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Sorry I'm not home right now I'm walking into spiderwebs so leave a message and I'll call you back...     ~No Doubt

Good morning!

Today's quote is only appropriate because of the reference to leaving messages. I have come to the determination that I am a complete and TOTAL answering machine spaz. I cannot leave a coherent message to save my life. Either that, or I ramble on...and on...and on...

To give an example, I had to leave a message for someone at work...detailing something that they had to do. Mind you, I have never spoken to this person before but this is pretty much how my message went...  

Hi, Michael...this is [my full name here]. Um...I am calling in reference to the Product Training that you will be conducting. Linda is out this week and I am filling in this responsibility for her. I need that you...I mean...would you be able to email me the PDF file you will be using for your presentation? Or the PowerPoint file...presentation...whatever you will be using. Okay...I said that already. So...if you could, um...call me back and let me know how you will be sending that, I would really appreciate it. Ok? Bye. Oh, wait...my atlas is [insert phone number here]. Okay, so if I did not totally confuse you with this message, just call me for clarification. Thanks.

You know...I think the message was even worse than that...more spastic. My co-worker sitting next to me was chuckling her little head off as I was leaving it. Sometimes I am just so professional I astound myself. Well, at least I can laugh at myself!!

Have a wonderful day, everyone!

Day after day I'm more confused. Yet I look for the light through the pouring rain. You know that's a game that I hate to lose. I'm feelin' the strain, oh ain't it a shame...     ~Dobie Gray

Good morning and Happy Monday!

If you've read my whole profile, you will know that my psychological evaluation way back in November of last year was a nightmare for me. And I also said that the experience was so difficult for me that I had a tremendous newfound respect for people who actually work through their issues in therapy. I do think it is a brave thing. I had also said that I was apparently not so brave.

However, not long after that, I began therapy, myself. Close friends of mine suggested it...thinking it would be a good idea for me...especially because of the resulting emotions/challenges that would ensue after the surgery. Therapy for me, though, took a different course. The surgery and its aftermath were never discussed. Instead, my therapist and I began tackling life-changing events of my past.

At first I fought the process tooth and nail. There would be long stretches of silence on my end...and I felt almost like a rebellious teenager not wanting to divulge any information to the Principal. You see...I am not one to talk about things that are bothering me. Never have been and I fear I never will be. That worries some people close to me but, honestly, it works just fine for me.

Over time, my therapist and I came to an understanding...or so I thought. Once I accepted the process, I became voracious about learning about therapy...how it affects people...do people really benefit from it, etc. So I posted a message on my January board asking others about their experiences with therapy. And the responses that I received (both publicly and in private) made me realize that my therapy experience is lacking. I never, ever leave a session feeling freer...cleansed...relieved of tension. Plus...my therapist is very inconsistent in mood and tone.

So...I am quitting. And I am VERY depressed about this because I feel as though I failed and I truly detest failing at anything. I WANTED to be successful in this endeavor but it looks like that is just not going to happen.

Thank you, though, to all who responded to my question about your experiences with therapy. I sincerely appreciate it. I guess, for me, it was just never meant to be.

Have a great day, everyone!

I have sunk so low - I've messed up better I should know. So don't you come 'round here and tell me, "I told you so"...     ~Sarah McLachlan

Okay, I am an official profile updating failure. I would tell you that I will be better at it...but I just do not have that faith in myself right now. I can tell you I will try, though :)

Yesterday I came back to the January 2006 Surgery message board and I am so glad I did. What an amazing group of people that frequent that board! Just...wow. And Beth (aka Laker Girl) inspired me to start updating my profile once again.

Okay...I have some updated photos but, unfortunately, not a full-body shot. Well, my husband does take a monthly full body shot of me but I am practically in my skivvies and I will spare you all that image. 

Here are some pictures from my recent Sex and the City Bus Tour in NYC (of course) on April 29, 2006.

