aubreydb
16 Months 1 Week 5 Days
Oct 10, 2009
Quick update. Went to surgeon's on Thursday morning. My "alien", most likely a suture granuloma, is doing fine. It hasn't gotten any bigger, the pain is less so they think it's all good. My weight? Good. But doc says it's time for me to stop losing now. According to him, I have averaged a two pound loss per month in the last four or five months. He wants me to break the rules now. He told me to go eat cheesy mexican food and stuff that goes down real easy to crank up my calories.
I did not tell him that I already kind of do that, within reason. They told me to stay away from fat, I eat my fair share. I haven't made a fuss about fat or calories much as long as I get gobs of protein in. And I usually do. So he'll see me back in December to see if the brakes work. It's hard to eat "bad" though when you've spent the better part of your life dieting, trying to be so good. Then you have RNY, stick to most of the rules and lose a buttload and a half of weight. Bad food=big butt. Bad food makes me feel bad. Sometimes yucky, as in dumping, yeah but mostly just kind of blah. I can tell now what kinds of foods my body needs. I spent so much time trying to get the scale number to go down that it is freakishly weird to try to get it to stop moving, perhaps move in the opposite direction just a tad. But what if "just a tad" turns into 40 pounds and then 100? I guess only time will tell. So I have to be a bad girl-Dr.'s orders!
0 comments
I did not tell him that I already kind of do that, within reason. They told me to stay away from fat, I eat my fair share. I haven't made a fuss about fat or calories much as long as I get gobs of protein in. And I usually do. So he'll see me back in December to see if the brakes work. It's hard to eat "bad" though when you've spent the better part of your life dieting, trying to be so good. Then you have RNY, stick to most of the rules and lose a buttload and a half of weight. Bad food=big butt. Bad food makes me feel bad. Sometimes yucky, as in dumping, yeah but mostly just kind of blah. I can tell now what kinds of foods my body needs. I spent so much time trying to get the scale number to go down that it is freakishly weird to try to get it to stop moving, perhaps move in the opposite direction just a tad. But what if "just a tad" turns into 40 pounds and then 100? I guess only time will tell. So I have to be a bad girl-Dr.'s orders!
16 Months *Results Not Typical
Sep 30, 2009
Sixteen months out. Weight is going back up after hitting my lowest just the other day-129.6. Considering that my ob/gyn (who is very familiar with RNY) told me not to lose anymore last time I saw him (Julyish?) and that my friend describes me as looking "weak", for the first time I can ever remember I am trying to bulk up a little. It's screwing with my head. Really. I think the BMI people are bonkers. Honestly, I am smack dab in the healthy zone and they say I could still lose another hunk and still not be underweight. I weighed in at 132.8 this morning AND I'm visiting with Aunt Flo (who is surprisingly feisty for her years). We won't even go into my chocolate addiction. This is before the consideration of my doctor's guestimation that I have about 10 lbs of extra skin.
I had no pants. One pair that is too big that I have worn a hole through the knee is what I was making do with. I got a wild hair one night at Target and tried on a pair of khaki pants in my size-6. Did you hear that, people? Six. Now hear this: They were too freaking big! Like, as in big gap between my belly and the pants (not to mention the butt, I'm used to that though, I no longer have a rear of my own) too big. So I put them back and bought a four without trying them on because they were cute and they were comfy. Yes, they fit. Well, except by the end of the day they're bagging off of my rear end. Since then I have bought size 4 jeans as well, one of them petite and they fit just fine. Did you just hear me? I (me!) wear a freaking size four. My best friend almost puked the other day when I had to buy an Old Navy blouse in XS because it was a roomier cut.
No, I am not complaining. It's just WEIRD. I could squeeze myself into a size 22 on a skinny day less than a year and a half ago and now I'm wearing size 4. I go to school three days a week and spend time with all of these new people and none of them knows I'm a fat chick. No, I'm technically not a big girl anymore but I still have the same brain, I'm still me. Except when I look in a mirror. There's this....person looking back at me. Yeah, it's taking awhile for the adjustment. :)
So there are the body changes with metabolism, visual effects, diet, activity level, moods-all this is adjusting. My self-concept is changing. Everybody's is changing all the time but mine is evolving quite rapidly. Part of it is the weight loss and the freedom from food, part is from finally getting my AA degree, part is from starting a new school (a University!) with new people and expectations, part is the change in my family. My son started high school and is trying to adjust (very hard for an Aspie....and his mom) and my fiance starting college, losing his job and becoming deliriously happy as a freshman at the local community college. Lots of change, growth, adjustment. So much so that said fiance broke up with me after a 4 1/2 year relationship. I was blindsided. He's back. He's here with me now but I'm unsure of the future. I guess some people would use this as proof of WLS ending relationships. I don't know about that because it wasn't just the weight loss, right?
Now, I'm really having to re-think myself. I'm different. They're different. We're different together...and apart. I'm nervous and delighted at the same time at the profound changes, especially in myself. I say that because I've never experienced my own experiences. They were something to be tolerated, to survive. Sometimes they still are but I'm lighter and can flit about between the currents. Almost 35 years old and just starting to accept and finally figure out who I am. I've spent so much time trying to do everything right and to fit in and take care of everyone else. There's a part of me still hanging on to that, like a baby tooth clinging to the gum. But there's something big coming in, forcing it out. I'm not sure what it is yet but I'm excited yet afraid of losing that last bit. There are panic attacks and disassociation, crabbiness and solitude. They are temporary. They are coping mechanisms that come along with BIG GROWTH. Buckle up.
