TheNestingDoll

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Hello folks, it has been a year since my surgery on April 14th, 2010.  By that one year date, I was down 150 pounds.  It seems this year has gone by really fast, maybe because I hit the big 40 in two months.  I see on the board the big question is...do you regret having the surgery?  My only regret is that I did not do it when I turned 30!  I am glad the procedure is so streamlined now, but I know my thirties could have been so much more productive.

So about my progress.  I am doing very well in both mine and my doctor's opinion.  I just had my one year with the surgeon and nut on Thursday, and all of my numbers were spot-on.  I am so happy about this, as I often forget to take all the vitamins I need sometimes.  A few days before the one year surgaversary, I had lost 150 pounds.....yea me!  My doctor took me off my last blood pressure medication, which resulted in an eight pound gain in one week  :(   It is now coming off as my body adjusts.  I would so LOVE to be under two hundred on my birthday in June.

My hernia is getting worse, and the Doc is sending me to see a plastics guy now.  We really wanted to wait until I had lost more weight, but he is not sure I can wait any longer.  I asked if they could give me rock hard abs, lol.  My arms are a sagging mess, and well as the breasts, but I am still healthier in this state.  I have become a clothes whore, and I love new outfits that I can FINALLY wear.

Any particular questions.....just ask!  :)



April 14, 2009


In Orlando, April 2010



I'm on the right.

This post is way overdue.  I have been so busy with work and the holidays, that time just flew by me.   This Monday was my eighth month out from RNY.  I am happy to say that I just got on the scale and weigh less that 250 pounds, for the first time in over twenty years.  I weighed in at 249.........and I am taking it!  I also made a trip to the Avenue today and picked up a pair of size 16 jeans.  I was going to buy them for a spring break trip to Orlando in March.  I went to try them on to see how much more I had to lose to fit into them.  They went right on!  WOW.  Now I know the Avenue clothes are cut larger than normal - but a 16 was EXCITING!  I just wish I could get a pair of tall boots there to fit over my calves!  :-(    I will be sure to post some pictures from my upcoming holiday party on Thursday night.  I am looking forward to the new year and working hard to get to goal.  This is the year, I can feel it!

Well, I am out two months today.  I had an appointment on Thursday, and I was down a total of 50 pounds.  I really didn't think it would be that much, because I have been able to eat more lately.  I had a bad episode at a work function, where I felt like I had to "toss my cookies" but got through that.  I am glad it happened, because I was really starting to think the surgery didn't work.  (and they weren't cookies, by the way)  I told my Doc. and he showed me the size of my little pouch, and man do I mean little.  I can't believe I have been able to eat what I have with such little space!

I still am very limited as to when I eat.  I never really get HUNGER pains, or feel I NEED to have food.  It seems I am cooking a lot more, but then I don't want what I have made.  I am lacking protein, I know that.  I am afraid that my hair will soon start to fall out.  I really try to take the chewable multi-vitamins, but they are so gross to me.  I manage to eat two of them a day.  I need some protein ideas.   The weight is starting to come off, but not in any particular place.  I myself do not see a big difference, but my clothes are much more comfortable now.

People at work are also asking now about the weight loss.  I didn't tell but a very limited amount of close friends about the surgery.  So, I am off for the entire summer, when I go back, I am sure the questions from coworkers and students will be many, if I continue at the rate I am losing.  I may have to come out with it then.

My doctor stressed the whole "working out" thing.  I know I need to start, because my skin is getting loose and hanging more.  I have just been so tired!  I am going on a road trip in a few weeks, where I hope to do a lot of walking and maybe biking.  I would love to start swimming, but need to find a swim dress that fits.  It has been a long time since I have swam with people around.  I will hit that road when it comes.  Do swimsuits come with long sleeves? lol.

I will update on my next doctor's visit, unless I buy a scale for myself this week.  I have been shopping instead of eating......transfer addiction ya think?

The days after getting home from the surgery, I blogged about the terrible pain I was in.  I was in pain because I was only taking a third of the meds I was supposed to take.  They gave me a one teaspoon applicator with my medicine, and I then somehow read the bottle as take one teaspoon.  It said TABLESPOON!   I could've had been on cloud nine and almost pain free.  Once I started taking the medicine as directed, I could handle the pain on my left side.  I even started to get up and down without as much squealing and such.  The bathroom even ended up to be a "not so scary" place.  If I could only go back in time................but I sure don't want to go back and re-experience that first week home.  NO WAY!

