I feel like the shadows are separating and flickers of light are coming in now. I'm starting to feel closer to my normal self. I still have quite a bit of recovering to do, but at least I no longer feel like I'm locked into this bit of hell forever.
The last 4 days have been tough. I look at the post op eating guide now and have to laugh. Daily, for 2 weeks, I was supposed to be able to get in 64 oz of water, at least one protein shake, broth, pudding, jello, Popsicles (all sugar free of course), cream of wheat...plus a chewable horse sized multivitamin, a chewable Calcium tablet and B12. HA! That all sounded perfectly doable pre-surgery. It sounds like a fantastical and delightful feast now...one I have not had the pleasuring of even partially consuming.
Today is definitely better than yesterday, as has been the case thus far. Actually, instead of being a little better than Day 4, I would say Day 5 is exponentially better. Some good things did happen yesterday. For instance, my bowels started working again. Sorry if that's TMI, but I'm going no holds barred here. Of course, even though they are working again, it is a liquid in, liquid out process, but that's ok. I'll take it for what it is...a sign of progress. Yesterday, I discovered that I can again drink my Crystal Lite Ice Tea (which is 99.9% caffeine free in case you are wondering). That helps me get my water in a little better, honestly, since that's really all it is. I got a good 16 oz of it down yesterday and 24 oz. so far today. I have also discovered Popsicles go down slowly and wonderfully and are like a little piece of heaven on a stick.
Cabin fever set in yesterday, though, and I insisted Joe take me out. We did a jaunt to the mall to pick up something from the Apple store. It was hell. I guess I made the mistake of having some swallows of my protein shake before we left and the gas bubbles in my chest were excruciating, so the car ride over was torture. Then, when we got there, I walked in the door and into the Apple store, which was right near the door and I was done. I had to sit down and felt dizzy again like a had a couple days ago. We went right home and I crashed on the recliner.
After a rest and some more drinking, I did feel better again. I was even able to do laundry (minus carrying the baskets of clothes). Joe asked me if I was sure I didn't want him to do it, but I was totally having a great time. I loved being able to just do something normal! Today was even better as far as activity. I have had no nap, minus going back to sleep for 2 hours after the boys left early this morning and I was able to get a shower without getting winded. Plus, I actually drove to pick up Cameron from daycare this afternoon! Ok, so it was only a mile round trip, but it was so liberating. I missed my SUV and freedom! I'm still a couple days off from driving all the way to a store and walking around and driving back home, but it's a start. I miss my motorcycle too, but that's still a ways off, so I'm trying not to think about it too much.
Today's steps forward also included another, less desirable one. Today, for the first time in several days, I felt hunger. I miss food. I ordered Joe and Cameron pizza this evening to give him a break from all the cooking and other domestic duties he's been doing. Gosh, it smelled so good. It's going to be a very long time before I can have a few bites of pizza. It made me a little sad...ok a lot sad. It's like quitting smoking in a way. You still want it even though you know it's bad for you and the smell is just...intoxicating. Like quitting smoking, it's also going to be a lifelong battle. It sucks that I was gifted with an addiction to overeating, but it's my cross to bear, and I have to learn to let good sense rule over impulse and fleeting moments of pleasure. Hopefully, in return I will gain long term health and happiness...and, maybe some sexy clothes too. :o)
Monday, April 26, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Better today than yesterday
Yesterday was rough. The pain was pretty bad when the meds wore off each time and it was hard to get in and out of the bed. The worst thing was that I had a hard time getting fluids down. It took me all day just to get a glass of water down. I did manage about 1/2 a protein shake as well and maybe a 1/4 cup of chicken broth, but that was it for the entire day.
The problem was that after a swallow or two, I would feel a knot at the bottom of my esophagus, which I'm assuming is the band and it was quite uncomfortable so I had to stop drinking for a bit each time. I spoke to the RN and she said the knot feeling was from being swollen and would get better. She said to just keep sipping and walking. I did manage to walk out to the mailbox and I did laps around our living room, dining room, and kitchen circle several times. I got in my 20 minutes of walking at least, to ward off blood clots.
This morning, however, the effects of dehydration from yesterday came on full force. I woke up not feeling so hot and when I got up to pee, I thought I was going to pass out. I had to take the nausea meds they gave me for the first time. After that settled down, though, I was able to drink quite a bit of water and it went down much easier than yesterday. Hopefully, I will be able to hydrate much better today and avoid that happening again.
Joe is being such a trooper taking care of Cameron and getting him ready in the morning and off to daycare. I know it's a lot on him with his work stresses and his long commute. Speaking of Cameron, though, we've had quite an exciting last 2 days. He has finally started pooping in the potty after months of potty training. He's been a pro at peeing for awhile now, but the pooping thing has been a major obstacle. Everyone was starting to pull our hair out...Joe, me, his grandparents, and his daycare. We just couldn't figure out his "button" to get him over the hump. He seemed motivated by nothing enough to do it.
I'm still not sure what changed for him, but hopefully we have turned a corner now. He will be able to move up to the 3's class where he should have been long ago since he's 3 1/2. I guess he and I are both starting a new chapter in our lives together :o)
The problem was that after a swallow or two, I would feel a knot at the bottom of my esophagus, which I'm assuming is the band and it was quite uncomfortable so I had to stop drinking for a bit each time. I spoke to the RN and she said the knot feeling was from being swollen and would get better. She said to just keep sipping and walking. I did manage to walk out to the mailbox and I did laps around our living room, dining room, and kitchen circle several times. I got in my 20 minutes of walking at least, to ward off blood clots.
