voiceomt2002

Well, here I am, back in my own little home office. Things didn't go quite as I envisioned them, but I'm pleased to say I'm very happy with the results. I went in hungry and darn near whimpering with a growling belly. I came out with no wish to eat at all. None. Zip. Nada. I have to force myself to look at bouillion, Jello, and popsicles. :thumbup: They kind of turn me off. Whether that's from eating them for nearly a week, or lack of appetite, I can't say. Conversely, food still smells great. My roomie Dante cooked one of my chicken recipes last night, and I supervised (more or less). I got a splash of the sauce on my thumb, licked it out of habit, and that was enough. I didn't want any more, just that taste. He did a decent job. I wandered out in the living room with another cup of tea, totally disinterested while my two men acted like starving wolves over a carcass. :thumbdown: Admittedly, I tire easily. This is to be expected. I did just have abdominal surgery, after all. Long as I take my Gas-X to get rid of the lingering gas pains, I'll be fine. I feel a bit jet-propelled already, but my shoulder still hurts now and then. Best to stay on top of it. Other than that, I need only Liquid Tylenol. Not bad at all. I'll keep you informed as I can. Lena

The vena cava filter isn't as bad as you think Teri. I'm a previous DVT patient as well. <HUG> You'll do fine. Yes, that pre-op diet is a royal pain, but bear up as best you can. Believe me, I walked into the hospital starving and walked out in wonderment. Yes, food still smells good and I remember the tastes, but I'm not hungry. Not a bit. I helped prepare dinner for my DH and roomie last night, and didn't care that I wouldn't have any. A tiny lick off my thumb from a splash of sauce was more than enough. Amazing! Lena

I'll back up this statement. I'm just home from my banding on Friday. Long as you take your Gas-X strips, you'll be peachy. I'm using liquid Tylenol when I get achy and don't need anything more except reasonable after sugery pampering. Lena :tt2:

I was banded on Friday, and I can tell you that the Gas-X strips were a godsend. I popped one in as soon as I could get to my stash, and the relief from the gas pressure was well worth that shot of peppermint in my already dry mouth. They gave me a medication that dried my mouth for intubation during the surgery and the effects hadn't worn off. My experience will be slightly different from other patients of Dr. Baptista. Because of my severe sleep apnea and previous cases of DVT, the hospital wanted to keep me overnight. I drank a lot of hot tea to ease my dry, slightly sore throat. Lena:thumbup:

In one hour my husband's alarm will go off and I'll take a quick shower while he and our roomie enjoy their coffee. I don't begrudge them the java, but I do wish I could have some. Then we'll all three drive across town to the hospital. Thanks to the call from my surgeon, I know I'll report to have a PIC line (sp) installed. Maybe they'll put the Heparin in through that, maybe I'll have to endure another shot in my belly. I keep chanting to myself, "You can do this. You've been through so much to get this far. One more day. You can do this..." I'm exercising every bit of self-control I've ever had to proverbially put one foot in front of the other and smile like nothing's bothering me despite the hunger of two days without solid food and a raging thirst. Amazing how pre-surgery nerves can turn even a strong-minded person like me into a internally gibbering wreck. I'm keeping my eye on the prize-- the picture of me I'm using here. I weighed about 175 when that was taken. I want to look like that again. I will lose the weight that has dragged me down for fifteen years and destroyed my health. I'm even better now than I was then. I've quit smoking, achieved my dream of being published, and I have a lovely home in Florida. The only thing holding me back has been my weight and the health issues it brought with it. Will things be champagne and caviar after surgery? I hope not. Can't stand the stuff for one thing. (grin) No, but I won't have the anchor of ill health holding me down. I'll still be here in my little home office, typing out stories to entertain and amuse for as long as my muse stays. But, maybe once in awhile I'll go scuba diving again and not be afraid to be seen in a bathing suit. That would be nice. Lena