I had to drive my daughter to school that Tuesday, exactly one week after my surgery.  I got dressed, hobbled to the parking lot to get in the car and drive twenty minutes to get her there.  After dropping her off, I did not know what to do with myself.  I knew if I went home I would sleep, so I headed to Walmart in the middle of a brewing storm.  I parked in the closest spot I could and contemplated walking in.  This would be a big deal.  I think I sat there almost 45 minutes before getting the guts.  I pushed through the rain and grabbed a dry cart to use as my "walker" as I put it.  I walked aisle through aisle looking for things I could have in the next few.  It was the smallest amount in my cart ever!

I was very tired by the time I left, and had to go home to rest.  I had been bad at my walking, Walmart let me catch up on that, all at once.  Kudos!

I looked at that tray of protein yuck and prepared to get the heck out of that hospital, away from the poor sick woman in my room, and to a bathroom where I could get stuff done as needed.  My Dr. came in and gave me the release, looking at my healing wounds and checking out what I called the "BLOOD BOMB".  The blood bomb is a grenade looking, see through device that is hanging out of your body, connected to the drain going who knows where into your body.  Everyday it would fill with diluted blood, water , and other interesting things.  It had to be pinned to your walking gown so that it didn't hang on the floor.  It was like a pendulum of disgust.

Well, he cuts a little stitch off of the tube and PULLLLLLLLLLL, he without warning pulls this longer than long tube out of my body.  It freaked me out more than pain......it was plain gross.  I guess I would rather he do it then than make me go home with it on.  He says I can take a shower the next day, but not to soak.  We all know I needed a long soak, I felt disgusting and smelled even worse.  My hair was in a ball and my gown was half falling off for those last walks in the hallway.

I called my mom to come get me and went to change into my real clothes with in itself felt so much better.  I packed up all of my things and waited.  She came and I buzzed my little nurse's aide.  She brings in a regular wheelchair and asked if I thought I would fit.  If I would fit in that thing, why would I be having this surgery?  She returned from another floor with a wide chair and took me down to the lobby.  I was glad as hell to be leaving.  Then the chair, like I knew it wouldn't, didn't fit through the exit.  The van was there, so close yet so far away.  I could see my daughter all excited to see me.  I told them to let me walk, and the poor little teen valet boy said he could try to get me through.  Bless his heart.  I slowly got up and hobbled to the van.  Wee HEE!

As we drove, it seemed we hit every bump, which hurt.  I kept a little pillow pressed against my stomach.  The air hitting my face made me know why a dog enjoys it so much after being shut in for so long.  We stopped for water and my mom dared to get a Frappachino.  She downs the thing right in front of me and was like "wow these things are so good".  Was she sent to torment me, I can see how much fun this life change is going to be with her.

We went and dropped off  the liquid vicodin prescription, and went home, where I used a cane to slowly hobble in the house.  I was happy to have that cane.  I parked my self on the sofa with a squeal and settled in for a terrible few days.

I woke up and all I wanted was something to drink.  The only thing I could have was ice chunks.  They were the best ice chunks ever.  They made me get out of bed, which hurt like hell and annoyed me greatly.  I just wanted to sleep and was in a fog.  The nurses were all tiny, I have no idea why they would put a bariatric bed on a floor with little women as the nurses.  There were no handles on the bed, and I was like a turtle on my back with enormous pain.  I tried to go to the bathroom and there was a bar surrounding the toilet.  I almost needed a shoehorn to wedge my way down.  Getting up was worse and there was no way I could bend over to wipe myself.  I was in tears the entire time.  I walked up and down the hallways, a very boring affair - I needed an IPOD for sure.  I fell back to bed and slept for hours.

They kept asking me to walk, yet were never coming to give me pain meds or help me get up.  They said I could have pain meds every two hours, but did not just come give them to me every two hours.  This gave them a chance to wear off.  I also had squeezey boots on for circulation that had to be put on and off if they wanted me to walk.

So I would walk, the only on on the floor walking, and the nurses would be like ....you are at it again?  Then when I was in bed, my nurses would say............you need to be walking more.  I am still confused as to how many times a day I was to be walking.  It seemed like I had new nurses every four hours.  On the second day they brought me little tubs of gross protein cups, and a jello jiggler, and more ice chips.  I got through most of them, but longed to drink a large glass of water and chug it down.  I tried to stay up enough the second night to watch seven pounds, the drugs kept me asleep most of the time.

