I’m tired.

I haven’t written on this blog in over 2 years. In fact, I started this particular post in November 2020, then touched it about a dozen more times, then finally set it aside and didn’t finish it. I’m finishing it now.

I had promised to keep people updated on my weight-loss journey, especially after my bariatric surgery, but I didn’t. I went from wanting to share a personal experience with everyone to keeping it all inside and not sharing anything. So if you’re reading this you stumbled upon it either by accident or you’re someone who periodically checks to see if there’s been an update. Be forewarned, if you continue to read this, well…welcome to my personal Hell. It won’t be nice. I won’t be gentle. If you continue to read this, you do so at your own peril. And this is going to be lengthy.

What I will ask is that if you continue reading this you do nothing. Nothing. Please don’t message me with support, words of wisdom, or anything “helpful.” I don’t want to hear it. At all. It will really just piss me off. And no matter how much I know that those that want to write to help mean well, I can’t be “loved” out of this, and I’m nowhere near wanting to hear that people “care” about it. Or me.

At all.

Fact is, I truly believe that very few people actually give two shits about me. My mom, sure. A few friends and family. That’s it. I lived in the U.S. for nearly 20 years and during that time not one single person from back home visited me, except my mom who did so only 2 or 3 times. Everyone said, “We can wait till you’re home.” So when I finally returned home for good, you know what happened? Not much.

Today marks FIVE years since I’ve moved back home, there are still people who I haven’t seen – family and friends who live in the same city as me – but yet I haven’t seen them. And most I haven’t heard from except on Facebook. Now sure, you can say, “Well Dani, that works both ways.” and you’d be correct. Except you know what I’ve found? For nearly every instance where I have met up with anyone was all because I initiated it. I suggested dinner, a bingo, a movie, or whatnot. Me. And before I moved to the U.S., I remember it the same way. I was the one who nearly always instigated any get-togethers. That tells me…a lot.

It also tells me a lot about, well…me. While I’ll get more into it later (most likely), I’m not an attractive person. I’m not pretty, not even in a “she’s got a chubby little face that just makes her shine” way. Just an obese woman with two chins, and no real beauty to her at all. So, that tells me that it needs to be my sparkling personality that attracts men, but given that I’ve been on zero dates or even been approached in the 15+ years since my divorce, I’ve come to realize that my personality is just as ugly.

I haven’t even told that many “friends” about my situation (explained further below) because I feel like they don’t care. They certainly haven’t tried to reach out to me to ask. But even then, it’s so bad for me right now that I don’t want to see anyone.

But you know what they say, “It’s still nice to be asked…”

But I digress…

I once joked to a friend that while everyone was so eager for me to return home, I would do so, and what would happen would be that I was basically ignored. And that’s what happened. Ironically, in many ways, particularly with how I’ve been feeling the past 24+ months, I’m somewhat okay with that.

COVID didn’t help, sure. We weren’t allowed to socialize. But not one single person bothered to ever contact me to see if I was okay. On my most recent birthday, one friend reach out to actually ask me how I’im doing – that person being aware of my physical issues right now. My closest friends – still most have not contacted me to see if I’m okay.

Lately, things that have crept about in my head include that fact that it’s probably best if I just died before my mother. Sure, it will be hard for her – at first – but there’s no reason for me to outlive my mother. Not if it mean spending the rest of my life (however short or long that might be) by myself. Ccompletely by myself. I quite honestly feel that if my mother wasn’t here and I died in my condo for whatever reason, the only way anyone would know something happened to me is because someone at work would wonder where I was so I could do something for them. If it wasn’t for my job, I shudder to think how much time would pass before ANYONE noticed I wasn’t around. And that’s both pathetic and sad.

And you know what? I’m not okay. Not at all.

In any case, I’m pretty much going to run the gauntlet in this post. From where my so-called “weight-loss journey” is at the moment, to feeling completely unloveable, to my feelings of complete and utter uselessness, to wondering why I’m still here.

But let me be clear, this is not a “COVID-19” thing. If anything, the pandemic has given me an excuse to really hide inside myself and not have to pretend so much that I give two shits about my life. There really should be at least one Academy Award with my name on it for all of the acting I’ve done over the past couple of year. I’ve even been posting the odd “funny” on Facebook just to mask what’s really going on.

2019 was a shit year.

It was supposed to be “my” year. It was supposed to be the start of many great years for me. It turned into a shit-show and was one of the worst years of my life. 2020 and 2021 didn’t fair any better. Of course, if I did nothing to fix anything in 2019, logic dictates that the calendar changing over to 2020 would not miraculously fix everything. Same with 2021. And now 2022.

Now, this is where I quote Einstein:

I had my bariatric/weight-loss surgery in January 2019. I had high expectations, was excited about the prospects of losing a lot of this weight, and finally starting to feel better – about my health and my life. I was 52 years old and felt it was time to finally get my life in order.

I’d written on this very blog about my excitement. And fears. I also wrote that the one thing that I did not want was to be a failure. I’d already been there; done that. I didn’t want to do it again. I didn’t want to be counted in the statistical column under “Failure” for this weight-loss surgery. So many people had had it and after losing the weight, put it back on. Less than a handful of those I know had succeeded. I knew more people who experienced the former. And most of them, I might add, were the heaviest. Those who were considered obese but still not nearly as heavy as myself or others failed – in part, I suspect, due to how much longer it would take us to lose 2x, 3x, or 10x more weight than others. But I am aware that’s not the only reason.

