Wendy B.

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Well I am a year out. Down roughly 100 pounds. My lowest was 180 and I am back up the mythical 10 pounds that everyone seems to re-gain that I was SURE I wasn't going to gain......but here I am. 190ish is okay. Still a size 16 and I am working on letting that be okay. Sure I could work out more, I could go back to REALLY low carb, like maybe 20 grams per day, and I would probably go back down to 180ish, but I would still be a size 16 and after all is said and done, I believe that it is a quality of life issue. Things may change (like perhaps my attitiude) but it hasn't done so yet.

So, for 20 years, my husand has repeatedly told me that my weight doesn't matter, he doesn't care, he is just concerned about my health. I was CONVINCED he was lying....how could he be honestly attracted to a 300-pound woman?

Know what? He was telling me the truth.
Swear to God. 
He spent a month or 2 feeling kinda disoriented because my body had changed so much. Now he's used to it and says it's "good". But that's it. He is just as delighted with me as he was 100 pounds ago. It's comforting and sweet. I mean, I know that....
1) He's not that good of a liar afterall, and
2) If I ever developed some horrible disability or disfigurement, (God forbid)  he would really be okay with it.

But it woulda been more fun to have him be really excited...like showing me off to his friends, or bringing me home bikinis or something. I guess you can't have it both ways.

I am having trouble walking through doors. You know, the kind of doors in office buildings and stores that have those panic bars on them that you just sort of lean on and the door opens....at least I used to sort of lean on them without much thought and the door would open. Well now I sort of casually lean on the door and nothing happens. Stopped dead in my tracks, I stand there and take a beat waiting to figure out what's happening and trying to recover from the shock. Really gotta get my feet under me and PUSH the door open, but I expect them to open as easily as they used to and it still suprises me every time. I guess I have discovered the only real-world function of excess body fat. 100 Pounds of momentum behind you makes opening those big heavy glass numbers pretty easy.

A couple of months ago, when the weight was really dropping dramatically EVERYTHING was suddenly too big. Bras, Jewelry, panties, clothes, the distance between me and the sterring wheel in my car was crazy. Just everything got too big, almost over night. So I was trying to get used to it, and trying to not do stupid stuff like sucking it in going through the turnstyles, you know adjusting. I wasn't paying a lot of attention I guess and still trying to adust to the new dimensions of the world and I took a full, upright stride into a parking lot tram at Disneyland. Mind you, I am a Disney dork that has been in the park every week for probably 10 years. I should be able to navigate a parking lot tram in my sleep. But I was trying to start expecting that everything would be too big now and I didn't duck my head appropriately. Slammed my head into the roof of the thing so hard I almost knocked myself out.

You mean I didn't get shorter??

I can't really say if the job situation is any better. I mean, I am not recognizing any dramatic absence of discrimintation now. Who knows what job opportunities I was denied because of my weight? Who knows what new things I am being allowed to do now that I am normal? It is a very nice thing to meet someone face to face for the first time. For example, at a job interview after talking to them on the phone first. It is really nice not having that akward first few minutes while they adjust to how big I am. You know, that initial "Oh, wow.." moment?

I am selling Cookie Lee Jewelry just as a boredom buster and a distraction from a job I hate (but that is another blog entry isn't it?). It is still Orange County California and the jewelry ladies are almost as perky and pretty as the sales girls at Macy's or the Mary Kay ladies.....perfect perfect. I fit in with them okay. At least I am normal size and not what a good friend calls "circus fat" anymore. Another example of the lack of akward moment thing. 

There have been a few times when I ran into aquaintances on the street, said hello and got ignored. I really got my feelings hurt once or twice until it dawned on me all at once that they DONT RECOGNIZE ME. Sheesh. Now I sort of use it to my advantage. When I run into people on the street, I only have to deal with the ones I want to. When I don't feel like making nice with, say the president of the PTA from my kids grammer school, well I just don't have to. Don't make extended direct eye contat and shazam!! I am invisible. That's worth the price of the surgery alone.

No health problems at all. None. My blood pressure was like 90 over 70 the other day when I saw my regular primary doc.. I had to ask "Isn't that dead?" Nope. Totally normal. My surgeon hasn't had one abnormal blood test result since the anesthesia wore off. Not one. No low blood sugar, no anemia, no vomiting. None of it. Of course, I have followed all of the directions exactly. Oh, and I was anemic at my 1 year check cuz I ran myself out of iron and I can't remember to take the damn things. But it stays normal when I follow directions.

I am still waiting on the major emotional upheavel that everyone promised me would happen. I swear people, even some post-op WLS people practically BEGGED me to get therapy to "deal with" everything that would "come up" when I "can't eat anymore". One of the deciding factors for me to have surgery was that I knew that I never would be able to figure out what serious emotional problems I was covering up with food. I knew that I hadn't been able to figure it out yet as hard as I was trying to,  I figured I never would figure it out as long as I could keep eating. Guess what?? It's not a giant emotional deal. I eat when I am bored. I am totally into the whole reward thing, like you promise a little kid..."We'll get donuts if you are good" and I am very good most of the time : ) ! It isn't some festering emotional disturbance, though. 

I think the most suprising thing about the whole process has been that the surgery cured the "eating disorder" that erveryone assumed that I had, but I never thought I had. But I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I still need to move the bowl of chips away from me. I still WANT the cookie or the chocolate, but I can distract myself or put it out of sight and it's okay. The obsession was gone when the anesthesia wore off and hasn't returned. That sit-on may-hands-and-cry until I finally cave in to the internal DEMAND to eat that thing whatever it is....that is gone. I used to choose the "healthy" thing on the menu and then feel so deprived and pouty. Like if I didn't order the vanilla shake that I really wanted I would CRAVE and obsess over it for days and the only cure for it was to go get a shake, or 2, or one every day for a year. Now I don't want it most times, when I do want it I get one, and toss it out when I am done with it, which usually happens before I have finished a small one, and I am over it. Or I want it but I have eaten too much junk already today and I just skip it. Not a big deal.

Oh, and the depression and anxiety never came back the way it was either. I swear, at some point in my life time, they will figure out what causes obesity. Either they will find the gene or the stomach chemical that leaves our 'hungry" switch stuck in the on position. And the way they treat the obese now, the way they tell us that we are emotionally disturbed or whatever, will sound like the stories of when the REAL mentally ill people were treated like they were posessed by demons. 

If I am such an emotional cripple and that is what made me obese, how did surgery cure it?? I mean it was cured when the anesthesia wore off, before I had lost a pound. There is something to this...genetics, hormones, something. Why do some people only get to be 100 pounds overweight and others 1000?? There at the end, I would eat anything and everything and my weight would stay pretty stable at 280-290. How come others weight 1000+? My surgeon will only say that "We are just beginning to understand how the stomach talks to the brain" but I guess there haven't been enough studies for him to assert an opinion officially. 
In any case, if you decide to have surgery or not, try not to be so hard on yourself. 

Okay, so I suck at keeping my profile up to date. I will get some pictures up and update again. I have a big trip to do some missionary work in Uganda at the end of June and I will post a blog entry and some pics of that for sure!!

