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One of the benefits that I can see (or am I just making excuses?) of the gap since my last post is the ability to put into perspective the events of the past five months. It makes the times I ate a meal only to get sick immediately afterwards just a day among many days. It makes the distress over hair loss just a nuisance to deal with in my morning routine. It makes the frustration of recurring urinary tract infections almost just a memory. I'm writing from a good place today and these events all pale in comparison to where this journey has taken me.

Yes, I am 6 months out (as of January 25). My life has changed in more ways than I dreamed possible. And I've learned that although life changes, it's a manageable, liveable, even desired change in the way that I look at food and how I care for myself. I have to give much of the credit for the progress I have made to the amazing man in my life. My good friend Joe and I began dating right around the time I had surgery. He has been my cheerleader, my source of undying support, my vitamin-taking monitor, and voice of concern and encouragement when things aren't going quite right. On New Year's Eve, he became my fiance and I couldn't ask for a better person with whom to spend the rest of my life.

Over the past six+ months, I have lost more than 75 pounds. I have not been obsessed by the scale -- I barely pay any attention to it -- but I am hopeful that I'l be able to lose another 15 or so yet.

And I've lost enough hair that I started to make predictions -- that I'd be bald by Christmas, by New Year's, by Valentine's Day. (None of which came true.) Seriously, the hair loss was expected, but not welcomed with open arms. I hated seeing it on my pillow, clogging the drain in the shower, gathering in corners in the bathroom. But I haven't gone bald -- and I am thinking that the loss has significant slowed down. I deliberately cut my hair shorter in anticipation of needing to make some styling changes, but I suspect I am the only one who really noticed a change.

I quickly outgrew (or they outgrew me) -- and passed on or donated -- nearly everything in my closet. I started this journey wearing an 18W and 2x tops. Today, I'm wearing mainly size 12 pants and skirts -- and thinking that size 10 is not terribly far off. And an xl/l in tops. Joe and I spent New Year's in California and one rainy evening went to an outlet mall where I shopped like a kid in a candy store at Ann Taylor and J. Crew. Everyone seems to have one of those "wow" moments on the journey; mine was at J. Crew when the cute little store clerk offered advice on pants to me. She looked at me and said, "I generally wear a size 12, but these pants are meant to be worn fitted, so I am wearing a 10. I can't imagine you needing anything more than a 12." I took them, thinking that I'd just tell her I didn't like the style or that they were too long (rather than admit that I couldn't even get one leg into them). I never dreamed that they would fit -- and that I'd look cute wearing them. That was the moment that I almost cried. A stylish, youthful store. And me, wearing cute fitted pants. It is amazingly wonderful to try on "regular" size clothes and have them fit. It is amazingly wonderful to wear a t-shirt -- and a sweater over it -- and not feel that I look like a marshmallow. It is awesome to wear skirts. And be noticed.

To be fair and completely honest, it's not an easy journey. I still struggle with meat. I'm never quite sure if it's going to sit right -- or whether I will get sick. But, getting sick is less frequent. I have tried nearly everything -- even chocolate -- and I have come to know that I really don't like the feeling when I've had too much of anything. So, while I don't totally steer away from anything, I am (slowly) learning to have a realistic sense of what and how much I can have.  (I aspire to have a healthy relationship with food -- not to create rigid rules for myself.) I make mistakes. And pick myself back up.

I'm looking forward to spring and walking outside -- and to taking a belly-dance class that starts at the end of March. I definitely don't have toned arms and am not yet comfortable with the thought of wearing tank tops with nothing to cover them this summer. My tummy is saggy. But having someone in my life who loved me exactly as I WAS -- and who never fails to tell me how gorgeous I am ALWAYS -- goes a long way in helping me build my self confidence. I thought at one time that plastic surgery was a given. Now, I don't feel that strongly. Sure, it would be nice to have breasts that are confident and perky (as opposed to their current small and droopy state) -- and it would be nice to have a tight, flat stomach. But I feel good when I look in the mirror -- despite those little bits of me that show that I'm nearly 51 and have lost a good bit of weight.

