I'm slow but I'm dumb...
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and very wordy. I should get that out from the get-go because I don't want anyone to see the length of this post and swallow their tongue.
I decided if I was going to do this I should just stop being namby pamby about it and get on with it. All through my psych eval when the headshrink was trying to impress upon me the importance of support and all through the surgeon's multiple lectures and on through the nurses, my doctor, my counselor, the anesthesiologist, the janitor and the UPS guy, I nodded my head to each one of them and said, "Oh yes, of course! I am all about the support."
Suckers. I was secretly thinking about how "support" was a bunch of new-age mumbo-jumbo and I needed none of that, thank you. I got this way on my own and by gosh I was going to get out of it on my own. I didn't need to hold hands in a circle and sing Kum Bah Ya with a bunch of other sad sacks with too much free time and no self respect. I am strong. I am courageous. I am indefeatable.
Whoo, boy, what a fool am I? This is how crazy I get. I get out there a ways.
I was banded on the 11th of June. It all happened so fast my mind is still reeling. I decided I wanted to do it in May and looked into insurance. It was dead in the Water. It kills me, kills me that they are more than willing to pay for the countless medications and hospitalizations and doctor visits and endless tests that come with being overweight, but they won't pay for something that could make all that go away. Or, at the very least, greatly reduce the price tag of such issues. I don't suffer fools lightly, so I didn't waste much time going up that road. Instead, I figured out financing and took care of business. The next thing I know I'm laying in my bed, writhing in pain, thinking about how this was the biggest mistake of my life and I am sooooo screwed.
Of course I did lots of research first. I'm a fool, but not that big a fool. I had read about the band extensively prior to deciding it was for me. I interviewed people who had been banded at length to get a feel for the "real" deal. Literature is great for the mechanics. I could watch video presentations and talk to doctors until I was blue in the face, but I also wanted to know what it was really, really like down in the trenches. I did my homework. To the point of obsession. Knowledge is power and I wanted me some power going into this.
Still, nothing could prepare me for actually going through it.
Okay, it wasn't that bad. But it was - is - bad enough. The past few days have been rough. I admit it. I need help. I need support. I'll even sing Kum Bah Ya if it will help.
For all my blustering and protesting, I admit, I was wrong. I have questions that didn't occur to me before. I need to hear that other people have lived through it. I need to hear that it gets better and it'll all be worth it in the end. Dammit, I think I might need to hold hands with someone and sing Kum Bah Ya!
What has happened to me?
Whatever it is, I'm going to put it out there to the universe and enjoy the ride. I'm willing. I know I'm able. I understand now that accepting help doesn't make me weak. It makes me smart. I should use the tools available to me to make this thing work. Otherwise, I should have just stayed home from the dance. And, beside the fact that it's too late to go home now, now that I'm here, I intend to dance.
So, here I go. I'll share this journey with you guys and learn how to do this thing right. I'll accept help, if you're willing to give it, and be grateful for the lessons along the way. I'll be honest no matter how hard it is for me to admit the mistakes I've made in my life that brought me to this place. I'll own what's mine and dedicate myself to righting those wrongs.
But I won't really sing Kum Bah Ya, I was kidding about that. Trust me, that's more for your benefit than mine. You don't want to hear that.
To the point: (finally!) I have been overweight my entire life. I've done the yo-yo diets, the fads, the pills, the programs. I've gone to extremes. Steadily, every year, my weight has increased. To the point that, now, at the tender, young age of 35, I am at my heaviest weight, 280 lbs. Well, I was at 280. I've already lost eight lbs since being banded last Wednesday. I can't believe I just typed that. That's a big step for me. I've never admitted my weight to anyone but my doctors before. Not even close family and friends. It's always been this way. I would lose the weight and gain it back. Plus some. Then I would justify. Deny. Make excuses. I'm sure this song has been sung before, so I won't belabor that point. It's been an uphill battle is all I'm saying. All uphill and very little coasting down on easy street in between. And I didn't help. I sabotaged myself over and over again. I was silly and naive.
I have PCOS, insulin resistance, plantar fasciitis, back pain, a history of blood clots, and a lousy self image. I have decided that now is the time to take back my life and ensure a long, healthy future with my two teenage boys. I want to watch them graduate. Get married. Give me grandbabies. I want to watch those grandbabies grow up. graduate. Get married. This is why I decided to get banded and now, five days into it, I'm not sorry I did. Though it's been painful and confusing, I'm still glad and I still believe this will work. My boyfriend is wonderfully supportive and helpful, but as he's never been through this and never had a weight problem, he's limited in what help he can provide. It's invaluable, important help, but it's just a different kind of help.
So, finally, this is where you come in. I've got some questions, as I said, and in asking them I'm hoping I'll find some peace with this thing.
#1 - I'm on a full liquid diet for a week and I'm wondering if I'll go mad before this week is out. I'm finding it hard to have an appetite for much of anything, but when I don't eat I feel pretty sick, light-headed and tired. Even the sight of chicken broth makes me retch. Has anyone else experienced this and found a suitable way to deal with it?
#2 - How long before this stomach pain stops? The port site is the worst. I'm having trouble bending over. It's a lot better than it was the day of and after surgery, but it's still painful. The nurses and, well, basically everyone I talked to prior to the surgery told me it would be sore for at most three days afterwards. Were they just forgetting because that's what the body does, it forgets difficult pain like this for self preservation, or did I misunderstand? Is five days a little long to still be in this much pain? I have a post-op appointment day after tomorrow and I'll discuss it with my surgeon, but I'm just wondering what the rest of you have experienced.
#3 - About when can I expect to have sex again? Forgive my bluntness, but my boyfriend and I, we have a healthy sex life and the way I feel right now, I can't ever imagine having sex again. If that's so then just pull the plug now. With that, I can't hang.
#4 - And exercise? About when did you guys start exercising with comfort? I like to work out and I'm anxious to get on the elliptical again. But again, that day seems so, so far away.
#5 - Anyone experience chronic headaches? I've had a headache a day now since the surgery. Perhaps that's due to a lack of proper nutrition? If so, that goes back to #1. What do I do about it if I can't bring myself to eat without yakking?
#6 - Speaking of yakking, that's my greatest fear right now. I've been feeling so nauseous it's amazing I haven't prayed to the porcelain god yet. Does that hurt like angry kittens doused in honey and fireants or what? The way my stomach feels right now, I'm worried that vomiting will just set me over the edge - painwise.
I think that's all for now, though I'm sure there will probably be more. Maybe I'm being impatient and I'm expecting too much too soon. I'd just like to get a bigger consensus on this thing so I'll know what I'm dealing with here.
Thanks for hanging with me this long, if you've made it here. Thanks for any help you can give and thanks for letting me get this all off my chest, if nothing else.