whippledaddy

I actually posted my answer to this question a year ago. Here it is, the reason I got Lap Band surgery: I want to tie my shoes without planning how. I want to buy clothes on sale. I want to hug the love of my life, without wishing for longer arms. I want to stop smiling politely at "those" jokes. I want to see my manhood again. Just a glimpse, or my feet even. I don't want to live in fear of stairs, or chairs, any longer. I want to live to see my dreams come true. I want that beautiful creature I married to see me grow old. I want a healthy life sustaining relationship with food. I'm tired of food being my only friend, an insidious one at that, bent on killing me slowly. I want to huff and puff only when I'm imitating the "Big Bad Wolf". I want to have the energy to live my life, love my wife, and count each day on this earth a blessing. That was why I got the band. This is why I'm glad I did and wouldn't change it for the world: Because I no longer hate the person in the mirror. Because I can focus on the best in life, not just the next opportunity to overeat!<!-- / message --><!-- sig -->

Great Poem. It doesn't matter who wrote it when it's the truth. Great weight loss Terri!! Congrats.

Yes, I'd rather roll naked in fish hooks (the treble kind even) than give up my band. My one year bandiversary coming up on the 16th. Gosh it sure went fast. I lost most of the weight early, now I have slowed down quite a bit. But that's okay. I'm slimming. That's enough for me. Thanks! And you're doing well yourself. Ain't the band grand? No matter how many pounds you are down, a year later, you're DOWN, not up. That's an enormous victory, isn't it? I can't remember the last time I weighed less at this time of year than the year before. Yippee!!!

My Band is Great and has changed my life because........ Now I can not only USE a regular bathroom scale, I can SEE it when I'm on it. I can see if my socks match without sitting down first. I can drive a compact car from the front seat. I can hug my wife. I can climb any stairs. I have found out that plastic wrap is for the food that DIDN'T get eaten. I can go through a whole day and have moments when I don't think about food. That last one is a big one. That and hugging my wife. She deserves all the hugs she can get! I would rather roll in a pile of fish hooks, naked, than give up my band.

First let me state that all the coolest people get banded on November 16th. LOL. That's my bandiversary. Yes you can research too much. You can think too much. You can worry too much. Nine days before I was banded I was in a maelstrom of emotions. I was afraid of going under for surgery. I was afraid of complications. I was afraid of problems after surgery. But it went deeper. I was afraid of saying good bye to food and the act of eating. Such a faithful friend. He had been there for me through many times, both good and bad, but all stressful. I was afraid of the man I might become. Maybe I would fail, this was a large fear. Go through a life risking surgery and then fail. That one would put knots in my stomach. Or what if I succeeded and it went to my head (I have seen it in others)? What if I became so self involved that I couldn't relate to another person? I had been fat for forty two years. And I was darn good at it. In a way, I was doing away with the old me, and putting this new frightened baby in my place terrified me. But.....I was more afraid of dying badly. So many things can take a fat man, in so many unpleasant ways. Diabetes, CHF, Stroke, Heart Attack. As I've said elsewhere: Fat people don't die pretty. And they do it sooner. So I got more and more nervous, right up until that time that the nurse said "This might make you feel drowsy". The next thing I knew another nurse was welcoming me to my new life, and said "You did really well." Wow. I did something. Well. In my sleep. Wow. You see I was afraid of the unknown. Aren't we all? Isn't that part and parcel of being human? But I was, in the end, more afraid of the known. I wanted to be Ryan, but I didn't want to be the fat Ryan anymore. I was tired. Tired of the people staring. Tired of worrying about spindly chairs. Tired of feeling tired. I had enough fat jokes. Even the funny ones were getting old. But most of all I was tired of looking in the mirror each day and knowing that the person looking back at me was trying, slowly and systematically, to kill me. I was tired of hating myself for what I was. Good luck Spyder. I wish the best for you. Just know this: I was banded on November 16, last year. I'm down one hundred pounds, but, no matter what I've lost, I've gained so much more of value. I've gained a life worth living. I'll be thinking of you as The Day approaches. All will be well. And you can do this!