I’d also written on this blog about how many times in the many years I’ve been struggling with my weight did I have experiences that should have pushed me to work harder at my weight loss, but yet they only inspired me briefly. Very briefly. I had questioned why I kept allowing myself to fail. Why I kept putting myself through all the heartache – each and every time. And who in their right mind would want to be as heavy as me? And suffer through so many things as I do daily, and not – NOT – do something about it?

I never got an answer to my question. And I feel now that the key is “who in their RIGHT mind…?” I haven’t been in the right mind in some time. Well before my surgery, but even after it. I thought I was. I was confident that the surgery would help me and I would become better.

I was wrong.

Now, just like everyone else who has struggled with weight loss can give you a hundred reasons why they failed, I’m about to do the same. And it’s not any one singular reason which lead to my failure (and yes, I’m going to use that word a lot and while it’s a very negative word, it is the reality that I am facing at the moment, so there it is.), it’s the culmination of them – building like a tiny snowball as it’s rolled through the snow and exponentially grows bigger and bigger.

After so many years of not being able to control myself – skipping meals, over-eating, too much snacking – I thought this surgery would help me do that. I knew that it would still be hard work and it would be ME who would being doing that hard work, but I had grand hopes that the seriousness of the weight loss surgery, specifically Roux-en-Y Gastric Bypass, would really help me to stay on task because it would make me sick to my stomach if I ate too much or ate something I shouldn’t have. And my intense fear of being sick would kick in.

My mental downfall started when I woke up from my bariatric surgery to find out that I didn’t get the Roux-en-Y Gastric Bypass, but instead I got the Gastric Sleeve. That’s where they remove a large part of your stomach. The idea being that if your stomach is smaller, you’ll feel fuller faster and eat less. But as I said, I wanted the other surgery for the “warnings” that would come with it. The disadvantages of the gastric sleeve:

Disadvantages

• Not reversible, because part of the stomach is removed.
• Weight loss may be more difficult or lessened without the intestinal bypass.
• The body still tolerates carb-rich and high-fat foods, which can slow weight loss.
• No dumping syndrome (discomfort from eating foods rich in carbs)

Now some people have had great success with the sleeve (but most, as I mentioned above, were those people that “only” had to lose 30-80 pounds). But that wasn’t what I wanted because I feared it wasn’t “enough” and it wasn’t. I started my weightloss journey already “behind the eight ball” so to speak. But I tried to stay positive and struck to the “rules”.

The other disadvantage of the gastric sleeve? SLOW weight loss.

Excruciatingly slow weight loss.

So while my cousin and others who had the other surgery were, after only 3 months, dropping 50-60 pounds, I lost 10-15 in that time. I did everything I was supposed to. And actually being that much more heavier, the weight should have dropped off on me faster, just by virtue of eating so much less, as well as eating better. But…by May of 2019 I was in a funk; depressed because the weight loss wasn’t happening fast enough. And my thoughts became toxic. And that was my fault.

This “game” is more mental than physical and I wasn’t feeling it but I did try to not give up. Then tragedy struck.

My mom’s only living/remaining brother – my Uncle Joe – passed away suddenly (we knew he was sick but wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly) and unfortunately, when we went to his home to await the police and coroner, I mistakingly saw his body and he’d been dead a few days. That is not something you can easily forget. His death started a very stressful time for my mother and me. I won’t get into the details but all thoughts of losing weight went out the door. I started eating out of cycle, eating things I shouldn’t and without that extra “protection” from the other surgery, my new stomach just said, “Feed me!”

Shortly after, my half-sister Donna suddenly passed away. We weren’t particularly close though I had wished we were. And while we weren’t particularly close, I felt her loss deeply. She was my blood. And the side of my life that I still know so little about. So I regret that we weren’t close; that we never really bonded. And then it was too late.

Work was exceptionally stressful over those many months as well, so by the time September/October rolled around, I needed a break. I convince my mom to go on a short vacation with me. We decided to visit New Orleans again for a couple of days before taking a short cruise to Mexico, where I’d never been. It was hot. Too hot. And I hate the heat. Worse yet, however, on the last day of the cruise as the ship was only a few hours from the New Orleans port and where we’d fly back home, my mom woke me up to tell me she was having trouble breathing.

I called the ship emergency center. The idiot doctor there basically told me that she wasn’t going to make it. They arranged to have a NOLA ambulance pick us up when we docked but not before dinging us with a $4K US invoice they charged to our credit card that was left with them for “essentials”. The emergency room doctor at Tulane Medical said she had pneumonia not what the ship doctor said (pulmonary embolism). My mom was so stressed over the next several days being intubated due to the pneumonia, being scared and just wanting to do how that she stressed her heart and she had a heart attack (she already has a weak heart and has a pace-maker).

Two weeks later, where after the first week they told me to notify family because she wasn’t going to make it – her heart wasn’t able to beat on its own – she made a remarkable recovery and was able to finally travel back home.

But the damage – to me – was done. I was broke.

2019 started my downward spiral and it seems no one cares – not even me.

It’s been my mom and me since 1977 when my dad passed away. The stress of staying in a hotel for 2+ weeks while not knowing if she was going to make it or not, and having the hospital hound me about expenses (they charged me $5K within the first hour of her being in the emergency room), something in me just broke. Even having one of my best friends (like sisters) come down to stay with me didn’t prevent me from stressed out so bad that I was physically sick by the time we got home nearly a month later.

And I know that I treated the friend not very well while we were there. I was so stressed, scared…just out of my element – I’m sure that I was rude and surely to her and I should have apologized to her right away. But I didn’t. And she’s now one of the people that I never hear from anymore. And I don’t know if it’s because of that, COVID, or a mix of that and others things. But it makes me sad.

I don’t think I’ve recovered from that time. The constant calls from the hospital to collect on invoices exceeding $1 MILLION US dollars (get your shit together, United States, about your healthcare system!), to worrying about my mom and her health…

I just broke.