This is me holding a Cosmopolitan that I did NOT drink at a bar called O'Neill's. It was the location of Steve and Aiden's bar called "Scout" on the show:

                                                    

Here is a photo of me and one of my best friends on "Carrie Bradshaw's" stoop:

                                            

Here is me again sitting at the Pulitzer Fountain in front of the Plaza:

                                              

Okay...I think that is more than enough pictures for now!   If you are a big fan of Sex and the City and happen to visit NYC, I **HIGHLY** recommend the bus tour. I go into NYC about 20+ times per year and yet I learned so much about the city from taking this tour. It was a real blast!

Well...I am off for now. I hope you are all having a wonderful day!

My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet...     ~Bob Dylan

Okay…I officially suck at updating my profile. I really thought I would be better at it. And so much has happened since my last update that I will never catch up. Ah well…moving on.

Since my last update, I went through two stalls. What I realized, however, is that they fall right around my time of the month. I hope I remember this next month when my time comes around. But I probably won’t and will, once again, curse myself, the surgery and anything else that I can think of at that moment. I am just so darn mature when it comes to such things.   Right now I am exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted. There is no reason for it, either. I went to bed at 8:30 PM last night. Hmm…maybe I am still hung over from the two Tylenol PM that I took. That might be it. All I know is that I could very easily put my head down on my desk and pass out. And that the thought of doing so is frighteningly enchanting. So I will continue to type in the hopes that I do not fall asleep…

Okay…since my last update. Hmmm…lost some weight since then. That is pretty significant. I still have not had a specific WOW moment…which is a little bit of a bummer but that is okay. I got my hair cut (is this update shallow or what?) and I hate the cut and would like to scratch the eyes out of the woman who cut it. I said I wanted an INCH off. Is that a complicated thing to do? My hair is all one length so it should be quite easy to lop off an inch. But, noooo, she was chatting to the woman sitting next to me with color in her hair. She kept talking…and cutting. The result…three inches gone. Must...maim...hairdresser. Okay…enough about that…

Okay, this is a long overdue update to my profile. I have lots to tell since my last update which was the day before my surgery.

My Stay at Morristown Memorial Hospital

WARNING: I am going to be very open, honest and graphic about my hospital stay. If you are not comfortable reading graphic details, you might want to skip to the next section.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I awake as a child to see the world begin...     ~John Denver

I was asked to arrive at the hospital (which I will refer to from now on as MMH) at 5:30 on Monday, January 30th. I arrived a little late but that was not a problem. I checked in at the registration desk and then my husband and I were asked to take a seat in the waiting area. About 40 or so minutes later, I was called over to a cubicle to be registered. It was a simple process. I had to answer some questions (verifying my home address information, my contact numbers, my religion, etc.) and I was given a wrist band. My husband was also given a card that designated him as being with me. We were then sent to the waiting room again for another 15 minutes or so. Then I was taken to the surgical holding area and my husband was sent to a different waiting room. They told him they would call for him once I was prepped for surgery.

I was brought to a little curtained off area with a bed. On the bed was a hospital gown, a cap and booties. The assistant who brought me back told me to remove everything and place it all into a bag she had given to me. I told her that it was my time of the month so being totally naked under the gown was just not going to be a good idea! She told me that she would bring me panties and a pad. I changed into the gown (for those of you who have worried about the hospital gown fitting, do not worry…it was enormous…it could have held two of me). I put on my cap and my booties. The assistant came back and handed me what looked like the tiniest pair of panties ever…and a pad. I thought the undies would never fit but they were rather like stocking material and they fit fine. I then sat in bed and waited. A nurse passed by and told me to put all my hair in the cap. This was no easy feat since I have very long hair and it kept falling out. Ah well!

The assistant came back and asked me some more questions…my weight, my height…and other things I cannot recall now. Then she left and I waited more than 20 minutes until the nurse came to see me. During that time, different hospital staff kept coming over to the thermostat that was right by my bed. One person would crank up the heat and then the next person turned it all the way down. I spent that 20 minutes covering myself with blankets and then throwing them off because it got too hot. It was totally ridiculous.