Wellllllllllllllll, I've been so busy working on "Havenwood II" that I haven't actually written any in the NaNoWriMO novel. But I know what it is going to be. Synopsis (very): An antiques dealer, who possesses the psychic ability to "read" the antiques he touches must use that gift to solve the murder of another dealer who is his friend. In doing so he learns that he was unknowingly involved in his friends murder. As he unravels the mystery he discovers that he has been betrayed and he must come to grips with the feelings that arise in himself as he learns that this friend he is avenging wasn't much of a friend at all.

And so it goes that Summer must taper off, and Autumn must come along. Now the bike must be washed, and gas stabilized. The battery must come in, the hoist must lift it off the cement. No more purring down a country lane. No more sailing on the tarmac. I must settle for memories of miles once ridden. I must keep that rumble alive in my mind until Spring supplants a cruel Winter. I can Winterize the bike. I can care for her and tend to her. But can I winterize myself? Can I ready my mind body and soul for the times ahead? I need a coat this year. Less insulation, I guess. Already the wind bites with frozen teeth. Already the sun lends hope, but not heat. I look out at the trees which have become charcoal etchings against the canvas of an ash grey sky and I wonder, how long until I feel the gentle breath of spring upon my brow? But then I think of possibilities. When I was a child I could sometimes walk atop the frozen drifts of snow. At 366 lbs I sunk every year. Maybe this year, for just one step, I'll stand tall atop the snowbank. King of the Hill. This is one test I'll have to take in a few month's time. Now, time to put up the storm windows.

I didn't have to go for a while. The liquid diet should produce SOME residue, however. If you're not miserable about it right now then call someone tomorrow. Trust me you don't want that stuff backing up your pipes!!! It was a year ago but I don't remember going much. I had to take this laxtive from Hell the day before surgery. When it was done with me I was a hollow bag of skin. It might be that you're just not getting enough solids in for proper "output". No straining with new surgery, eh? Don't do it. But it's always best to ask you're doc. Good luck, I'll be thinking of you.

Call your doctor dude!!! Right now!!! He'll have someone on call. Get suggestions. You can't just let this go!! been there done that, got the T-shirt!!!

My wife's first weight loss doc insisted that everyone lose forty pounds BEFORE he would do surgery on them. My wife, as she left for another doc, said "Hell, Doc, if it were that easy, I'd never have to come here!" Some docs just don't get it. But we must play by their rules to get it. Sheeesh.

I don't know about the percentages. Not sure I can help you there. But I hope that you aren't basing any decision of this magnatude merely on hypothetical numbers and the magic formulas created and used by the modern day shamans known as "statisticians". I started out at 366lbs nearly a year ago. I finally weighed myself the other day and now I weigh 264lbs. I don't know what percentage that is of my excess weight and I don't care. I do know that without the surgery I had a 100% chance of dying younger, and that it would have been a horrible death. Fat people don't die pretty. "Losing" is a bad word. It sounds negative. We are taught from the moment of our birth that to lose is bad. Why would anyone want to "lose" anything, even weight? I want to gain. I want to gain life. And I have. I can drive my small truck without getting friction burns on my gut from the steering wheel. I can see my feet. I can now climb a set of stairs. I can buy clothes on sale. I can hug my wife. I feel less "visible" in public. I usually don't have to look around to see if I am the fattest person in the room. And a thousand other things called "NSV"s. Non scale victories. Morbid Obesity is a disease. Or, more correctly, the symptom of a disease. A band, or any other interventive weight loss measure, merely treats the symptom. It is up to us to treat the disease. It's dark and dangerous and buried deeply in us, in "who we are" and what we are all about. Maybe I will always be obese. Maybe I'll always be fat. I believe in my mind I'll always be fat, because inside, in the center of my being, I think of myself as a fat guy. So, even if I drop to 97Lbs, I'll still be fat. Is an anorexic no longer an anorexic if they gain weight? Well, just my two cents, but I hope you base your decision on a broader spectrum of desired results. Not just weight alone. I just know that each morning when I look in the mirror I feel a little better about the fellow staring back at me. He ain't skinny (my wife has given me a direct order not to get "too" skinny! lol), but he ain't the Steamship he once was. I'm not afraid of stares, or stairs, any longer. The spindly chair holds no fear for me any more. I'm glad I did it. It was worth it. And I do know this: If you want to lose 100% of your excess weight, you can do it. The band helps. And no matter what the statisticians say it is the band that makes it possible. What percent of obese people lose a 100% of their excess weight without any kind of aid? Heck, if it were that easy would you even bother to consider a band? I know I wouldn't. Good luck. There is a huge group of caring people here who care about you and your journey. They can help. They are great listeners, and they are patient enough to read my posts, so that makes them pretty darn special right? I wish you all the best. So many here do. And equally as many have made this decision, and know exactly where you are coming from. Ryan.