In one hour my husband's alarm will go off and I'll take a quick shower while he and our roomie enjoy their coffee. I don't begrudge them the java, but I do wish I could have some. Then we'll all three drive across town to the hospital. Thanks to the call from my surgeon, I know I'll report to have a PIC line (sp) installed. Maybe they'll put the Heparin in through that, maybe I'll have to endure another shot in my belly. I keep chanting to myself, "You can do this. You've been through so much to get this far. One more day. You can do this..." I'm exercising every bit of self-control I've ever had to proverbially put one foot in front of the other and smile like nothing's bothering me despite the hunger of two days without solid food and a raging thirst. Amazing how pre-surgery nerves can turn even a strong-minded person like me into a internally gibbering wreck. I'm keeping my eye on the prize-- the picture of me I'm using here. I weighed about 175 when that was taken. I want to look like that again. I will lose the weight that has dragged me down for fifteen years and destroyed my health. I'm even better now than I was then. I've quit smoking, achieved my dream of being published, and I have a lovely home in Florida. The only thing holding me back has been my weight and the health issues it brought with it. Will things be champagne and caviar after surgery? I hope not. Can't stand the stuff for one thing. (grin) No, but I won't have the anchor of ill health holding me down. I'll still be here in my little home office, typing out stories to entertain and amuse for as long as my muse stays. But, maybe once in awhile I'll go scuba diving again and not be afraid to be seen in a bathing suit. That would be nice. Lena

Okay, I have to say it. While I don't like this liquid diet, I'm not a puddle of starving tears like I thought I'd be by now. Yes, I'm hungry. I locked myself in here while my DH and roomie indulged in Philly Cheesesteak sandwiches and leftover baked gingerbread. The smell alone was driving me nuts. Maintaining self-control isn't easy. I'm calmly sipping my bouillion in isolation and distracting myself with work. I think I've done very well. Even the Lovanox shot in my belly wasn't as bad as I feared. Yes, it stung. Ironically, the sting of the fluid dissipating through my body for the next two hours was worse. I wasn't happy, but I'm okay. I think I'll even be able to remain cool and collected when I get the second shot tomorrow. Best of all was a phone call from Dr. Baptista himself today. I nearly fainted when I heard his distinctive voice and accent. After reviewing my medical records and consulting with the anesthesia department of the hospital, he's changed his mind. With my permission, he's ordered a PIC line after all. So, I have to go extra early on Friday morning so they have time to insert the line. I'm okay with that, especially since he took the time to call. What a sweetie! Lena

Okay, I have to say it. While I don't like this liquid diet, I'm not a puddle of starving tears like I thought I'd be by now. Yes, I'm hungry. I locked myself in here while my DH and roomie indulged in Philly Cheesesteak sandwiches and leftover baked gingerbread. The smell alone was driving me nuts. Maintaining self-control isn't easy. I'm calmly sipping my bouillion in isolation and distracting myself with work. I think I've done very well. Even the Lovanox shot in my belly wasn't as bad as I feared. Yes, it stung. Ironically, the sting of the fluid dissipating through my body for the next two hours was worse. I wasn't happy, but I'm okay. I think I'll even be able to remain cool and collected when I get the second shot tomorrow. Best of all was a phone call from Dr. Baptista himself today. I nearly fainted when I heard his distinctive voice and accent. After reviewing my medical records and consulting with the anesthesia department of the hospital, he's changed his mind. With my permission, he's ordered a PIC line after all. So, I have to go extra early on Friday morning so they have time to insert the line. I'm okay with that, especially since he took the time to call. What a sweetie! Lena

I'm allowed Clear liquids like Crystal Light, hot tea, bouillions, SF popsicles, and SF Jello. It's not easy and I basically told my family to fend for themselves. Every time they cook or eat I lock myself in here in the home office. I've lots of sympathy for you. Lena

Hey, Sandy! You and I are being banded by the same doc on the same day! How cool is that? I've got the 0930 slot. Isn't Dr. Baptista a sweetie? Lena

Thanks, Bella. I'll definitely pop over to take a look. I'm already loving the new sippy cup. Lena

Bella, you're a genius yourself. I would have never thought of using baby and toddler utensils, though I did find some tiny china plates and demitasse cups so my plate will look "full." Where'd you find the Beneprotein? I joined Netflix when I had my hysterectomy and it was a godsend. I set up the movies I wanted to see but DH hates and had myself a movie festival watching documentaries, BBC, chick flicks, and Disney with my grandchildren. On my way out for my morning walk, I dropped the used DVD in the mailbox. Easy as could be. Long as I didn't watch all of them in one day and rotated through, I had something new to watch almost daily. Lena

