I know it's not required, you don't have to post back, "You don't have to explain yourself." I know that people will misunderstand me, or things I post, at any point. This is part of blogging. It happens, boo-hoo. It's also what happens more often than not with me, because I display a different view on many subjects about the post weight loss surgery life.
"How could you//OMGWHATDOYOUMEANYOUDON'TDOTHAT/what do you mean eat a half-sandwich?"
I'm used to being different. I know that if changed my opinions to that of the bariatric majority I would be more mainstream and likely more "successful." (Whatever that means, because you keep asking me to Do Just That, "just change your opinions and be more positive.")
This is the reason why I am dumping the cupcake (pun absolutely intended) as part the Bariatric Bad Girls' logo. I am in full understanding that we, as a group, cannot be taken seriously by a good part of the bariatric community if people are taking it LITERALLY. (As in, totally literally, as if I were FORCE FEEDING THE WOMENS A CUPCAKE ON THE INTERNET.) Wait, WHAT?
But, Beth, "take seriously, YOU?"
Yes, in part.
You're never going to be able to take me one hundred percent seriously. The day THAT happens, please shoot me.
Why? Because, I keep finding myself in a position to defend "the cupcake."
This has been an issue for as long as I have been blogging. I'm the "bad example girl," because I don't subscribe to any hard-core dieting ideas as a post op weight loss surgery patient.
Some even went as far as to label me a "Dorito Eater." (Or, any number of less than stellar food product choices there.)
"Today, there are all kinds of people on the other side of the frozen lake rooting you on, having a party with confetti and some even have Oreos. Come on – walk faster! Don’t worry! The ice is THICK! Don’t be scared! Have an Oreo, we are having an Oreo. You deserve to eat that Oreo if you want one! We are eating an Oreo and look at us! Don’t listen to those people trying to scare you! You didn’t have surgery to be on a diet for the rest of your life! Go ahead, have half a sandwich, its whole wheat bread! Would you like a Diet Mountain Dew?" -Blog Post
The ironic bit is that I do not eat "Doritos." (Or damn near any of the things suggested. Come stay with me for a week. It's a lot of "fun" to watch my actual dietary intake.)
Yes, I am aware that the post I quoted may have nothing to do with "me" or the Bariatric Bad Girls, however, I see how it could be immediately connected, since I was previously the "Dorito - Donut - Eater."
Example from Facebook -
"There are hundreds of newbies and pre-op'rs that see the messages sent (as you stated above) and they can be so confusing and with all due respect, destructive as well. Without seeing your clarification I would have continued to misunderstand your purpose with the BBGC..again, thanks for the clarity. -Poster on Facebook"
Me - "Restriction, denial and avoidance create monsters. Eating disorders are RAMPANT in our community, and how do they start?"
I would never freak out and tell you that you CANNOT have something/anything you desire. I have always been an advocate of the three bites of anything idea. If you feel you need something SO BAD, try to wait it out, and then, if you forget about it? Super. If you don't? Have it. Three bites. Own it. The argument against this is that "You wouldn't give an alcoholic a drink would you?" (This is another post, because, obviously our community is drinking, hardcore.)
I undertstand that fully, however, not everyone is a full-on food addict, not everyone is a binge-eater. Some of us gained weight by eating big meals for every meal, most of the time. Some of us weren't obese for many, many years either. I was morbidly obese from 1997 - 2004. And, much of these behaviors are halted with weight loss surgery, sometimes it's enough to stop us from being stupid about our bodies, ALL OF THE TIME.
"why do some run up to the line and jump over it, while others dont get near the line. Maybe the folks who cant wait to test the waters with an Oreo are the addicts!"Blog Post Comments
(Chew on that.)
But, we do not have to be PERFECT. We must do our BEST. That first year or two living as a post op, we do our DAMNED best.
"Normal" people, without gastric surgeries are far, far from perfect.
In other words: How About A CUPCAKE? How about simply the IDEA of a cupcake? The food porn? The idea of a cupcake mascot? Cute - sweet - lovable - but sometimes you just want to BITE her?
A sugary-sweet mass of carbohydrate confection that has no nutritional purpose in any DIETER'S DIET.
But, do I need to be the one to tell you NO?
Do I need to slap your hand away from the cupcake?
Do you need your mommy?
I am not your mother. I am not your doctor. I am not your nutritionist. I am not your any-body. Again, if you are finding your mommy on the internet, she had better be a professional mommy.
The "cupcake" was intended as a symbol, of choices, of being an adult who can MAKE THEIR OWN ADULT DECISIONS ABOUT NUTRITON AND LIFE, pretty much in general. Here is the current mission statement of the Bariatric Bad Girls Club.