Five months later would see COVID hit. For the first while, I was okay with it but like everyone else, as it kept going and going (and is still sort of going), it started to take a toll on me. It was struggle after struggle and mentally I was getting bleaker and bleaker.

And then the other shoe fell…

For all the excess weight that I’ve had to deal with over the years, nothing prepared me for my current struggle. During the COVID months, my weight went up and down with the seasons. Summers – without fail (and with doing nothing wrong) – I can gain 20-50 pounds every Summer of just water weight. No matter what I do – this is something I deal with every Summer and have for the past 25+ years. Then it takes me all winter to lose it. It’s a fucking vicious cycle.

But I also started to notice something weird about my body. I was getting bigger, and bigger, in my apron (the flap of abdomen fat that hangs over called a pannus stomach), especially on my right side. It seemed to keep growing and I really noticed when it started to get in the way of things: going to the bathroom, driving with the steering wheel, but even walking. Eventually, that mass (I called it the bowling ball or “BB”) hardened.

Each step I took I had to push that mass forward with my legs (mostly my right leg). My lower back ached all the time. My shoulders were pulled forward as well. My knees, which were already weak, struggled to allow me to even get up off a chair sometimes.

The BB not only got bigger, but it hardened and the skin began to change – feeling like a cobblestone-type surface.

Some Googling got me to: Abdominal Lymphedema – Stage 4 – Elephantiasis.

Massive localized lymphedema that occurs when the lymphatic fluid doesn’t drain properly, eventually turns to jelly, and then hardens.

I don’t like my doctor. She’s not very caring about her patients (I moved my mom from her after she misdiagnosed something that nearly killed my mom, who had to have emergency surgery to survive). She always tells me “Lose weight”. So I didn’t have high hopes that SHE would do anything about this. I even doubted she would know what it was.

So I went back to the bariatric doctor I saw before my surgery. He’s an ass too. But he’s a smart ass – and I don’t mean that the way it sounds. Just that he’s not stupid.

I won’t get into how he treated me while there but at least I got my answers.

Bottom line: It needs to be removed by surgery.

Let’s be clear: This is NOT fat that I gained. People can certainly look at me and see that I’m obese and assume that this mass, which hangs down to my knees, is fat, but they would be wrong. Lymphatic fluid is not fat tissue. In fact, lymphedema is pretty common and even skinny people can get it – normally in their legs.

But let’s also be clear: I am the reason this happened because my obesity didn’t help. Due to my apron, the weight of the fat that is there, pulled everything down enough that it caused the lymphatic fluid to not drain properly and therefore, welcome BB.

But the issue that I’ve been facing is: when am I going to have it surgically removed.

Not all doctors can do this. No one in my city can. And even with COVID slowing down somewhat so doctor visits are back on schedule and surgeries are now being performed, all the surgeries that were canceled due to COVID are only now just being rescheduled and done. So I’ve been on a waiting list to just get a consultation for some time now. So I don’t even have a surgery date, or even know for sure it will be done by this doctor 2+ hours away from me.

But at this rate, it’s looking to be 2023 before I can have the surgery.

In the meantime, the bariatric doctor estimated that the BB is about 40 or 50 pounds. So on top of the usual weight, and the annual Summer weight, I’m carrying around that much more weight and am not at the highest weight I’ve even been at that has been recorded.

My doctor: Lose weight.

So every day it is a struggle to even move. Walking is rough – between the regular extra weight, the BB and having to push it when I take each step, to how my back feels…on top of my plantar fasciitis and nerve damage in my feet – I’m barely hanging on. It interferes with everything now. Even driving is uncomfortable because I have to lift my right leg to apply the break but that means it trying to lift all the weight of the BB up to do so. Stopping for streetlights is painful and thankfully my city is very flat so I’m able to put the car in Neutral so I can take the pressure off my leg while stopped.

I’ve pulled my lower back so bad that for two weeks I could barely move – even turning my head would have it re-pull and it was one of the most painful things I’ve ever had to deal with. Getting in and out of bed, up or down from or to a chair, in and out of the car, and even just going to the toilet. It would just keep pulling and I live in fear that that will happen again.

I bought a new mattress because mine was over 30 years old. I literally have to climb into it on my hands and knees (with the BB dragging on the mattress), to the center of the bed and then flop down on my left side (no longer can sleep on my right side) and basically where I land, that’s it. I’m stuck. The BB slinks somewhat into the mattress and I’m unable to move.

The BB also stretches out all of my pants to the right side – wearing the fabric out and pulling the seam of my pants to the right. Underwear is impossible to wear for that reason. So I have to switch out my black pants daily. It also, because it rests skin to skin on my thighs causes much chaffing, on top of sweating and sometimes feels as if it’s ripping my skin off. I powder myself like there’s not tomorrow and still…it’s uncomfortable as all fuck.

And in the Summer months, it’s far worse.

There have been days when I have sat here, or laid in bed, and wanted to die. I cry. A lot. All the damn time. Not just from pain, though I have that – throughout my body – but just because I feel completely and utterly broken. I sit and wonder how I left myself get to this point in my life. I feel that I’m not contributing anything to my life and certainly not to anyone else.

I told someone (I thought was a friend but was mistaken) some time ago that one night I sat in the living room looking at the balcony railing out the patio window and momentarily thought “I could just throw myself over it” until I realized that I’m too fucking fat to get my ass over the railing anyway.

I don’t want to kill myself, but that isn’t stopping me from feeling so hopelessly lost that I don’t consider that it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world for anyone.