0 comments
I had no pants. One pair that is too big that I have worn a hole through the knee is what I was making do with. I got a wild hair one night at Target and tried on a pair of khaki pants in my size-6. Did you hear that, people? Six. Now hear this: They were too freaking big! Like, as in big gap between my belly and the pants (not to mention the butt, I'm used to that though, I no longer have a rear of my own) too big. So I put them back and bought a four without trying them on because they were cute and they were comfy. Yes, they fit. Well, except by the end of the day they're bagging off of my rear end. Since then I have bought size 4 jeans as well, one of them petite and they fit just fine. Did you just hear me? I (me!) wear a freaking size four. My best friend almost puked the other day when I had to buy an Old Navy blouse in XS because it was a roomier cut.
No, I am not complaining. It's just WEIRD. I could squeeze myself into a size 22 on a skinny day less than a year and a half ago and now I'm wearing size 4. I go to school three days a week and spend time with all of these new people and none of them knows I'm a fat chick. No, I'm technically not a big girl anymore but I still have the same brain, I'm still me. Except when I look in a mirror. There's this....person looking back at me. Yeah, it's taking awhile for the adjustment. :)
So there are the body changes with metabolism, visual effects, diet, activity level, moods-all this is adjusting. My self-concept is changing. Everybody's is changing all the time but mine is evolving quite rapidly. Part of it is the weight loss and the freedom from food, part is from finally getting my AA degree, part is from starting a new school (a University!) with new people and expectations, part is the change in my family. My son started high school and is trying to adjust (very hard for an Aspie....and his mom) and my fiance starting college, losing his job and becoming deliriously happy as a freshman at the local community college. Lots of change, growth, adjustment. So much so that said fiance broke up with me after a 4 1/2 year relationship. I was blindsided. He's back. He's here with me now but I'm unsure of the future. I guess some people would use this as proof of WLS ending relationships. I don't know about that because it wasn't just the weight loss, right?
Now, I'm really having to re-think myself. I'm different. They're different. We're different together...and apart. I'm nervous and delighted at the same time at the profound changes, especially in myself. I say that because I've never experienced my own experiences. They were something to be tolerated, to survive. Sometimes they still are but I'm lighter and can flit about between the currents. Almost 35 years old and just starting to accept and finally figure out who I am. I've spent so much time trying to do everything right and to fit in and take care of everyone else. There's a part of me still hanging on to that, like a baby tooth clinging to the gum. But there's something big coming in, forcing it out. I'm not sure what it is yet but I'm excited yet afraid of losing that last bit. There are panic attacks and disassociation, crabbiness and solitude. They are temporary. They are coping mechanisms that come along with BIG GROWTH. Buckle up.
Bare
Aug 22, 2009
Just shy of 15 months out. Doing heck of a good. Let's have a run down, shall we?
~Start: 271.5 lbs at 5'4" (BMI 46.7)
~RNY (lap): 266 lbs (BMI 45.7) on May 28, 2008. No pre-surgery diet for me, I lost those few lbs on my own (go me!). While still in the hospital, I started bleeding out of my drain too much and got a high fever. Dr. opened my incisions back up to investigate, found nothing of note and put some mesh stuff inside me along with some extra staples as a precaution.
Lost lots of weight. Still in the "overweight" area of my BMI. Happy, active. Still on Metformin and blood pressure medication. I ate what I was supposed to, took all of my vitamins, drank all of my water and then some and exercised almost every day.
But for months I ignored some pain (I'm very good at this) in my upper left, below the center of my chest. I blamed myself, thinking I was eating too fast or not chewing well enough or that my food was just getting "stuck" like I kept reading about on the forums. It slowly got worse. I did not notice. Then there was Pain sometimes when I was eating. Hmm. Then, there was PAIN when I would take bigger pills. I thought it was the pills, because they were just too big for me or something. Then, it seriously hurt when I took those pills, so I never took them again.
~I sat down to some protein ice cream one evening, took one bite (ignoring pain that was already present) and became seriously ill. Thomas wanted to take me to the ER-NOW! I told him it hurts really really bad but it will go away in twenty minutes (from previous experience!). Ummm, it didn't go away this time-it got worse. By the time we were at the local ER I could not stand and had to be wheeled inside. Ungodly pain. Fear when I realized all that I had read about strictures and obstructions. I recalled all of this in the waiting room in the span of about a quarter of a second, screaming inside my head because the pain was so bad that I could not do it out loud. I looked at Thomas and told him that I had a blockage and that it could kill me and tell those idiot triage people that I needed to see a doctor before I DIED. They got me back after what seemed to be an eternity. They were idiots. (Memorial Hospital-Belleville, IL). I eventually got pain medicine (after being given a type of NSAID-there was a bright plastic band on my wrist warning of allergies to NSAID's) and an ambulance ride to my surgeon's hospital (SSM DePaul), which I do not remember in the slightest.
~ Surgery (lap) April 2009 - Dr. Scott was gracious enough to laprascopically open me up to find the problem and save my life. I had a bowel obstruction that had been caused by a herniation, which had originally been caused by a microperforation from something rubbing against my staple line. I came out of recovery feeling like a new person. My surgeon was surprised at my drastic recovery.
~Surgery (open) April 2009 - In less than 24 hours, I began feeling crappy and started to run a fever. We could not get anyone to take my temp. Hours later, someone finally did and we were again in the midst of another emergency. Dr. Scott opened the incisions that he had just closed the day before, trying to find the problem. Nothing. But there was something WRONG. They called Thomas on the phone in the waiting room, telling him that Dr. had a bad feeling and thought he should do a full incision. Thomas consented, sitting alone there, praying that I wouldn't die, leaving him all alone to raise my 14 year old autistic son, as he had promised. I'm still not completely clear on the facts but the doc told me he found an abcess at the bottom of my colon (not on it, underneath) and removed it. He does not know what caused it but I am fortunate to not be emptying my own poop from a bag. In all, I am fortunate to be alive. I now have a higher risk of recurrence of a bowel obstruction.
