Elena Ramon
Oh man, where do I begin?
I guess it's always best to start as far back as one can remember right?
I'll try not to bore you too much!
Well, I can't say for sure when my weight started increasing to massive proportions, but I know that when I was around 9 I was a healthy weight. I have the Disney World pictures to prove it. Honestly, I don't remember ever being a healthy weight, but a picture's a picture so I can't argue there.
For sure by the time I was 10 I must've been pretty hefty size because I remember having a conversation (although mostly one-sided) with someone in my family about how I should really lose weight.
"You know, if you don't lose the weight before you hit 13, and especially before your period because you'll never be able to lose it otherwise." (~some obscure member of my family I can't remember)
Well, I got my period before I hit 11 and I never lost it. Shame. Shame. Shame. I was, obviously, stuck with my big body but then I got the wonderful news! I was smart and that counted for something.
Seriously?
See here's where I can't help but get upset and emotional because before I turned 13 I have all of these memories of taunting, emotional abuse, bullying, mental scarring---from my family. I would like to point out that I don't believe that they ever did the damage intentionally. I honestly believe they didn't know any better, as ignorant as you have to be to think so, I truly do think the love me deep down, and I love them. But that didn't stop their comments from destroying my self-esteem.
By then I hated eating in front of anyone, but my eating was too out of control and I couldn't help but do so and hate myself while I ate. My aunt thought I was funny looking, being so fat, and she would feed me 2-3 times the portions of anyone else; she was a baby sitter most of the time. She'd give me 4 cup noodles at one time; I'd eat it, but then have to sit there and take the mocking afterwards.
I started cutting myself, first my fingertips without breaking through the blood, but it eventually grew and by my 8th grade graduation I had injuries along both of my wrists and forearms, my legs, my stomach. I'd write terrible things to myself, on me and on paper.
There's a lot more, but I try not to think about it too much. Alas, it's a big part of my past and something I'm still trying to overcome.
Luckily, I was able to use my musical talents and academic proficiency to win a scholarship to a 4-year boarding school in VT. That was High School. I was 13 when I left home and I was able to experience freedom and people who never expressed judgement on me. Who knows if they did, they must've. It was high school. But no one ever showed it, if anything they were so welcoming that it helped me center myself and really think about what I was doing to myself.
I stopped cutting, but the process was so gradual that I can't pinpoint a specific date. For sure but the time I was in my Sophomore year I occasionally hurt myself, but by the end I don't have recollections of it anymore. And I definitely have kept myself from self-mutilation since; two slips in the past 6 years. Once for the death of my grandmother, the only person who never taunted me, who never spoke ill of me, and who only ever brought up my weight through the eyes of a concerned mother. The other time was a year after her death when the whole month was just very stressful; my last year of college, the feelings of loss that still haunt me, my approaching adulthood, pressure to take the next big step (though I didn't know what it was).
I still get the urge, and I don't think I'll ever stop having those moments, but at least I can control whether I do it or not. I still see the scars even though no one else doesn't seem to have any recollection of this. (denial)
I digress...
Let's go back a bit, not to any moment in specific, but to a general view of my weight. I started to get to a point where I knew that I needed to change. I worked out with my friends, but my body hurt and had me in tears before I could even get tired. I tried different diets, that obviously failed because diets are terrible to begin with. I did Phentermine, which actually helped me lose weight, and quite a bit, but it was soon back once my body developed a resistance to it and it no longer suppressed my appetite.
Like I said before, I don't want to bore you. I'm sure I'm not the only person with a story, but I would like to end with why I want to have bariatric surgery.
For about five years I went through these random bursts of pain. I always thought it was gas or acid reflux. I even thought it was a hiatal hernia at one point. But, even though it was sever at some points, because it would usually dissipate after a couple hours to a day, I ignored it. FF 5 years --> My 3rd year at college. It began during Spring Break. The same pain, the same place, my same thoughts. Only this time it lasted a couple of days. I thought to myself, "Oh! It must be a stomach flu or something!" So smart...Well, after a week of this flip-flop I'm back at school, ready to finish the semester and be ready for the summer when, OH MY GOD!, the pain is too unbearable for words.
I'm writhing on the floor, clutching my sides, I'm crying and wailing like a banshee! I call my mom because I wanted an ambulance but I wasn't sure if I needed one. (Once again, so smart of me...) And I was sure that it would eventually pass and I could get back to my classes. Mom came, forced me to the hospital, I send my roommate to go turn in my homework and to let the professor know I would probably be back in time, but just in case.
Well, to make the story short...I needed emergency surgery for my gallbladder. That day. I missed school for almost a month and when I went back for my check-up we had the talk.
The WLS talk to be exact. I didn't want to go in to another surgery right away, I had never thought I would get to that point in my weight, and I needed to know more before I gave a direct, "yes."
My surgeon was happy with my response and thought it was an excellent idea for me to reach out and find out more about what I would need to do. I did the research, spoke with a lot of people, started working on myself mentally and emotionally, started changing some eating habits I'd developed, and now I'm ready to have the surgery!
This was a year ago. Now? My surgeon died before we could push forward any paperwork and the insurance I had ended upon my graduation.
So now I need help. I don't know what to do, but I know that I WANT & NEED WLS.
Thank you for having read this, even if you only skimmed I still thank you. Even if you didn't read, I thank you. Why? Because I think what I needed most of all was just someone to support me through the realities of life, not chuckle awkwardly and look away when things were said about me, not pretend like nothing was wrong when I was gorging myself on chips from a trash at 10 years old as if I was a starving child.
Thank you.
About Me
Before & After
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