Valencia S.
I am trying to find out what part of this surgery will Medicare cover and how much I would have to pay. I am desperate. I care for my sister who is also obese. She is abt 500-600 pounds, on SSI and in a wheelchair--but she is in denial and won't even talk about surgery.
I need to change for myself & for her, My weight is 375 & BMI is 61. I am a diabetic, have hypertension, high cholesterol, arthritis in all my major joints, constant back pain due to bulging and herniated disks. I am in constant fear of losing my leg because of recurring staph infections, cellulitis and veinous stasis ulcers. I also have diabetic neuropathy & lyphedema in that leg.
We have already buried both parents due to strokes, diabetes and heart disease. I have watched most of my family die from obesity related illnesses. The major killers in our family are cancer, heart attacks, strokes and diabetes.
I have been talking and thinking about this surgery for four years & my Dr. is all for it. I am 49 yrs old and weigh 378. I just recently found out exactly how much I weighed. I had to have a cardiac stress test at the hospital, and they didn't have a scale that went that high. SO they shlepped my butt down to the laundry and put me on the frieght scale. It was a little embarrasing, but it's the first time in over 10 years that I knew exactly how high my weight is & it scared me!
Currently I am on disability. I am 14 medications, for diabetes, high blood pressure, cholesterol, anxiety, depression, asthma and allergies.
I have always taken care of someone for as long as I can remember. My mother had an abusive marriage, and I would console her as a child, and of course food was solace for both of us. When I was 12 we moved back to Texas, and I helped my mom and aunts take care of my grandmother who had 5 strokes. I stayed with my grandparents on the week-ends and cooked for them so my Mama and Aunt Jeannie could have a break. Then after my granny died, my grandfather moved in with us after his 2 strokes. My Mom was also a diabetic and ultimately died from a heart attack in 1992. At the emergency room the Dr. told me "It was just a matter of time, she's obese, diabetic, and a second-hand smoker." Afterward I started having anxiety attacks and was depressed for more than 2 years.
My dad just died in 2002 from surgery complications. He would not heal because he was a diabetic. He had 3 strokes before his fall. Then we found out 3 weeks before he died that he had liver & colon cancer.
Now there is only my baby sister and me. We take care of each other. My sister is ten years younger than me and weighs (a guess) about 500 lbs. She is in a wheelchair because of her weight, and suffers from excessive pain from degenerative joint disease. We depend on each other. I have begged her to have this sugery with me. So far she doesn't have any other co-morbidities. She ABSOLUTELY REFUSES to even discuss surgery with me AND doesn't want me to do it either.
I desperately want this surgery. Even more so, now that I know that Medicare will pay for it.
I have a consult with the DR! April 18, 2006. I go to see my PCP next week for a letter of medical necessity, which shouldn't be a problem. I just got out of the hospital, and can add another comorbidity, congestive heart failure. The Dr.'s office manager, Freida, says Medicare will pay, given my health and I sent them a five page letter outlining my problems.
Everyone cross your fingers----this can't happen soon enough!
November 8, 2006
**Something I wrote a couple of years ago in a creative writing class.
Some people tend to get melancholy in the fall; I am just the opposite. I yearn for the fall, the first cold snap that make the air so deliciously sweet it tastes like the first bite of a fresh juicy apple; the air spinning a silken cocoon around me soft and silky. I adore the feel of sweaters straight out of the dryer, warm and fuzzy like a kitten and I love to see my breath hang in the air like wispy down floating on the slightest breeze. I look forward to brisk days for a number of reasons. The bugs are gone and there is a chill in the air that makes walking a pleasure.
Behind my house there is a road. It isn't really a road, more like a dusty trail. It was once an oil lease road, now grown faint from disuse. Walking down that road, feeling the red clay crunching beneath my feet, breathing in the air musky with the heavy scent of pine, it is an instant outdoor aromatherapy session. Sometimes I walk into the woods and just sit for a spell on a rock or a fallen log crusty with moss or inhabited by some non-aggressive wood ants, or mutilated by woodpeckers in search of luscious grubs and still partially clad in a decaying coat of bark. Occasionally I brush away the leaves at my feet and find a hopeful little sprig of fern sending a tentative but hopeful slender frond in search of warm sunlight in the shortening days.
I get caught up in all the colors of fall. It seems that the shorter the days the greater the explosion of colors. Above my head the blue jays and cardinals are a microburst of colors rocketing by, flitting from tree to tree like trapeze artist in a circus. Sauntering down the path, I see my favorite tree--the grand old hickory in his golden robes. The sumac shrubs bowing at his feet in their Halloween costumes, looking like chili peppers hung out to dry on a line. The oaks are all wrapped up in their fall coats of orange, red, yellow and even the poison ivy gets into the show with its scarlet leaves. The scene is puntuated with the deep green of the pines swaying in the sky. There are also a few wild flowers still left. Purple clusters of asters, billowing triangles of goldenrod, puntuated by the red berries of the holly tree, all adding to nature's crazy quilt.
A sudden gust of wind blows a cluster of sycamore leaves past me. The massive leaves look like little toy boats scooteing across the water. I look up at the trees swaying in the wind and marvel at a squirrel's nest precariously balanced on a small limb in a white oak tree, as if to dare Old Man Winter to blow it down.
Further along the path is a small creek that trickles merrily as it winds its way along, tripping over twigs and rocks and pooling here and there to catch the light; shimmering like diamonds accross its surface.
It is peaceful in the woods among the majestic trees, though far from quiet. The abundance of insect, bird, and animal life make it quite noisy. The calls of the blue jays, crows, and woodpeckers punctuate the sound of the woods like a construction site. The crows don't come close but I can hear them on the outskirts calling and skittering like mice. To me these are all soothing natural sounds; just as relaxing as falling rain on a tin roof.
There is an odd stillness that is only found in fall. Once I came upon a big brown rabbit, both of us standing frozen in the moment, staring at each other, afraid to breath or blink. Finally, I let my breath out in one big whoosh and the bunny scurried off and I felt blessed to have been in the presence of one of God's creatures for even the briefest of moments.
About halfway down the hill is a big pile of sandstones. When I was a kid we used to play "King of the Hill" there. Each rock is at least as big as an elephants' ear; some rivaling the size of the beast itself. This is my warm perch as I watch the sun set slowly, painting the sky with a fantastic light show.
As the day dulls and becomes grey, I reluctantly wander back up the path to my own back yard. Still enraptured with my repose, I chose to sit on the back porch and listen to day as it ends. Soon the night will takes over. Off in the distance a pair of deer are grazing at the edge of the wood as a cacophony of insects start up, presenting their own show. As the day deepends and dusk recedes into night, a pack of foxes come out to play in the pasture. Their yips and howls sound like a punk band howling at the moon. This is a treat that only happens on the chilliest of nights, although I don't know why. The foxes are like diminutive ladies with floppy plumes trailing behind them as they spin and dance across the field. (This drives my dog nuts!) Their staccato voices ringing in the night sky as the moon begins its ascent.
As the curtain comes down on this glorious show, I am reminded of my small part in the cosmos and how I have become a spectator in one of God's most sqwsome creations. The real world pulls me back into the low hum of everyday life. This delightful day has been long in coming and I do not want it to end; but I must leave my seat and go back inside to cook supper. There are mouths to feed, dishes to wash, a house that needs cleaning, but for a brief shining moment time has stood still giving me a chance to become a part of the great sympony of life.