This morning, however, the effects of dehydration from yesterday came on full force. I woke up not feeling so hot and when I got up to pee, I thought I was going to pass out. I had to take the nausea meds they gave me for the first time. After that settled down, though, I was able to drink quite a bit of water and it went down much easier than yesterday. Hopefully, I will be able to hydrate much better today and avoid that happening again.
Joe is being such a trooper taking care of Cameron and getting him ready in the morning and off to daycare. I know it's a lot on him with his work stresses and his long commute. Speaking of Cameron, though, we've had quite an exciting last 2 days. He has finally started pooping in the potty after months of potty training. He's been a pro at peeing for awhile now, but the pooping thing has been a major obstacle. Everyone was starting to pull our hair out...Joe, me, his grandparents, and his daycare. We just couldn't figure out his "button" to get him over the hump. He seemed motivated by nothing enough to do it.
I'm still not sure what changed for him, but hopefully we have turned a corner now. He will be able to move up to the 3's class where he should have been long ago since he's 3 1/2. I guess he and I are both starting a new chapter in our lives together :o)
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Surgery Day
I guess the powers that be were listening, or I just had a really good hospital staff. Either way, I'm still here and very relieved about that at least. Now begins the healing process. It's been a little rough but I know it will get better every day. That's what I keep telling myself when the pain meds wear off anyway.
Surgery day dawned very early. Joe and I got up at 4 a.m. because I had to be at the hospital at 5:45 a.m. with surgery scheduled for 7:45. We were both anxious. He asked me one final time if I was sure I wanted to do this and I was. There were four other women waiting in the admission area and they took us back all at once. We were put into rooms to change into our gowns, have our compression leggings put on and get officially admitted. The hospital had just debuted a brand new computer system and I was the first patient for my nurse using the new program. It stressed her out a bit because it would not cooperate at first, which in turn stressed me out a bit, and it took a long time to get my information plugged in, but finally she did.
She then started my IV. I was already anxious about the needele since I had passed out last week while getting blood drawn for my pre-op bloodwork. Sure enough, just like the lab, the nurse had trouble getting my vein to cooperate, and I felt the nausea and lightheadedness sweep over me. She laid me back and I breathed deeply to try and get it to stop. She went and got Joe so he could be with me to help calm my nerves. Then, she decided to use a smaller needle and try the other arm. I think I almost broke Joe's hand when the needle went in. Luckily that one went in easily, though, and I was fine. I really think the nurse was flustered by the computer system and had a hard time getting her composure back. Thankfully, I didn't see her again.
Not long after that, people started flooding in and out of my little room. The OR nurse, the surgeon's assistant, the anesthesiologist, and finally my surgeon. I'm not sure I remember any of their names now, except my surgeon of course. They were all very nice. When the anesthesiologist asked if I had any more concerns or questions, I told him please just wake me back up and he said that was the plan. I was then wheeled out of that room to the OR. I remember Joe and I both calling out one last "I love you" as I was wheeled off.
I was quickly in the OR and moved to the table via a very ingenious air mattress. It was like riding on a hover craft. The anesthesiologist gave me something to calm my nerves I think because I suddenly felt a little happy. That was the last thing I remember until a lady was saying my name over my face.
It was awful. I was in a daze and felt like I didn't have control of my voice or breathing or body. I felt the pain in my abdomen almost immediately. Just as I recognized the pain, the nurse was asking me what the level was on a scale of 1-10 and I vaguely remember motioning it was a 7 or 8 only because she said a 10 would be that it brought me to tears and that wasn't the case. She said she was giving me pain medicine. I still couldn't speak.
What did almost bring me to tears was that I felt I couldn't take a deep breath. I started wheezing and groaning to breathe and I could not force it deeper. The nurse seemed to panic a little and I heard her call for the anesthesiologist. He was there in seconds and I heard her tell him she didn't know what was wrong because my lung sounds were clear and I was 100% saturated. They both were asking me if I could breathe without groaning and I tried but I could not. I briefly thought maybe I wasn't going to make it through this after all. He then told her to give me .5 Ativan. I had no idea what that was but not long after she did, I started to breathe easier. The pain meds must have kicked in too because the pain became barely noticeable.
I laid there for a few minutes practicing deep, slow breaths, and I noticed the time on the clock on the wall said almost 10:30. I found my voice and asked her did the surgery take longer and she said no. She said I had been brought to recovery at 9:20, so the surgery was about an hour and a half. I was in recovery a little longer I guess because they had told me earlier recovery was usually only 30 minutes. She was preparing me to go to my room. I asked if Joe was waiting in my room and she said they hadn't gotten him yet. I got a little emotional and I felt the tears start to glide down my temple. I asked her what Ativan was and she said it was for anxiety. She comforted me, saying that it was ok to cry...lots of people do. She asked if I wanted a little more Ativan and I nodded. I was just relieved to be alive I think and I couldn't handle the emotion of it all.