Four months out today.  I am down 78 pounds and in a size 16. Totally unbelievably unreal!! I have put off updating my profile because I haven't had time to take pictures and get them uploaded to post here.  I will get some up by the end of the week, I swear.

We just got back from vacation about 10 days ago.  I never needed a seat-belt extender before surgery, so no difference there. But I am MUCH less claustrophobic on planes now that I fit better.  This was the first time I was able to fly without narcotics. Ever. We flew from home to Cape Cod to see a cousin get married. Then flew from Boston to Memphis, Tennesee.  We saw Graceland, which is something everyone should see.  But, being a California native, I was suprised to see that Graceland was a lot smaller than I imagined.  In California, the houses are consdered "large" only if you can land a plane in the livingroom.

We toured the Sun Studios in Memphis. Actually stood in the room where Jerry Lee Lewis recorded " Whole Lotta Shakin Going On" and Elvis recorded "That's Alright". U2's "Rattle and Hum" was recorded in the same studio. There is still a hole in the linoleum where they used to put the stand-up base.  Amazing, once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

I couldn't eat any barbque, of course. Damned sauce is almost pure sugar. Like 35 grams per tablespoon. This is food that Memphis is famous for, kind of like going to Louisana and being allergic to shell fish.  I did get some fried catfish one night, and all the restaurants had steaks.

We drove from Memphis, North through Arkansas and into Missouri.  Got to see Laura Ingalls Wilder's house. The real place where all of the books were written. In the museum there, they have Pa's fiddle and Laura's sewing machine.  Brought home pictures of the actual people.  I tried to explain it to my husband, but I don't think he got it really.  If you are a girl, they won't let you out of the 4th grade if you haven't read all of the Little House books.  Its a law or something, I think.

We spent about 5 days in Springfield, Missouri. The purpose of the trip was to scout around and find a neightborhood to move to and set up a hobby farm/homestead next year.  We just fell in love with Springfield. Lots of Amish folks in Mansfield and in Seymour, south of Springfield. There is a very active HOG (Harley Owners Group) chapter, and some great quilt shops. So the countdown has begun.  11 months left and we will be out standing in our field.

I measured out 2 scoops of protein powder for each day that we were gone into a zip-loc bag and threw in the scoop.  I took my hand blender, a cup that was big enough to blend protein in, and a one-cup measuring cup.  I took a handfull of protein bars with me, just in case but didn't eat any of them. I made sure I had a bottle of water every night so that I would have something to mix the protein in every morning.  I had another giant zip-lock bag full of vitamins and a sandwich baggie in my purse.  Every morning, I would count out the right vitties for each day into the sandwich baggie in my purse so that whenever I remembered to take them, I would have them with me. And if I forgot what I had taken already, whatever was left in the bag was what I still needed to get down that day.  All of the airports and convienence stores had those little Crystal Light to-go packets.  If I was to travel again, I would take my own with me. We found a nature trail through the forest in Springfield. A beautiful place to get some excercise!  We didn't know how to act when they didn't charge us $10 to park and $27.50 for a day use pass like they do in California.   I bought a  trashy looking Harley Shirt from the Graceland Harley Davidson store in an extra large.  I was all excited about wearing this tiny t-shirt, until we drove into ultra-conservative Springfield and I felt the need to explain to everyone on the street that I am really not this slutty, I am just drawn that way.

I probably ate too many calories and/or too many carbs on some days. But, there wasn't too much that I felt left out of or deprived of, and overall I think I did pretty good.  I even ate about half of a bisquit and gravy and the Heart Break hotel, because how can you pass that up for breakfast in the South? It Totally made me sick. Fajitas are a good thing to order in a restaurant, it is essentially a big plate of meat with a couple of bites of things for variety in texture.  You can get chef salads from just about anywhere, including airports. Eat the egg, cheese and meat, have a tomato slice or a cucumber and leave the lettuce. All restaurants have soup, most of it is pretty good. We had some GREAT, memorable meals and I came home about 3 pounds lighter than when I left.

I am starting to have some intensely jiggly loose skin.  It gets really scary and then tightens up a LITTLE over the course of about a week, then I loose more and I get jiggly again. The only thing that shows to the general public is my upper arms.  It is pretty gross, but just another stage in the process, I guess. I haven't lost any cup sizes. That is, to say that the band size of my bra is about 8 inches smaller, but no actual boobage has been sacrificed.  This is a pleasnt surprise because I really expected to loose all of it. My hair has started to fall out.  I am sure this would be alarming, if I allowed myself to think about it much.  I don't look like I am going bald, and everyone I have ever asked about this phenomenon has said that it all grows back. 

I am surprised how quickly it all begins to feel normal.  I mean I have adjusted to being smaller really quickly.  I still pet my collar bones and my hip bones compulsively. I look at my tiny clothes and just KNOW every morning that they will not fit.  I mean I hold them up to put them on and prepare myself for the disappointment that I know is coming when they don't fit.....and they always fit. But the face I see in the mirror today looks familiar and looks like me.  It's the faces on my Disneyland pass and my Drivers' License that look weird. I am still surprised when people react and comment on the weight loss. Thier reaction is so dramatic, but I still feel like me. Like I forget how different I look and I am startled that people are shocked at how different I look.

It has only been 4 months and.....

I am only 3 pounds from an "overwieght" BMI
I am only 8 pounds from wonderland
I am only 22 pounds from being a member of the century club, which is my   doctor's goal for me.
I am only 38 pounds from normal weight for my height (which will either happen or it won't. I am surrendering to the process and I am not living to get down to 160. Hell, I don't even know if I WANT to weigh 160.)

Some of the changes are startling.  Disorienting.  Disquieting.  But no big discomfort and no big shockers. It is all totally worth it and I would go through the whole surgery process every year if that was what it took to get these results. I totally feel like I am getting away with something by only needing to do what I have done so far, yet seeing such good results. God hlep me to always be grateful for this.

Eight weeks out. A few days shy of the official 2-month mark. A few weeks shy of my 39^th birthday.

Before surgery, I had lost 50 pounds, down to 238. I kept it off for the most part for a few years, but I gained it all back over time. That was one of the last straws that pushed me over the edge to get surgery. As of last week I have lost the weight back down to 238, which was my first goal.

Before surgery, I signed up for the Revlon 5K that raises money to fight womens’ cancers. When I signed up, they wanted to know what size T-shirt I wanted….I guessed at a 2X. This past Saturday, I went to pre-register for the walk and pick up my T-shirt. They looked at my paperwork and said "Oh no….a 2X is WAY too big for you! You need a XL!!".

My plan has been to get smaller clothes at thrift stores. When the small ones get too small, I planned to donate them back and then buy smaller sizes from the thrift store. A sound plan because I am shrinking a size about every 2 weeks. So 2 weeks ago, I went to a thrift store…..and actually found a few things that fit!!! (Generally, people GAIN weight and donate small-ish sizes, they don’t LOOSE weight and donate their larger sizes. So larger sizes are few and far between….)

I am not THAT much smaller, however, because I only found a FEW things second hand. Didn’t have enough clothes to get through the week, and couldn’t find enough second hand to fill in the blanks. I took a trip to Wal Mart last weekend. I came home with jeans in a size 20, and t-shirts in 16/18. Shirts from the NOT plus size department. Totally a thrill.