To my understanding, the bowel obstruction was related to the RNY (it can be a complication of ANY abdominal surgery). The abcess was not but we're not sure why that happened or how. I am, in this reflection, almost completely setting aside my feelings ( which are substantial) regarding the way I was treated at both hospitals, especially during the time of the second surgery. I was treated so horribly, so severely disrespected as a human being by staff and professional medical personnel, that I was deeply afraid for my life and, by proxy, the future of my son and my Thomas. Our feelings were so strong that we borrowed money from Thomas' dad to have me transferred from DePaul to Barnes. I not only owe his dad a monetary debt but one of gratitude for saving what was left of my sanity and possibly my life. Thomas will never be the same. I'm usually his support. So what happens when your support is dying?
I went home for a very long recovery.
~May 11, 2009 I reached a goal of a "normal" BMI.
~I kept losing. Part of it was the surgeries and the hospitals and the "nothing by mouth" for a week. When I got home, I was back to only being able to stomach tablespoons worth of food. I was not capable of getting in my protein or all of my water. I lost muscle. I was a physically strong woman but that strength was eaten away as fuel for my body to function and heal because I could not get enough protein.
~Today 137.2 lbs (BMI 23.6): I am 2.8 lbs below my goal weight, which was five lbs under the cutoff for "normal" BMI. It actually went lower than that, still does sometimes but it also goes up. My ob/gyn reminded me that I have about 10-15 lbs of extra skin too. I can move, I can bend, I can walk forever and ever. I have to say, the number on the scale satisfies me but when I see pictures of myself I do not like how I look. As Thomas says, I look like someone who has had some medical stuff going on and has been through a lot. I don't want to look like this. My hair was falling out before but had finally stopped. After the last surgeries, it started all over again and I don't have a lot left. And as little as I am? I still have a gut! PCOS belly does not go away, apparently.
I still eat pretty well. Right now my "bad" addiction is dark chocolate. I can't live without fresh fruit. Well, I can live but I can't poop. :D I eat (or try to) about every three hours. I've noticed that I feel wonky if I go the 4-5 hours the surgeon's office recommends, especially if I eat a meal that may be a little carby. I can get lightheaded, confused, very shaky and anxious. I eat a little something and I'm fine. So I eat every few hours and it seems to be working out great. My go-to's are easy stuff like slices of deli meat, cheese, nuts, protein ice cream. If these aren't around I may wander into the realm of food that makes me feel like crap. I don't dump as hard or as often as I used to but it's still there, giving a slight shake of it's ugly head.
I was doing really well with exercising every morning. I get bored easily though so I've been just trying to stay active.
~May 2009: I finished my AA degree despite my health setbacks and with help and encouragement from my speech instructor (you rock!) and my Thomas (you'd better know you rock!). I took the summer off to let my body do some healing and now I have transferred to and start on Monday at a local, private university in which I am double majoring in psychology and sociology. I am afraid. I am afraid of not being good enough or smart enough or that my myriad of conditions will bring my and my family's future to a grinding halt. I do not want my son to see me give up, setting an example for him to do the same in his own life. I am afraid of telling people how I feel. But I have lived through and seen so much in my short lifetime. I have been homeless. I faced death only four months ago. I have lost over 130 pounds. If I can't succeed then who can? If I can turn my back on death why should I be afraid of myself?
I ask myself over and over if I regret the RNY. Most days it is no. There have been a few that have been a yes. But it doesn't matter. It is done. I don't take blood pressure or blood sugar meds anymore. Thomas delights in picking me up and giving me piggy back rides. I snag my son's clothes (I'm wearing his t-shirt right now). I fit in in a way that I didn't before. People don't stare at the big girl (but wait-there's something-omg, I think she's pretty?gasp!) anymore. I just blend in. Well, until I open my mouth. : x
0 comments
~Start: 271.5 lbs at 5'4" (BMI 46.7)
~RNY (lap): 266 lbs (BMI 45.7) on May 28, 2008. No pre-surgery diet for me, I lost those few lbs on my own (go me!). While still in the hospital, I started bleeding out of my drain too much and got a high fever. Dr. opened my incisions back up to investigate, found nothing of note and put some mesh stuff inside me along with some extra staples as a precaution.
Lost lots of weight. Still in the "overweight" area of my BMI. Happy, active. Still on Metformin and blood pressure medication. I ate what I was supposed to, took all of my vitamins, drank all of my water and then some and exercised almost every day.
But for months I ignored some pain (I'm very good at this) in my upper left, below the center of my chest. I blamed myself, thinking I was eating too fast or not chewing well enough or that my food was just getting "stuck" like I kept reading about on the forums. It slowly got worse. I did not notice. Then there was Pain sometimes when I was eating. Hmm. Then, there was PAIN when I would take bigger pills. I thought it was the pills, because they were just too big for me or something. Then, it seriously hurt when I took those pills, so I never took them again.
~I sat down to some protein ice cream one evening, took one bite (ignoring pain that was already present) and became seriously ill. Thomas wanted to take me to the ER-NOW! I told him it hurts really really bad but it will go away in twenty minutes (from previous experience!). Ummm, it didn't go away this time-it got worse. By the time we were at the local ER I could not stand and had to be wheeled inside. Ungodly pain. Fear when I realized all that I had read about strictures and obstructions. I recalled all of this in the waiting room in the span of about a quarter of a second, screaming inside my head because the pain was so bad that I could not do it out loud. I looked at Thomas and told him that I had a blockage and that it could kill me and tell those idiot triage people that I needed to see a doctor before I DIED. They got me back after what seemed to be an eternity. They were idiots. (Memorial Hospital-Belleville, IL). I eventually got pain medicine (after being given a type of NSAID-there was a bright plastic band on my wrist warning of allergies to NSAID's) and an ambulance ride to my surgeon's hospital (SSM DePaul), which I do not remember in the slightest.
~ Surgery (lap) April 2009 - Dr. Scott was gracious enough to laprascopically open me up to find the problem and save my life. I had a bowel obstruction that had been caused by a herniation, which had originally been caused by a microperforation from something rubbing against my staple line. I came out of recovery feeling like a new person. My surgeon was surprised at my drastic recovery.