I was soon set up in a semi-private room, and a few minutes later, Joe was finally there. I was so happy to see him again. My heart swelled with love, which I know sounds corny, but it's the only way I can describe it. I was just so happy to still be in his life, and in that brief moment I discovered a whole new appreciation for my life and how lucky I am. He stayed for a little while and then I told him to go ahead to work and I would see him later. I knew my mother was on her way and my aunt would be coming after that. I would have plenty of company, and I also knew it would make him feel better to work for a few hours. I was in and out of sleep with the help of a patient-controlled pump for pain medicine anyway.
My mom came a while later and sat with me. I chatted with her here and there between sleeping. I was thirsty and wondered when they would be coming to take me for my x-ray to make sure everything was in place. I couldn't have any water until that test. Apparently, there was a mix up and they thought I was still in the OR. The nurse got it straightened out and they came for me a short time later. I was wheeled down to an x-ray room, made to stand in front of a screen and told to take a big swallow from a cup of barium. It was bitter and awful and they made me do it 2 more times after that. By the third swallow, I really thought I was going to vomit, but thankfully I did not.
After my test, it still took at least another hour before they finally brought me some water. So, I surmised that everything was going down as it should with no leaks. I think Mom stayed a couple hours after that, but then she left to pick up my son from daycare and take care of him until Joe came home later. My aunt came not long after she left. She was very helpful, getting things for me and helping me adjust when needed. I started to feel more awake and conversational. The nurse came in then and asked if I wanted to get up and walk around. I did because I had to pee so bad! She unplugged my IV machine and left me to it.
I got up slowly and sat on the side of the bed. I felt woozy and laid back down for a few minutes. The pressure in my stomach became too much to bear though and I became determined. Between the air they pumped into my abdomen to give them more room to work during surgery, the swelling inside from the surgery, and my full bladder, I was determined to get up and at least relieve some of it. I got up again, gritting my teeth through the pain of the 5 incisions on my belly, and made it to the bathroom. Damn, that felt good.
Since, I was up, I decided to take a walk. They said the more I walked, the better I would feel. So, I left the room, with my aunt behind, and did 2 laps around the nurses stations. Joe came in right after I returned to my room. He looked so tired. I felt so bad for the long and stressful day he was having. He sat in the chair next to my aunt and they chatted while I laid down, in and out of sleep.
They brought me some dinner soon after and I was excited to taste something besides water and really wash the barium taste out of my mouth. I opened each container and looked...chicken broth, jello, water, hot tea. A feast! I grabbed the spoon and went for the warm broth. I managed to get a few teaspoons down, but it left a knot at the bottom of my esophagus that made it hard to continue. I had to pause between each couple swallows. I managed a few very tiny swallows of jello after that and one swallow of the hot tea. I could get no more down and laid back on my pillow.
After a short rest, I got up and walked the circular hallway of the 4 South wing. I did 3 laps with Joe and my aunt in tow. I felt pretty good overall. I mean, the swelling in my stomach was horrid and the incisions were sore. I also had this terrible pain in my left shoulder that I was told was trapped air and would dissipate after a few days. My throat was sore from the breathing tube too. BUT, other than all of that, I was ok. Walking did seem to help but I had to be careful not to overdo it.
When I returned to my room and the nurse came in to check on me, we asked about the possibility of me going home that night instead of the next day. She said it was possible, but I needed to get the whole cup of water down that they gave me. That was tough, let me tell you. It takes me a long time right now to get down a whole cup of water, but I sipped it on and off for the next hour. My aunt had gone and Joe and I waited another hour for word of my discharge. The nurse said the on call doctor was reviewing the charts and I should know soon. She came back about 30 minutes later and brought a discharge folder for me. I was excited. I signed the papers, went over the instructions and she left, telling me her shift was over and the oncoming nurse would remove my IV and finish discharging me.
At 8:30 p.m., I was finally rolled out to Joe's waiting car and home bound...
Surgery day dawned very early. Joe and I got up at 4 a.m. because I had to be at the hospital at 5:45 a.m. with surgery scheduled for 7:45. We were both anxious. He asked me one final time if I was sure I wanted to do this and I was. There were four other women waiting in the admission area and they took us back all at once. We were put into rooms to change into our gowns, have our compression leggings put on and get officially admitted. The hospital had just debuted a brand new computer system and I was the first patient for my nurse using the new program. It stressed her out a bit because it would not cooperate at first, which in turn stressed me out a bit, and it took a long time to get my information plugged in, but finally she did.
She then started my IV. I was already anxious about the needele since I had passed out last week while getting blood drawn for my pre-op bloodwork. Sure enough, just like the lab, the nurse had trouble getting my vein to cooperate, and I felt the nausea and lightheadedness sweep over me. She laid me back and I breathed deeply to try and get it to stop. She went and got Joe so he could be with me to help calm my nerves. Then, she decided to use a smaller needle and try the other arm. I think I almost broke Joe's hand when the needle went in. Luckily that one went in easily, though, and I was fine. I really think the nurse was flustered by the computer system and had a hard time getting her composure back. Thankfully, I didn't see her again.
Not long after that, people started flooding in and out of my little room. The OR nurse, the surgeon's assistant, the anesthesiologist, and finally my surgeon. I'm not sure I remember any of their names now, except my surgeon of course. They were all very nice. When the anesthesiologist asked if I had any more concerns or questions, I told him please just wake me back up and he said that was the plan. I was then wheeled out of that room to the OR. I remember Joe and I both calling out one last "I love you" as I was wheeled off.