Finally the nurse arrived to start my IV. She was Asian and very pleasant. That is the only good thing I can say about her. She kept talking and talking and talking…about herself, her kids. Maybe she was trying to get my mind off the surgery but I don’t think so. She was just really chatty. She attempted to put the IV in my left arm. Now…I have great veins and have never had ANY problems with people getting needles into me. Well, she put the needle in and was not happy with it. Instead of just pulling it out, she just kept moving it around while it was still inside my arm! She was telling me how she recently had a colonoscopy and how horrible the nurse was who started her IV. She said, “She was a butcher. I do this all the time and I never torture my patients like this.” WHAT?! I NEVER had such a bad experience with someone starting an IV. I wish so much that I had taken a picture of my arm the day I got home. About 3 inches of my arm were black from bruising. One section was even scabbed. On the outside! The nurse finally gave up with that arm and decided to put the IV in my right arm. But first she had to get another needle. I did not see her for another 20 minutes but I did get to meet the anesthesiologist. The nurse finally came back and started the IV successfully in my right arm. Had she done it right the first time, my husband could have come to see me then. Because of her ineptness, they only brought my husband in as they were wheeling me into surgery. I saw him for 30 seconds, kissed him and then was off to the operating room.

You know what is really weird about this whole thing? I was not at all nervous about this surgery. I woke up calm. I was calm in the waiting room and the prep area. And I was calm as I was wheeled into surgery. It was strange but I was really thankful for it.

I was very impressed with the operating room. Everything looked shiny and new. I had to scoot over to the operating table from my bed. It took no effort. As soon as I lay down on the bed, I felt this beautiful heat radiating from it. I asked, “Is this bed heated?” Someone answered, “Yep…nothing but the best. You are on vacation now…just imagine you are in Club Med.” I said, “Sounds good to me!” Then someone said that they were putting me to sleep now. The anesthesiologist said, “Oh…here is Dr. Abkin!” I saw his face and tried to wave but, within that second, I was out.

The next thing I remember was several voices telling me to wake up because I was out of surgery. You know, I always hate being woken up from surgery. I always want to go back to sleep because it is such a beautiful, peaceful sleep! But they are persistent (of course) and I tried my best to wake up. They told me to take deep breaths and I did but I do not remember anything else after that until I was wheeled to my room.

When I got to my room, I was put by the window and saw my husband. I kissed him. I think he told me that Dr. Abkin told him that everything went perfectly. I was very happy but very nauseous. I told the nurse that I was and she gave me some anti-nausea medication in my IV. Then it was bye, bye, baby…off to sleep again!

I slept a lot in the hospital. I think I could have slept 24/7. I woke up and my husband was by my side watching TV. He told me I should get up and walk. I said I would try to go to the bathroom…I did with no problem. I also took a short walk to the nurse’s station. But when I got back I was nauseous again. My husband told the nurse and she injected more anti-nausea medication. Again, I was asleep within minutes. I woke up again and my husband was eating a burger. He said, “Does this bother you?” I said, “Not at all!” and I meant it. I was dying for water but that was about it. I told him it was silly to stay so he left. I noticed for the first time, though, that I now had a roommate. Her name is Kathy and, coincidentally, she sat behind me in my pre-op class. Her IV machine kept beeping during the night (not sure why) and, being that she was an ex-smoker, she coughed a lot at night so I did not sleep too well that night but it was okay.

The next morning I opened my eyes to see Dr. Abkin standing in front of me. He asked me how I was. I said, “Ok.” He said, “You are probably in pain but nothing unexpected, right?” I said, “Right.” Then he said, “Congratulations” and he left. Now, I was a little disappointed in him because he did not come to see me before the surgery to offer words of comfort as he has done with some people and this very short visit only served to increase my displeasure with him. But as soon as he was gone, I fell back to sleep. When I woke up the second time, I called my husband. He said my Mom would come see me in the morning and then he would come later. So my Mom came and it was great to see her but I was so sleepy. I took a couple of short walks while she was there and we both played with my incentive spirometer (a breathing apparatus that helps increase lung capacity and clear the lungs of anesthesia). Once she left my husband came. I was also visited by my sister and my friend. I was brought “breakfast,” “lunch,” and “dinner” but barely ate any of it. The tray consisted of broth, Crystal Light, water, tea and Jell-O. BLECH. After I had one sip of water that second day, I did not even want that, anymore! I did not stress over it because I figured the IV was keeping me hydrated.