I was banded in alma, Michigan, on November 16 of 2004. I weighed 366 pounds at my heaviest, when I started the pre-surgery diet required by Dr. Cudjoe. Today, as I sit here before this bright window on the world, I weigh 266 pounds. One hundred pounds. Exactly. Part of me sings, part of my spirit soars on wings of joy at this loss. My step is lighter, my rest more peaceful, my diabetes is, for now anyway, in hiding. I can wear a 44 men's pant, as opposed to a tight 54 a year ago. I can hug my wife (well, I could hug her if RSD would let me. Horrible disease.) I can buy my clothes at the normal racks. I can take advantage of sales. Still, I was down a hundred pounds a month ago. And this summer was a blur of grey shadows for I had slipped into a deep and dangerous depression. I thought it was my challenging life. And it is challenging. But it wasn't that. I thought it was the stress of my job. But it wasn't that either. I thought I was grieving my lost freedom as a caregiver to a chronically ill person. But, of course, it wasn't really that either. Day slipped into day, and it all felt like night. The only thing that changed was the calendar. There's a machine inside each of us. A robot, if you will, who is very good at pretending to be you while the real you is adrift, becalmed on a sea of despair. I showered each morning, I drove to work. I returned. I did the laundry, kept the house, cooked the meals, and kept all my wife's doctor's appointments. Even now, as the light begins to shine once again in my little spiritual prison, I can't remember any one day. Maybe, for me, it was all one day. And I knew something was wrong. I knew I was in trouble. And I blamed it all on my life, my wife, the weather, finances. I blamed everything but the truth. I would endure fits of anger at myself for not being happier about what I had. A good job, a wonderful spouse, and a one hundred pound weight loss when I thought I had been fat's prisoner for life. I really don't know what did it. I really don't know what opened my eyes. But I came to realize what was really happening. I was grieveing a loss. You see, I am a murderer. Just about a year ago I killed the only friend who could comfort me through times of strife. Days of sorrow. But he wasn't really a friend, for while I was being comforted I was also being murdered. Slowly, coldly. My friend was smothering me in warm cozy layers of fat. I miss my drug. I miss eating half a pie, and washing it down with a quart of ice cream. Then repeating the procedure. I'm not just addicted to food, you see. I'm addicted to the act of eating. And, through constant toil and practice I made my stomach just like my heart. Something that could never be filled. An emptiness like the black core of interstellar space. He cries out in me still. His ghost lingers on. I see him. I hear him. I hear that siren call "Eat....Eat.....Eat.....Eat". He sings his destructive song in my ear still. Even now he calls to me. Thank God I know his face now. Thank God I know his name. The Enemy is no longer invisible. But he is strong. And.....I am weak. Thank God I have a band. It lends me the strength of science. When I weaken, when I succumb to the hypnotic cry of the gourmand, it lends me it's strength. It's wisdom. Yes, science treats my symptom. I alone must face the disease. But, a hundred pounds down, and sixty odd to go, I can fight longer. I have longer to heal. And I got that hundred pounds back from my addiction. That victory will always be mine. If you've read this far, you have my admiration and condolences. Thank you. I wanted to share that haveing the band doesn't solve your problems, it gives you a breather to work on them yourself. It's a tool. And any tool that lies unused is worthless. Use it. Fight. I'll fight beside you. We all will fight together. It's never to late to become what you might have been. Ryan.