~Surgery (open) April 2009 - In less than 24 hours, I began feeling crappy and started to run a fever. We could not get anyone to take my temp. Hours later, someone finally did and we were again in the midst of another emergency. Dr. Scott opened the incisions that he had just closed the day before, trying to find the problem. Nothing. But there was something WRONG. They called Thomas on the phone in the waiting room, telling him that Dr. had a bad feeling and thought he should do a full incision. Thomas consented, sitting alone there, praying that I wouldn't die, leaving him all alone to raise my 14 year old autistic son, as he had promised. I'm still not completely clear on the facts but the doc told me he found an abcess at the bottom of my colon (not on it, underneath) and removed it. He does not know what caused it but I am fortunate to not be emptying my own poop from a bag. In all, I am fortunate to be alive. I now have a higher risk of recurrence of a bowel obstruction.
To my understanding, the bowel obstruction was related to the RNY (it can be a complication of ANY abdominal surgery). The abcess was not but we're not sure why that happened or how. I am, in this reflection, almost completely setting aside my feelings ( which are substantial) regarding the way I was treated at both hospitals, especially during the time of the second surgery. I was treated so horribly, so severely disrespected as a human being by staff and professional medical personnel, that I was deeply afraid for my life and, by proxy, the future of my son and my Thomas. Our feelings were so strong that we borrowed money from Thomas' dad to have me transferred from DePaul to Barnes. I not only owe his dad a monetary debt but one of gratitude for saving what was left of my sanity and possibly my life. Thomas will never be the same. I'm usually his support. So what happens when your support is dying?
I went home for a very long recovery.
~May 11, 2009 I reached a goal of a "normal" BMI.
~I kept losing. Part of it was the surgeries and the hospitals and the "nothing by mouth" for a week. When I got home, I was back to only being able to stomach tablespoons worth of food. I was not capable of getting in my protein or all of my water. I lost muscle. I was a physically strong woman but that strength was eaten away as fuel for my body to function and heal because I could not get enough protein.
~Today 137.2 lbs (BMI 23.6): I am 2.8 lbs below my goal weight, which was five lbs under the cutoff for "normal" BMI. It actually went lower than that, still does sometimes but it also goes up. My ob/gyn reminded me that I have about 10-15 lbs of extra skin too. I can move, I can bend, I can walk forever and ever. I have to say, the number on the scale satisfies me but when I see pictures of myself I do not like how I look. As Thomas says, I look like someone who has had some medical stuff going on and has been through a lot. I don't want to look like this. My hair was falling out before but had finally stopped. After the last surgeries, it started all over again and I don't have a lot left. And as little as I am? I still have a gut! PCOS belly does not go away, apparently.
I still eat pretty well. Right now my "bad" addiction is dark chocolate. I can't live without fresh fruit. Well, I can live but I can't poop. :D I eat (or try to) about every three hours. I've noticed that I feel wonky if I go the 4-5 hours the surgeon's office recommends, especially if I eat a meal that may be a little carby. I can get lightheaded, confused, very shaky and anxious. I eat a little something and I'm fine. So I eat every few hours and it seems to be working out great. My go-to's are easy stuff like slices of deli meat, cheese, nuts, protein ice cream. If these aren't around I may wander into the realm of food that makes me feel like crap. I don't dump as hard or as often as I used to but it's still there, giving a slight shake of it's ugly head.
I was doing really well with exercising every morning. I get bored easily though so I've been just trying to stay active.
~May 2009: I finished my AA degree despite my health setbacks and with help and encouragement from my speech instructor (you rock!) and my Thomas (you'd better know you rock!). I took the summer off to let my body do some healing and now I have transferred to and start on Monday at a local, private university in which I am double majoring in psychology and sociology. I am afraid. I am afraid of not being good enough or smart enough or that my myriad of conditions will bring my and my family's future to a grinding halt. I do not want my son to see me give up, setting an example for him to do the same in his own life. I am afraid of telling people how I feel. But I have lived through and seen so much in my short lifetime. I have been homeless. I faced death only four months ago. I have lost over 130 pounds. If I can't succeed then who can? If I can turn my back on death why should I be afraid of myself?
I ask myself over and over if I regret the RNY. Most days it is no. There have been a few that have been a yes. But it doesn't matter. It is done. I don't take blood pressure or blood sugar meds anymore. Thomas delights in picking me up and giving me piggy back rides. I snag my son's clothes (I'm wearing his t-shirt right now). I fit in in a way that I didn't before. People don't stare at the big girl (but wait-there's something-omg, I think she's pretty?gasp!) anymore. I just blend in. Well, until I open my mouth. : x
Brain Fart
May 15, 2009
Getting just a little better every day. I have to watch myself because I can overdo it pretty easily and hurt myself. At least I can move now, sleep in my own bed, drive and go to the store. I went three places yesterday, my PCP, took my niece to the dentist and then went to the chiropractor. TOO MUCH! I was so worn out and hurting. So I'm trying to find that fine line on which I can do as much stuff as capable right now without unknowingly going over it and setting myself back. It's kind of difficult. I'm getting ready to take the kids to the annual art show and hoping I can find a close parking space so that we can spend more of the time there looking at interesting stuff than trekking through parked cars.
Only three more pounds until goal. I'm almost a year out now and lost six and a half pounds this week. I can't say I don't like it but it's a little bit freaky. It entered my mind that if I continue on that trend for any notable length of time that I will be underweight. Yipes! Just healthy weight, plz. My doctor (pcp) walked into the room yesterday, not knowing about my recent surgeries and his eyes popped open wide and he said "where are you?". lol. He's been seeing me for 14 years and I was obese for all but the last six months. He also confirmed that I am not batshit crazy, that my continuous brain fart since all this happened is a normal result of the trauma my body has undergone. I should be back to "normal" (snickers..) in a couple of months.