They sent in a rehab girl, she was so nice and perky.  She came to show me all these little devices I could use at home, like the "GOPHER" claw and such.  I have been using one of those for years during housework and laundry sorting.  She also wanted to see if I could use the bathroom by myself and shower myself.  I explained to her that I would do better at home, because there are things to grab onto.  She followed me to the hopital bathroom where I sat down in pain.  I broke down in tears because I knew I could not bend down and wipe, and she offered to do it for me.  I cried even more, like a little infant.  She didn't know what to do, poor girl.

Thursday the Physical Therapist guy came in the next day and somehow I got rid of him without much.  I told him I was walking okay and what a hellish bed I had in the hospital that wasn't helping.  The bed really needed a bar or something to pull myself up with.  My nutritionist also came in to release me, saying she could have gotten me a bed with a bar, I am going to tell her future patients will need it.

The days in the hospital smear together and I was never so happy to be leaving. I laid there watching Comedy Central, not a good idea when your body is sewn like a patchwork doll.  My surgeon came in and said I needed to walk more, but could go home.   I was afraid to be home, but sharing a room with an extremely sick elderly woman was not on my list of high points.

I was unable to write in the days after my surgery - here is a recap to the best of my memory.

I had to arrive at the same day surgery section of the hospital by 6:00am.  I could hardly sleep all night, and believe I got into the bathtub at about 4:00am.  I don't know what emotions I was was feeling, but I really wasn't scared.  I just wanted it over with.  I got dressed and kissed my daughter good-bye, hoping I would still be alive by  the time she got out of school.  I woke my mom up to drive me and we were on our way.  We stopped at Dunkin Dounuts for a coffee for her, and I thought about the future drinks I would no longer enjoy from there.

Funny story at the hospital.  We go in the parking lot and I first thought I has forgot my ID and insurance cards,  I found them in my purse, right before I locked all the car keys in the van.  My mom had to crawl through the back of the van to get them and open the doors.  I took pictures of the entire event.  It was a good laugh to start off the day.  I had to wait and then check in, then they sent me to a room to put my clothes in a bag and put on a hospital gown.  I wasn't sure if I could keep at least my underwear on, and that was a big "NO".  I took one last picture of my former self and did as they said.  I was on my period and then had to go to take out the tampon that they would not let me wear either.  I still don't know the deal with that.  They gave me a pad to wear with a pair of tight net underthings, that I had to rip and tear to bring up around my thighs.  This was not a good sight.

I laid in a waiting room and had to have an EKG - because I didn't have a stress test.  I was so scared they were going to make me wait to have the surgery.  They did the EKG, and it was okay I guess, cause I was cleared.  I met the anesthesiologists and let them know about my freaking tongue swelling allergies, and they were both very nice. (Other than the fact that they both shook my hand with a big IV needle poking into it.)  I waited a little more and they let my mom come in to see me off.  I was okay until she told them to take care of me because I had a beautiful nine year old at home.  I felt tears at that point.  The nurse said she had a nine year old too, and asked my daughter's name.  That is the last thing I remember before being rolled to who knows where.

I woke up in a  larger recovery room with beds everywhere.  It was surreal to be alive, and for it all to be done with no memory.  They were having a hard time getting my lungs to inflate with air, so my recovery was a bit longer than expected.  Making me roll, squirm, and get into a different bed was hell like no other.  I could not believe they were making me change beds after all of that trauma on my body.

They move me upstairs to a room with an elderly lady who's shit smelled the air, it was terrible.  I don't remember much more.  I found some pictures on my camera of me.  My mom said the first words out of my mouth were "where's my camera"?  So I guess I shot a few pictures and went off to la-la land.

Well, I am home.  I wish I was feeling better.  The pain on the left side of my body is terrible.  It hurts to stand, it hurts to sit, and getting up and down onto a toilet is not an option.  The drugs do not seem to be doing their job and I wish you didn't have to wait six hours between dosages.  When will I feel like a human again?  My chicken broth just arrived we will see how that goes.  I am not looking forward to it.  Send me some ideas for pain management, I sure the heck need them.