OK, so.... over the last few months, I have spent probably way too much time lurking here on OH and similar sites and blogs, not to mention reading at least a dozen books, devouring all the info I could about "Life After RNY". In reading the honest, up-close stories shared by real people living with RNY, it came to my attention that RNY is a PERMANENT CHANGE.

As in really, really permanent - and really, really changed.

I thought I had this thing in perspective when I first started the process toward surgery. I thought I *knew* what to expect "after".... but it turns out I really hadn't fully grasped how it would affect my entire life going forward. I knew RNY would not magically allow me to live on pizza and ice cream without consequence, and I realized that my eating habits would drastically change, but I did not fully appreciate the danger of continued malabsorption.

Most books don't detail the dedication to diet and supplementation - particularly supplementation - that is necessary for success, even life, post RNY. Part of the reason I am pursuing RNY is to GET OFF PILLS; pills for diabetes, pills for high blood pressure, pills for high cholesterol, pills for overactive bladder, pills for depression, pills for insomnia, pills for joint pain, pills for migraines. Will I simply replace one set of pills with another? Sure, I'll be thinner, and most of my co-morbidities will "probably" go away - which would be great - but my life will still revolve around dietary restrictions, pills and blood tests.

So the real truth is, I will never, ever be able to put my weight and health issues totally behind me. Both will change, hopefully for the better, but I will still have major, attention-consuming health issues, always. And I will still need my pill minders.

*SIGH*

Was I, deep down, actually expecting a miracle cure? I guess maybe I was.... yes, very likely so.

It rankles me that I probably "did all this to myself" with my sedentary ways and poor eating choices, (and poor choice of parental genetics.) I expect loose skin, but don't envision it. I know I'll never be what I was at 21, but perversely, that I do envision! I'm afraid I may look older, which bothers me more than I ever thought it might. And after the surgery, what if my quality of life does not improve as much as I hope? Suppose I am thinner, but still not.... well, normal?

I find myself wondering if I am doing the right thing. Do I really want to do this? Will I be able to accommodate the necessary changes mentally? Will I finally succeed this time?

The only thing that does not seem to bother me is the chance we all take of dying on the table. That reflects my desperation for change, and the depression caused by not being able to do things I love to do because of my weight and joint pain. Some people would question if being able to tend my garden again is worth risking my life. For me - yes, it is!