I’ve never been great at thinking positive and trying to be grateful for what I do have. I’m not stupid. I know I have it better than many; but until someone has lived in this body and mind, it’s easy for them to say the usual spiel:

“Things will get better.”

“Keep your chin up.”

“It could be worse.”

“Be positive. You can do this.”

Yadda. Yadda.

Again, while this is 100% my fault for my life being this shit hole, that doesn’t mean that I want to or feel I deserve all of this being piled on me. I could cry “it’s not fair” but I’m past that and it doesn’t matter.

Fact is – I could not possibly hate myself anymore than I do right now.

I am a complete and utter failure – at everything. And there is next to nothing in my life right now that makes me the slightest bit happy. Nothing.

I told my mom recently that I feel completely worthless. That I have no value. Her response was “that’s not true” or something to that effect, and that’s it. She dismissed my real feelings of lacking self-worth as an exaggeration. And as I said before…I feel like I really don’t have any real friends anymore. So I have been faking it all. To everyone. Because there is little to no point in trying to get people to believe, understand or even sympathize or care what is happening to me.

I don’t like to go out anymore. Besides the heat, just the effort it takes me to walk to the car, then drive…and then just feel like I shouldn’t be out. Now with how I look and feel – about myself – and about life in general.

I hate my life. And I’m tired of it.

All of it.

So yeah…

Seven weeks…still going…

Today marks seven weeks since my bariatric gastric sleeve surgery. Not going to lie – it’s been a roller-coaster ride, but I’m still going…

But it all depends on your definition of “going” whether that means I’m good or bad.

One of the things that we’re told pre-surgery is – besides having to stay with the program in order to lose, keep it off and be successful – is also how emotional it all can be. Your body is adjusting to new things – the physical changes both from the surgery and the results of the surgery (re: weightloss), but that can also take a toll mentally on someone – both at a hormonal level of which you really can’t control, but also, by and by, simply how you’re feeling. How you’re coping with all those changes.

And it can be struggle. Not just for me. I have a friend who had the sleeve surgery in July. She’s a lot like me – both in body shape/size – but also her mental components. How she thinks and feels. She is struggling now because she feels like a failure. Not because she’s gained weight, but because after six months, she doesn’t feel as if she’s lost enough. She’s down about 40 pounds in that 6 months. She lost another 65 or so pre-surgery, so she hit the 100 pounds lost mark.

And yet she still feels like a failure.

At a bariatric support group meeting the other evening, she said that part of the problem is in her own head. And I couldn’t agree more. Not because I’m a know-it-all, but more because that’s exactly as I am. How I’ve always been.

My own worst enemy.

So despite having lost over 100 pounds, this friend feels like a failure because she sees other people who have had the surgery and have already lost 100 pounds in the 6 months since their surgery. The posts on the social media support groups about their weight loss success so far are getting to her. So much so that she’s stopped looking at them.

And I get it. Boy…do I get it. It’s hard to not compare our progress to others. And it’s easy for me to say to her to not do that. To tell her that she’s doing great, and support her. Yet I found it ironic that while I can, and do, support her and what I say to her makes sense – it is something that I can’t say to myself – or hear from myself.

I’m seven weeks out. I certainly should not be comparing myself to my friend or anyone else for that matter. But I am comparing myself to…myself. And failing.

I lost a lot of weight the first several weeks post-surgery in January. February is done and I’ll be lucky if I’ve lost any. And while the logistical part of me knows that my body is still adjusting – particularly to the fact that I’m no longer on a liquid diet and as I add more “solid” foods, my body will have to adjust to those as well…nope. I look down upon myself and wonder what I did wrong.

And yet I can really come up with nothing. I haven’t “cheated”. I haven’t snacked on pop, chips, popcorn, or any “snacks”. No fast food or really any “bad” foods including anything deep fried. I’ve been good. And yet that scale…that fucking scale…is causing me heartache.

But then I remember that post I did. The one about the NSVs (Non-Scale Victories) and I remind myself that now when I get in my car, my stomach doesn’t touch the steering wheel anymore! The jeans I always wear, while always baggy to begin with (so much so that a friend used to call them my MC-Napoleon pants – for MC Hammer bagginess, and Napoleon because I’m so short (though ironically, that friend isn’t taller than me!)…anyway, those jeans…they are even baggier. So much so that thankfully I still have some hips in order to keep them UP! I’ve also lost 5″ in my waist and 3″ in my hips. Progress!

So while that blasted scale might not be my friend, there are other things that tell me I’m still on track.

And I also have to remind myself that this specific surgery I’ve had means not only will I not lose it as fast, but if I don’t work hard, I certainly won’t lose as much as I hope to.

So starting tomorrow I will only weigh myself once a month – the first day of every month. It’s to keep my sanity…but also for me to think about other ways that I can see that I’m doing well on this journey.

As for my friend…I told her that I will be here for her, but that we can do this journey together – for support and as a cheering section. Because I think she’s done fabulous, and while like me, she has a ways to go…she’s well on her way to being successful.

She, like me, just needs to stay out of our own heads.

Love to all.

Post-Surgery Update

I meant to do this update a lot sooner after my bariatric surgery. I certainly had enough time post-surgery and before returning to work, so I’m not sure why I didn’t do it before now. So I do apologize for the long delay.

I say “long” because in two days it will be four weeks since my surgery. Hard to believe it’s been four weeks already. But then again, we’re already into February of 2019 so time just seems to be flying.