I was quickly in the OR and moved to the table via a very ingenious air mattress. It was like riding on a hover craft. The anesthesiologist gave me something to calm my nerves I think because I suddenly felt a little happy. That was the last thing I remember until a lady was saying my name over my face.
It was awful. I was in a daze and felt like I didn't have control of my voice or breathing or body. I felt the pain in my abdomen almost immediately. Just as I recognized the pain, the nurse was asking me what the level was on a scale of 1-10 and I vaguely remember motioning it was a 7 or 8 only because she said a 10 would be that it brought me to tears and that wasn't the case. She said she was giving me pain medicine. I still couldn't speak.
What did almost bring me to tears was that I felt I couldn't take a deep breath. I started wheezing and groaning to breathe and I could not force it deeper. The nurse seemed to panic a little and I heard her call for the anesthesiologist. He was there in seconds and I heard her tell him she didn't know what was wrong because my lung sounds were clear and I was 100% saturated. They both were asking me if I could breathe without groaning and I tried but I could not. I briefly thought maybe I wasn't going to make it through this after all. He then told her to give me .5 Ativan. I had no idea what that was but not long after she did, I started to breathe easier. The pain meds must have kicked in too because the pain became barely noticeable.
I laid there for a few minutes practicing deep, slow breaths, and I noticed the time on the clock on the wall said almost 10:30. I found my voice and asked her did the surgery take longer and she said no. She said I had been brought to recovery at 9:20, so the surgery was about an hour and a half. I was in recovery a little longer I guess because they had told me earlier recovery was usually only 30 minutes. She was preparing me to go to my room. I asked if Joe was waiting in my room and she said they hadn't gotten him yet. I got a little emotional and I felt the tears start to glide down my temple. I asked her what Ativan was and she said it was for anxiety. She comforted me, saying that it was ok to cry...lots of people do. She asked if I wanted a little more Ativan and I nodded. I was just relieved to be alive I think and I couldn't handle the emotion of it all.
I was soon set up in a semi-private room, and a few minutes later, Joe was finally there. I was so happy to see him again. My heart swelled with love, which I know sounds corny, but it's the only way I can describe it. I was just so happy to still be in his life, and in that brief moment I discovered a whole new appreciation for my life and how lucky I am. He stayed for a little while and then I told him to go ahead to work and I would see him later. I knew my mother was on her way and my aunt would be coming after that. I would have plenty of company, and I also knew it would make him feel better to work for a few hours. I was in and out of sleep with the help of a patient-controlled pump for pain medicine anyway.
My mom came a while later and sat with me. I chatted with her here and there between sleeping. I was thirsty and wondered when they would be coming to take me for my x-ray to make sure everything was in place. I couldn't have any water until that test. Apparently, there was a mix up and they thought I was still in the OR. The nurse got it straightened out and they came for me a short time later. I was wheeled down to an x-ray room, made to stand in front of a screen and told to take a big swallow from a cup of barium. It was bitter and awful and they made me do it 2 more times after that. By the third swallow, I really thought I was going to vomit, but thankfully I did not.
After my test, it still took at least another hour before they finally brought me some water. So, I surmised that everything was going down as it should with no leaks. I think Mom stayed a couple hours after that, but then she left to pick up my son from daycare and take care of him until Joe came home later. My aunt came not long after she left. She was very helpful, getting things for me and helping me adjust when needed. I started to feel more awake and conversational. The nurse came in then and asked if I wanted to get up and walk around. I did because I had to pee so bad! She unplugged my IV machine and left me to it.
I got up slowly and sat on the side of the bed. I felt woozy and laid back down for a few minutes. The pressure in my stomach became too much to bear though and I became determined. Between the air they pumped into my abdomen to give them more room to work during surgery, the swelling inside from the surgery, and my full bladder, I was determined to get up and at least relieve some of it. I got up again, gritting my teeth through the pain of the 5 incisions on my belly, and made it to the bathroom. Damn, that felt good.
Since, I was up, I decided to take a walk. They said the more I walked, the better I would feel. So, I left the room, with my aunt behind, and did 2 laps around the nurses stations. Joe came in right after I returned to my room. He looked so tired. I felt so bad for the long and stressful day he was having. He sat in the chair next to my aunt and they chatted while I laid down, in and out of sleep.
They brought me some dinner soon after and I was excited to taste something besides water and really wash the barium taste out of my mouth. I opened each container and looked...chicken broth, jello, water, hot tea. A feast! I grabbed the spoon and went for the warm broth. I managed to get a few teaspoons down, but it left a knot at the bottom of my esophagus that made it hard to continue. I had to pause between each couple swallows. I managed a few very tiny swallows of jello after that and one swallow of the hot tea. I could get no more down and laid back on my pillow.
After a short rest, I got up and walked the circular hallway of the 4 South wing. I did 3 laps with Joe and my aunt in tow. I felt pretty good overall. I mean, the swelling in my stomach was horrid and the incisions were sore. I also had this terrible pain in my left shoulder that I was told was trapped air and would dissipate after a few days. My throat was sore from the breathing tube too. BUT, other than all of that, I was ok. Walking did seem to help but I had to be careful not to overdo it.
