ladytking88
My Worse Day Since Surgery...Hands Down
Jun 03, 2009
Between A Rock and a Hard Place I am mad. I am furious. I am so livid with myself that I nearly weighed 400 pounds. That in my short lifetime of 21 years, I was so addicted to food I allowed my weight to distend 227 pounds and required an intense medical procedure to save my life. Day after day I committed the sin of gluttony, while children starved and died of hunger; I lacked the miniscule self control it takes to simply stop placing food into one’s mouth. Everyday I undergo such severe shame and disgust even despite already having done the operation to change the atrocity. This is the cut and dry fact of the matter and I suffer great remorse and sorrow that I can never reverse time or relive my life to change the reality of my past. Everything in me desires to scream, weep, and throw myself into chaotic tantrum; the single inspiration binding me to sanity is the knowledge that after collapsing into this uncontrolled conniption, the weight will still be there, a scarlet letter representing my repeated transgression. Fifty pounds have vanished these past six weeks, but I am still technically super morbidly obese. I am not where I want to be and won’t be there until next year… In interim, children still are scared at first glance and adults continue to laugh and baulk. I don’t know the poetic and sensual way to stimulate your mind, enlighting you of how mentally drained I am, but that is my truth. I am tired. I am not tired of being me, but tired of me in this way, this rendition. Period, plain and simple. Let me be the first to tell you that I am not someone who will ever use being African American as crutch to anything, but there are facts in life that can not be ignored. And before I say what I am about to say, please be informed that I am proud to be African American and feel that my history is rich, one to be both respected and cherished. I am disappointed that my renewed appreciation for my heritage and love of my culture has in turn led some people to believe this also constitutes a hatred for races other than my own. Despite numerous misconceptions, true love never begets hate, but nothing more than untainted love. The actions others have taken as a result of their ignorance of diverse cultural history and unawareness of members’ perspectives of other races, has taken a debilitating toll on my psyche. New Mexico’s environment has the power to destroy black young men and women. This statement is not spoken with the intent to degrade or point a finger of blame, but to stimulate rumination that has never crossed some minds. Before making the choice to disagree with my statement, please take a quick moment to ask yourself a few questions. The first, how many African American doctors, lawyers, or even professors or teachers do you know native of Alamogordo, let alone, New Mexico? Second, how many African American business owners do you know in Alamogordo, and better yet, how many of those own thriving, legitimate establishments with state of the art supplies and equipment? These questions are posed with the rationale to lead, if no more than one, to the awareness that black children in New Mexico, and most places in the world, frequently do not grow up with an abundance of positive role models. There are a diminutive amount of individuals whose character and careers inspire and reinforce the truth that our race as a whole, despite media and institutions born of racist ideology, is competent of earning education and deserving of career pathways leading to wealth and success other than through athleticism and/or illegal or immoral measures. Graduating from a class where you are one of only three females of full African American heritage is harsh and unrelenting on the self esteem of a teenager. Now add being the darkest of those three…. and an anomalous female height of 6’0 and a half of an inch… and now 382 pounds… I can probably name on one hand the number of people my age that have met me and have not later revealed one or all of these facts: when first meeting, they were unnecessarily frightened; they actually had tried to hide; or they were wrong about me and were sorry for the unkind statements they had made to others before yet even knowing my name. After revealing these “secrets”, they always seem to expect me to be truly shocked, humbled, and/or appreciative that they were honest and “did the right thing”… What do I say to that? How do I respond? What is the appropriate reaction and perspective to hold after reliving take after take of this same scenario, different actors? As a young lady, how do I ignore walking on campus into African American Student Services and having men of my own race laugh and yell to the public, “You look just like a gorilla, where’s your cage, girl? How did you get out of the zoo?” How do you heal from “friends” both of and outside of your race, openly saying statements such as “No offense, Tabitha, but I would hate to have as dark a completion as you have. I couldn’t deal with guys never wanting to touch me.” How do I avoid disgusting college and abhorring going to class? How do I not anticipate people to shun me and laugh when that is what life has entailed? I am emotionally murdering myself everyday to loose weight, but does anyone grasp the intensity of my effort? It seems as though people choose only to see an overweight-Aunt-Jemima-looking girl. In their eyes, I intrinsically possess deficiency of etiquette, aspiration, beauty, grace, and intelligence. To them, my emotions are wholly animalistic and entertaining. What, in this matter, is left to say? Days like today, when my heart is torn and trickles physical tears from my soul, I doubt my patience and, if I have the courage to say, God’s willingness and plan to help me change. Days like today, I resign all effort to bring standstill the stereotyped sub-humanism as beast and fiend, to ever end looking into my reflection and feeling rolling nausea. I am trying the hardest I ever have, but still I land short everyday… Everyday… EVERYDAY. I have, by now, done everything I know to do, but I keep falling on my face. How many tears will trace the fullness of my cheeks before I am transformed into normal? Before I am human? What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over- Like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags Like a heavy load. Or does it explode? -Langston Hughes
12 days post op afternoon
May 02, 2009