My surgery, for all intents and purposes, went well. What I did not find out until I woke up, and was out of the post-surgical anesthesiology stupor, was that they did not perform the bariatric bypass/RNY surgery. Instead, I received the gastric Sleeve. The surgeon later told me that it came down to what was safer for me. Apparently those four grueling weeks on the OptiFast did not shrink my liver enough to make it safe for him to do the bypass/RNY, so the Sleeve was my only option. They often tell you that once you drop down enough and it’s safer, you can then have the bypass/RNY, but I feel like once is enough for me. Thank you very much.

So while I wasn’t entirely happy that I ended up with the sleeve, there are both disadvantages but a few advantages as well. One disadvantage is that you lose less weight, and it comes off slower – at least, that’s what I’ve read in several places. But I also follow people who have had the sleeve who have done amazing and haven’t let that set them back. I’m hoping to be one of those successful people.

The advantage to the weight coming off slower is that the skin has more time to retract, though I suspect that is better for someone who is much younger than me. I’m afraid that ship has sailed for this body – but excess skin was always going to be something that I will be addressing in the future with removal surgery.

Another advantage is that instead of my stomach being the size of an egg (and eventually growing to an orange), it’s now the shape of a banana. As well, because there wasn’t a “bypass” done – just the making of a small stomach – I don’t have the vitamin deficiencies that others who have had the bypass/RNY – save for those deficiencies I had pre-surgery. It also means that the acid in my intestines/bowels digest the food better, and the post-surgery fear of “dumping” is almost none-existent.

That’s not to say that I can’t overeat and get sick. Or that I can’t eventually stretch my stomach too much to where I gain back all the weight from overeating and eating the wrong things. Those are all possibilities if I fall back into old habits.

So far, through the various “food” stages, I have been lucky enough that nothing has bothered me and I’ve been able to eat as necessary, but still feel full. I recognize the “pressure” of knowing when to stop, and as each week goes by, I’m able to try adding something new to my “diet” that for the past many weeks has been mostly liquids and a whole lot of sugar free jello and/or pudding.

The only pain I’ve really been experiencing since Day #1 is the spot where they had to go through some muscle. Depending on how I move, it can be painful – as if something is pulling that muscle – and unfortunately it’s something that needs to heal on its own. So sleeping is a challenge. Normally I would sleep on my sides, rotating throughout the night to each side, as my hips, lower back and legs start to ache. Since the surgery, I’ve been unable to lay on my left side (the incisions – 6 in all – are all mid-belly and to the left) so on my right side, I’m only able to sleep for – at most – a couple of hours before the pain in my hips, lower back and legs become too much. For the first several days, I was sleeping only a couple hours a night. I tried to sleep on the recliner in the living room to no avail – even with my cPAP machine. But the past week that has been my “bed” with much better results – without my cPAP machine – until last night.

Without the cPAP, I usually wake up every few minutes – snorting myself awake if you will. I don’t go into a REM sleep. Yet for the past week, I’ve been deep enough to dream and sleep several hours in the recliner. So I’m not sure why that was possible, but last night it was back to the usual – snorting myself awake ever few minutes – so by 4:30am I gave up and went to my bed figuring a couple of hours sleeping on my ride side is better than nothing.

Of course, I’m a bit sore. On Sunday I slipped and fell on a slippery spot outside of our favourite bingo hall. My only thoughts as I was falling was to protect my stomach, which remarkably I managed to do – without pulling that muscle that already hurts more. But I did land on my left knee, then fall to my right hip. So a couple of days later, I’m still feeling it. I suspect tonight I’ll merely pass out from exhaustion.

So at nearly four weeks post-op, I’m feeling pretty good and can’t complain about too much. The scale was my friend in January:

Down 19.6 of that 24.8 pounds since surgery on January 10th, and 47 pounds since December 4th.

Here’s hoping for an equally successful February!

Thank you to everyone for your prayers, kind words, encouragement and support…and especially the love. It’s very much appreciated!

Love,

 

7 dayzzz…

The magic number today is:

My weightloss/bariatric surgery is now 7 days away. January 10th.

It’s come fast. In some ways – too fast. Yet overall, it’s been a year since my first doctor referral to the program.

I’ve been on the OptiFast now for three weeks. I’m not going to lie – it’s been rough going. It’s a struggle to not only just drink four “meals” a day, but to do so during the holiday season made the challenge to stay “true” to doing it without cheating made the struggle that much harder.

I had moments when I thought I was going to lose my mind. Moments when I wanted to cheat and considered it – but I didn’t. Moments when I questioned what I was doing.

And yet I’m still here.

It’s not that I missed oinking out on a ton of food during the holidays but just the idea that I couldn’t even have any food to chew made the holidays not very fun at all. That I couldn’t really “participate” in holiday luncheons, Christmas dinner or even have a drink or two on New Year’s Eve.

It was a sacrifice certainly, but despite all of the feelings of misery and frustration, as well as some sadness, I know it’s something that had to be done and will lead me to where I need to go next:

Surgery

I don’t think people realize that even with doing the OptiFast, the drastic change, on top of the stress of preparing for and doing the surgery – it all affects not only my body but my mind. My mood. My everything. I’ve been an emotional wreck for weeks, and it’s only going to continue for the immediate future.

On the upside, on this liquid “diet” of OptiFast, I am down just over 20 pounds in the past three weeks.

So next Wednesday, my best friend Paula and I head to Toronto. I have to call the hospital that day to find out my surgery time for the next day. Then I’ll spend the first night in a hotel, being up bright and early to prepare for my surgery. While I’m in the hospital (hopefully we’ll return back home on Saturday), Paula will stay in a hotel but she’ll visit with me and keep me going until we’re ready to go home.

I won’t pretend that I’m not terrified. It’s major surgery, which I have never have, and I’m scared about the things that can happen that I cannot control. But I’m trying to have some sense of positiveness.