What bothers me most is my neck. The sagginess and wrinkles there bother me more than anything. I suppose partly because I can't hide it beneath clothes quite so easily. If I were to change anything, that would be it. But, we'll see.

How I got this far, what I did, what I didn't do: I am now a fairly conscientious vitamin-taker. I tried a couple different ways of tracking and packaging but we've found (thanks Joe) that putting a week's worth in the tiny-est Tupperware containers that I can drop into my purse makes it likely that I'll finish them during the day. I take 2 Flintstone Complete vitamins, 3 Viactiv (caramel is my favorite), Vitamin B12, Vitron C (iron & vitamin C), Vitamin D, and an allergy tablet. What I am NOT taking any longer is: high blood pressure medication, high cholesterol medication, and anti-depressants.

To the last medication, I will be the first to say that there is  no medical evidence to suggest that post WLC patients can expect to stop taking anti-depressants. And that anyone even considering it should do so only under a doctor's supervision. I have been fortunate, although my prescription was filled and I was prepared to start taking them again if this Minnesota winter started to affect me strongly. But, I've been mainly okay and I'm getting more of the sunshine I crave, and so I include the anti-depressants as one of the medications I've been able to walk away from.

I am conscious of eating protein first (although, as I said it's still an "iffy" thing for me), but otherwise let my body tell me what it's craving -- and how much it needs. I realize that as weight loss slows and I am excercising more that I need to have a better method of tracking foods, so that is among my goals. It has been easy for me to go out for lunch and for dinner and find something I can eat. Kids-size meals are great and I am thankful for restaurants that graciously allow others to order off that menu, as well. I sometimes will order soup or some small item off the appetizer menu and then just have a few bites of the protein from Joe's meal. And that's worked well, too. But, I've also taken home countless to-go boxes when my head tells me I really want something -- and my body tells me it's done eating well before the food is gone.

The past six months have been a lesson in self-love as much as a weight loss journey. I like to think I'm succeeding at both.

I had a terrible headache Thursday night and was given some pain meds and an ice pack and between the two woke up o Friday feeling better. I'd moved on to full liquids for breakfast and that went down great. I split one of the larger pills I had to take...but by late morning I was feeling pretty nauseous again. My IVs were removed and I'd completed discharge papers, but stayed as long as I could because I just didn't feel great.

I left shortly after noon and once my Mom got me home, I headed downstairs to the family room and curled up in a chair. And felt progressively worse. My stomach and intestines started to feel as if it was having one giant spasm after another...I was gagging, with nothing to throw up, but body fluids were pouring out the other end of me. I was trying to clean up after myself, feeling horrid, and scared about what it mean.

My Mom called the clinic and spoke to one of the surgeons, who said if my pain was that bad I should come back in and they would have a bed ready for me when I got there.  My Mom was upstairs trying to gather together a few things (poor M-- this was so much more than I would have wanted to put on her shoulders) when one more trip to the bathroom had me feeling so weak and in such pain I knew I couldn't ask her to drive me back to the hospital. I didn't know how I'd even get to the car. I called her downstairs and told her we needed to call for an ambulance. It all felt like such an out-of-body experience...

So. Thursday. My Mom drove back in and spent the day. Talking with me when I was away, reading or checking out the gift shop when I was dozing. The nurses and other staff at FVSD were sooooooo good to me. I had a sweet student nurse that day. AND a headache. Paige offered some aromatherapy options (peppermint and ginger), I used an ice bag on my neck and forehead, and enjoyed ice chips...as well as my first clear liquid meals. For such tiny amounts, they were filling and good.

I got roses during the day from Joe. His asking for information about the hotel and room number had me thinking that he might be planning something...but it was a sweet, sweet surprise when they arrived. Later, when I was just about to take a stroll with my Mom and IV pole, I walked out the door and there he was. I had said early in the day that I needed to KNOW if he was planning to visit, since I wouldn't want him coming when I looked horrid. But, there he was. And it was soooo good to see him. Amazing how instinctive hugs are when it's just the right thing to do.