Early today for the first time since the incident in the hospital, I experienced what I think is the infamous “dumping syndrome”. As you might know last night I stayed up very late, in fact it was around 6 am when I finally was able to get some sleep and I ended up missing church all together, waking up at around 1230 pm or so today. But on with the story…Since last night my mom has been slow cooking pinto beans and ham hocks in the crock pot and of course the aroma has been divine but I simply haven’t had the urge to eat them because I know just how hard I’ve been working and how much discipline I have been practicing in order not to get sick or most importantly loose weight. So when I woke up my mom was still at church and I got this huge temptation and urge to eat the beans… well let me tell you my friend this was the worst mistake I have made so far in the surgery…I literally ate less than two teaspoons of the beans and within moments started heaving, my stomach felt like it was on fire, and my throat started getting extremely tight (but definitely nothing in comparison to the feeling when I couldn’t breath in the hospital) So for the next 15 or 20 minutes I was in the bathroom thinking I was going to throw up and pass out all at the same time. Thank God neither happened and the symptoms passed just like the doctor said it would if I ate either something that wasn’t the consistency of applesauce or if I ate too fast. I definitely inhaled those beans in the passion of my crazed temptation for real food other than strained soup, jell-o, apple sauce, and yogurt (yea that is all I have been eating, but I wouldn’t change it for the world, ESPECIALLY AFTER MY MISTAKE TODAY!) This experience definitely taught me to take one step at a time and to really cherish this stage of my life. But other than that I don’t have any huge updates, but if you guys have any questions about anything that I may have forgot to mention, please feel free to ask/remind me. I know this is the second posting in one day, but I actually feel like writing and I want to take advantage of this lack of writer’s block God has blessed me with today J
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12 days postop
May 02, 2009
3:28. This morning, the clock displays these three simple numbers neatly and brightly in this same order, representing and speaking volumes of truths that I am still unsure I understand or can explain despite its’ deafening quietness. Time, for so long, in my life has represented the dual personality of friend and enemy. One moment, time seems to be pushing me through tomorrow’s illuminated doorway of prosperity; the next tormenting me with the memories of days gone by that should still hold the beauty of a sunset kissed perfectly by the coming of the moon, and not the ugliness of a bitter haze polluting God’s inimitably stunning horizon. At this point and moment in time, I have so many thoughts going through my head, and in reminiscence of the last time I posted something, I am stuck. I want so badly to convey the thoughts in my head that everything is forced through my brain and I am just a mess. How do I this? Let’s take it slow… As you all know, on April 21,, 2009, I had gastric bypass surgery and even now, 12 days later, I wake up in the morning, look down at the dark scars on my stomach, and still have to tell myself that I had gastric bypass. I have searched and ruminated, and read, and even picked my brain again to find any experience in my life that could compare in the least bit to the change(s) I am and will go through because of my decision. Already I have had to make the choice to let go of people I thought would be my close companions for the rest of my life. Can anyone please tell me a logical reason why anyone would make it their sole priority to tear someone else down? I have read and heard that only individuals who are insecure do things like the actions mentioned above. But even still, my mind refuses to allow me to accept this truth; it seems that there has got to be more to it than that…but anyway, I am getting way off of track again, so let me bring everything back to focus… Let’s start with the actual facts and details of the surgery because I’ve already had three people call/email me with the most hilarious stories they heard to be the “ABSOLUTE” truth about the surgery. When my surgeon, Dr. Lara, began the procedure, a hernia was found in my stomach, was removed, and then the actual surgery was performed. The next morning when I went to X-ray and drank the clear contrast/dye, by the time I returned to my hospital bed, I could not breathe. The nurses rushed in and were running all over the place; my oxygen levels were well below where they should have been. Because having my eyes open seemed to take insurmountable energy, all I can remember is my mom frantically crying in the background, a feeble sounding voice trembling over the 3rd floor intercom, “Doctor Lara please immediately report to 312B, Please immediately report to room 312B”, and constantly hearing one of the nurses screaming Andele! I don’t think I have been truly afraid for my life many times in the past 21 years, but I can definitely say I felt a new level of fear with each gasp for breath in those moments before they were able to get the oxygen mask and stabilize my breathing. Finally, Dr. Lara arrived and said after reviewing the X-Ray, my intestines were twisted and because of that, the dye I drank was trapped between my stomach and my esophagus. That being said they took me back into surgery and fixed everything and I ended up staying in the hospital a week rather than just two days. WHEW! I am so grateful to God! Even though I felt so much fear in that time, God had the perfect people there at the perfect time making sure I was safe and taken care of. Isn’t God amazing! But just to reassure all of you, I am fine and am feeling great! I already walk a minimum of a mile everyday and am taking this journey day by day. The funny thing about this whole situation is, now I have to force myself to eat. In the last two days combined I’ve had almost no appetite. In two days, I’ve had 85 oz of water, 8 ounces of soup, 4 ounces of yogurt and 5 ounces of applesauce. And even that I’ve had to make myself eat. So that’s how things are going so far…Unfortunately I haven’t had the opportunity to weigh myself since before the surgery, so I can’t tell you how much I’ve lost so far…but I can tell you when I weighed myself early last week on Monday, I had lost a total of 20 pounds since the doctor had seen me last…and I think that is FABULOUS whether it’s me, or anybody else trying to loose weight (unless you only weigh like 120 lbs., then that’s not healthy for you…at all J) Well I’m going to let you guys go, sorry it isn’t so grammatically correct but thanks for reading my beautiful craziness anyway, I appreciate and love you! J
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Open Eyes, Open Heart
Apr 15, 2009
Where do you start or even begin telling a pure, untainted truth? Do you start at the point after the essential life lessons have been learned or do you start from the very beginning of this journey called life? Can it really, in essence, be accomplished? How does someone write anything that gives justice to the many experiences someone twice my age may never encounter? Not knowing exactly how to say the words I am about to say, or form them so no one is offended. I pray, even more importantly, that whoever may read this will take my words in the context that they were meant to be spoken and understood, and after receiving and accepting this knowledge as truth, then, and only then, make the educated and conscious decision to be offended, if they so choose.
