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Surgery

We flew into Boca Raton on Sunday afternoon, found our hotel and got our bearings. On Monday, I went to the medical center and had my pre-op work done. They took my information, drew my blood, took chest x-rays, and an EKG. Everything checked out fine and I was asked to arrive in the morning at 6:00am. I was nervous, but felt somewhat removed. I'd resolved to do this, survived the interminable two week liquid diet, taken my "before" pics; I was ready, but I wasn't sure I knew what I was in for. Surgery weight: 239.4--Wooohooo! Pre-surgery, I was asked to change into a giant paper gown and booties. They put an I.V. in my arm and a myriad of people came to meet me; the anesthesiologist, the intern, the nurses, and the surgeon. I sent a text to my family and told them I was going in and that I loved them. The anesthesiologist came back and told me he was going to give me something to relax. He explained that this wasn't the "sleep" medication, just relaxation, but I honestly don't remember anything after that! I woke up in recovery, but was so groggy, all I remember is hearing the nurse say she would call my mother. Then I was in my hospital room. The nurse explained that my pump had morphine and I could push the button when I had pain. I pushed it a lot. The hours after surgery are so hazy.... I know the surgeon came in and explained that the surgery went well, that he'd repaired my hiatal hernia (who knew I had a hernia?!) and that I'd done well with my liquid diet. I pushed the button every chance I had, and slept most of these hours. Part way through the night my breath rate dropped, apparently too much morphine makes you forget to breathe! My nurse came in and asked me if I was having pain. I wasn't, but I was terribly nauseous. So, I decided to stop pushing the morphine. A few hours later (time was surreal at this point), I felt okay. No more nausea, so I decided to try to walk. My nurse was surprised, but she helped me. I made it about 15 feet and had to go back to bed. Too nauseated again. I tried again a short while later. The first night, I walked four times! By morning I felt pretty good, sore, but not pained. Then I was sent to radiology for a swallow test. I've seen gastografin before, but what they handed me was like the worst poison in the world. I managed three tiny sips, stood like a statue for the imaging, and retched uncontrollably. Thankfully, they had the images they needed and I returned to my room. Those three tiny sips sent me spiraling. I was nauseated for hours and my stomach hurt. When I'd recovered from that I was given a pitcher of water and several medicine cups and told to start sipping. Sipping hurt! I failed at this until the nurse explained that I had to drink, or would not be released the next day. So I walked, and I sipped, sipped, sipped, walked......   All of this was over a week ago, and I'm home now. I am surprised to find myself struggling. I've got the sipping thing down, but can barely get in 48 oz, and force myself to finish 64 oz. I'm still on full liquid, and have not figured out how to schedule all of my protein drinks. So, I'm super tired. The pain has decreased dramatically, and I can walk easily for 30 mins now.   So I have written out a schedule for myself, hour by hour, of how much I have to have in. So WEIRD to struggle with water! I am not hungry, but have had a few moments of foreshadowing where I get a "craving" for something. Makes me laugh because my head has no understanding of this new reality.

cat17

cat17

 

Day before surgery

Tomorrow is my big day!! I'm anxious, but feel ready. Surgery is early in the morning, so hopefully I'll only spend one night in the hospital ????????.

cat17

cat17

 

First Day of Liquid Diet

Today is my first day of my two week liquid diet. I've been apprehensive, of course, but here I go!   My sister was sleeved almost two years ago, so she is cheering me on and giving me tips. Her tip for the liquid diet: "Just try not to think about it." Which makes sense to me and makes me laugh.   She also told me to get ready to shop. Her advice, shop thrift stores through the size changes so it isn't so expensive. Interestingly, I just can't wrap my mind around a reality of myself losing weight. Much less losing sizes? In my long dieting history, my maximum weight loss is 35 pounds. Not really a size difference. I do know what it feels like to gain sizes. What a sick feeling when the pants are "suddenly" uncomfortably tight.   I took "before" pics last night. I hate them, but keep telling myself it's just the truth and I'm working to change. It's hard not to feel embarrassed and sad. Today I will work on working up the courage to post them. ugh

cat17

cat17

 

