Now What

Dec 22, 2008

So I have it in my head that we are a go for bariatric surgery. Two doctors and me are voting yeas and we are the tree people in the room. How about we reserve a date and get this thing rolling? Applause all round for all my clever thinking!



Yeah, OK.....well know I now  that thinking was really silly and naive but I had no idea what bariatric surgery really was, or the process that was required to get to finally having the procedure. Neither my Internist nor my Endocrinologist had a whole lot of experience with this stuff either so we were all in for a bit of fun. I met with a surgeon, was assessed by a physiologist, had support group meetings, provided medical "proof "of  failed weight loss attempts and all those co-morbidity's. It went on and on. And on. Then the insurance company approved me. No hassle. No second letter. No appeal. I was lucky. Or really freaking sick, obese and had good insurance at just the right time.

Now the date was set. In my family we have a phrase - Committed to the maneuver. It is used when you are approaching a yellow light just a bit to fast to stop, or moving a man in a game of chess or making any decision that you can't take back. That you are committing yourself to the decision - and all that it entails. I was scared because by this time I had visited these boards and I knew of all the great things that bariatric surgery could bring to my life but I was scared of what could go wrong. I was afraid of that worst case scenario. I was afraid of pain. I was afraid it wouldn't work. I was afraid it would.

 

Instead I focused on the fact that my surgeon had a weight problem - if I was having this procedure then why wasn't he. This procedure was supposedly going to give me such a different and better life but my Dr. wasn't doing this for himself? This was one of my last thoughts as they wheeled me down the hall toward the OR.

When I woke up after the open RNY I decided I knew the answer - DAMN THAT HURT!!

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