I knew I was right around a size 20, but wanted to try an 18. Found a REALLY cute, REALLY short skirt and a blouse that buttons up the front, very trendy, very "in", more clothes from NOT the plus size department. The 18s fit (sort of) and I stood there posing in the mirror, looking thin…..looking normal sized. Being excited and panicked all at the same time. I didn’t buy the outfit, cuz they REALLY didn’t fit when I sat down, and I decided I probably would want to breathe at some point. Anyway, the panic was a surprise. Why is that scary? To be thin? That was the point of this exercise, wasn’t it? What will it be like, to be say a size 14?? How will people respond to me? Will I get hit on?? Am I enough of a grown-up to deal with that?? At this point, I am thinking that it is a matter of gradually getting used to it…..learning to recognize myself in the mirror.

I have moved my watch band one hole tighter. My glasses are loose on my head, they used to dig into my temples and hurt by the end of the day. My Med Alert is loose, almost too big.  I am going to wait a littler longer before I send it back to Lauren's Hope for my one, free resize, though. I want to get my hair cut into the same style as Rory on Gilmore girls (this season), it's the same cut as Jessica Simpson's old cut. I am also going to get new glasses and my teeth whitened.  I can't decide when to do all of that.  When I get below 200 sounds like a good goal, but I am going back east for a family wedding in June and I am tempted to do it early. I will post pics as soon as I have it all done, whenever it ends up happening....

NO ONE has asked me if I am loosing weight, or told me I look good/better/anything. People at work are just indifferent, I think. Much too self-obsessed. My mother is struggling with some jealousy I think. My success is translating into her failure, maybe? She is honestly being supportive in spite of whatever is causing the akwardness, which I appreciate. Maybe she sees it as her failure as a mother that I needed surgery to get to normal weight?? In any case, she seems uncomfortable when she first sees me, and we don’t talk about it. She did sign us up for the (hideously expensive) Donald Trump wealth seminar next weekend. We are going to go together and I am really looking forward to that. She may just be adjusting gradually, too.

Ok, ladies. Men are very concrete. If you ask your man to "be supportive" or to be "there for me", they won’t have a clue what you are asking for. If you tell them to take out the trash, hold your hand, or keep your car clean, THAT they get. Concrete. My husband was just beside himself before surgery and right after it. He nagged at me a few times about what I could and could not eat, and I almost took his head off. He was frantic to help me, but didn’t have a clue how to do it. We have been together since I was 16 and he was 21. He loves me, but at this point I am furniture in his life……I am just always there, you know? I have lost weight in the past, substantial amounts of weight, and he would just say "I see you every day, so I really don’t notice the difference". My feeling this time was "If I lose 135 pounds in less than a year, you had better @#$%^&* NOTICE!" So, I told him gently that the only thing I wanted from him was to NOTICE. This was a good thing to ask for. He is really paying attention and making comments…."I can wrap my arms all the way around you…..and put my hands together" "The bike handles much better, feels lighter with you on the back now" "Your skin is clearing up, really looks great" and this morning, "You know, your tits stick out more now". That last one has gotta be my favorite. Guys are so much fun!!

I had my labs done and saw the doc a few weeks ago. Everything is really perfect, except my iron is low, low, low. The symptoms of iron defeciency anemia are: Feeling cold all of the time, low energy/feeling sleepy, heavy periods (from hell), difficulty sleeping, and a VERY RARE thing called "pica", which makes people feel compelled to eat things that aren’t food…..dirt, laundry detergent, chalk, etc. Lots of women are mildy anemic because of menstruation. A very few women get pica sometimes when they are pregnant, because of the increased iron demand of hatching a baby. I only mention pica because with all of the related food issues, if one of us was unable to stop eating the laundry soap post-op, it might be really scary and impossible to talk to the WL surgeon about that little symptom. It isn’t further evidence of your inability to control your "eating disorder"…. get your iron levels monitored!!

When I saw the doc, he said that my ideal weight was 149!!! Excuse me???!! Doesn’t that seem awfully thin for 5’10" tall???? Then he says, he doesn’t expect me to reach ideal weight…..he expects me to achieve average results, which statistically is to lose 70% of my excess weight. On the day of my surgery, I was 135 pounds overweight. 70% of 135 pounds is 95 pounds. A 95-pound weight loss would put my weight at 190. That would be disappointing. I mean this is a lot to go through to end up 30 or 40 pounds overweight. But, if I could maintain that weight, live comfortably and not have to diet or struggle with it any more, I guess I will accept 190 pounds. The doc says that it is very possible for me to do better than average. We agreed that 100 pounds is a nice number. We will set that as a long-term goal and see how it goes. That does kind of take the pressure off. I mean, I am following directions exactly, and working out on most days. But I don’t understand what will change back after the magic "honeymoon" period that everyone talks about. I don’t understand what I should be learning now so that I won’t gain the weight back after this "honeymoon" ends.

Easter went VERY well. I GRACIOUSLY offered to have everyone over to my house for Easter dinner (because that’s the only way I could control the menu and ingredients!) A few people expressed some relief that they didn’t have to figure out how to feed me, "We just don’t know what you can eat"…I have explained it to everybody, I guess they just don't get it.

The menu:
Ham
New Potatoes in cheese sauce
Asparagus Vinaigrette
Spinach salad with strawberries
Corn Bread Muffins
Low Carb, Sugar Free Cheesecake

I bought a spiral sliced, honey glazed ham, but made sure the sugar content was low enough. This one was 3 grams per serving.

New potatoes (the yellow ones, NOT russet potatoes. Would probably work with red potatoes, too)

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup of milk
¼ cup Parmesan cheese
½ cup mozzarella cheese
½ cup cheddar cheese
½ tsp. Seasoned salt, pepper and nutmeg (to taste)

Cut the potatoes into bite-sized pieces and boil until tender, keep warm. Melt butter in a saucepan, add flour and stir, whisk in milk until smooth, add seasonings. Continue heat over medium-high heat stirring constantly until bubbly. Add cheeses and stir until melted. Pour sauce over potatoes and stir to coat. Top with more salt and pepper, Parmesan and breadcrumbs. 

Steam 1 pound of Asparagus (did mine in the microwave)

In a jar with a tight fitting lid:

2 tbl of extra virgin olive oil
2 tbl of lemon juice
2 tsp. of poupon style mustard
Pepper

Shake to blend, then pour over Asparagus (the actual recipe said to "toss to coat", how the hell do you toss asparagus??).

Salad: Wash and drain fresh spinach, tear into small pieces. Slice fresh strawberries, add to spinach. Toss with Raspberry Vinaigrette dressing (or blend extra virgin olive oil and raspberry vinegar). Add sliced almonds (would be really good with some Feta cheese crumbles, too)

Low Carb, Sugar Free Cheesecake. This was really good, but didn’t really taste like cheesecake.