That visit was definitely a bright spot in that day. Later, I was given some meds to help with the headache...and they did.

The only challenge I had was in taking oral meds (tablet form) for the first time. They just sat and burned in my throat/stomach for hours. I realized that one of them really should have been halved -- it was too big for me to be trying to swallow whole.

I couldn't believe it when I saw that. Didn't I write about my pre-surgery meeting, the last WLS Support Group meeting and my fun dinner afterwards with Selena? Didn't I write anything about, "It's only 2 weeks away when I thought it was 3?" And here I am, a week out from surgery and realizing that I've missed all of this.

My surgery day was flawless. I was at the FVSD Hospital by 5:45, taken to a pre-op room, where my Mom was able to join me. I wasn't nervous...everything moved like clockwork, people came and went quickly and efficiently. And when my surgeon showed up, I asked him the questions my daughter said were very important to ask before any surgeon operated on you: "Did you sleep good last night?" "Did you have a fight with your wife this morning?" "Have you had enough caffeine?"

Dr. Pierce (love him) was ready for surgery early. While I was still in the pre-op room, An IV was administered...and that was the last thing I remember. Not going to the OR, nothing until that fuzzy waking up in recovery. I remember a clock across the from me and trying to figure out what time it was...

I spent the first day in a pain-free fog. There was no way I could keep my eyes open to talk to my Mom or my daughter; so, they just talked between themselves and I floated on pain meds. I walked to the bathroom. People came in regularly to draw blood, take vitals, see if I needed anything. And surgery day was over. No fears, no regrets.

I got a phone call from Anna at my clinic today. After she asked how my day was going and I said fine, I asked her if it was going to get better or worse. She said, "It's going to be much better; your surgery has been approved and we can set your date now."

Everything has been going like clockwork so far that I should have anticipated a little hiccup somewhere. The hiccup came in my perfect timing. In my perfect world, I would have had surgery August 26 or 27. Those dates were immediately after a large program that I coordinate -- and before my convention planning becomes all-consuming. What I didn't know -- and he didn't share when I was discussing dates with my surgeon -- was that he doesn't do surgeries on Thursday or Friday. Just Wednesdays. One day shouldn't make a big difference...but in my world it does. It's the difference between being at the program until the end, to make sure that everything goes off smoothly, and leaving after the first day and trusting that any glitches will be minor and not reflect poorly on me because I'm not there to address them. I KNOW that the staff that we have there can handle any of this...it's just that I feel guilty because it's MY job to be taking care of it.

I don't want anyone to feel that I've dropped the ball, so I am going to try very hard to be exceptionally organized so that anything I hand off to someone else is self-explanatory. I want MY boss to feel that it won't reflect poorly on HIM that I'm not there.

Because...I have to do this. Waiting another week would bring up numerous other conflicts. This surgery is too important to me. So, I will make the best of this little timing glitch in my schedule and move forward -- adjusting my time-off request, scheduling a history physical with my primary, attending a pre-surgery meeting, purchasing anything I'll need for the first couple weeks. The days will fly by now. It's less than a month away!

Everything is done but the waiting. I had my final phone consult with a dietitian from HP on Friday, so all there is to do now is wait for approval. I already called my insurance company once, to make sure they'd received the paperwork from my surgeon -- and they had -- and I feel like I'd be stalking to call again this week. So I'll wait.

In the meantime, I went golfing again today -- walked 9 holes. I had some nice shots. And many more lousy ones. But, I enjoy the game and want to be better. We bought Sam a really nice set of clubs yesterday -- $1,000 when all said and done -- and it was fun to golf with him today. He's a very good golfer. And I'll keep working on it.

The appointments I had with my dietitian and surgeon on Thursday went very well. First of all...I had lost an additional 5 pounds and am at 10.2 lbs lost prior to surgery. I really, really like Dr. Pierce -- his passion for the work he does, the respect he has for the human body and the miraculous way it functions, and his obvious desire to be the best surgeon possible. He very patiently and thoroughly went through all of the questions on my list and answered them all very much to my satisfaction. The dietitian went through the changes that I have already been trying to incorporate and reassured me that the team at the clinic would be there for me not just immediately after surgery, but ALWAYS, whenever I have questions or concerns. I should be on track with my hoped-for end of August surgery date.