"The Bariatric Bad Girls Club is a social network where members find support and tools for advocacy. Real women (and a few brave men) share the good, the bad, and the ugly of everyday life after weight loss surgery, including matters from which others shy away.
The BBGC emphasizes education and self-advocacy for bariatric patients. Its members fervently believe in correcting the misinformation surrounding life after weight loss surgery, but they just as adamantly believe in maintaining a humor-filled atmosphere and not taking themselves too seriously.
The BBGC was created for the misfits of one-size-fits-all bariatric mentalities.
Now, it is a forum for honest information and the occasional cupcake. There must always be cupcakes. -BBGC"
I thought it was quite clear.
Having weight loss surgery does not make a person a child again, does it?
Again, do you need your mommy?
It has become obvious that there are many people out there who do not want choices. Some people want a rule-book, guidelines, and overall bariatric baby-ing. Some want a mommy.
"Tell me what to do, so I can be just like you, Mommy."
Rules and guidelines are a great thing, however the BBGC was initiated on the premise that ADULT WOMEN (and the assorted man brave enough to rock a pink bracelet)can make BIG GIRL CHOICES sometimes, and do not require hand-holding and coddling.
Big girls, whom, don't really NEED to be force-fed ideas about anything, because, they use COMMON SENSE first. Just because you have weight loss surgery does not mean you do not have your common sense.
The argument against this idea (the idea that we can get by as individuals, with well, "a little help from our friends...") is that women who "allowed themselves" to get morbidly obese "need" someone or something holding them accountable, or they won't perform. Or, if the fat girl doesn't subscribe to a certain Way Of Thinking, she cannot possibly succeed.
"Misery loves company. IF others are doing it, it cant be that bad! or Can it? Isn’t this how we got to be Morbidly Obese to start with? By ignoring the reality of our actions? Yep." -Blog Post
No. You DO realize that even FAT PEOPLE CAN BE SUCCESSFUL IN MOST ANY AREA OF LIFE, but simply NOT HAVE CONTROL OVER THEIR BODIES? Please.
Plenty of weight loss surgery post ops have had amazing success without any specific book, gads of peers, perfect products, or the newest fad: Life Coaching. If you told me eight years ago, that my personal success depended upon eating a fad diet, following rules that change with trends or buying into life coaching, or going to Overeaters Anonymous meetings ... there's no way I would have agreed willingly to this journey.
All I knew at the time is that weight loss surgery would probably make me lose the weight. Problem, solved. I understood that there were ramifications of having anatomy altering surgery; I knew I was likely to develop nutritional deficiences or have a lesser risk of having a post-operative complication. The surgeon did a swell job of educating me in those areas. But, he never told me, "You're going to need to buy a book and follow the plan, hire a trainer, get a coach, or any number of rules beyond these basic common sense guidelines."
You need to write your own book, find your own path.
This post-op journey, is entirely individual and your success depends on what you do.
No life coach, fad diet or online self-proclaimed guru can do it for you.
While some of those things might make you feel strong enough to push on and do better, the success is because of what YOU DO.
A "cupcake," (or any other food, person or influence) just as well, isn't going to make you do WORSE, because, your failure?
Good news? I have pain, for a legitimate reason! Positive! Real, honest-to-dog pain! I'm positive! Happy! Look! I'm positive that I have pain! Happy, shiny, MM! Smiles, happy, sunshine! Unicorns, rainbows!
"I love my WLS. I love my surgeon. "Nothing feels as good as thin feels." I've lost weight! Oh my goodness I feel so fabulous."
*That's part one of my positivity campaign. Do you feel it? That. hurts. me. to. write.
Pain. Enough to hunch me over and make me squeal like a little girl in my attempt to come up the stairs, get in or out of the bed, or move, at all.
I am not surprised. I knew, going in to this procedure that we were ruling out the possible causes of gut pain, ie. hernia. I am glad I do not have an internal hernia. This is good! Positive! But, it would have been nice to have one -- fix it -- and be somewhat cleared of pain.
The frustration is that, now? Once this pain from being stabbed in four locations and filled with gas passes -- if the lower gut pain is still there? What then?
Yesterday was a long ass clusterfuck, HOW-EVER. If you were watching my Facebook, you saw some of it.
I arrived to registration early as asked, and enjoyed the odors of feces, feet and sausage, in that order. I sat in registration/holding from 11:00am - until well past my surgery time of 1:30pm. I was patient until after my surgery time came and went and I was getting stir-crazy as you can imagine being without food, water, medication for THAT LONG can do that. I could cut a bitch for a glass of water.
I sat watching my phone, and downloaded a $9.99 SPRINT TV subscription and watched MSNBC in desperation. Yes, THAT DESPERATE. I paid for MSNBC. We discussed Libya, Lybia vs. Labia.