12 ounces of sliced almonds
2 graham crackers
2 tablespoons of margarine, melted
2 – 8 ounce packages of cream cheese (low fat kind works)
2 2/3 cups nonfat milk
2 – 4 serving packages of sugar free, instant vanilla pudding

Process sliced almonds in a food processor until it resembles fine crumbs. Add 2 whole graham crackers. Add 2 heaping tablespoons of melted margarine. Press into a springform pan (or a pie pan) and refrigerate until firm (about an hour). (I had to tell people that it wasn’t a graham cracker crust and they didn’t believe me at first)

In the (cleaned) food processor, or using a mixer, blend cream cheese until creamy. Add milk, mix until blended. Add pudding and mix on high until it begins to thicken. Press this mixture into pie pan on top of the almond, graham cracker mixture. You could put slices of fresh fruit on top, or sugar free cool whip. Refrigerate for at least an hour until firm.

The food was all excellent, if I do say so myself. At least it was all a big hit.

The Easter Bunny brought the (teen aged kids) small stuffed animals, small goofy toys (bunnies on skateboards, a squirrel that blows bubbles, bunny "guns" that shoot plastic discs, super balls). One small Sees chocolate Easter Bunny for each kid (a family tradition) The 3 plastic eggs in each basket were filled with: one Cadbury egg, one "fun size" candy bar, a hand full of jelly beans. Enough candy to be satisfying, but not enough to fill the house with candy for DAYS like years past. Truth be told, most of the GOBS of Easter candy used to get saved until 4^th of July before it finally got thrown out. One is in the middle of track and field season at school, and is in training. And the other one is getting old enough to begin to be conscious of her weight and her size, she has expressed that she doesn’t want to be a "fat girl". I suppose watching their mother go through all the recent changes helps draw attention to their weight and what they are eating, too. NOBODY needed tons of candy for Easter, and I am pleased to say that nobody got it.

I am 31 days out today.

I have lost 32 ½ pounds, as of this morning. And not one person at work has mentioned that I look different, or that I have lost weight. Even after all the time I spent worrying and being convinced that everyone will know that I had WLS because the difference in the way I look was going to be so dramatic!! Those Pikers!!

I still can’t handle milk….still makes me sick.

I can eat just about anything else that I want. I don’t eat white carbs for the most part, a bite or 2 is okay and rare. I keep myself well below 10 grams of sugar per serving. I have vomited 2 times. Didn’t really empty out everything I ate, just had a little of the "foamies"….I don’t really know what this is from, I think maybe the food gets stuck going IN to my pouch because the saliva is what mostly comes back up. I am trying very hard to take pea-sized bites, and wait a bit between bites. (I discovered that the few times I ate in my car while driving, taking bites only at red lights, it didn’t hurt so much and less got "stuck"…so this is the pace at which I try to eat) But then again, I took a few sips of the broth from a homemade beef stew the other night and got that painful, stuck, ate it too fast feeling…..sheesh what the hell is that?? People on the boards just seem to know, with great authority, what is causing their problems…I expected to have these great revelations "Oh, if I eat too fast then this or that happens". Nothing seems to be consistent, I haven’t figured out very much of the cause and effect of everything and maybe I won’t ever figure it out.

I have forgotten my vitamins twice at home….so there were 2 days that I missed some doses. After a few weeks, I discovered that my water bottles are "1 pint, 9/10 ounces" NOT "1 Pint, 9 ounces" (I missed the decimal point. Duh) So I haven’t been getting in the 64 ounces of water that I need…but I get close and I keep working on it. I am averaging 750 calories a day (at least 200 of those come from protein powder), and 65 grams of protein per day (I actually did the math on my food journal, this is a real average). I am anxious that I am eating too much, and that I am not getting enough protein. 60 grams is my doctor’s minimum. I try to reassure myself that I am not that far out and everyone says it is a struggle to get it all in early on, and the weight keeps coming off, so I am doing something right. For the future, that magical time when the evil voice in my head is convinced "you’re just going to gain all this weight back again, you know", I will continue to weigh in every day and if the scale begins to go up then I will make adjustments as needed.

I exercise for 30 minutes MOST days, and am guilty about the days when I run out of time or energy, but try to reassure myself that the goal is to keep working on it. Missing a day or 2 does not equal quitting, and I won’t allow myself to quit, not ever.

I really expected to be the perfect, most compliant WLS patient. I had done tons of research, read several books, and got a really clear idea of what I was promising to do for the rest of my life. I did make those promises and was going to be one of those perfect people who "never cheated, never vomited" and I was going to be proud of it. It turns out that my best effort is the most I am capable of. And, even more of a shocker….that is good enough.

It is just so surprising to me that I am not dieting, I am not forcing myself to eat nasty food that I don’t like, I am not living on salads and low fat cheese…..but I am loosing weight……rapidly. After making 100,000 promises to myself to make the "lifestyle change necessary to achieve permanent weight loss", I was never good enough or determined enough, (whatever that elusive quality of character is…insert any adjective you like here) to actually follow through with it. Now my expectations of my ability to succeed are really low. This surgery thing seems to have been the answer for me. I don’t trust it fully yet, but here we are. 32 pounds lighter, sitting here in a size 22, making plans to go out for dinner with Ed tonight.

I am just surprised down to my toes.

My oldest daughter turned 18 last week. We had a birthday party for 20 kids at her boyfriend’s house. She says that our house is too far away from school, and we don’t have enough space. So, I told her we would rent a hall or whatever that is bigger and closer to where everybody else lives. THEN she says, rent a hall? For 20 kids?? Bottom line, she wanted to have the party at her boyfriend’s house. So, we packed up all of the food and balloons and headed across the neighborhood. It was a great success; the kids all had a great time. And all of her responsible, Stepford friends went home voluntarily by Midnight-thirty. My daughter and most of the people at this party run on the Cross County and Track teams for their school. They are major carb eaters because they run so much (5 to 10 miles a day!). Rachael picked all of the food, and it was all carbs. I thought about adding some meatballs to the crockpot full of spinach ravioli’s, but decided I didn’t want to make such a big deal. They say protein first, but that doesn’t mean EVERYTHING has to be protein, right??

It was a really eye opening experience. My husband wanted to pick up some nice cigars for him and boyfriend’s father, just to thank him for letting us invade his house. So we are standing in the smoke shop….and I have the overwhelming desire to smoke for the first time in MONTHS. Then I just gotta have a diet coke, just gotta. I didn’t smoke, but I did pour myself a diet coke and had 2 sips. It is so gross now!! Swear it tastes like carbonated water (which burns my throat) and brown dye. I miss what it used to taste like, but it is gone forever I guess. I kept staring at it, not believing it looked the same as it always did, but tasted so gross. Then I sat down to eat some dinner, you know, get full so I won’t graze all night. Spinach ravioli, garlic bread, fruit and veggie tray. My brain told me emphatically, we can’t eat veggies and fruit yet…..but somehow, potato chips seemed like they were allowed. I had a small bite of garlic toast that everyone said was so incredibly good….also nasty. Just tasted greasy and had no flavor. Half a cup or so of ravioli were good. The really big lesson here was that after all those carbs….I was still hungry. I am still at the 1 or 2 ounces of food is almost too much stage…and all that food didn’t fill me. I guess I did okay, I ate small handfuls of chips all night, I have no idea how many, probably less than it felt like but definitely more that I should have. So, notes for next time….I could have added meatballs to the damn raviolis, or added another protein dish to the menu, the kids don’t get enough protein anyway with all the carbs they eat. I could have packed my own little sack lunch with some tasty food. I could have taken a protein bar and eaten that. I could have left for 20 minutes to go home and eat something reasonable.

