sips nonetheless.  (Dr. B would so kick my butt!)

Some magic point in time right about the time John had his DS with Dr. B (2 years to the day after my DS) and we were in my body went through another shift.  By the time we got home from I realized my pants were a little too big, and my body was changing again.  By this point in time I rarely weighed any more – it was just really inconvenient to find the scale!  (We lived in a multi-generation home with every square inch appropriated!)  But a couple of mornings after getting back from Spain I found the scale, hopped on, and stared at the number for the longest time.  It read 155.  I seriously stood there and just stared at it for the longest time.  I stepped off, stepped back on again, and thought – “What does that say?”  I actually had to have John come over and see it and tell me that the number I was seeing was real.  It was.  That put me at 210 pounds lost since my surgery.

I didn’t ever start out with a number I thought I ought to end up at with my weight loss after my DS.  Honestly, I thought anything under 200 would be phenomenal.  Not only that, I hoped and prayed I’d get to the place where I could just simply order clothing from a regular clothing catalog.  Or walk into a department store and buy clothes in the “regular” section.  Those were things that couldn’t happen for me at just barely trying to still fit into my 5X sized clothing.

Dr. B told me that normal BMI for my height would put me at about 135 lbs.  I laughed out loud – me! At 135?!  LOL!  I think the last time I weighed 135 was when I was in the 3^rd or 4^th grade!  He pretty emphatically told me that was just what a normal BMI was, that it didn’t have to be the big gauge by which to measure my success.  He went on to assure me that my body would likely stop right where it ought to.

When I hit 155 lbs I honestly felt like I was a little too thin.  I had virtually no boobs left.  My butt was so bony it hurt to sit.  My hip bones were downright dangerous – if I bumped into the corner of a counter – it felt like my hip bones had been seriously jarred.  And I wasn’t just cold – I was frozen all of the time.  I think that was about the point in time I quit weighing.  Life aside from my DS was beyond hectic – it was downright out of control.  I felt healthy, my labs were good, I was active, involved in life, and getting on the scale seemed pointless.

So life went forward.  Every now and then I’d end up at the doctor’s office for a yearly exam, or an appointment with my endocrinologist – be required to get on the scale, and I’d passively take note of the number but it seemed to have nothing to do with my day to day reality.  I realized at about the time I was a little over 3.5 years post-op that my weight at the endo’s office that time was something like 172.  Yeah, a little up from my low – but I expected a bounce – and I actually felt healthier, more rounded at that weight.  Didn’t stress me out at all.  In fact, I felt my clothing felt like it fit more appropriately – I liked that I had at least a *little bit* of boobs back, and my butt didn’t seem quite so bony.

Needless to say – my life has been full of major stressors – won’t go into them, but major nonetheless.  I’ll admit it – when life is at it’s busiest, I often opt out of taking care of me and take care of others.  Not completely out of the question for me to grab a Coke for breakfast, thinking I’ll grab something to eat later – but it never happens.  In terms of orthopedics, my issues have been exacerbated over the past year, as well.  Not only that, but I’ve got a new hernia along the top line of my abdominal mesh.  Exercise routines have been started – but not followed through with consistently.  Every single day I think, “It would be so nice to go take a nice walk.” But it never happens.  I hate that.

At some point in time this winter – probably after we moved my Mom into the assisted living place and I had some semblance of a life returning – I realized, “I’ve gained some weight!”  I didn’t break down and really weigh at that point, either – I just kind of mentally made note of it – and was a little perturbed about it.  More time passed, and it must have been about January before I actually got on the scale and looked at the number staring me back in the face.  195.  I don’t like 195.  It’s a BAD number.

So I started doing some self-reflection.  I had to confront the fact that taking care of others had almost completely edged out taking care of me.  Granted, there wasn't much of a choice involved - but somewhere along the line balance went completely out the window.  I started realizing that while I started out each day with every intention of doing the right post-op things (sufficient non-sweetened fluids, enough protein, enough fiber, enough exercise) I was only very rarely getting them done.

I knew something had to change.

So, I decided some time in January that I'd give up Coke.  Noble of me, I knew it was bad for me on so many fronts - blocks calcium absorption, is nutritionally worthless with simply NO redeeming qualities whatsoever, and horrible for my teeth.  I started with great intentions...  it just didn't happen, though.

More later...