This is my own list, and may not apply to you. Overnight in Hospital 1. Gas-x 2. Toothbrush/toothpaste 3. Lip Balm (Anesthesia dehydrates me) 4. Hand cream 6. Comfy loose clothes to go home in, like drawstring pants 7. Undies and sports bra 8. Robe suitable for walking the halls and slippers 9. Watch to clip to bed rails 10. Glasses case 11. Cell phone and charger 12. Small pillow 13. CPAP machine 14. Fanny pack to lock on bed rails to hold all my small items like the lip balm and cell phone 15. Spiral log book **This is my own need. I know from personal experience that anesthesia messes with my memory. I bring my log book (like a daytimer, but larger) so I can write down when I got meds, what the doc said, and who came to visit so I can thank them later. ** The sippy cup is a darn smart idea. I'm adding that to my shopping list. Gosh knows I slug down a lot of drink during the day, and I'm used to big swallows. Lena

Oh, shoot. Forgot to pull out the Liquid Tylenol. Thanks for the reminder. Lena

I'm doing the same diet you are, starting Wednesday. In the meantime, I'm drinking Atkins shakes and eating lightweight foods to prepare so I won't starve. Lena

Welcome, Lise! Thrilling, isn't it? Lena

Hey, Neighbor! You going to OPMC or Memorial with the rest of the Jax Bandsters? Good luck! See you on the flip side! Lena

That depends upon the medication. My Warfarin and Welchol can be crushed using a pill crusher I got at Wal-Mart. Other medications like Tylenol can be purchased in liquid form, but sometimes you have to ask the pharmacist for a special order. The best person to talk to first is your pharmacist. He or she can make recommendations based on your medications and needs. I did, and there were little to no changes except for the Liquid Tylenol. However, I did make a note in my medical binder to bring up the subject with my doctors. Again, they agreed with the pharmacist.

Thanks, Amanda.

Wow, I'm so proud of myself. I ate less than my self-imposed calorie count, and definitely stayed below doc's ordered 30g of carbs per day. The Atkins shakes are pretty darn good. I may keep having them for breakfast even after I'm allowed solids. Today was one of the small rewards that keep me going. Last spring I had to add gussets in several pairs of my pants so I could continue wearing them. Then I grew too fat to wear them anyway. (sigh) I reluctantly stowed them on the shelf in my closet. Out of curiosity and heartily tired of the same old two pairs of jeans, I pulled those gusseted pants out of the closet and slid them on. All the way on. Then zipped them. They were loose! So loose, I interrupted my shopping trip to yank them back off my hips, much to the amusement of my roomie. That small victory gave me some much needed confidence and encouragement. I even feel like writing again, and I've been too blocked to write since mid-fall. Suddenly, the characters are "talking" to me again! Happy Dancing! Lena

Wow, I'm so proud of myself. I ate less than my self-imposed calorie count, and definitely stayed below doc's ordered 30g of carbs per day. The Atkins shakes are pretty darn good. I may keep having them for breakfast even after I'm allowed solids. Today was one of the small rewards that keep me going. Last spring I had to add gussets in several pairs of my pants so I could continue wearing them. Then I grew too fat to wear them anyway. (sigh) I reluctantly stowed them on the shelf in my closet. Out of curiosity and heartily tired of the same old two pairs of jeans, I pulled those gusseted pants out of the closet and slid them on. All the way on. Then zipped them. They were loose! So loose, I interrupted my shopping trip to yank them back off my hips, much to the amusement of my roomie. That small victory gave me some much needed confidence and encouragement. I even feel like writing again, and I've been too blocked to write since mid-fall. Suddenly, the characters are "talking" to me again! Happy Dancing! Lena

Thanks Wendy. That's an excellent idea. I think it's called Lydocaine. I'll write a note to ask for it, since the IV will be in my neck. Gives me the willies to think about it, so I'm hoping I'm so stoned on nitrous oxide my eyes won't see them coming at me. Dr. Baptista has been a sweetheart about this, reassuring me that I'll never know what hit me if I'll just bear up with the Heparin shot in my belly. I'm going to do my best to be a sweetheart for him as well. Lena