Sunday morning I woke up craving steak and eggs, so we went to breakfast at our favorite greasy spoon. I ordered bacon and eggs, which come with hashbrowns. The bacon went to DH. All of the hashbrowns, except for one bite, went into a take-home box, where they stayed on the table never to fulfill their take-home destiny. DH ordered steak and eggs, and gave me about a 3"x 2" piece of his steak. I ate the steak, about half of the eggs, and 2 bites of white toast. I was soooo stuffed all day that I was having trouble getting water in all day. We went to dinner at Olive Garden with my parents Sunday night for more birthday celebrating (and more carbs). I was still so full on the steak and eggs 6 hours later, that I ordered soup and sipped the broth.

I did have the presence of mind to ask the hostess about a senior menu (which they don’t have) and a children’s menu. The children’s menu consisted of a hot dog, a hamburger (those little patties you can read a newspaper through on a 4 pound bun, no doubt), or fettuccine Alfredo which is all carb, fat cream sauce and no protein. Yuck. Nothing I would have ordered, let alone made a scene about to explain myself to the waiter to try to talk him into allowing me to order off the children’s menu. "Yes I realize I am older than 10, but….." I sipped my soup and it was good. I was offered and accepted a bite of someone else’s salmon, which was excellent, will order that next time! And I had a bite of the raspberry cheesecake, also very good. A bite was enough though because it was so sweet, I had a sip of water to clear my mouth, shame on me.

I am here to testify. White carbs do not fill the tiniest of pouches. Potato chips are the first thing that I have eaten since surgery that didn’t hurt while I was eating them. They fit so nicely and sat so comfortably!! And the evil little things make you want to eat more carbs, and more, and more. Potato chips are from the devil.

Today I have my water, and my vitamins. I have finished a 36-gram protein shake. I am going to the gym (for the first time since surgery….hell, let’s be honest, for the first time since Christmas). I have sliced lunchmeat and cheese for lunch. And I have more protein bars than I could possibly eat, just in case. Lesson learned, I guess.

I am 3 weeks out today!!! 

I had the best, best weekend.  We got out on the Harley for the first time since surgery.  We were speeding off down the road before it occured to me that my abdominal muscles may not like this trip at all.  When the bike stops and starts, you need lots of abs and lower back muscles to hold yourself upright.  (DH, who is driving, gets really irritated when I push him forward onto the gas tank!!!) But ANYWAY.... I was fine and it felt good to be out there again. My custom leather jacket fits again, but it was too warm to wear it on Sunday.  I fit much better on the back of the bike these days, Ed still likes to lean back on me, but I'm not squished all the time now. My knees didn't hurt, and my low back was a little stiff but it didn't ache for days after the ride like it used to. 

The day started with my first restaurant experience.  We went to IHOP, which was the thing we did most weekends pre-op.  I studied the menu, looking for something I could order, but it was all huge meals and I knew my control isn't great yet.  I told the waiter that I wanted one scrambled egg with a little cheese and a small piece of ham.  He served it exactly as I ordered it and charged me a la carte ($16 total, for both of us!!!).  They also have sugar free pancake syrup that they will put on the table if you ask for it.  I stole 2 bites of pancake from  Ed, with permission of course. I was a little disappointed that pancakes don't taste good any more. But VERY self-impressed that I was able to handle breakfast out.  I ordered water to drink, and then didn't touch it.  Waiters get so freaked out when you tell them "nothing to drink", that it is just easier to order water (Thanks, Jo!) I ate what I wanted, and stopped when I was full. The waiter wanted to know what was wrong with the food....lol...because I ate so little of it. I started to tell him I had WLS, but decided it was none of his business and just told him that the food was perfect, I just can't eat very much. After we left, it occured to me I could have looked at the children's menu, or the senior menu.  Maybe I will try that the next time we go out, but again, I don't want to have to explain my behavior to some stranger in a restaurant.....Oh well, stay tuned. 

We went to a gun show at the OC Fair Grounds.  We are leaving California to go farm in Missouri or Tennessee in about a year, and I am finally letting Ed talk me into owning a gun because I will be so far out in the country and by myself a lot of the time after the move. The show was a disappointment, more of a swap meet than a gun show.  Very little new merchandise at all.  I guess it is too much of a hassle to sell guns in California for any of the major manufacturers to be bothered with it.  (Reason number 38 why we are leaving) I did get to spend the day walking around though, which counts as an active thing to be doing.  I also got info from a business that has self defense classes for women, which would be a really fun way to get some more excercise.  I am NOT one of those women who is nervous about getting attacked all the time.  I just think learning to kick some ASS is much more interesting than an aerobics class.

The weather was perfect, I got to spend the whole day with my husband, which is an increasingly rare event.  I am just overwhelmed with how happy I am these days, how much joy I have the capacity to feel now that I am not so depressed and self-obsessed.

I am increasingly anxious about what I am eating, though.  Nothing bothers me, unless I eat it too fast. But I feel full, and I am really eating what I want to. My tastes have changed so I don't like anything really fat or sweet any more.  I had a Burrito Supreme from Taco Bell (with no sour cream) on Friday. I ate a few bites of tortilla, then scooped out the majority of lettuce and ate the remaining contents off of a spoon.  It was soooo good, and satisfying, and gave me a chance to feel normal. I stopped when I was full, only ate about 2/3 of it. I ate a little less than 1/2 a cup of Dreyers Vanilla ice-cream last night with 2 strawberries sliced on top. It only has 11 grams of sugar in half a cup of the full strength, full sugar kind.  My doctor's rule is less than 15 grams per meal, so I am still following the rules, and didn't get sick from it at all. 

So the argument going on in my head on bad days is:  I am eating exactly how I used to.  When I can eat more, my calories will go way up and I will never reach goal, and then gain back what I did manage to loose.  I have failed at everything else I have tried, and I bet I will fail at this, too. And then on the good days, when I am feeling more positive: I am eating very differently, very small portions, lower fat and very low sugar.  I won't eat ice cream every day like I used to, I don't even want to now. It is strawberry season, so I had some and that is it. I am going to live my life.  Normal has always been the goal here.  I ate some of a burrito, once.  I wouldn't dream of eating a burger and fries, like I used to every day. If I am wrong, and I stop loosing or God fobid!! start gaining again, I will make more adjustments.....this is a learning process.

UGH!!! I have no idea which is right or what will happen.  I do know that my 24s that I couldn't get into a week ago, fit now and are getting looser. I am happy and feel like I am eating normal portions, and the obession is going away slowly.  I am eating things that are not on my doctors "allowed" list, but I am following all of his rules.  I am averaging 700 calories a day, and 150 to 300 of those are from protein powder, so I think I am okay.  ACK!! I guess time will tell.

