devichan

I know so many of you will be able to relate, so please sing along if you know the words! It still amazes me how powerful things that happen in childhood can be. In my case as in so many others', there was no safety from fat criticism at home. In fact, my worst critic was there every night: my mother. My Dad came from a family of alcoholic men and settled in to be one himself. He was also fat, as was my older brother. My younger sisters took after my former-ballerina mother. Mom didn't criticize Dad's drinking in front of us, but his weight? Oh, yeah, that was fair game. Dad and my brother (affectionately known as Doc) and I were all geeky and book-oriented. Rather than running around the yard playing tag, I wanted to read books inside. My first gym teacher was apoplectic at my utter lack of love for sports and running. Mom didn't care so much about that - she still tells the story of how she utterly destroyed the teacher when the teacher called to complain that I didn't know how to skip - but she did care very much about my weight. I don't want to talk yet in-depth about what she said. The post would need a trigger warning if I did. We all know the words, anyway. Years later, I am so very unwilling to tell my family about what I'm doing. Every time I have taken initiative on a health decision, my family has found a way to credit someone else with telling me to do it. My brother-in-law got banded last October, and I know for sure that if I tell my family what I'm considering they'll have two reactions at once: Tell me I'm utterly insane for mutilating myself and also (in the same conversation) it's a good thing I'm FINALLY getting a brain, because W. looks so much better now and I should have done this years ago. I can't tell my sisters, because they'll run straight to Mom. I can't tell my brother, because he lives with Mom while he's looking for work. (These are the brothers and sisters who had an actual, sit-down-and-come-to-Jesus intervention with me when I said I was going to move to Minnesota. Good thing I don't drink or do drugs.) It hurts that I cannot rely on any support from my blood family. It hurts more than I can say. My friends and loves are totally behind me and supportive. Why can't my family be?

Today was the first visit with the nutritionist. Once again, the office staff was kind and full of warmth. I've maintained since my first visit, but I wasn't trying to get weight off yet. For the insurance supervised diet hoop, I am to go on a 1500 kCal/day regimen. She was very specific about what each serving meant. I know I can drop weight on this plan; I've done it so often before. At least with the weather (nominally, this is Minnesota!) improving walking will be more of a possibility. Next week, I go to my PCP to document what I'm doing. Whee, insurance hoops. So here I am, eating my lunch with chopsticks. I've cut it into tiny bites. Practicing. Refining. Journeying.

I haven't had my sleeve yet, but I have to tell you that having gall bladder surgery 12 years ago was one of the best things I ever could have done for myself. I'd been having gall bladder attacks since my 20s. As a lifelong fat person, no one really wanted to look too closely. I was told I had an ulcer, GERD, and to take Prilosec (before it was available OTC). The one thing everyone was sure about was that it was not a heart attack. Finally, after one night spent in agony to the point I couldn't sit still (and I was at work, too!), a wonderful, kind doctor at an Urgent Care Doc-In-The-Box told me he was sure it wasn't an ulcer. He recommended I get chcked for H Pylori, and if not get an ultrasound to check my gall bladder. Sure enough, I was H. pylori negative... but I had a single gallstone the size of a dime. In six months, I would have had too much scarring to have laparoscopic surgery. They took the whole thing out. Before the surgery, it wasn't just fatty foods that I couldn't eat. I could have lived with that. But chocolate, tomatoes... finally even garlic were setting off that darn thing. After surgery, I could eat just fine. I didn't have the loose bowels issue that a lot of people do. Even more, though, was that I had been in constant, low-grade pain for YEARS that I never noticed. My sister was even worse - like Webchickadee, she had it badly infected. It didn't even show up as inflamed, but she was in such pain they did exploratory surgery and the thing was a mass of ick. I know you're scared, but I gotta tell ya, I have fewer than zero regrets and I hope in a year you'll feel the same.

Ooh! I love the thought of using the little Chinese cups instead of toddler bowls. What a great idea! Pamper myself with something nice... I like it!

I'm trying to think of ways to make the changes I'll be making fun. One thing I've thought of is making my lunches both pre- and post-surgery with a bento box. I was thinking of getting little, decorate-able containers for Protein powders, skim milk powder, and arranging them in cute ways with bouillon cubes and drink mix packets for the first few weeks and then little spice containers for my purees and later meals. It'll let me measure things more precisely and look cute instead of "a bunch of powder." It really won't take any longer than measuring stuff already does. I was also thinking of starting to slow down my meals by cutting them up into tiny bites (as I'll need to later anyway) and learning to use chopsticks. What do people think of this? Has anyone done anything similar, tried it? Am I nuts?

My family just picked up this game and we love it! Any other players? What are your favorite decks?