0 comments
Only three more pounds until goal. I'm almost a year out now and lost six and a half pounds this week. I can't say I don't like it but it's a little bit freaky. It entered my mind that if I continue on that trend for any notable length of time that I will be underweight. Yipes! Just healthy weight, plz. My doctor (pcp) walked into the room yesterday, not knowing about my recent surgeries and his eyes popped open wide and he said "where are you?". lol. He's been seeing me for 14 years and I was obese for all but the last six months. He also confirmed that I am not batshit crazy, that my continuous brain fart since all this happened is a normal result of the trauma my body has undergone. I should be back to "normal" (snickers..) in a couple of months.
Me? Normal?!
May 10, 2009
Well folks, I stepped on the scale at 6:30 a.m., barely looking at the readout. I saw enough for a double take though and I officially have a "normal" BMI. It was a big goal of mine, to reach normal. After years of being abused and mistreated because I was fat (or even just a little chubby, in the early years), I didn't want anyone to have any excuse to ever do it again. The thing is-I was prettier when I was a big girl. Seriously. I was curvy and knew how to dress for my body shape and I looked younger in my face. I had boobs and a butt! I'm not complaining, just noting the differences. On the flip side, people are nicer to me now, they look in my eyes when they talk to me. People listen when I talk. When I tick somebody off the first word out of his or her mouth isn't fat ____. They have to think of something else now, which tickles me to no end.
I have five more pounds to lose until I am at my own goal. My surgeon didn't really give me one. My goal, set to be attainable, is five pounds below the "normal" BMI cutoff. But for today, I will bask in the sunshine of a job well done, despite the setbacks I have had lately.
With all the time taking care of extra kids, then being in the hospital and recovering, I've missed a lot of school. I was so sure I would have to re-take the class. But I talked to my teacher about it and as long as I get the work done, I'm still in! Hearing that was a real load off but at the same time really stressed me out because, at the time, I was in extreme pain and could hardly move. I was thinking- "how am I going to give a speech tomorrow? Shoot, how am I even going to make it out my door and into the classroom?". But I did it, panic attacks and sliced up belly and all with the help of my Thomas. I have to write another speech today (for tomorrow) and then write a final paper. Hopefully I'll do well enough on those to pass the class and get my AA degree.
It's beautiful out. I got the blood stain from the hospital out of my favorite zip up hoodie last night. I'm healing from my surgeries. I have a normal BMI. It's shaping up to be a good week, don't you think?
Bowel Obstruction
May 10, 2009
Just before I hit my 11 months I had this pain in my abdomen. I had it a couple of times before, it really hurt then would go away. I thought this time was going to be the same. It wasn't. It kept getting worse and worse until I ended up in the ER at my local hospital, waiting in the waiting room in excruciating pain, knowing what was wrong and that I could die from it. The pain was so intense that I was too weak to scream. I don't know how long we waited. We had the 2 1/2 year old with us and called a family friend to come get him. They finally wheeled me back into the ER, and after having taken my vitals and allergy info (remember-NO NSAIDS!), they gave me a CT scan and an NSAID for the pain. It did nothing. I don't know what they gave me after that but it helped. I remember throwing up, which I NEVER do. The doctor came in and told me that he was sending me to my surgeon's hospital. I do not remember the ambulance ride there.
My surgeon laprascopically repaired a perforation and a hernia in my small intestine that was creating a bowel obstruction. It seems that my severe constipation issues from the last several months were something to worry about, after all. After the operation, I seemed to do well. My surgeon was genuinely surprised at my swift recovery. We were discussing when I could go home. Then it happened. I started to feel really bad again. I couldn't tell you how, just that I was. Again, this same hospital as the last time kept dropping the ball in my care. Doctor’s orders were not followed through, just like last time. I started to get that feeling like I was running a fever, just like last time. They took my temp and it was up but not dangerously so. It got worse and I, just like last time I was there, begged them to take my temperature to no avail. By the time they finally did take it (yep, just like last time) it was over 102 and they called my surgeon in, who seemed dumbfounded. Not sure what was going on, he decided to go in laprascopically and find out what was going on. He couldn't tell so it turned into an open incision, from breast to navel. From that he found a big abscess just below my colon and fixed it. He had thought that it was diverticulitis and thoroughly examined my colon but it was fine. I’m still not clear on whether I do/don’t have diverticulitis.
That hospital is a nightmare. The second surgery was performed in some old, abandoned-looking part of the hospital. The surgical team included my surgeon, a tall, skinny man with a hook nose who introduced himself as the anesthesiologist, some guy with a Russian accent, and a fat redneck with a camouflage surgical cap and a bad attitude. The redneck was extremely rude to me. I’m sitting here, on a table waiting to be sliced open again, and he’s demanding a pregnancy test. I just had one the day before but he didn’t care. He gave me a bedpan. So I made them shut the curtains and Thom helped me kneel over this thing ON THE GURNEY. I cannot pee lying down. Impossible. So I’m midstream and the guy says to never mind, stop. I told him that I couldn’t really stop without making a mess. He said, “well this wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” He asked to come into the curtained area; I didn’t know what to say except, “sure”. Mind you, I’m still kneeling over a bedpan. So he completely opens the curtains, exposing me to everyone in the room. Also, he kept insisting that I am a diabetic and Thom and I told him that no, I am (or at least was) insulin resistant. “So you’re diabetic then”. He kept saying, picking at me. Finally Thom came to my rescue and was like “you need to stop badgering her, NOW”. He stopped and the room got quiet. I’m still considering legal action because no human should be treated the way that I was at that hospital. Eventually, I was just so freaked out that I paid out of pocket (a lot of freaking $$$$) to be transferred to Barnes Hospital.