By the evening of my second day, I asked the nurse to remove my IV. I hate having an IV in…it bugs my arm. She asked me if I had been urinating frequently. I told her that I did 3-4 times that day so she told me it should be fine to remove. I thought they were going to take it out of my arm. All they did was disconnect it from the bags...the needle remained in my arm Oh! And they disconnected the morphine on the second day, too. I almost forgot about that. I did not really feel like I needed it much during the day, but I clicked it every hour or so, anyhow…to help me sleep. The second night was rough. The soreness was kicking in and I woke up every hour on the hour.

I woke up on Day 3, again, to Dr, Abkin’s voice. He was talking to Kathy. He spent a lot of time with her because she was having a rough time with it. Then he came to me and asked how I was. Again, I told him I was fine. He stayed maybe 3 minutes more but I cannot remember what he said. I had it in my mind that I was going to tell him that I was disappointed with him at my first pre-op visit.

Day 3 is discharge day. MAN do they take forever to get you discharged! My husband arrived at around 9 am and I was so ready to leave. I was dressed and set to go. The nurse came in and said, “Oh…are you ready to leave?” We said, “Uh…yes…we have been ready.” A million years later (it seemed), someone came to take out my drainage tube. I was SHOCKED at how long the tube was! I thought it was a short little thing but noooo. Having it removed did not hurt at all…my skin was just tugged a little. Then a nurse came and removed my IV. It took them another two hours to get someone to wheel me out. Totally crazy. Finally, though, I was free!

So…how would I rate MMH? I would give it a 2-3 out of 10. And here is why (warning, graphic content upcoming):

 - As I told you, I was not happy with the nurse in the prep area. She treated me like a human pin cushion. And because of her screw-up, I was not able to spend any time with my husband before my operation.

 - There were two people in my room; me and Kathy. Now, whenever I had to urinate, a cup was inserted into the toilet to measure how much urine output there was. The same was done with Kathy. However, when Kathy would go to the bathroom, I had to wait until the nurse measured and emptied the cup before I could go and Kathy had to wait after I went. The nurses never came on their own to do this. They always had to be called and it often took them an hour or more to do it. One night I asked two different nurses to empty it. I ended up going back to bed without going to the bathroom.

 - Concerning said toilet measuring cups, keep in mind that it was my time of the month. After I urinated and the nurse finally got around to cleaning the cup, they only ever rinsed it out. They never CLEANED it. They rinsed it and threw it onto the trash container (which had a lid). So whenever Kathy used the toilet, she had a view of my blood-streaked cup on the garbage pail. Lovely, right?

 - Every time I had to use the bathroom, I had to change my pad. So I threw it in the trash bin. In the THREE days that I was in the hospital, the bathroom garbage bin was NEVER EMPTIED. Not once! So it was loaded to the brim with bloody pads and tissues. Supremely disgusting.

 - During my first night, I bled through the pad on my bed. I asked the nurse to get me a new one. She looked at the clock and said, “Uh…can you wait…we don’t have any right now.” Since another nurse came in right after, I realized that the previous nurse’s shift was over…that is why she did not want to get it for me. I did not get a new pad on my bed for over 8 hours, even though I asked numerous times. I was able to fold it in half but, still…GROSS.

 - I am sure the nursing staff was busy, but you had to ask 3-4 times in order to get anything. That is ridiculous. There was ONE exception during my stay. There was a nurse’s assistant (I think) named Johanna (I think); a very pretty Hispanic girl. She was VERY nice, very upbeat and got what you needed immediately. Plus, she inspired us to get up and move. She was just great!

 - It took them over 4 hours to get me out of the hospital on discharge day. Just unacceptable.

My First Week Post-Op (aka 'Hell Week')

And you may tell yourself, 'MY GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?'     ~Talking Heads

The first day home was really a blur. I drifted in and out of consciousness in a Percocet haze. I am not really sure I needed to take the pain medication as often as I did but it helped me sleep and that is all I wanted to do. In the evening I tried to eat some beef broth but I did not really want it so I gave up on it. I do not remember much else about the day. I thought I would end up sleeping on a recliner because I heard so many people say that was the only comfortable option. However, I attempted to sleep on my bed and it was actually fine. I put two pillows behind me and slept all night.