I sure understand. I'm so happy with my weight loss. I like the new, smaller, me. I can't say that any one food makes me PB. I PB when I eat too quickly, and chew too little. It's a habit from the bad old days. Eat!Eat!Eat! Hurry! There is so little time and so much food. It's a plan. Eat fast enough and you can get in a few more sandwiches before your body gets the message that it is full. But the band knows. Right away. The band sends you a message that you are full. Take the drink out of the alchoholics hand. Watch the reaction. Indignation and anger, usually. Grab the hypo from the heroin addict and throw it in the street, if you dare. Frodo turned into Gollum when he thought his Precious was being taken. I've taken my precious. I took it and I threw it away. Eating. Where are you when I need you? Now, like you, I must deal with my feelings, and, more importantly, the causes of those feelings. Eating was how I dealt with all emotion. How about you? I ate to Celebrate a happy event. I ate to console myself in times of loss or sorrow. I ate because I was bored. I ate because I was depressed. I ate because it was a beautiful day. Now I take a few small bites. And that's it. How can that be it? I can't be done, there's food left! Still I dream of being thin. I'm over halfway there. But thin is a destination that my true mind never believed I would reach. And I never knew the road would be so rocky. And the road to thin is rough and rocky. But you can come here, you don't have to walk it alone. Ever walk on a railroad track? You kept falling off didn't you? But let someone else walk on the track next to you and just touch hands (you don't have to hold hands, just a touch) and the two of you can virtually walk around the world together and not fall. Support groups are the other friend on the track who holds you up. Thanks for venting. Thanks for reading. Know your dream will come true. Know that there will be a day when you LIVE and are happy. The mirror will be your friend and not your foe. You can beat this demon. You will. You can do it. Love, Ryan

If you want a motorcycle, go for it! If you want to paint a miniature version of the Mona Lisa on the back of a gum wrapper, do that!!! But don't put off the act of living!!!! Any plant or animal can eat and breathe. Don't fall into that rut!! Once there was a little boy. He wanted, more than anything else, to be a writer. He wrote all the time, and read everything he could get his hands on. But he never submitted his writing. He never even let his teachers know of his desire. He kept it hidden because he didnt' really think his words were good enough. He didn't believe he had talent. He grew up, and yet that desire never left, and still he did not follow his dream. Still, he would write things. Usually he would decide they weren't good enough for the eyes of anyone else and he would throw them away. Years went by. He held jobs, got married, divorced, and married another. He learned a great many things, but one thing in his life never changed: Each morning when he woke he harbored a wish that he were a real writer, making his living at his craft. And each evening he would write in his head as he fell asleep. Think up new lines of prose, new plots, new stories. And just before he went drifting on a sea of dreams he would wish that he were a writer. Someone who got paid for his words. Finally he got his first novel published. It came out on his fiftieth birthday. Now he must make up for lost time. Now he truly regrets all the chances not taken. In fact the only regrets I have are the chances not taken. I should have been submitting my work at that early age. But I didn't, instead of following my dream I followed everyone else's dream for me. Now......grab your dream and go. You'll not regret it. What a different story each and every one of us would have to tell if we would LIVE and chase our dreams rather than be respectable and go through the motions of being alive. Thanks for the welcome back. I'll try to post, I'll try to help any who I can.

I know about the night time eating because I used to do it, too. I still would if I could. Sometimes I get up and end up drinking Water because I just can't eat. I have walked a mile in your moccasins, and you in mine. It started when I was a child. I'd read the Lord of the Rings and would prepare this large plate of food and sneak it into my bedroom and eat it while sitting Indian fashion on the bed. I'd pretend I was Frodo and Sam having a picnic on their adventure. I used a lot of fantasy to block out the real world then as well. I also developed the dangerous habit of eating leftovers if there just weren't enough to save. It started with my parents. "Oh, come on, honey, it's only a couple of bites. There are children starving in Europe." I ate. The children starved and I was 225lbs before I was thirteen. As an adult I ate leftovers rather than putting them away. Sigh. The bright side is that I've saved a fortune on plastic wrap. In fact until the Band I really didn't need a frig at all. Just a cold place to store milk. I've always had a case of eat it all. We could analyze this all day. My parents would punish me if I didn't clean my plate. And my babysitter would do "other" things to me if I didn't finish all my food, and more if it were given to me. Eating everything was a matter of survival then. I'm a survivor. Yes, we know each other's story before we hear it. Yet it is new and bright and shiny and terribly sad at the same time. We have all carried this connection, formed years before we ever met, that allows us to get into each other's heads a bit. But, mostly, it allows us to understand. Too bad it is so much easier to understand others, and so hard to understand ourselves.