There were no magazines, no TV, no distractions in this waiting room for pre-surgical patients. And, it smelled like old diapers filled with sausage. I was trying to keep my own self together and sniff my own armpits, which, where fresh with two showers and Degree!
*don'tgetnauseousdon'tgetnauseous* I didn't -- but Mr. MM did.
We sat in holding until, well, I don't remember, it must have been 3pm when I went to pre-op. Up in bed, one very painful failed IV, another, then wait for the surgeon.
The surgeon comes in to discuss what the procedure is, and mentions to the anesthesiologist that "this'll be a quick one."
I asked at least once, if it will take longer, if he finds anything awry. "Yes."
But, "This will be quick."
He also said that he does this kind of surgery often. And, that sometimes, just getting in there and moving stuff around, and jiggling the guts around (not his exact words, but EXACTLY HOW I HEARD IT) is a magical fix for the unknown, undiagnosable pain of a post bypass patient. That was um, helpful? He said later to Mr. MM, that sometimes it's as simple as something "pinching," and by taking a look at the intestines, they might shift it and stop it. One may never know. I did say to the surgeon that I didn't CARE how, just make it stop. If moving shit around did the trick, so be it.
I was asked the requisite four thousand questions, and off to surgery. I was given a small dose of something "relaxing," but I was clearly aware of being shifted to the operating table, and pinned down like Jesus. I also remember "breathing deep." I wasn't really anxious, because I WANTED to get this pain gone.
Waking up in recovery was "fun." I felt like I'd been sat on by an elephant. There's really no other way to explain it, it's just an all over OMG. I had no idea if anything had been done TO me, but it hurt enough that I thought I'd had guts rearranged again. No one told me a damn thing though, so I was just to assume that I had actually been sliced and fixed.
When I was more aware, the nurse asked me to take some pills, which promptly started the pouch pain, and I was in misery. I tried to explain unsuccessfully, that the reaction to the pills is normal for me, and I try not to take pills because,THAT HAPPENS, and I end up rocking and dying for an hour. She asked had I had an endoscopy, and I was trying to explain how that's how this all started one year ago. The pouch pain with NO REASON. I swallow pills = I get pain, my esophagus and "pouch" cramp and stop working, and I rot for an hour, and sometimes it gets bad enough that it feels like a heart attack. It's just it. That, plus the lower gut pain, I have both, concurrently, there's no reason for either. I'm sorry I have no explanation, and I'm sure you think I'm nuts, but GOD DAMN IT, THE FUCKING PERCOCET HURT MY STOMACH. NO MORE PILLS. (I didn't say it, I thought it.)
She gave me an RX for liquid meds for home, after calling the resident to describe my issue. She also told me that I could "sleep" ... clearly I don't sleep. Medication does not work in my body, namely, pills.
The nurse asked if I wanted Mr. MM to come up, so he did, and he explained that the surgeon didn't find anything - hernia, alien, or otherwise. And, he'd also dug up into my RNY up high and that "looked good, too" so, there's nothing he could see that could cause my lower left quadrant pain. The surgeon was gone before I woke up -- and I never heard from him. So, there's that, the "hypochondriac post bypass patient" he just opened up and billed CIGNA for $$,$$$.
It was getting late - change of shift time - and I felt the nurses pushing me to get the heck out of there. I did not feel ready, I was a bit loopy, and in a shit-ton of pain. They moved me to a chair, took AWAY my bed and pulled my IV. It must have been pushing 7pm, and the PACU was empty. I heard nurses quarreling about "My shift's over, you deal with it" regarding another patients' issue, so I knew that it was time to go.
However, it occured to Mr. MM later, that I was never technically discharged. I have all of the carbon copies of the paperwork, and nobody signed it. Oops.
I have four incisions, much like my gastric bypass, and honestly, the pain is similar. I feel like I was hit by a damn truck right now. I know that they did not do anything to my insides aside from play with them, but simply digging in and filling me up with gas, hurt. This should pass fast, though. It's just harsh right now. I don't respond well to pain medication, this is becoming obvious as a full dose of Roxicet is like water, and here I am. I don't want to take anything.
What is next? I wait for the pain of the $$,$$$ surgery to pass, and then, see if the original pain returns.
If so, it's BACK to the obstetrician/gynecologist and asking THEM to look AGAIN, and see if this is the ovarian cyst and fibroids causing drama. (Already went there in this cycle of"find the pain!") If so, TAKE IT OUT. All of it. I don't need my baby-maker. YOU CAN HAVE IT. In fact, take it, it's a gift.
If not, take me out to pasture. In the most positive way possible. ;)