I remember I felt a bit sore the next day (Thursday). I also thought I was hungry but of course it was head hunger. My wonderful Mom (who was staying with me to take care of my son) made me fat free instant pudding. I had about 3 bites before I did not want anymore. I am not a big pudding fan. I tried some Jell-o but I did not want that, either. For lunch I tried to have some cream of mushroom soup made with Skim Plus. GAG. I had about 5 bites of that. I am not sure if I ate anything for dinner. It was not a good eating day and I was not successful in getting in my liquids, either. I kept taking Percocet but quickly realized that Percocet does three things. It initially makes me feel as though all is perfect in the world. Then it makes me VERY chatty and want to talk to everyone and anyone who would listen to me. Finally, I realized that, after my Utopian haze wore off, it seriously intensified my depression and made me want to cry. A lot. So that was the end of Percocet for me. The one good thing about the day is that, even though this was only my second night home, I was able to sleep in bed on my side, which is how I normally sleep.

By Friday I was fairly miserable. I am just not a soup person…never was. I am also not a pudding person or a cottage cheese person (definitely not a cottage cheese person!). I did not know what to eat and, at this point, my head hunger was killing me. I wanted a cookie in a bad, bad way. When I napped, I dreamt about bread and cake and cookies. I took a shower Friday night and, while I was in there, my Mom made herself a BLT. Although my Mom turned on the fan over the oven and lit a candle, there was no mistaking the smell of it. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I wanted it sorely. On Saturday morning, my husband toasted himself a croissant (my all-time favorite food). When I caught a whiff of it toasting, I was practically reduced to tears. I mean…heart-wrenching misery. That is when I began to have a serious case of the WHIDs. All day and all night I wondered…WHAT HAVE I DONE?! Again, my tummy was not at all hungry…but it was like I wanted every single thing I could not have – even the pork chops my Mom made. I detest pork chops!

I have to say that the week and a half after surgery was one of the most difficult of my life. I kept thinking, “If only I could have an egg, I would be fine!” But that was not to happen until I met my surgeon on Thursday, the 9th of February. It was a long, brutal week and a half.

My First Follow-up Visit

Tell me I'm only dreaming and I'll believe you...can't see how this could be true...     ~Kylie Minogue

I woke up on Thursday anxious for my appointment with Dr. Abkin but also very blah, as I had been for the past several days. I wanted my staples out because they were starting to pull on my skin and I also wanted to tell Dr. Abkin that I was not pleased that he did not take the time to visit me in the holding area before my operation. I arrived at the office at 8:45am and signed in. Oh…another thing that bothers me…I do not think we should have to pay a co-pay every time we go to see the surgeon. It should all be included in the price of the surgery. Ah well.

While I was waiting to be called, my roommate, Kathy, walked in. I would have liked to talk to her but as soon as she walked in, my name was called. The guy that takes your weight, blood pressure and pulse is named Nino (I am pretty sure). He is such a cool kid. I say ‘kid’ because he looks as if he is about 17 years old. Every time I have seen him he is always very nice. Anyhow, he told me to step on the scale and I was prepared to be disappointed. I weighed myself early in the week and was not thrilled with what I saw so I stayed off the scale after that. I was able to see my weight on this scale (unlike at Weight Watchers where you step on the scale but only the WW employee can read it). I saw it but it just did not register. When Nino said, “Okay…you lost 19 lbs since your last weigh-in.” I stepped off the scale and, without thinking, said, “Holy sh*t.” Then I quickly apologized for my language. He laughed and told me that it was okay…he has heard worse. He then took my BP which was 116/76…pretty normal for me. After that I was taken to the exam room.