And...I think that I have my perfect "before" pictures. On Friday, some friends took me to a dinner/show in downtown Minneapolis. The performer called me on stage to "celebrate" my birthday in front of the entire audience. And, my friend "nicely" videod the entire thing and put it up on YouTube. I watched the first few seconds and thought, "Oh, honey, you're going to be so much happier after you've had surgery and lost this weight." It did not feel good to see myself up there...and knowing that I've recently LOST 10 pounds didn't make it any better.

So, tomorrow afternoon is my final meeting with the dietitian to talk about "life after WLS" and immediately after that I am meeting with my surgeon. I want to believe that I am ready...but am worried that (KNOW that) I'm not exercising enough yet, so even though I've been trying to eat with careful attention to protein first, carbs, then fat...I don't know that the scale will reflect my efforts as well as I'd hope. I would like to have the surgery scheduled at the end of August, so there is still time. But, people-pleaser that I am, I would sure like the surgeon to be able to look at my file and say, "What a great job you're doing!"

I have a small list of questions prepared and plan to work on them more tonight. I'm already feeling a nervous excitement. By this time next month, I hope to be in the final count-down.

I was reading a post in which someone shared her thrill when her mother handed her a pair of size 10 jeans to try on in a store -- and they not only fit, they were loose. It reminded me of one of my happiest shopping experiences ever. I'd just graduated from college and was about to start my first job. To help me with a "career wardrobe" my Mom took me shopping to a small boutique in my home town that had GREAT sales. (I mean, beautiful quality dresses and suits for $10 - $15 dollars, sweaters for less than that.) She sent me to a dressing room and started handing me things to try on. I'd started college in a size 14. Moved up to a 16 for a bit. I knew I'd lost weight, but I thought I was still wearing a size 12. Everything I tried fit and was perfect. Everything I tried was either a size 10 or a size 8. I'd never had that experience of trying on clothes, having everything fit so wonderfully. The fact that we left the store with bags of clothes for under $100 was secondary to the absolute happiness I felt at knowing that I could wear slim-fitting professional clothes and look really, really good.

I want that feeling again. I don't want to hide behind big sweaters anymore.

Well, a month has gone by and in the interest of documenting my journey I thought I'd post a quick update. My lab work has been completed, I met with the psychiatrist and reviewed the results of my MMPI -- and am cleared for surgery on both of those fronts. I'm completing my last two required phone consults with my insurance provider and should have those done by mid-July. Around the same time, I will have a final meeting with the dietitian at the surgeon's clinic and will meet with the surgeon immediately afterwards. They'll submit for approval after that meeting. All of this is moving along swimmingly.

On the "other" front, the personal, emotional side, I think things are going well. Not perfectly, but well. I've pretty much given up diet coke. I quit buying it at my house and it is no longer the first thing I drink in the morning. I know people have said that they never stopped drinking it or started again after surgery, but I know that if I can give this up it will be better for me.

I'm trying to eat better, partly to develop the habits that I will need going forward and partly to lose the required 10 pounds before surgery. I had lost half of it by my last clinic appointment -- but I've had a number of "not so good" days and weekends since then. (I can't help it, there's something comforting about being curled up on a chair and eating a bowl of popcorn for dinner on a quiet weekend night.)

I'm trying to incorporate exercise, calisthenics, and conditioning into my life. I'm doing fair. I walked at lunch today with a colleague and came back hot and sweaty. And with a blister. I don't want to invest in a piece of equipment if I'd never use it, but the thought of watching 30 minutes of TV while I bike or use a treadmill seems "reasonable" to me.

So, I am going to continue what I'm doing, try my best, and complete the things I need to so that when the end of August arrives, I am as prepared as I can be. By this time next month, I could be approved...