Less than one week until my lap band surgery and ol’ Nervous Nellie Lena can’t sleep. The reasons are partially fear and partially excitement. Last Friday, the day after Christmas began The Week Before Surgery on doc’s handouts, where certain dietary restrictions must be rigidly followed. This will last until this coming Wednesday, when I begin the pre-surgical “you can’t have anything solid” diet. I’m drinking my last caffeinated coffee right now, mainly because I forgot about that restriction. Actually, Wednesday begins the three days of hell where I have morning shots of either Lovonox or Heparin as my substitute blood thinners. (gulp) For a needle phobic like me, this is enough to cause nightmares and insomnia all by itself. People, meaning to reassure me and not understanding they’re simply adding to my stress, tell me it’s subcutaneous injections in my belly and the needle is very tiny, even finer than what I might have if my weight had caused diabetes like the rest of the family. Thanks, guys. Now I have a very clear picture for my nightmares. Strangely enough, I’m not scared of anything else. When I saw my favorite of the two surgeons on Monday the 22nd, he took extra time to reassure me and work out how we’d get around my well-documented “hard stick” problem. Before we go on, let me explain the “hard stick.” Don’t bother stopping me if you’ve heard this before. It bears repeating. The record on getting an IV established in me remains at an all time high of 21, and last time OPMC managed to almost break that record at 17 sticks before they finally managed to get any vein at all. When I say I’m a hard stick, I mean I’m an impossible stick. Medical persons have a hard time grasping this concept until they’ve spent hours traumatizing me and they finally must humbly admit defeat to the quivering and mindless wreck that was me. (And they wonder why I’m violently and insanely needle phobic and have the nerve to tell me I need a shrink?) I no longer believe any medical person who confidently approaches with a look of determination, declaring they’re “the best with X number of years experience” at getting the job done. I’ve humbled “the best” at six different hospitals, honey. I’m not impressed. Anyway, once I told the doc this, his big brown eyes got the size of saucers. I’ll give this one major points for at least acting like he cared, a distinct improvement over his partner. (See my blog entry, “Is Humiliation Part of the Treatment?” for more details.) Doc Baptista listened, thought carefully about my suggestions of drugging me to my eyeballs on Valium, pouring me onto the gurney, and establishing a PIC line. He offered an alternative. He calls a PIC line “lazy” medical care. (Uh…hey, it works, doesn’t it?) He wanted me conscious when I was wheeled into surgery. (Privately between you and I and the whole darn internet, it would be best if I could aid in the transfer of my heavy body onto the operating table rather than give several nurses and orderlies hernias. I can understand that.) No matter what, upon arrival I’ll receive that last subcutaneous injection of heparin. If I can tolerate that and remain conscious, they’ll wheel me into surgery without starting an IV immediately. Once I’m on the table, the anesthesiologist will give me nitrous oxide until I’m so happy I’m only semi-conscious at best, then they’ll establish a central line in my neck with a port so they can get blood for the lab rats who enjoy waking you up every few hours for blood tests. Doc then explained that with a PIC line he’d have to have me admitted one day early on New Year’s Day so there’d be an experienced person to establish the PIC line, then I’d have to fidget overnight in a lonely hospital bed at the mercy of the lab rats until the next morning for surgery, and we’d be risking infection because of the PIC line. (He had me at lab rats, okay?) I agreed. Doc also moved my surgery hour back on Position #2 instead of #1 on that day. That’ll allow me time to drive across town to the hospital, give the guys time to convince the fearfully shaking wreck that is normally Lena to get out of the car (wry grin), and give the staff time to prep me. If they come at me with an IV needle, doc had better be prepared for the screaming about betrayal. Yes, it’s happened before where a doc’s promises meant nothing. The trust most people feel for medical persons and the belief they actually care about the welfare of the individual patient was shattered long ago. Granted, there may be a few sterling individuals who still care, but I think they're rarer than hen's teeth. Right now I’m taking everything day by day. I made it through Christmas Day without the usual gorge on sweets, but I still ate way more than the 30g of carbs I’m allowed. At least in my mind, I broke my diet with meat and veggies, not pies and cakes. Maybe that counts for something. Doesn’t matter. The past is in the past and cannot be altered. I can only change today. I’m back on the diet and behaving. I’ve lost officially 11 pounds, and I hope to make it more by next Friday. :confused:

Less than one week until my lap band surgery and ol’ Nervous Nellie Lena can’t sleep. The reasons are partially fear and partially excitement. Last Friday, the day after Christmas began The Week Before Surgery on doc’s handouts, where certain dietary restrictions must be rigidly followed. This will last until this coming Wednesday, when I begin the pre-surgical “you can’t have anything solid” diet. I’m drinking my last caffeinated coffee right now, mainly because I forgot about that restriction. Actually, Wednesday begins the three days of hell where I have morning shots of either Lovonox or Heparin as my substitute blood thinners. (gulp) For a needle phobic like me, this is enough to cause nightmares and insomnia all by itself. People, meaning to reassure me and not understanding they’re simply adding to my stress, tell me it’s subcutaneous injections in my belly and the needle is very tiny, even finer than what I might have if my weight had caused diabetes like the rest of the family. Thanks, guys. Now I have a very clear picture for my nightmares. Strangely enough, I’m not scared of anything else. When I saw my favorite of the two surgeons on Monday the 22nd, he took extra time to reassure me and work out how we’d get around my well-documented “hard stick” problem. Before we go on, let me explain the “hard stick.” Don’t bother stopping me if you’ve heard this before. It bears repeating. The record on getting an IV established in me remains at an all time high of 21, and last time OPMC managed to almost break that record at 17 sticks before they finally managed to get any vein at all. When I say I’m a hard stick, I mean I’m an impossible stick. Medical persons have a hard time grasping this concept until they’ve spent hours traumatizing me and they finally must humbly admit defeat to the quivering and mindless wreck that was me. (And they wonder why I’m violently and insanely needle phobic and have the nerve to tell me I need a shrink?) I no longer believe any medical person who confidently approaches with a look of determination, declaring they’re “the best with X number of years experience” at getting the job done. I’ve humbled “the best” at six different hospitals, honey. I’m not impressed. Anyway, once I told the doc this, his big brown eyes got the size of saucers. I’ll give this one major points for at least acting like he cared, a distinct improvement over his partner. (See my blog entry, “Is Humiliation Part of the Treatment?” for more details.) Doc Baptista listened, thought carefully about my suggestions of drugging me to my eyeballs on Valium, pouring me onto the gurney, and establishing a PIC line. He offered an alternative. He calls a PIC line “lazy” medical care. (Uh…hey, it works, doesn’t it?) He wanted me conscious when I was wheeled into surgery. (Privately between you and I and the whole darn internet, it would be best if I could aid in the transfer of my heavy body onto the operating table rather than give several nurses and orderlies hernias. I can understand that.) No matter what, upon arrival I’ll receive that last subcutaneous injection of heparin. If I can tolerate that and remain conscious, they’ll wheel me into surgery without starting an IV immediately. Once I’m on the table, the anesthesiologist will give me nitrous oxide until I’m so happy I’m only semi-conscious at best, then they’ll establish a central line in my neck with a port so they can get blood for the lab rats who enjoy waking you up every few hours for blood tests. Doc then explained that with a PIC line he’d have to have me admitted one day early on New Year’s Day so there’d be an experienced person to establish the PIC line, then I’d have to fidget overnight in a lonely hospital bed at the mercy of the lab rats until the next morning for surgery, and we’d be risking infection because of the PIC line. (He had me at lab rats, okay?) I agreed. Doc also moved my surgery hour back on Position #2 instead of #1 on that day. That’ll allow me time to drive across town to the hospital, give the guys time to convince the fearfully shaking wreck that is normally Lena to get out of the car (wry grin), and give the staff time to prep me. If they come at me with an IV needle, doc had better be prepared for the screaming about betrayal. Yes, it’s happened before where a doc’s promises meant nothing. The trust most people feel for medical persons and the belief they actually care about the welfare of the individual patient was shattered long ago. Granted, there may be a few sterling individuals who still care, but I think they're rarer than hen's teeth. Right now I’m taking everything day by day. I made it through Christmas Day without the usual gorge on sweets, but I still ate way more than the 30g of carbs I’m allowed. At least in my mind, I broke my diet with meat and veggies, not pies and cakes. Maybe that counts for something. Doesn’t matter. The past is in the past and cannot be altered. I can only change today. I’m back on the diet and behaving. I’ve lost officially 11 pounds, and I hope to make it more by next Friday. :embaressed_smile:

I'll be banded this coming Friday, January 2. I've been on Phase 1 of the pre-op diet since November 19, and I've already lost 11 pounds, officially. I think it's more, because my favorite jeans are very loose. I've been slowly phasing out solid food. Lena