When I returned to my room and the nurse came in to check on me, we asked about the possibility of me going home that night instead of the next day. She said it was possible, but I needed to get the whole cup of water down that they gave me. That was tough, let me tell you. It takes me a long time right now to get down a whole cup of water, but I sipped it on and off for the next hour. My aunt had gone and Joe and I waited another hour for word of my discharge. The nurse said the on call doctor was reviewing the charts and I should know soon. She came back about 30 minutes later and brought a discharge folder for me. I was excited. I signed the papers, went over the instructions and she left, telling me her shift was over and the oncoming nurse would remove my IV and finish discharging me.
At 8:30 p.m., I was finally rolled out to Joe's waiting car and home bound...
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Pre Op
In August of last year, I made an appointment with my primary care physician to begin jumping through the hoops required by my insurance to be approved for weight loss surgery. I would have to complete 6 months of a medically-monitored weight loss program, which meant monthly visits with my doctor. This was kind of funny to me since I've been dieting on and off my whole life, but if they wanted those 6 more months, I would give it to them. I would also need to get a psychological evaluation, and I would need to meet with a nutritionist. The bariatric surgeon also required I attend a seminar, which I was able to view online, and suggested I attend at least one support group meeting.
During my monthly visits with my doctor, it was discovered I have hypertension. I was floored. Even though I had been overweight most of my life, I had always had perfect blood pressure. This was a first for me, and perhaps, we decided, a sign from my body that it was indeed time to pay attention. Of course, I decided it was also my body's way of rubbing it in that I was getting older. It's not like I really need to be reminded, thank you very much.
To summarize my 6 months of dieting with my doctor, I lost weight the first month, gained weight the 2nd, lost during the third, gained during the 4th, gained during the 5th and lost during the 6th. After 6 months, I ended up back where I started, and that's pretty much the pattern of my life thus far. With the medication, my blood pressure came slightly down to just under the borderline mark. With that sort of under control and the 6 months then behind me, I moved forward again.
The bariatric surgeon's office was kind enough to provide referrals for a nutritionist and a psychologist. Well, actually, they required patients to use their nutritionist as she is well versed in the various weight loss surgeries and the food requirements of each. The downside was that neither took insurance and required cash up front. I have great insurance that covers almost everything with but a small copay on my part...a nice benefit of working for the government. These two visits, however, cost me a little over $300 out of pocket. A small price to pay is what I'm hoping in the end. Another plus, at least, is that the nutritionist includes 6 months of follow up in her fee...a good deal really for $150.
The nutritionist was really nice. She went through an evaluation with me of my diet, my likes and dislikes, my history, my current lifestyle, etc. She went over a packet of information about how and what I will be eating post surgery. Basically, after surgery, the diet is full liquid diet for 2 weeks. Then, for weeks 3 and 4, the diet becomes pureed, with food the consistency of applesauce. After that, solids can be started, however the bites must be really small and will probably be about a 1/4 cup of food for each meal. I believe she said that eventually you work up to about a cup of food for each meal. More than that consistently and you probably need a "fill."
For those that aren't familiar, the band is placed on the upper part of the stomach, creating essentially a new MUCH smaller stomach before the rest of the stomach. The band is empty when initially placed. After 6 weeks of healing, you get your first "fill." A fill is when the surgeon adds saline to the empty "pillows" inside the band. This is accomplished through a port that is also placed during surgery, just below the skin. It is the fill that actually gives the restriction for food intake. Fills are needed when weight loss slows or stops and more food is being taken in at a meal. Based on what I've read, fills are sort of hit and miss until the "golden" amount of saline is reached to get the optimum restriction needed to lose weight. The first fill may be perfect for some and others may require a little more. I've also read that on average, the 1st year sees 3-4 fills, the 2nd year less, and so on. Too little and you eat more than you should...too much and you can't get food down and vomit it back up. It's a delicate balance to find the right amount from what I gather and better to add too little and have to add more than add too much and have to take some out. It's a learning experience I guess.
The eating is a little complicated and will also take some learning and adjustment. I will have to learn to eat slower and with very small bites. I also have to learn to eat meat first so I get my protein in before getting full. This is important because as weight is lost, they don't want muscle to be lost as well. She said I would need to consume 50 grams of protein daily, which is a lot. To aid with this, I will have to drink a protein shake daily for the rest of my life. I will also have to take vitamins daily forever...a multi, a calcium and B12. The multi and the calcium must be chewable for at least the first 3 months and the B12 is a tablet that dissolves under the tongue.
The nutritionist was helpful in another, more personal, way as well. She told me she believed that the band was the right choice for me. This eased my mind as I still wasn't sure which route I should take, band or bypass. I think it wasn't until after talking to her that I finally solidified my choice.
A couple weeks later, I had my appointment with the psychologist. I was a little nervous going in to meet with her. I was envisioning her probing into my childhood and bringing me to tears as I laid on a couch in her office. It was nothing like that, of course. She asked me some pretty basic questions about my life, some history-medical and emotional, what I hoped to gain from the surgery, etc. It was about 45 minutes and I was saying goodbye and getting her well wishes.
A few days after that, I met with the surgeon again since I had not seen him in over a year and a half. That was a very quick appointment, about 15 minutes. He looked through my file and saw that I had completed everything. He asked if I had any questions and then said that his office would send everything over to the insurance company for approval and we would go from there. The next day, his office coordinator called and confirmed that she was sending the paperwork and had a few last minute questions. I asked her how long it usually took for a response and she said 2 weeks or so. So, I hunkered down for the 2 week wait, anxious for what the insurance company would decide about my future.