So I am healing. Just in the last few days I have finally been able to get behind the wheel of my own car and actually go a few places for short amounts of time. Thom said Dr. Scott said it would take me 6-8 weeks to heal. It’s been about 3 ½ weeks since the last surgery and I’ve been out of the hospital for about three weeks now. I’m finally better enough to sleep in my own bed, instead of on the couch, with Thom on the floor, making sure I was taken care of. Three and a half weeks of sitting on my rear-I can’t stand it! And even better is my family. They really do not recognize how serious this is/was. Nobody came to help me; nobody swooped down and took care of the kids while I was in the hospital. Thom had to take care of all that. And now that I’m out of the hospital, they’ve been, like, “well, did you go see your sister?” “did you do this or do that?”. I just kept telling them “HELLO! I was just sliced open-twice! I cannot even walk up the five stairs it takes to get out of my apartment”. “Oh. Well, yeah. We hope you feel better soon.” Grrrr.
Crazy
Mar 19, 2009
So I gave the speech and it went quite well. There were lots of questions and people seemed pretty interested. I took in my old pants and a before picture and people were surprised. he he.
For the last two plus weeks my home has been a madhouse. My sisters (identical twins) had to go to jail. I've been taking care of three of their four children, ages 12, 7 and 2 1/2. So I haven't been doing so great with my eating. I guess exercise is just coming naturally, or at least I hope so. There are refined carbs and sweets in my house now because that's all these kids are used to. I'm not used to it though and I find myself having a few goldfish crackers along with the kids. I have gotten a little carried away a couple of times. Grrrrr!
I am so tired though. There's no way I would have been able to do this at 271 lbs. Never. I'm up at 6:15 and don't go back down until well after the kids are in bed. I run all day. I have to drive 20 minutes each way to get the kids to their schools which is a minimum of an hour and twenty minutes on the road every weekday. We're emotionally and physically drained here. Oh, and those public agencies that are supposed to help kids like this? NOT! They are completely useless and can sometimes come off as a little bit demeaning. But we're doing the best we can around here. The little one hasn't peed his pants yet today and that's saying something. I'm just hoping that the exhaustion I feel is completely born of the situation and not any issues with vitamin levels.
0 comments
For the last two plus weeks my home has been a madhouse. My sisters (identical twins) had to go to jail. I've been taking care of three of their four children, ages 12, 7 and 2 1/2. So I haven't been doing so great with my eating. I guess exercise is just coming naturally, or at least I hope so. There are refined carbs and sweets in my house now because that's all these kids are used to. I'm not used to it though and I find myself having a few goldfish crackers along with the kids. I have gotten a little carried away a couple of times. Grrrrr!
I am so tired though. There's no way I would have been able to do this at 271 lbs. Never. I'm up at 6:15 and don't go back down until well after the kids are in bed. I run all day. I have to drive 20 minutes each way to get the kids to their schools which is a minimum of an hour and twenty minutes on the road every weekday. We're emotionally and physically drained here. Oh, and those public agencies that are supposed to help kids like this? NOT! They are completely useless and can sometimes come off as a little bit demeaning. But we're doing the best we can around here. The little one hasn't peed his pants yet today and that's saying something. I'm just hoping that the exhaustion I feel is completely born of the situation and not any issues with vitamin levels.
Moving Along
Feb 26, 2009
Thirteen more pounds and I will have a "normal" BMI. Insane. Somebody told me I look like a little kid now. Somebody told me I was looking good and have a very nice shape. Me? I feel the same. Well, I feel different, but I feel like me. I feel more like me than I did at over 250 pounds. Does that make sense at all?
I have not told a whole lot of people that I had RNY. I'm sure some guess, especially those that see me on a weekly basis. My family knows, to a certain extent, so do my friends and a few people my family has blabbed to. :) But I'm not open and obvious about it. I don't declare myself from rooftops. I'm just getting on with my life.
I'm in a new class this semester. Just one, my last until I graduate and transfer. I am treated like everyone else and I blend in. Ok, well, my personality is starting to shine through, I'm a little strange. :P It dawned on me several weeks ago that none of these people in this class with me everyday, this rather small evening class, has ever known me any way but as I am right now at this moment. It's a speech class so we talk a lot. There was a woman a couple of weeks ago, when we were supposed to just read something, decided to talk to us about her deceased father and the legal stresses that have followed. It was totally cool and I, at least, am glad she got that off of her chest and trusted us enough to let us into a little part of her life. Having said this, I thought a long time about the topic I would give for my informative speech. We're supposed to talk about something we know about. Well, what has my life been pretty much all about for the past almost nine months? So I kept coming back to the topic of WLS and I wrote my speech. It's just a short one but I will, towards the end, reveal that I have had surgery as well. I wouldn't have been ready to do this a few months ago. I think I am now. I get so tired of the stigma attached to WLS by people who don't even know the facts. So I'm going to give these people some facts. I'm nervous but for some reason I am feeling that it is important to do this. I haven't quite put my finger on exactly why, but I will.
Weight loss had slowed very dramatically, which is to be expected. It didn't matter what I tried, it just was going at its own pace. I was expecting a major stall or a gain this week, as that's what's been happening the week Auntie Flo comes to visit. Not this time. The scale keeps moving, bit by bit. I keep wondering if I'm doing something right (not exercising? more good carbs?-ha!) but I am having a sneaking suspicion that the doctor upping my Adderall to something close to a normal adult level may have something to do with it. Don't quote me on that, it's a shot in the dark. I know it will stop again and that it needs to but for now, IT FEELS SO GOOD to see the numbers go down.
I'm still having trouble with dizzy spells when I get up from sitting or laying down. Truthfully though, it's not nearly as bad as it was. It was happening several times a day and I would have to grab something to make sure I didn't fall. Now it may happen a couple of times and it's usually not nearly as bad. But I'm still trying to figure it out. I'm still on Metformin and my Thomas and I were thinking maybe I just don't need it anymore. So, starting yesterday, I have been pricking my fingers several times a day in hopes that maybe I'll see a pattern or something. I figured I can do this for a week or so and when I see my doctor, I can show him and let him tell me I'm just fine. He thinks it has something to do with my middle ear and gave me something to take for the dizziness. I don't even have it all the time. But when I really do, it's fast, like SWOOSH! It's like a black cloud goes over my vision, it feels like I'm on a too-fast merry-go-round and I have pressure in my head and hands. Who knows.