The beginning of This Part of My Story

Wednesday I had my phone consultation with Dr. Shillingford. This was my second surgeon consult because I'm switching surgeons. It went well, somewhat more detailed than my first consult. I am more confident today that this is the right choice for me.   Since this is my first post I will introduce myself.   I'm a mom, daughter, sister, friend, and boss. I will turn forty in March. I'm single. I'm kind and kind of funny and am generally a happy person with some anxiety issues.   I'm two weeks and four days from my gastric sleeve surgery and super excited/scared.   Here's a lengthy explanation of how I got to this point....   Most of my adult life I’ve fluctuated between 20-40 pounds overweight. Often, I tried to lose weight, but I wasn’t unhappy with myself. To paint a true picture you should know that I am 5’6” and my preferred lowest weight would be 130 lbs, highest 160lbs. When I graduated high school I weighed around 160 pounds and I felt great. I went camping, rock climbing, canoeing, dancing, and felt good about myself. I don't remember a time when I weighed 130 lbs!   But, I gained bits here and there and by my mid-twenties I weighed around 190 pounds. I remember thinking how impossible it was that I was so close to weighing 200 pounds. As incredulous as I felt, I was not able to lose and keep off any weight. When I was thirty I moved out of state with my boyfriend, thinking I was starting a new life of adventure and love. I was wrong, he was mean and he was a criminal. An actual criminal. Because of unbelievable stress, I gained another forty pounds. Then during my pregnancy I reached three hundred pounds. I was pre-diabetic and began suffering from depression and anxiety. I lived in a dangerous place with a volatile man states away from any of my family/friends. I felt trapped and I was so scared.   Then I had my baby and found my son was more important than anyone else and that he deserved better. I found the courage to leave.   Four years have passed and now, I’m 39 (my son is five). I've been in therapy for over two years and have had such love and support that I can honestly say we are doing great. Except... I am obese -255 pounds. I treat my body like I hate it. Most days, I do hate it. Also, I am a bit of a hermit now because of the combination of my distrust of new people and my body. But I want to live more fully and to connect with people again, so badly.   Through therapy, I have become aware of this "mean girl" voice in my head. I wonder if anyone else thinks this way? It seems she runs almost every aspect of my day, and probably has been for a long time. As I walk I notice how hard I'm breathing and am disgusted with myself. When I'm with a coworker and a patient smiles at her and ignores me, I tell myself it's because I'm so fat and ugly. If a man talks to me I put up a wall of sarcasm and humor. I've alienated myself from the world because I'm so uncomfortable in my clothes, in public, sitting in chairs, etc. On the rare occasion that I go out or buy new clothes; it annoys me that I’ve become a big, fat roll-y, mess and I often cry. I worry that my son is embarrassed by me. I avoid having my picture taken with my son because I can't stand how I look. When I see myself I am disgusted, saddened, and discouraged. I would never say these things to another person, but a part of me thinks I'm the only one who deserves such harsh judgement.   I am over one hundred pounds overweight. I’m no longer curvy, attractive, healthy, strong, or any of the things I used to be. Truth is I haven’t taken care of my health or my looks in years. This man came into my life and showed me what it felt like to be coveted, but also controlled. Before him I ate the wrong things, but while I was with him I began using food like a drug. I would be ravenous and almost desperate to eat and could only feel better when I was so overly full all I could do was sleep. The lasting result of that is when I feel hungry, I panic.   It's incredibly hard for me to share these things. I'm pretty successful and outwardly an extroverted, happy person. Weird, right?   As I've mentioned, I've been working with a therapist for over two years to heal my mind. I'm finally at the point where I want to heal my body.   I'm not sure who said this, but I re-read it several times like a mantra, so I will share.   "...and I said to my body, softly, "I want to be your friend." It took a long breath and replied, " I have been waiting my whole life for this."   .

cat17

cat17

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