Janie!!!!!!!! Janie's here!!!!!!! I missed you kid!!!! Don't worry about slipping. A three week binge beats the life long binge you were on before you got banded, eh? We all slip. We are all human. We admitted we were powerless and got some help. Only the very strong can admit their weaknesses. Congrats on coming out of hiding.

Yes, Mouse it does sound simple. But when the house is quiet, and the family is walking the fields of dreamland, and there is no one but yourself to see the sin, then it seems so very complicated. And that voice inside is like a persistant salesman, deflecting all resistance and making it feel like a midnight snack is the most important thing in the world. Some cocoa, or some toast, or both. chips. Cookies. If I can remember that this is the insidious voice of my addiction, and not the soothing voice of reason I seem to hear, then I can fight. Thanks for looking up my posts. That is a very flattering thing.

My wife had the Roux en Y procedure in 2002. She has lost 320 pounds total. I was a 366 pound fat guy. Twelve years her senior. I was so happy for her and her weight loss. Yet I DID feel threatened. But I made a decision. If I truly loved her then her happiness and well being must be my priorities. So I knew that if she needed to leave me, and if she thought it was in her best interest, then I would be sad, but I would support her even in that. Now she has some pretty serious health issues. And that may have kept her by my side. 'Cause anyone could see she could do soooooo much better. We've had our issues with her losing weight, and now me. There has been some jealousy, some sniping. But, the secret is for BOTH people to remember to trust in the other's basic love (no matter what they are or are not doing) and to decide to stand behind the other's decisions, no matter what. Hope it all works out for you. I can see you have a lot to deal with. It IS important to get out by yourself and keep your individuality alive. It IS best for you, your son, and even your husband. I hope he realizes this soon and re discovers what treasures live under his own roof. Good luck.

I used a lot of jello, sugar free popsicles and various herbal teas. Some of them are really yummy, and there are a variety of flavors. I didn't really feel hungry (other than head hunger, a steady thrum that never....ever....goes away. I can hear it now.). Maybe my stomach was too insulted by my treacherous act of banding it to feel hungry? Try the herbal teas, great flavors and caffeine free!

Snickle Chickenboob here. During mail call they would have called out "Chickenboob.....Snickle". Hmpf.

Noanowrimo is a HOOT!!!!!Glad you're all doing it!!!!

It looks like you write very well, so I am flattered even more by your praise.

Been a hard year for Patty (and so for me as well. Better or worse, eh?) One of her cures almost killed her last spring. The trip to the ER with her on life support was a real wakeup call. Seems she was reacting to a med. She's had a few more surgeries. Mostly dealing with the Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy and the bionic stuff they have put in her. Last surgery the machine they implanted came loose. Still waiting to get it fixed. I've lost a hundred pounds even. Haven't had a free day to get in for another fill, I think I need a teeny tiny one. Too much time getting Patty well. Cleveland is still where her specialist is, and it's still three hundred miles away. I've been there twenty times this year alone. I've lurked here and watched. Looks like all are doing well. In a way I'm still just lurking. But was nice to be recognized!! Thank you!!! Hope all here are well, and working toward their goals and that all those goals aren't about losing.....anything. I hope all your goals are about gaining....Life!!!

Thanks Pam. Patty needs some good luck, that's for sure. Unfortunately I will be working and her Mom is taking her to Cleveland. They are going down the ninth, and staying until at least the twelfth, probably the thirteenth. It's that long drive immediately after surgery that may have displaced the last lead in her cervical spine. Insurance won't pay for her to be hospitalized so they'll stay at a hotel/motel we like just outside Cleveland. I'm gonna be a batchelor, and I'm not gonna be with her through this trying time. Sheeeeeeesh!!! But if it comes out right it'll control the RSD in her right shoulder and arm as well as it has in her legs, then it will be worth it. Thanks all.

Moon, I just try to be honest with myself. It was because I was less than honest for so many years that I got so fat. I thought I was hungry, my body wasn't hungry for all those binges, but my heart sure was. Landry's Dad: We've all walked the same path. The actual details might be different, but the journey is the same. Good luck with yours. Porclndoll: Don't worry, if you look at our profiles, our paths didn't cross much.