It was such a gorgeous day yesterday and I took a walk to the park. After weeks of being cooped up inside because of the cold, I forget how much I love being outside and just walking. I don't feel like people are staring at me anymore. People talk to me and smile. I met a neighbor from down the street walking her baby and dog. I hope we meet again.
0 comments
I have not told a whole lot of people that I had RNY. I'm sure some guess, especially those that see me on a weekly basis. My family knows, to a certain extent, so do my friends and a few people my family has blabbed to. :) But I'm not open and obvious about it. I don't declare myself from rooftops. I'm just getting on with my life.
I'm in a new class this semester. Just one, my last until I graduate and transfer. I am treated like everyone else and I blend in. Ok, well, my personality is starting to shine through, I'm a little strange. :P It dawned on me several weeks ago that none of these people in this class with me everyday, this rather small evening class, has ever known me any way but as I am right now at this moment. It's a speech class so we talk a lot. There was a woman a couple of weeks ago, when we were supposed to just read something, decided to talk to us about her deceased father and the legal stresses that have followed. It was totally cool and I, at least, am glad she got that off of her chest and trusted us enough to let us into a little part of her life. Having said this, I thought a long time about the topic I would give for my informative speech. We're supposed to talk about something we know about. Well, what has my life been pretty much all about for the past almost nine months? So I kept coming back to the topic of WLS and I wrote my speech. It's just a short one but I will, towards the end, reveal that I have had surgery as well. I wouldn't have been ready to do this a few months ago. I think I am now. I get so tired of the stigma attached to WLS by people who don't even know the facts. So I'm going to give these people some facts. I'm nervous but for some reason I am feeling that it is important to do this. I haven't quite put my finger on exactly why, but I will.
Weight loss had slowed very dramatically, which is to be expected. It didn't matter what I tried, it just was going at its own pace. I was expecting a major stall or a gain this week, as that's what's been happening the week Auntie Flo comes to visit. Not this time. The scale keeps moving, bit by bit. I keep wondering if I'm doing something right (not exercising? more good carbs?-ha!) but I am having a sneaking suspicion that the doctor upping my Adderall to something close to a normal adult level may have something to do with it. Don't quote me on that, it's a shot in the dark. I know it will stop again and that it needs to but for now, IT FEELS SO GOOD to see the numbers go down.
I'm still having trouble with dizzy spells when I get up from sitting or laying down. Truthfully though, it's not nearly as bad as it was. It was happening several times a day and I would have to grab something to make sure I didn't fall. Now it may happen a couple of times and it's usually not nearly as bad. But I'm still trying to figure it out. I'm still on Metformin and my Thomas and I were thinking maybe I just don't need it anymore. So, starting yesterday, I have been pricking my fingers several times a day in hopes that maybe I'll see a pattern or something. I figured I can do this for a week or so and when I see my doctor, I can show him and let him tell me I'm just fine. He thinks it has something to do with my middle ear and gave me something to take for the dizziness. I don't even have it all the time. But when I really do, it's fast, like SWOOSH! It's like a black cloud goes over my vision, it feels like I'm on a too-fast merry-go-round and I have pressure in my head and hands. Who knows.
It was such a gorgeous day yesterday and I took a walk to the park. After weeks of being cooped up inside because of the cold, I forget how much I love being outside and just walking. I don't feel like people are staring at me anymore. People talk to me and smile. I met a neighbor from down the street walking her baby and dog. I hope we meet again.
8 Months
Jan 28, 2009
Today makes eight months since my RNY. I can't believe how much has changed in that small amount of time. My clothes are smaller, my dreams are bigger and I know how to eat now. We had a good snow Monday and Tuesday and I couldn't wait to get out in it and play.
We went sledding and I actually sledded. Down a big hill. And crashed. I'm sore, so sore from the crash into two people (at the same time!) but I noticed some things while we were out. Walking up the big hills did not bother me. I was not out of breath, I did not feel like my lungs were going to burst, I did not whine to myself as I trudged up, ahead of the boys. I ENJOYED it. Going down the hill, on the other hand, was another thing entirely. Note to self: sledding down steep hills scares the crap out of me and I panic about 1/4 of the way down. My first trip down, there was actually cause to panic (though I did not know it at the time) because I was heading straight for two young ladies in their late teens/early twenties who were completely stopped at the bottom. If I EVER do that again, we're going somewhere more deserted. After the boy hit his head, then almost landed in a steep ditch (way the heck far away-he kind of ricocheted off the facing hill) and Thom banged himself really hard in the chest and crashed into some lady that was as big as I used to be, we went home.
I hurt today. A lot. I expected this though and can't wait to get to the chiropractor tomorrow. : ) I fully intended to be a good girl and get on my bike today. I really did. I know it's not too late. But I don't think so. After removing at least nine inches of snow from two vehicles and partially digging one out coupled with the trauma I caused my body on Tuesday afternoon, I'm toast. Maybe time and many pain pills will change my mind? My weight has climbed a couple of pounds, I'm assuming it's because of Aunt Flo. This is the first cycle I've had on my own, without medical intervention or birth control, since months before my surgery. AND! It was a NORMAL 27 day cycle. So I'm hoping that when Flo goes, so does the extra weight. But I was really hoping (no, determined) to get in plenty of exercise today. Crap.