Who could have ever imagined that a small talk, in the back of a small church, between two people who thought they were also insignificant, would light the spark to my dry life in such a spectacular and extraordinary way? When I was first presented with the inspiration to write about my truth, I almost thought it to be pure insanity and sometimes still chalk it up to just another person I had trusted, unconsciously mocking my hopes that I am something other than the negative image I am daily and painstakingly still pressing to replace. Never before in my life have I thought myself as someone qualified to do small things, let alone someone who is knowledgeable enough to write something that will inspire people to believe in God’s unique ability to give beauty for lashes, strength for weak, and gladness for mourning.
As I nodded my head and smiled during the talk with my mentor/play-brother, all I remember thinking was, “Man, not again; I can’t believe I trusted another person. Lord, when will I learn?" It really is divine how God works things out. In the days following that Saturday, I could think of almost nothing but the possibility of touching the hearts of, not only my peers, but people of all ages.
Hour after hour, I come to my computer, stare at the blank screen and type a few sentences, each time walking away more discouraged than the time before. I am not discouraged because I have writer’s block or too few recollections of my past to write. Nor the thought of closed minded people reading and in turn knowing all the dirty laundry I have so neatly tucked away in each space between my every word has not been enough to stop me. And even the ringing question of what will my former pastor and the congregation who has seen me grow since my birth think of me when they know that at every worship service, bible study, prayer meeting, revival, Easter program, Christmas play, gospel extravaganza, and all those other events black churches hold, I have been guarding nasty truths about my childhood. I was the master of disguise in the one place disguises should never have been needed.
But the very thought of my family reading this, sends hurricane waves of panic and anxiety through my body for minutes, afterwards leaving me numb with fear. I anticipate and cringe inside at the deep ridges of anger that will forever remain on my father’s forehead and the tear drops that will rain from the clouds of sadness my mother’s eyes will instantly be transformed to. Secrets can be so bittersweet, holding the power to strengthen the weakest friendship or destroy the strongest family. As I tell my secrets, will I be even more of a black sheep in my family? Or will revealing my secrets be the salvage to heal my deep wounds?
These questions, I do not hold the answer or claim to even possess a map to the pathway that leads to these remedies. But I do know that this life of pretending is like daily having to pick up a knife and choose a part of myself to do away with. Should I get rid of my arm or maybe a leg today? Everyday sacrificing pieces of myself that I don't have to loose, if I would just give my heart and let it be healed...
So here is my first step to being a whole Tabitha... In five days, I will be having gastric bypass surgery and there is nothing that anyone but God Himself can say to persuade me other wise. I am taking control of my life and no longer will I battle with something that has haunted me years after situations and circumstances have stopped. I haven't decided at this point if I'll be doing updates on my weight loss progress biweekly, monthly, or tri-monthly, or just willy nilly (haha wow does anyone even say that anymore??? Do you guys think there's such a person with the name willy nilly? WOW but anyway...), but I strongly believe that it's important that I document this time in my life. You may be thinking to yourself at this point, "Tabitha, why the need to share with us?" Well my dear friends, I believe this is another opportunity for me to stop hiding so much of who I am and what I have gone through... that also being said, there will probably be some days that these notes will be filled with shocking truths and blunt realities of my past because I also believe that I will never be able to help others bring their hurts to God on a personal level if I am unwilling to show my own scars.
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About Me
Albuquerque, NM
Location
50.1
BMI
Surgery
04/21/2009
Surgery Date
Dec 30, 2007
Member Since