I went back to work on March 19^th. Pre-op I was completely freaked out about only getting 2 weeks off from my doctor….a complete wreck. I really was ready to come back to work in 2 weeks. I mean, I am not overjoyed to be back at work and would have gladly taken off another 2 years, but physically and emotionally, I am capable of showing up and sitting at my desk. I have to be careful to not lift anything over 10 pounds (nothing heavier than my dog, Jackson). And to stand up or get help instead of reaching above my head, like to get things off of a top shelf. But both of these things are getting better.

I get up at 6:00am, put all my hair under a clip and slip into the workout clothes that I have laid out and ready for me. I take a few slow sips of water and I go walk the perimeter of the gated community I live in. I clocked it in my car and it is just under 1 mile. When I get home, I usually finish 8 ounces of water. When that is done, I put my workout clothes back on the chair in my room for the next day (or in the hamper on Friday so they get washed) and get a shower. I make a protein shake (27 grams of protein) and take it with me, as well as my lunch, and a baggie of all of the vitamins I have to take for the day, and my half frozen bottles of Crystal Lite (total of 50 ounces in 3 water bottles). I have been staying in at lunch for the most part just because my energy isn’t 100% quite yet. I did run out to Trader Joe’s (for more protein powder and fresh flowers for my desk) yesterday and my energy level still made it till the end of the day.

When I get home after work, I make a second protein shake (27grams) and drink it while I am making lunches for the next day and cooking dinner. The water bottles get rinsed out (or I get new ones), filled with 2 inches of water and put back in the freezer. I refill my baggie with a new set of vitties for the next day, and review which ones are still left to be taken for the current day.

I am not hungry for the most part. The thing I am having the hardest time with is not nibbling or tasting things while I cook. The worst was cooked chicken the other night. Very small amounts (in my warped estimation) went in my mouth, but when I tried to eat maybe another ounce of it at dinner, it came back up. They lie, by the way. Barfing is just as repugnant after surgery as it was pre op. I am disappointed with this, too because I was determined to be one of the people who was so proud of the fact that they have never vomited. Oh, well. I will have to let the perfectionism go and let good enough be good enough. Yesterday I ate:

27 grams of protein and 1/3 of a small banana blended into 8 ounces of water

A pre-made, pre-packaged Bumble Bee tuna lunch kit thingy. It comes with a 4-ounce can of tuna salad and 6 crackers that are about 1 ½ inches in diameter (8 grams of carb). Comes with a teeny little spoon, which turned out to be a pretty good sized utensil. It was delicious. 220 calories total, 9 grams of protein, and delicious!! One of the girls in the office made an angel food cake and brought it in to the office. She cut slices for everyone and brought them to each desk. I really insisted that I can’t eat it, she insisted harder. So I took it, had a very small, pea-sized bite of it. I left it sit on my desk for maybe 2 hours, and finally tossed it. This would have been IMPOSSIBLE before surgery. It is still sort of an effort, but food doesn’t call my name from across the room any more.

I made pasta and meatballs in Ragu Red sauce (checked the label for sugar content) for the family last night. The meatballs were the frozen kind out of the big bag from Costco. I ate 3 meatballs, 3 noodles, and 3 bites of garlic toast that was made from low cal, low carb, whole wheat bread (a whole piece would have been 4 carbs. How do you do the math on 3 bites??). Which was almost too much. I think I am having trouble with figuring out how much is enough. The last bite or 2 is too much, but I don’t discover this until AFTER I have swallowed them. After dinner I felt as full as if I had eaten 3 cups of that pasta, 4 pieces of toast, and 6 or 8 or 10 meatballs, I swear. "Full" is beginning to feel like it used to.

About an hour after dinner, I ate a SF popsicle. And I took another protein shake to bed with my book and got it down while I read until I had to sleep. For the most part, I am getting in 60-70 grams of protein down, all the vitamins, 64 ounces of water (including the protein shakes), and 500-800 calories. I dug all of my smaller clothes out of the garage and was disappointed that only the size 24 stretch jeans fit, not the non-stretch ones. The 26 non-stretch jeans fit, and the 26 stretch are too big. I do have 2 pairs of size 24 cotton slacks from Lane Bryant that I haven’t worn since last summer. I could get them to button, but couldn’t breathe when I sat down in them. I wore a pair of them yesterday and they fit loose. Making progress, but the patience is really hard. I have no idea how much I have lost. If 17 pounds came off the first week, could I have lost 10 more in the 2 weeks after that??

I was feeling so much better....got in my reall denimn shorts and a cute top....jewlrey and everything!!! My daughter drove me to a fabric store. We were going to sit and flip through the pattern books and maybe get some ideas for prom.  I was paying more attention to my book than my belly.....and I sneeze.  OMG!OMG!OMG!!! Worse pain than childbirth, worse than the recovery room, the WORST ever.  I opened the front of my pants and fully expected to see my skin split open to my spine or something.  Or maybe to see myself on fire.  Seriously, hurt so bad, I couldn't breathe. My uber responsible kid told me to squeeze her hand and asked me "Whaddya wanna do?"  Um...uh...to die? I told her that I didn't know and "we're gonna sit here and think about it a minute". She left me and went to the restaraunt next door and brought back a huge bag of crushed ice.  This helped enough to be able to complete a thought. Wellll.....I could call 911 but where would they take me?? Can I draw a reliable enough picture of the surgery I had? Am I in the mood to explain my behavior (and my anatomy) to an MD?? No and, uh No. I could call Ed, who is happy at home on his only day off all week and  will drive 197 miles an hour, freak me out, start a fight and make me cry harder cuz he's panicking....

"Call your Grandma" 
My mother, God Bless her, dropped everything and rushed to get me.  Uber child drove my car home, took a pizza to Ed.  Mom called Ed, who took the news well and decided to stay at home.  He has apparently reached his limit for drama and hospitals for the month. 

We drove up to the hospital where I had my surgery and I almost crawled into the ER, found the first chair.  Nurse Cheerful called my name, wants to see me to get vitals.  I asked her was she absolutely sure she needed ME. Yep.  So with both hands holding in what felt like my intestines, bent like a serious question mark, taking 100 steps to walk maybe 5 feet, I crumpled myself into a chair. 
"Huh. Let's see about getting you a bed" Didn't even screw around with my temperature.  I am in pain like I wanna DIE, think my BP is a little elevated???
So Nurse Nice starts talking fast and being nice. Gets me in a wheelchair, in a bed, slowly out of my clothes, mumbles something about  IV access.
Melt down #1: "Are %@#$%^&* Kidding me??? I just got OUT of the hospital and rid of the #@$%^&*   IV? See all of these bruises??? No way another IV. DO NOT MISS" She told me she was very good at this and it would be okay.  She missed. Got it on the second try, though, and to be fair, compared to my belly on fire, the IV didn't hurt that much.  By this time, they have Dr.Korman on the phone (bless him, sainted perfect man) who ordered the same drug that is in the pain buttons through my IV. Nurse nice shows me all the syringes she has, pushes the meds slooooowly, and tells me up front which one burns going in. Man that stuff is the most perfect chemical on EARTH. They draw blood.  Ok, cool, whatever.  Now we wait for x-ray. 