I can’t look too far into the future right now and think about the “end” result – there’s just far too much in between to deal with and it can be overwhelming, so I would rather just concentrate on the immediate now. Which in the next 6 days is to get what I need to bring with me to Toronto and pack it up, settle some matters with my job before I go out for two weeks, and in general just prepare myself mentally as best I can.

So if you’re the praying type, I would appreciate if you could keep me in your prayers, and if you’re not, even positive vibes would be appreciated.

I will try to keep everyone more update on how I’m doing and the journey as it takes place. My life is about to take another sharp turn and I pray that it all goes well. I don’t want to be one of those people who finds themselves regretting the decision to have the surgery.

Blessings to all.

And so it begins…

My journey to bariatric surgery is moving on. In less than a month, I will have the surgery and, hopefully, begin the new start to the new life I want and need.

On Wednesday I started the OptiFast. Today is Day #3. It’s been a rough few days, but I understand by what others have said, this is normal. By tomorrow, or Sunday, I should be feeling full, not hungry and not having hunger pangs. I am looking forward to that part.

I told my best friend last night that the hardest part about this now it looking at food and knowing I can’t just have it. I saw an ad for spaghetti…and immediately missed it. But what it funny is that when I could have it, I didn’t eat it very often at all. But the idea now that I can’t have it, I want it.

Our minds are fascinating things.

In any case, since starting on the OptiFast on Wednesday morning (4 shakes a day), I am down 4.6 pounds so far – a “side effect” of taking the OptiFast for four weeks, when you weigh what I do and that the OptiFast shakes only add up to be about 900 calories a day.

I found an ap “Baritastic” for my iPhone which is specifically for bariatric patients and so far it’s amazing. I got it last Friday so since then, when I entered my weight on that day, I’m down a total of 8.2 pounds for the week, counting that 4.6 since I started on the OptiFast.

Again, the OptiFast is to shrink my liver so during the surgery it doesn’t get in the way. That “side effect” of weight loss is merely a bonus. A bonus I’ll take nonetheless.

I have a ways to go on the OptiFast, and unfortunately, it makes Christmas a bit more “Baa Humbug” but I’ll be with family and friends, enjoying their company more than the food. This is something I will have to learn anyway.

I leave Sunday to travel back to my office in New York State and it will also be a challenge to be there with friends and coworkers and not be able to even participate in the Christmas luncheon – at least, the food part. So hopefully the rest of the time will be fun and relaxing.

I’m off now to have my “lunch” – Vanilla Optifast with Blueberry Razz Crystal Light liquid and a whole lot of ice!

Be back soon…

 

Damn you, scale!!!

I’m sure there are people out there that think weight loss surgery (bariatric surgery) is “easy.” Or it’s “cheating”. Or the “lazy” way.  And while for years I was against it, it wasn’t for any of those reasons. But through this past year, I’ve learned a lot about the surgery, spoken to many who have had it, and I can say – even without yet having it myself – there is nothing “easy” or “lazy” about this surgery. And it certainly isn’t cheating.

I will follow up with a more detailed post about all that going through this surgery entails, but for now, I wanted to talk about something else.

Because this will not be easy for me, and will mean a lot of hard work, I do want to stress that I’m not going to go through all of this, simply to end up failing. That word: Failing, is no longer part of my vocabulary. I’ve come too far, and will go through so much, to not use it for the tool that it is and come out successful.

There’s an acronym among the bariatric “world”:  NSV.  It stands for:

Non

Scale

Victory

NSVs are when – in my case weight loss – you have victories in reach goals or noticing events occurring that have nothing to do with what that damn scale says. Because for anyone who has ever battled that blasted thing – and likely lost – it can disheartening, and downright depressing to step on it and the number staring back at you isn’t what you expected and/or wanted. It’s often the precursor for setting yourself up for failure.

NSVs can – and do – help you to keep motivated, especially when the scale is trying to do the exact opposite.

Let’s face it, I’m sure I’m not the only one who has called the scale every curse word you can think of, when in reality, we logically know it’s not the scale’s fault. But it’s easy to blame it; I do it all the time. It’s pure evil no matter how logical I want to be.

As Garfield would say:

The truth of the matter is that the number staring back at you, really is just a number. Even if you swear it says 666 sometimes.

Oh and just a reminder…

Just as there are plenty of reasons the scale shows a rather not-so-nice number (retaining water, building muscle, or actually gaining weight), there are also plenty of other ways to know when you’ve been victorious with your weight loss. NSVs.

Your body measurements is a good NSV. Often even if the scale doesn’t seem to be moving, you might notice your clothes fitting better/looser. Maybe that belt buckle needs to be moved to the next smaller hold.

Of course, others might notice your successes more than you would. I always said that I doubted when I look in the mirror after having lose a lot of weight, future self would still see a fat woman. But it’s your friends and family who will notice your progress, and hopefully they’ll tell you. Even if you have to force yourself to accept the compliment.

You might also notice that those old aches and pains you thought were age related have gotten better, or maybe even disappeared. Carrying around excess weight, even a little bit, can stiffen joints and make your muscles and body ache. Imagine lugging around a couple of hundred extra pounds, and those aches and pains are worse a hundredfold.

Getting off of medications might also be another NSV. If you’re like me, the amount of medications you take requires its own suitcase when you travel. As your health improves, your body adjusts and may no longer require those medications.

If you’ve always struggled with exercise, maybe a great NSV is being able to jog down the street, or do a sit up. Or maybe even a burpee.

For me, being able to go up a flight of stairs without feeling like I’m in the void of space and there is no oxygen, would be one of my favourite NSVs. But there are so many others. Things that people might take for granted that someone of my size struggles with daily.