0 comments
We went sledding and I actually sledded. Down a big hill. And crashed. I'm sore, so sore from the crash into two people (at the same time!) but I noticed some things while we were out. Walking up the big hills did not bother me. I was not out of breath, I did not feel like my lungs were going to burst, I did not whine to myself as I trudged up, ahead of the boys. I ENJOYED it. Going down the hill, on the other hand, was another thing entirely. Note to self: sledding down steep hills scares the crap out of me and I panic about 1/4 of the way down. My first trip down, there was actually cause to panic (though I did not know it at the time) because I was heading straight for two young ladies in their late teens/early twenties who were completely stopped at the bottom. If I EVER do that again, we're going somewhere more deserted. After the boy hit his head, then almost landed in a steep ditch (way the heck far away-he kind of ricocheted off the facing hill) and Thom banged himself really hard in the chest and crashed into some lady that was as big as I used to be, we went home.
I hurt today. A lot. I expected this though and can't wait to get to the chiropractor tomorrow. : ) I fully intended to be a good girl and get on my bike today. I really did. I know it's not too late. But I don't think so. After removing at least nine inches of snow from two vehicles and partially digging one out coupled with the trauma I caused my body on Tuesday afternoon, I'm toast. Maybe time and many pain pills will change my mind? My weight has climbed a couple of pounds, I'm assuming it's because of Aunt Flo. This is the first cycle I've had on my own, without medical intervention or birth control, since months before my surgery. AND! It was a NORMAL 27 day cycle. So I'm hoping that when Flo goes, so does the extra weight. But I was really hoping (no, determined) to get in plenty of exercise today. Crap.
Rant
Jan 24, 2009
I'm having issues. I know that people probably mean well when they tell me to "watch it" when I'm eating or otherwise criticize what, how, why, when or how much I'm eating and/or exercising but it gets on my nerves after awhile. I feel like I am being watched and judged, which makes me nervous and, well, let's face it, I used to eat when I was nervous.
So really, well-meant comments can actually be pretty damaging in the end. When a loved one does this it's even more complex and hurtful. I usually try to blow it off or try to remember the INTENT of the intrusion but sometimes it really brings me down. It makes me feel like a failure, that nothing I ever do will be right. It undermines the trust I have in myself that I will do what's good for me. Sure, sometimes I may not be perfect but I strive to be and I don't beat the crap out of myself because I had an extra snack or something. The people who judge me do not see me every second of every day. How in the heck do they know I haven't exercised much this week? How do they know that I've been "grazing" on sugar free hard candy? Yeah, I'm such a f@#$%*g cheater, me and my three sugar-free Werthers candies. I can just feel those hundred pounds all coming back right now!
This is interesting, because this issue came up today and I've been so down ever since. But now that I'm writing about it, I can see the anger. Oh, I'm not allowed to be angry. If I get angry then the other person gets angry and/or depressed and somehow it ends up being all my fault? I. Dont. Get. It. Furthermore, if you are a person who does not exercise and who eats poorly, what gives you the right to say anything to me? Oh. Yes. Because you're concerned, you care about me. You care so much that you will bring me down instead of lifting me up? No thanks. I'm trying to stop being so hard on myself all of the time, why should other people get to do it?
Calming down now. In other news, all that stuff (the Miralax, the fiber, etc) finally worked and I am no longer in agony in that department. So now I'm taking extra fiber every day in the hopes that it never ever ever happens again.
I did lots of running around with my best friend and my son yesterday. We went and tried on glasses and had fun. How does THAT happen? My son tried on some frames that made him look like a serial killer. Jen picked some up that were bright purple and looked a bit odd. They looked pretty bad on her (she was who we were there for) but when I tried them on, they actually looked decent! Thom is thinking about buying them for me for Valentines Day. It's a bit frivolous as I already have a pair on order through my insurance someplace else, but they won't be ready for a month and a half (and they're cheapies!) Jen snapped a pic. What do you think?
Oh, and thank you, patient readers for letting me rant. I've been holding frustration of mammoth proportions in for many many hours.
0 comments
So really, well-meant comments can actually be pretty damaging in the end. When a loved one does this it's even more complex and hurtful. I usually try to blow it off or try to remember the INTENT of the intrusion but sometimes it really brings me down. It makes me feel like a failure, that nothing I ever do will be right. It undermines the trust I have in myself that I will do what's good for me. Sure, sometimes I may not be perfect but I strive to be and I don't beat the crap out of myself because I had an extra snack or something. The people who judge me do not see me every second of every day. How in the heck do they know I haven't exercised much this week? How do they know that I've been "grazing" on sugar free hard candy? Yeah, I'm such a f@#$%*g cheater, me and my three sugar-free Werthers candies. I can just feel those hundred pounds all coming back right now!
This is interesting, because this issue came up today and I've been so down ever since. But now that I'm writing about it, I can see the anger. Oh, I'm not allowed to be angry. If I get angry then the other person gets angry and/or depressed and somehow it ends up being all my fault? I. Dont. Get. It. Furthermore, if you are a person who does not exercise and who eats poorly, what gives you the right to say anything to me? Oh. Yes. Because you're concerned, you care about me. You care so much that you will bring me down instead of lifting me up? No thanks. I'm trying to stop being so hard on myself all of the time, why should other people get to do it?
Calming down now. In other news, all that stuff (the Miralax, the fiber, etc) finally worked and I am no longer in agony in that department. So now I'm taking extra fiber every day in the hopes that it never ever ever happens again.
I did lots of running around with my best friend and my son yesterday. We went and tried on glasses and had fun. How does THAT happen? My son tried on some frames that made him look like a serial killer. Jen picked some up that were bright purple and looked a bit odd. They looked pretty bad on her (she was who we were there for) but when I tried them on, they actually looked decent! Thom is thinking about buying them for me for Valentines Day. It's a bit frivolous as I already have a pair on order through my insurance someplace else, but they won't be ready for a month and a half (and they're cheapies!) Jen snapped a pic. What do you think?
Oh, and thank you, patient readers for letting me rant. I've been holding frustration of mammoth proportions in for many many hours.
About Me
swansea, IL
Location
45.8
BMI
Surgery
05/28/2008
Surgery Date
Sep 23, 2007
Member Since