Three days later, while I was in a meeting, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked down and saw the surgeon's office number on the screen. I was nervous, anxious, excited...just so many emotions came over me wondering about the message that was being left on my voicemail at that moment. As soon as we had a break, I dialed into my mailbox immediately. She said it within the first few words of her message. Approved. A whole new wave of emotions flooded and I wanted to tell someone right away. No one at work knew and I wasn't ready to share it with them yet, and perhaps never would, so I quelled an outburst and opted for a text message to my sister. She congratulated me immediately.
It's actually strange upon reflection that I didn't text my husband first. He was next, though. I think it's because I still wasn't sure how he felt about it all at that point. I knew he would be worried and I knew a more involved discussion was needed besides a simple text. I think sometimes, however, I don't give him enough credit for being in tune with things. I hope I'm around for a very long time to give him the credit he deserves.
On that note, tomorrow morning I will be 48 hours from surgery and I'm starting to get scared. Thoughts of my dad and his heart attack the day after his surgery keep clouding my mind. I hugged my son at least a hundred time this past weekend, thinking what his life would be like if I didn't come home from the hospital. I wanted to somehow permanently ingrain his mind with the knowledge of how much I love him. And, my husband...his allergies are so bad right now. He coughs all night and is getting little sleep. It's bad enough that his MS makes him tired, but that coupled with the horridly high pollen count we are having is putting such a strain on him. It's really just NOT an option for me to not come home. They both need me...and I hope the powers that be, whoever or whatever they are, know that too.
During my monthly visits with my doctor, it was discovered I have hypertension. I was floored. Even though I had been overweight most of my life, I had always had perfect blood pressure. This was a first for me, and perhaps, we decided, a sign from my body that it was indeed time to pay attention. Of course, I decided it was also my body's way of rubbing it in that I was getting older. It's not like I really need to be reminded, thank you very much.
To summarize my 6 months of dieting with my doctor, I lost weight the first month, gained weight the 2nd, lost during the third, gained during the 4th, gained during the 5th and lost during the 6th. After 6 months, I ended up back where I started, and that's pretty much the pattern of my life thus far. With the medication, my blood pressure came slightly down to just under the borderline mark. With that sort of under control and the 6 months then behind me, I moved forward again.
The bariatric surgeon's office was kind enough to provide referrals for a nutritionist and a psychologist. Well, actually, they required patients to use their nutritionist as she is well versed in the various weight loss surgeries and the food requirements of each. The downside was that neither took insurance and required cash up front. I have great insurance that covers almost everything with but a small copay on my part...a nice benefit of working for the government. These two visits, however, cost me a little over $300 out of pocket. A small price to pay is what I'm hoping in the end. Another plus, at least, is that the nutritionist includes 6 months of follow up in her fee...a good deal really for $150.
The nutritionist was really nice. She went through an evaluation with me of my diet, my likes and dislikes, my history, my current lifestyle, etc. She went over a packet of information about how and what I will be eating post surgery. Basically, after surgery, the diet is full liquid diet for 2 weeks. Then, for weeks 3 and 4, the diet becomes pureed, with food the consistency of applesauce. After that, solids can be started, however the bites must be really small and will probably be about a 1/4 cup of food for each meal. I believe she said that eventually you work up to about a cup of food for each meal. More than that consistently and you probably need a "fill."
For those that aren't familiar, the band is placed on the upper part of the stomach, creating essentially a new MUCH smaller stomach before the rest of the stomach. The band is empty when initially placed. After 6 weeks of healing, you get your first "fill." A fill is when the surgeon adds saline to the empty "pillows" inside the band. This is accomplished through a port that is also placed during surgery, just below the skin. It is the fill that actually gives the restriction for food intake. Fills are needed when weight loss slows or stops and more food is being taken in at a meal. Based on what I've read, fills are sort of hit and miss until the "golden" amount of saline is reached to get the optimum restriction needed to lose weight. The first fill may be perfect for some and others may require a little more. I've also read that on average, the 1st year sees 3-4 fills, the 2nd year less, and so on. Too little and you eat more than you should...too much and you can't get food down and vomit it back up. It's a delicate balance to find the right amount from what I gather and better to add too little and have to add more than add too much and have to take some out. It's a learning experience I guess.
The eating is a little complicated and will also take some learning and adjustment. I will have to learn to eat slower and with very small bites. I also have to learn to eat meat first so I get my protein in before getting full. This is important because as weight is lost, they don't want muscle to be lost as well. She said I would need to consume 50 grams of protein daily, which is a lot. To aid with this, I will have to drink a protein shake daily for the rest of my life. I will also have to take vitamins daily forever...a multi, a calcium and B12. The multi and the calcium must be chewable for at least the first 3 months and the B12 is a tablet that dissolves under the tongue.
The nutritionist was helpful in another, more personal, way as well. She told me she believed that the band was the right choice for me. This eased my mind as I still wasn't sure which route I should take, band or bypass. I think it wasn't until after talking to her that I finally solidified my choice.