A nurse named Cathy came in to remove my staples. I asked her if it was going to hurt and she said no. When she removed the first one she asked if she was right. She absolutely was. I barely felt them being removed. What I did feel was relief in having them out. Dr. Abkin came in while the staples were being removed. He looked at me and gave me a huge smile. All at once, all the disappointment I had in him melted away. He was probably just too busy to come see me before my surgery.  He told me that I was doing great and asked me if I had any questions. I did. I wanted to see if I could start exercising (I could) and how long I would be out of work (6 weeks…YAY!). He also told me that I could graduate to soft foods. Not surprisingly, all this information improved my mood tenfold. I went home smiling for the first time in several days.

The fear that is within you now, it seems to never end...     ~John Denver

Good evening!

What a day today was. I have certainly run the gamut of emotions today, that is for sure! I started the day out fine...very calm and collected. I had a protein shake for breakfast. Then I had some SF jello. All that was okay but then it was time to take the Fleets Phoso Soda. All I can say about that is oh my word! That is, hands down, the nastiest stuff I have have had the misfortune to taste. I mixed it with white grape juice, thinking that would help but it did not help. By the time I was 3/4 of the way through with it, I was literally dry heaving. I had to take a sip and then sit for a moment, willing myself not to vomit. By the end, I was taking a small sip of the Phoso Soda, then squirting water down my throught with a sports bottle. That made it possible for me to finish. It was just awful!!

I took a bath and a long nap today...just trying to pass some time (while my son was sleeping). The rest of the day was spent with him, my husband and my Mom. I had some beef broth (french onion) for lunch and some ice pops for dinner. Fascinating, huh?

After we gave my son a bath tonight, I rocked and sang him to sleep. This was both the sweetest and most painful part of my day. I love him with a fierceness that sometimes frightens me. I cannot imagine being without him...nor him without me. As I held him, I felt so guilty thinking that I have to take such a drastic step for letting myself get this unhealthy. But I also know that I am unable to fix it without this tool. And so I pray that I have a very uneventful surgery. And I am so looking forward to a healthier life.

Well, off to bed now. My surgery is scheduled for 7:30 am tomorrow so I need to be at the hospital at 5:30 am. Good night everyone. Sweet dreams!

You've been so kind and generous, I don't know how you keep on giving. For your kindness, I'm in debt to you and I never could have come this far without you. For everything you've done, you know I'm bound to thank you for it...    

~Natalie Merchant

             ~*~*~*~*~ APPROVED! ~*~*~*~*~

See...I had it all planned out. My next lyric quote was going to be from The Phantom of the Opera ("You try my patience!") But now I don't need to use that one! I am officially approved. What a relief! I thought that, once I was approved, it would be smooth sailing. Nuh uh. My anxiety has just shifted focus. Now I am nervous about the actual surgery. But I am not complaining! I am rejoicing!

And I want to, once again, thank you all for your kindness and your support. You have made these past two weeks much easier than they could have been! I am forever grateful!

Have a fantastic day! See you on the losing side!!

Sometimes I get so tense, but I can't speed up the time...All we need is just a little patience...     ~Guns N' Roses

Good morning!

See...don't I sound all positive with my 'good morning?' I am trying to stay positive but my patience is reaaaaally wearing thin. Not sure what the hold up is with UHC. The last person I spoke with last night was, um...not too friendly. He said, "Oh, I see you also called at 10:15 this morning." Well, the first thing I said to him was, "Hi...I am checking on my status...I have been calling twice a day, everyday." Guess he missed that. He 'assured' me that they are 'actively' looking at my case. I said to him, "Describe 'actively'." He said that there are three notes on my file stating that my surgeon's office had contacted them. Now...I tried not to sound as impatient as I felt but I had to ask..."How does my surgeon's office calling here translate into UHC 'actively' looking at my case?" He said, "Well, it was escalated to a manager on Friday so there is nothing else that can be done. You just have to wait." It was really his tone that irritated me more than anything else. I am a very non-violent person. But, you know...I wanted to smack him. Ah well.

Some good news is that my Mom is coming to stay with us for a couple weeks. My poor sister is having surgery (non-WLS) and she will be unable to take care of my son so my wonderful, wonderful Mom is coming here to do that for me. I am truly blessed. I guess I should just keep that in mind when I start bit**ing about this surgery.

I hope you all are having a wonderful, wonderful day! If, um...any of you want to say a prayer or two for me, I will gladly take it!