• doing up a seatbelt in a car or plane without an extender
• walking into any clothing store and being able to buy “off the rack”
• playing any sports without getting out of breath or needing to take breaks
• sitting in any movie theatre seat without the armrests cutting into your legs
• going to the bathroom (more on that someday – you’ll be warned)

The point is that there are so many things that can be celebrated that don’t involve the scale. And on that note, HOW you celebrate NSVs is another component to success. In the past I’m sure one way that people rewarded themselves for a successful even was to eat. So it’s equally important that those NSVs are celebrated but in a healthy, non-food way.

• treat yourself to a new outfit
• buy a new book, or walk to the library and check out a bunch of books
• treat a friend to a spa day
• get your nails or hair done
• get a tattoo of your victory
• set more goals that will be harder to reach, but not impossible
• learn a new talent: crafts, painting, crochet, etc.

In a world where there is so much negativity, and if you’re like me, it’s hard to not be negative all the time, take the time to celebrate your victories – no matter how small, and don’t forget to just keep going.

Onwards and Upwards, my peoples!

Love,

And the surgery date is…

Drum roll please…

And as “Save the Date” cards would normally only be done for weddings or showers…

I’m bucking with tradition.

My bariatric/weight loss surgery date is:

Finally!  From the first referral to surgery, it will be 14 months to complete this portion of the journey. While that isn’t uncommon, it’s also frustrating when you see others move faster through the process than you do. But alas, it’s still moving.

What this now entails, until that surgery date, is a rather large stack of paper that include what to do and not to do.  From accommodations in Toronto, transportation to and from Windsor to Toronto, to my special “diet” leading up to the day of surgery, it seems like a well-oiled machine. Let’s just hope I can keep up.

My hotel is booked for the first night, and then hopefully, it’s only a two night stay at the hotel and I’ll be heading home. One of my closest, dearest and longest friends will be going with me to Toronto for the surgery to make sure that I get there and home in one piece.

As I mentioned in my last post…one of the more unpleasant things that most find is the nearly all liquid “diet” that most bariatric patients have to do before surgery – for anywhere from 1 week to 4.

I drew the short straw and got 4 weeks, which I will take (called OptiFast) right up to the day before the surgery. So one of the things I have to do right up to the day before my surgery is drink this stuff called OptiFast.  Now that I know my surgery date, the day I will start the OptiFast is December 12th.

So between now and then, I have a list of items on my “last supper” list, which incidentally will not ALL be consumed in one setting. I do have some restraint!

My list (so far) is:

1. date squares
2. lemon cannoli from Erie Street
3. lasagna or panzerotti
4. movie popcorn w/butter
5. hickory sticks
6. KFC
7. Pat ‘n Hanks (fish and chip joint – local)
8. chocolate cake
9. Aero chocolate bar
10. Pizza

I am still a bit bummed that I will be on the OptiFast during the Christmas holidays. Nothing says Merry Christmas like a jury-rigged replacement drink because you can’t stand the taste of the stuff.

Ho. Ho…

No.

But it is what it is. And January 10, 2019 is going to be my reborn date.

Happy Birthday to me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sooo close…

It’s very hard to not be disappointed when something you’re all but positive will happen…and then it doesn’t. Yes, I know the old adage is: There are only two things certain in life: death and taxes.  But once in a while, you know something is going to happen, and you can’t help but get excited. Then…

Boom!

Sorry to disappoint you, but…

Well that’s how I felt Wednesday during my Skype meeting with my surgeon, who apparently turned out to NOT be my surgeon but a resident. At least, that’s what the nurse who was with me indicated when she said, “That’s not him.” Incidentally, my surgeon’s name is: Teodor Grantcharov. From asking some people who have had him for a surgeon, they all give him (and his team) rave “reviews”, so it sounds like I will be, at least, in good hands.

It’s a common thing that when you have your face-to-face with the surgery who will be performing the bariatric surgery on you, that you find out not only about the surgery, how long it will take, and answers to many other questions – you also usually find out WHEN your surgery will be.

I was told, “late January, possibly into February.”

Well, geez…thanks. That really narrows it down, doesn’t it?

This surgery is a huge step in my life. It’s taken me a long time to decide to do it and when I finally committed to doing it…well…I just want it to be done now. To get on with the rest of my “new” life and live it. I didn’t make this decision lightly. In fact, from the time I was referred to the program until now, it has been nearly a year that has gone by.

Each person is different. Their journey to surgery is also different. Some people who were at the Orientation with me have already had the surgery. Some are having it soon. And here I am…into 2019.

So yes, I am disappointed.

But not finding out now when it is, is a bigger issue. I have to make plans. At the very least, hotel reservations for my travel companion(s), transportation to and from Toronto, book time off of work, and in general…make the plans as fast as I can.

So one of the things I have to do right up to the day before my surgery is drink this stuff called OptiFast. It’s a meal replacement powdered drink (only comes in two flavours – Chocolate and Vanilla) which helps to shrink your liver so that when they operate on you, they can flip that fat puppy out of the way to avoid any problems. Depending on who much you weigh is usually how many weeks before the surgery you have to drink this stuff – four times a day.

I’m “lucky” enough that I will have to drink it for FOUR weeks before the surgery. Given this, I want/need to know my surgery date so I can know what date I officially start the OptiFast. Then I know how much time until I start the OptiFast to enjoy, if you will…

My Last Supper.

There are a lot of foods that I won’t be able to eat after the surgery. Ever.

And, as typical with many people having the surgery, I want to have a few items for the last time before I do. How much time to do I have to have these items? I have no idea. Because I’m still waiting for the call to tell me when my surgery is.