A couple weeks later, I had my appointment with the psychologist. I was a little nervous going in to meet with her. I was envisioning her probing into my childhood and bringing me to tears as I laid on a couch in her office. It was nothing like that, of course. She asked me some pretty basic questions about my life, some history-medical and emotional, what I hoped to gain from the surgery, etc. It was about 45 minutes and I was saying goodbye and getting her well wishes.
A few days after that, I met with the surgeon again since I had not seen him in over a year and a half. That was a very quick appointment, about 15 minutes. He looked through my file and saw that I had completed everything. He asked if I had any questions and then said that his office would send everything over to the insurance company for approval and we would go from there. The next day, his office coordinator called and confirmed that she was sending the paperwork and had a few last minute questions. I asked her how long it usually took for a response and she said 2 weeks or so. So, I hunkered down for the 2 week wait, anxious for what the insurance company would decide about my future.
Three days later, while I was in a meeting, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked down and saw the surgeon's office number on the screen. I was nervous, anxious, excited...just so many emotions came over me wondering about the message that was being left on my voicemail at that moment. As soon as we had a break, I dialed into my mailbox immediately. She said it within the first few words of her message. Approved. A whole new wave of emotions flooded and I wanted to tell someone right away. No one at work knew and I wasn't ready to share it with them yet, and perhaps never would, so I quelled an outburst and opted for a text message to my sister. She congratulated me immediately.
It's actually strange upon reflection that I didn't text my husband first. He was next, though. I think it's because I still wasn't sure how he felt about it all at that point. I knew he would be worried and I knew a more involved discussion was needed besides a simple text. I think sometimes, however, I don't give him enough credit for being in tune with things. I hope I'm around for a very long time to give him the credit he deserves.
On that note, tomorrow morning I will be 48 hours from surgery and I'm starting to get scared. Thoughts of my dad and his heart attack the day after his surgery keep clouding my mind. I hugged my son at least a hundred time this past weekend, thinking what his life would be like if I didn't come home from the hospital. I wanted to somehow permanently ingrain his mind with the knowledge of how much I love him. And, my husband...his allergies are so bad right now. He coughs all night and is getting little sleep. It's bad enough that his MS makes him tired, but that coupled with the horridly high pollen count we are having is putting such a strain on him. It's really just NOT an option for me to not come home. They both need me...and I hope the powers that be, whoever or whatever they are, know that too.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The Journey Begins
Pregnancy did to me exactly what I knew it would...it made me even bigger. I mean, yes, it was a gift to be growing another person and to feel him move around and bond with the little life inside of me...yadda yadda yadda. But, every time I went for my checkup, I dreaded getting on the scale. My OBGYN had originally "suggested" I not gain more than 15-20 lbs since I was already overweight. Gaining too much weight could make me susceptible to developing gestational diabetes and cause the baby to grow too big.
Of course, that's exactly what happened anyway. I ended up gaining around 45 lbs. and getting GD in the last week of my pregnancy. Due to my "advanced maternal age" and Cameron's growth, I was subjected to several ultrasounds to keep tabs on him. Toward the end, I was having them every week. In fact, I had one the day before he was born. They estimated his size to be 9 lbs. 2 oz at 37 weeks. The next day he came out at 9 lbs. 9 oz. Had he stayed in the last 3 weeks, he likely would have weighed 11 lbs or so. Thank heaven for the miracle of c-section is all I have to say about that...
I mentioned previously that I first learned of Lap Band when I was newly pregnant, which was early 2006. After he was born and I got past the newborn phase of very little sleep and lack of routine, I was miffed to find that the "baby weight" didn't come off as much as I had hoped. I tried Weight Watchers for awhile, but with the obligations of a baby and working full time, it just wasn't something I could organize myself enough to do. I also tried Atkins. I lost weight, of course, but that way of eating just gets boring after awhile, and I don't see how anyone can stick with it long term. In fact, I don't know anyone who has. It's like a yo-yo diet in a book based on what I've seen.
And, so, right around my son's 2nd birthday, I found myself still bigger than before I was pregnant. The baby weight that did manage to come off in the first few weeks following his birth was actually starting to slowly add back on, and nothing I tried during those two years had worked. In fact, the bigger I got, the more depressed I got about it, and the more I gave up. It's very hard to come by motivation when you feel like you have so far to go. Finally, after the embarrassment of two of our kitchen chairs collapsing under me with my son on my lap, I realized I needed serious help.
Lap Band came back to the front of my mind and my research began anew. I found out that there was a bariatric surgeon just up the street from where I work. I read every page of his website several times and finally called and made a consultation appointment. I was nervous. At first, I wasn't sure if Lap Band was right for me or if the doctor would think that the more extreme Gastric Bypass would be best. And, I had no idea if my insurance would pay for either. I knew I couldn't afford to pay for it myself, so if I was denied my last hope, I didn't know how I would pull myself up out of the let down.
On the other hand, a part of me was scared to even pursue weight loss surgery. Ten years prior in 1998 (see...the 10 year thing comes up again!), my father had gastric bypass surgery. He needed a knee replaced and he was advised to lose a lot of weight so that the replacement would be successful. Too much weight on a fake knee would result in breakdown of the joint and he would need it replaced again and again. Knowing that my friend had had bypass and was doing wonderfully, he consulted with the doctor, went through all the paperwork and hoops and was set to have it done.