This is a really small hospital with maybe 5 ER beds, total. One xray tech, one lab guy on the floor. The other, closest hospital shut down their ER about a month ago, and my little hospital is getting SLAMMED on the first Sunday that the weather has been sunny and above 40 degrees. So we wait for xray.  For hours.  By the time I have asked for more pain meds for the 4th time, the nursing shift has changed. Xray guy shows up, I tell him if he needs me to do anything other than lay there and breathe, I am gonna have to have more pain meds.  He goes off to find Nurse Big Butt with the nasty attitude, who grabs my hand and pushes the pain meds through the IV in the back of my hand HARD. I yell. She stops. And starts to argue with me. "So what do you want me to do?"
"Not hurt me!"
"Well I pushed it really slow.  You asked for the pain meds afterall."
"So, it didn't hurt?"
She walks away.  Bitch. 

I am an xray tech.  Granted, I haven't done hands-on patient care in years, but I am still a tech.  And a pain in the ass. And in incredible pain.  So xray guy wheels me into the department at top speed. Wants me to sit up.  Then just hop on over to the table. Could you roll onto your left side please? Oh and just scoot over a few inches while on your side. I swear to God, they could have dissected my abdomen, it wouldn't have hurt any worse.  I am sobbing, telling him I can't do it.  He stands there, says nothing.  To his credit, he was patient and didn't push me or get cranky....but this guy skipped class on the day they taught how to comfort a patient.  The mark of a good tech is to be creative, set things up so that you can get the shot without making the patient hurt themselves or move the injured part. *SIGH* I am making suggestions to this guy, who doesn't respond. Just waits. Well, I got through it.

We get back to my sainted mother and my ER bay.  I ask the nurse to let my mom go get my Crystal Light out of the car for me, cuz I really should be pushing fluids....."uh er um you are NPO (nothing by mouth) until we get your xrays back." 
Meltdown#2: "OMG OMG OMG. I've ripped a muscle, popped a staple....really hurt myself. More surgery.  What a stupid, vain, self-inflicted mess I have created with this whole thing. Why did I VOLUNTEER to do this to myself??? I have done everything they told me to for the past 6 months and I am NEVER GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS HOSPITAL AGAIN"

Dr. Korman on the phone. For me. (ohshitohshitohshit) He tells me that my blood counts and creatinine are normal (no bleeding inside), the xrays are all normal, staple line all pretty and in a row. He says that the drain site to the left of my belly button, is the biggest cut and the deepest cut into my muscle.  He says they put a really big stitch into that muscle when they are done.  He's pretty sure that I have popped that stitch. Have I ever taken Percocet before? (This s a pretty big-gun narcotic. Bless him, sainted perfect man.) 
Mind you, it is now 10pm on a Sunday night. He has surgery scheduled all day the next morning. He sits on the phone with me and makes idle chit chat for like 20 minutes while my mom frantically calls every pharmacy in LA and Orange counties to find one that is open all night and get him the number so he can call in these magic drugs for me. 20 minutes, personally!!! I start to feel bad for the guy.  He says he wants me to give the pharmacy number to the nurses once I have it.  They will page him and leave him the number.  He says he is sorry I had to go through this, call him if I need anything and he will see me in the office in between surgeries in the morning.

A while later, we find the number for an all night pharmacy and need to find Nurse Big Butt again, who again wants to argue.  Big mistake. Huge. Cuz now I know I am not dying and am perfectly willing to kick her ASS!!! I'm even willing to go to jail, if I can take my Percocet with me....she flips out and "can't understand why I just can't call him myself".
"BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT DR. KORMAN SAID HE WANTED DONE. WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN??"
She finds the time to dial the damn phone. 

Now, all I gotta do is deal with the ER doc, who is nice. But clueless. He wants to know "How are you eating? Is your appetite and diet normal? How about your bowels? Are they normal??" All reasonable questions for an acute abdomen, but I am 6 days post RNY. Normal?? Uh....NO! I started to try to explain it, and then just started to tell him Yes, yep all normal, all good, I am going home now. Then, my favorite part, they give me discharge instructions "Hon, we want you on a liquid diet just for the rest of today, okay?"
ACK! 
The moral of this story:
If your doc gave you any kind of card, or med alert thing that explains the surgery you have had, carry it with you. Show it to the ER doc.  They are well meaning, competent docs that don't have the first clue what you are talking about when you try to explain.  And I am in LA, at a hospital who performs 200 RNY procedures per year.  If you are on vacation in Dishwater, Iowa......Learn to draw that picture of your anatomy and talk fast!!

Oh, and Percocet ROCKS!!!

Wow. Where do I start??? 

The morning of surgery, I was up at 4:00 am to shower with the Hibiclens.  Lots of deep breaths, feeling nervous, but okay. We got to the hospital and they were about 20 minutes late calling me back, even though I was 30 minutes early and the first case in the morning.  I got out of my clothes and into a gown. The nurse was really rushed and visibly panicked because surgery was supposed to start at 7:30, and at 7 none of the prep had been done.  She stuck me twice in the back of my hand to start an IV and missed both times.  I am an easy stick, so I never let anyone stick me more than once. I told her she needed to go get someone else to try, especially since she wasn’t using any cold spray or lidocaine to numb the area.  She told me there was no one else. And that’s when I began to loose it.  That helpless feeling, being hurt and having no control to stop it.  I guess she figured the last thing she needed was for me to stop cooperating so she went and got the lidocaine.  She finally got the IV going on the 3^rd try, just inside and below my left elbow. By then I realized I had forgotten to take off my bra.  I unhooked and slipped it off under the gown, and then had a bra hanging from the IV tubing.  They were in such a rush, they were trying to ignore it and keep moving, but they had to disconnect the tubing and slip my bra off when I wouldn’t stop pointing it out.  

By then, one of the scrub nurses came in and held my hand. She reassured me that they are the same team that does this together every time, 5 times a week, and I was going to be just fine.  She encouraged me to try to calm myself down, which worked.  They let my family in to see me for a few minutes, which helped a lot.  My husband’s presence was really comforting.  He was probably more freaked out than I was, but he was able to hold my hand and be comforting.   

I got wheeled into the OR.  They said it would be cold in there but JEEEEZ! They apparently operate in a large refrigerator.  Swear it was maybe 40 degrees in there. They put a warming blanket on the table, then had me scoot over.  Then covered me with more warm blankets. I got a “safety belt” around my hips, I could not figure out one reason why it was necessary but I decided I didn’t want an explanation.  People started coming into the room, everyone with a mask on.  One tall (very HOT looking) guy had a surgical cap on with this wild African print.  I told him I felt better with someone that had personality on his head. He introduced himself as the assistant surgeon.  He looked me right in the eye, squeezed my hand and told me that he was 5 years post RNY and that I was gonna be fine.  He wished me a happy birthday. The anesthesiologist started fiddling with the pillow under my neck and started oxygen through a mask.  