But I will tell you, my list of things I want before I can’t have them anymore isn’t huge…but I feel it’s a right of passage for me to big them a final adieu.

Certainly some foods that are a no-no can eventually be consumed, but the fear of the ramifications and “side effects” really turn me off of the idea. Not to mention that that only breeds your old bad habits again, and I’m not going through all of this just to end up back where I started.

No way. No how.

So it’s another waiting game…but in keeping with, you know, my always optimistic attitude (for those who have never played the home game, that’s sarcasm right there)…I’m going to say, “at least I’m still moving forward.”

So fingers and thumbs crossed that find out soon. I can be patient (not really), but I have my limits.

Blessings to all. Thank you for your kind words, support and love. It means a lot.

Next Step…So close…

I realized earlier that I haven’t posted in some time. Truthfully, I was waiting until I actually had some updates regarding the bariatric surgery that I’ve been on a path to do. So, that being said, here is an update.

My last update back on July 25th (and boy, this process really is quite a long endeavor!), I told you that I needed to have three people sign off on me:  The social worker, the dietitian and the bariatric doctor. At that time, I had just gotten my sign off from the social worker.

On my next visit with the dietitian – August 21st – she also signed off on me. She felt I had made some great progress, albeit I hadn’t lost any weight (more on that later). She also told me that I had make some great changes to my diet and was pleased.

That same day I met with the bariatric doctor. I had hoped that he would sign off on me as well, but alas…something always comes up. In this case, it wasn’t anything I did – which makes it all the more frustrating when delays happen through the fault of others that affect YOUR life. He questioned me about one of my medicines that my family doctor had put me on. Turns out that is causes weight gain! Couple that with it being another hot and humid summer and I really didn’t have a chance…I wouldn’t have lost weight anyway. Summer is hell for me and I swell up like a balloon…so taking medicine that causes weight gain isn’t my idea of a party.

He also said that he hadn’t yet gotten the test results from my sleep study, nor all of the test results from my blood work from two weeks prior. This is the third time the lab where I’ve done my blood work since entering this program has messed up. Unfortunately, while he had hoped to make a decision that day, he couldn’t without all of the data/results. So back “waiting for the next meeting” train.

Also unfortunately, I had to wait until just last week before I could meet with him again. The good news is that he was pleased enough to sign off on me as well, despite the no weight loss.

The next step would be the pre-surgery class. I knew from speaking to a friend who is also going through this process, but who was slightly ahead of me even though we were in the same orientation class, that they only have this pre-surgery class a couple times a month. Thankfully, the Gods were smiling on me and they called me to say I could go to the next class the following Monday, October 22nd.

So this past Monday, my mom and I went to the class. It was a bit more information on the surgery, what to expect etc. Most of it wasn’t new, especially if you’re someone like me who does a lot of “investigating” but it was still good. Also at that class, they told me that they’d chosen St. Mike’s (St. Michael’s) Hospital in Toronto for the surgery. While the nurse wasn’t pleased about the small weight gain I’d had, really it came down to bad timing because two days before I was down, then up, then down again. It probably didn’t help that we’d had Chinese food the night before and I was water-logged from all the salt.

In any case, I’m not at the stage where I’m waiting for yet another phone call to tell me the date/time that I will “meet” with the actual surgeon via Skype from the Bariatric Center here so I don’t have to go all the way to Toronto.

Odds are that given Christmas is now 2 months away – sorry! – it won’t happen until the beginning of the new year. But the surgeon will give me the date – assuming he doesn’t say “no” to the surgery (cross your fingers), so I will have an update on that for you soon.

I hope.

For those that know me well enough, they know I’m not really the patient kind… 🙂

Blessings to all.

One down…Two to go

The journey to having weight loss surgery is a long one. It’s expected, yet I’m also not the most patient person.

Today I made some progress.

In order to be approved for the bariatric surgery, I have to meet with a nutritionist, a doctor at the bariatric center (not the surgeon – that’s later), and a social worker (therapist). Each covers a different part of me. And each must “sign off” on me in order that I get that approval for the surgery.

Yesterday I met with the social worker for the second time and at the end of the meeting, he told me that he was willing to sign off on me then. He was confident I knew what I wanted, though he continued to stress that this is MY journey and I should be doing it only for me. Which, of course, I agreed.

I now meet again with the doctor and the nutritionist on August 24th – both for the second time (there was a nutrition class I first attended) – so hopefully they will also both feel that they can then sign off on me as well.

Then it’s my understanding that they submit their information to the chosen hospital and I’m contacted at some point thereafter with my surgery date. Of course, if they both don’t sign off on me in August, it will be into late September before I meet with either or both again, to see then.

The entire process from referral to surgery can be as little as 7 months or as many as 14, depending on the issues people have, testing to be done, etc. I was referred back in November, unfortunately, I was referred to the 6-month weight loss program in February, and not the bariatric surgery so by the time they held another one in April, I was already behind.

But this is also not something that someone should rush through. This is a major lifestyle change. No going back. No reversals. And while people can, and do, put back on all the weight they lost and then some, I vow that I will NOT be one of those people. I’m not going to go through all of this – and it won’t be easy – only to get back to where I am.

I just won’t.

I’m already made many changes to prepare for life after surgery, and I will continue to do so. If that means that I won’t have the surgery until the new year, I will consider that further time to work on these and more changes. The last thing anyone should want to do is to find themselves at their surgery date and have to completely adjust to the new lifestyle cold-turkey and all at once. Talk about madness.

Yet, I am sure there are people doing just that.

Not this girl. I’m a bit too OCD for that nonsense anyway.

Keep moving forward. Keep on, keeping on. Never give up. And rock the journey.