First appointment was this morning. I'm reassured by the bariatric nurse understanding that some fat people love their bodies, and her compassion for my knee issues. I have my binder and am already beginning to work on my insurance requirements. I've been having nightmares about this, but still. What's best for me, right?

I'm in Bloomington and had my first appointment with Dr. July's office in Fridley this morning.

I'm trying to get in the habit of small, frequent amounts of fluid before I even have my consult. I've set up an Outlook reminder at work that reminds me to sip. It goes off every ten minutes, so every ten minutes I'm getting at least a bit of fluid. I hope it'll help!

Thank you to everyone who responded and wished me luck! It helps. Kendra: Thank you for your warmth! Yes... it is about possibilities. I'm just having a hard time dealing with probabilities and definites. Strangefruit: You're not going to scare me. I'm already scared! I think I'm more sad, though, that I've reached the point where this is and pain are the only options. Amazon13: Thank you for your empathy. I am so glad you're doing well, and I hope in a year and a half I feel the way you do! Carols5417: I'm not on Celebrex because my doctor seems to have the attitude I deserve this. I've asked for stronger meds and been refused because I'm not 50 or something. **sigh** Thank you for sharing that it can and does get better. kiki1196: Thank you for sharing your husband with those he serves and protects! Let me know when you get your date. Maybe we can buddy up!

I am certain I need this surgery. I am certain that I am going to get this surgery. I am certain I will be healthier in critical ways after this surgery. But I am not at all certain that I will be happier after this surgery. My name is Dee, but if you call me Devichan I'll answer. I've used it as a nickname for years. I'm 41 years old, a mother of two (ages 16 and 7), poly, married, pagan, geeky, techie woman. I love my smile, my eyes, and my curves. I love to knit, play roleplaying games, watch football, and geek about Doctor Who (sometimes all at the same time!) I'm owned by three cats (Echo, a tuxedo female, and tortoiseshell littermates River and Kaylee), all of whom are adopted from rescues. We're looking into getting a dog. I live in the Twin Cities of Minnesota and I love it here. I've also lived in Ohio, North Carolina, Indiana, Michigan, and California. My family's idea of a vacation is a yearly trip to Dragon*Con in Atlanta. My daughters are the lights of my life... one snarky, gothy, creative, musical, and self-described (accurately) as "a teenager with a lick of sense" and the other bouncy, happy, colorful, who is a fan of both My Little Pony and the Avengers and who thinks nothing of running around the house in a pink tutu and crown wearing a batman mask, Wonder Woman arm bracers, and carrying a sword and shield. I can't remember when people weren't talking about me in terms of my weight. food restrictions at age 6. "You have such a pretty face!" at seven. "I swore I'd never buy you plus sizes, but you've forced me to!" at eight. Weight Watchers at nine. If I could go back to 14-year old me, wearing a size 14, I would tell her everyone was wrong. Looking at pictures of the time, I was softly, roundly, genuinely pretty. College came and with it an extra hundred pounds - body by Mountain Dew. (In the early 90s no one was talking to teenagers about how bad soft drinks were; saccharine was still the Devil In powder Form.) I had a two three-liter of Mountain Dew PER DAY habit at one point because of serious caffeine addiction. I broke it at age 23, but the damage was done. I stayed at 240 through most of the next decade, including after the birth of my first child. Then I hurt first one knee, and then the other after the birth of my second child. Another 40 pounds arrived because I dieted and exercise hurt. Arthritis set in, I dieted some more as I was told, and with that even more pounds. Now, at 41, I weigh between 295-305 depending on stress levels. I am twice the size I was when everyone told me I was too fat to ever fall in love, get married, and have children. I am OK with my fat. It's a part of me. I don't use it as a shield between me and the world, because I don't hide from the world. I am an extrovert and make friends easily. I haven't been without a partner since the age of 17, and between 15 and 17 I had a boyfriend or girlfriend for all but three months. I don't have diabetes, don't have heart trouble, don't have thyroid issues, don't have respiratory issues. And yet. My knees ache, especially in the winter. My mobility is increasingly compromised. I love to do yoga, but the pain in my knees is preventative. I don't THINK I have sleep apnea, but on 6-FEB-2013 I will be finding out the results of a sleep study. I hurt. And I'm tired of hurting. I will soon need a cane to take the bus and light rail. Stairs are a problem - for the pain, not the breathlessness. I've been told I'm 15 years away from eligibility for a knee replacement. This is the only option doctors want to discuss. I don't dare diet again. I can't afford another 20 pounds. On the 18th, I have my first consult. I do not want to look like a melting ice cream cone, and after decades of fat I almost certainly will. I will miss my curves. And yet. I am certain of one thing: I hurt, and this is the only option I am being offered that will help.