Like a switch, no sense of time passing at all. My next memory is of someone yelling in the distance “Your surgery is over.  You are okay and in recovery” And I hurt!! Not the worst pain in my life, as I have heard others describe.  Basically the same pain level as the last stages of active labor with a 9 pound baby. I decided I would be better if I could just get on my side.  All the weight of my belly on everything inside hurt.  But it hurt to move. The nurse pressed the pain button into my hand.  I struggled with it, and finally got onto my right side, sort of.  The whole time this nurse just kept injecting pain meds into the IV, one syringe at a time until the pain was tolerable. I didn’t feel any different than I did.  I mean, I expected the surgery to cause this cataclysmic change in my body and my mind, and I didn’t feel any different inside. That voice in my head that has been trying to talk me out of surgery for the past 6 months had one last question for the nurse “Are you sure it’s too late to change my mind?” 

I woke up again in my room with my mom and my husband, Ed. I asked him if I had lost 100 pounds yet, and he told me not quite. I slept for a few hours, on and off. I was overwhelmed with feelings of relief, excitement and gratitude. I had made it through the surgery without a complete melt down. This just might work for me and I just might get to be normal weight. The nurses came in and wanted me to walk.  I am in a hospital gown that is several sizes too big. No bra. My normally large belly is inflated to cartoonish size from the surgical gas.  I have oxygen tubes in my nose, yards of IV tubing connected to an infusion pump, more cable and a pain button. A urinary catheter connected to a bag of urine. A pulse oxymetry thing on my finger connected to yet another machine.  Ace bandages on both legs, covered by Velcro pads that are connected to tubing, tubing connected to another machine that pumps air and squeezes my legs below the knee one at a time at uneven intervals. One more tube coming out of my belly on one end, a plastic bulb about the size of a squished tennis ball on the other end, filling up with reddish drainage. This picture just makes you feel like running some laps, right?? So I have no less than 4 people rearranging tubing and machinery.  They disconnect some things, and bring me a (surprise!!) tall enough and sturdy enough walker.  It hurt like hell to get on my feet. (Also similar to having just had a baby, that stinging, cut, move really slowly pain.) I take a few minuets and get to my feet.  I look at my husband who tells me “Gee, you look thinner already!!” He is such a stud!! 
My first walk lasted maybe 50 feet.  Me and the walker, the nurse following and pushing the IV pump, my mom and hubby following looking worried.  Quite a parade!  
Days in the hospital are all pretty routine.  Sleep. Push the pain button. Walk a lap around the nurses’ station. Use the spirometer (plastic thing you inhale air through as well as you can to make the plastic thing rise up to the right number, makes you breathe deep even though it’s not comfortable to do it). Get some ice chips. Try to be nice to the nurses who come in to change dressing and inject blood thinner into my belly (sounds horrific, but wasn’t) Turn on the TV and realize that The Price is Right is just too complicated to follow. Push the pain button. Sleep.  Every person on the team came to see me every day; Dr. Korman, the Physical Therapist who had suggestions on how to sit and stand without using abdominal muscles, the NUT, Ann the psyche lady, and Bridget the bariatric nurse.  I am not sure whether or not I was capable of an intelligent conversation, but they were patient with me and I enjoyed the company.  

The morning of the second day I got wheeled to radiology.  The nurses and the techs kept insisting that I must have had a lap band because “you look great!!” It’s hard to know how to respond to that, cuz I know I looked pretty scary. So I stood on this big wooden box, with an xray machine in front of me.  All the techs and everyone are hiding behind the lead windows, and they give me about 2 tablespoons of grey liquid in a cup. The radiologist tells me to just chug it all down. Uh….no. Not happening. I got it down in about 3 sips, while I watched my esophagus, then my little pouch, then the top of my intestines slowly turn black as the liquid flowed down in the picture on the fluoroscope TV monitor thing. This was the first time that I REALLY believed that they had done anything for me at all. I just felt like I always have. Except that it occurs to me that I haven’t eaten anything in almost 3 days and I am not hungry, not desperate to have something to chew, not light-headed, not freaking out. The doc said that I had no leaks, but was emptying slowly because of the swelling.  Good answer.  
So now that they are sure that they won’t have to re-operate to close a leak, they take out the urinary catheter and disconnect the IV. I still have the part that is in my arm, but it is capped off so that they can inject whatever they need to into the IV, instead of in a muscle. It felt pretty liberating. The damn catheter makes you feel like you have to pee constantly. I didn’t get relief from that feeling even when I was actually emptying my bladder.  Awesome to be rid of it! And they brought me actual water!!! Little, tiny 8 ounce bottles of Arrowhead water.  I just drank it normally.  Then remembered that I should probably sip the stuff. I still didn’t feel any different inside. Gassy maybe. Small burps made me feel less full. But “full” feels different, too. Weird but SOOO less of a big deal than I imagined it would be. After radiology, Gloria, the worlds’ best CNA (nurses aide) helped me get a hot shower. She scrubbed my back and my feet.  Held the little drain bulb thing while I washed my hair. Wrapped me up in a warm flannel blanket, helped me to dry off and rubbed lotion on my skin. I hope there is a special little place in heaven for Gloria!! 
 I kept walking around the hospital several times a day.  During my walks I would pass the hospital’s tiny cafeteria.  There was a part of me that longed for some food when I saw it. Junk food in the vending machines and everything!! Then I would try to figure out what I would want to eat if I could have any of it. I would quickly realize that nothing sounded like anything I want to eat. I have been trying to get the post ops to explain to me what is different about “hungry” and “full” after surgery.  At this point, it is all such a strange feeling, it defies description.  The best I can do for now is that food is a passing thought. A sandwich sounds like a good idea, but when I think about actually trying to put one in my stomach…..ugh. Kinda the same feeling when I am recovering from the flu, it would be nice to eat but blah I don’t really want to.  
Finally started passing gas slowly on the morning of the 3^rd day.  This topic of conversation is very popular with the nurses. I took another shower, but decided to not bother with my hair (I am Native American and have TONS of curly hair that is a lot of work once it is wet). The nurse took out the drains, and the staples. (Another thing that sounds grizzly, but was no big deal) and they sent me home. 
 The goals are: walk every 2-3 hours. Drink 64 ounces of water every day. Get in 60 grams of protein every day.  I am doing pretty good.  I got about 50 ounces of water in and 40 grams of protein in yesterday. I do get hungry. It is more of a mild feeling that it was pre-op. And I don’t feel full like I used to.  I get sick of the flavor I am drinking. Ya know, just bored with it pretty quickly. I feel more nauseous than full, I guess. Walking feels good.  I can breathe better when I am paying attention and out exerting myself. Waking gives me more energy, makes me feel more in control and more myself. The diarrhea is bad enough today that I called the surgeon’s office. She isn’t concerned and doesn’t want me to ease up on the liquids. Since it is Friday, she suggested some Benefiber and some Smart Water if it doesn’t slow down by tommarrow.  

The liquid Lortab (pain medication) tastes nasty, but it helps. I am able to sleep maybe 6 hours before I have to get up and choke down some more Lortab. I had 3 naps yesterday and I am feeling more energetic today.  

People have described this part of the process as “hard”. Chinese Geometry is hard. This is an adjustment, and a learning experience. The trick is to keep your thoughts positive, get some exercise and get out of the house occaisionaly if you can. It is getting better every day.