I remember talking to him in the days right before the surgery. He was excited and nervous. He told me how he couldn't imagine what it was going to be like to be thin. The day of his surgery, my sister, my mother and I were all there. It was a long day, but once he was out of recovery and in his room, we all sat with him and chatted and joked and he seemed in good spirits, as post-operatively in good spirits as possible that is. We all looked forward to him coming home and starting his new life.
I remember the phone call like it was last night. Anytime the phone rings in the middle of the night, it's never a good thing. I vaguely heard the phone ring in my sleep. I opened my eyes and noticed the time, then I heard my mother yell out. I was out of bed in a flash and upstairs in her room. I heard just a piece of the conversation from her end and knew what had happened. I just started screaming, "No No No..." and fell to my knees, crying and screaming. He would never get the chance to find out what it was like to be thin...
As I sat there in the surgeon's office waiting for him to come in the room, I thought about my dad. Why am I doing this? Am I crazy for wanting this? What if something happens to me? I have a 2 year old to watch grow up and I have a lot of living to do with him and his daddy. The consultation was quick. He told me to do what I needed to do for my insurance and we would go from there. I left still not completely sure yet of what I was going to do.
Months passed. Maybe it was a combination of my dad and fear, Winter, and the speed of life in general, but I did nothing to move forward with the surgery. I was stagnant. Soon the nice weather returned and the reality of being overweight, and the limitations and embarrassment which always resulted, came back in a flurry as it always did when the shorts came out of the drawer for the season. It was a late summer outing to my in-laws cabin in Western Maryland that I think kick started my motivation.
They wanted Joe, Cameron and I to go kayaking with them. I had always managed to avoid going kayaking whenever they'd gone. I have a slight fear of water but can overcome it most of the time, albeit the occasional wave of panic will hit me without warning, requiring me to focus on something other than the water at the time. Joe had become increasingly frustrated at my refusal to do these kinds of activities with him and Cameron. I was feeling the pressure to participate. I wasn't happy about it, but I decided to do it anyway.
Honestly, I was really just terrified that the kayak wouldn't hold my weight. Right as I was getting into it, I panicked and got his mother to assure me that it would. I could not find a weight limit printed on the kayak after an extensive search when no one was looking. I had never vocalized this concern to anyone before that moment of panic, and I was so thoroughly embarrassed by asking the question, that I didn't even take satisfaction in the fact that the kayak did carry me down the river without incident.
By the way, it really does suck to always have to be aware of weight limits. People who have been thin their whole life never give it one brain cell's worth of thought, of that I'm sure, and so they cannot even begin to fathom the stress. The kayak was but one more thing that set me apart and highlighted my condition. And, I think for me, it was the final thing. The answer to my question in the surgeon's office became clear. In fact, I had already answered myself that day. I was going to do this because I had a son to watch grow and because I had a lot of living to do with him and his daddy.
I soon called my primary care physician and made an appointment to begin the journey...
Of course, that's exactly what happened anyway. I ended up gaining around 45 lbs. and getting GD in the last week of my pregnancy. Due to my "advanced maternal age" and Cameron's growth, I was subjected to several ultrasounds to keep tabs on him. Toward the end, I was having them every week. In fact, I had one the day before he was born. They estimated his size to be 9 lbs. 2 oz at 37 weeks. The next day he came out at 9 lbs. 9 oz. Had he stayed in the last 3 weeks, he likely would have weighed 11 lbs or so. Thank heaven for the miracle of c-section is all I have to say about that...
I mentioned previously that I first learned of Lap Band when I was newly pregnant, which was early 2006. After he was born and I got past the newborn phase of very little sleep and lack of routine, I was miffed to find that the "baby weight" didn't come off as much as I had hoped. I tried Weight Watchers for awhile, but with the obligations of a baby and working full time, it just wasn't something I could organize myself enough to do. I also tried Atkins. I lost weight, of course, but that way of eating just gets boring after awhile, and I don't see how anyone can stick with it long term. In fact, I don't know anyone who has. It's like a yo-yo diet in a book based on what I've seen.
And, so, right around my son's 2nd birthday, I found myself still bigger than before I was pregnant. The baby weight that did manage to come off in the first few weeks following his birth was actually starting to slowly add back on, and nothing I tried during those two years had worked. In fact, the bigger I got, the more depressed I got about it, and the more I gave up. It's very hard to come by motivation when you feel like you have so far to go. Finally, after the embarrassment of two of our kitchen chairs collapsing under me with my son on my lap, I realized I needed serious help.
Lap Band came back to the front of my mind and my research began anew. I found out that there was a bariatric surgeon just up the street from where I work. I read every page of his website several times and finally called and made a consultation appointment. I was nervous. At first, I wasn't sure if Lap Band was right for me or if the doctor would think that the more extreme Gastric Bypass would be best. And, I had no idea if my insurance would pay for either. I knew I couldn't afford to pay for it myself, so if I was denied my last hope, I didn't know how I would pull myself up out of the let down.
On the other hand, a part of me was scared to even pursue weight loss surgery. Ten years prior in 1998 (see...the 10 year thing comes up again!), my father had gastric bypass surgery. He needed a knee replaced and he was advised to lose a lot of weight so that the replacement would be successful. Too much weight on a fake knee would result in breakdown of the joint and he would need it replaced again and again. Knowing that my friend had had bypass and was doing wonderfully, he consulted with the doctor, went through all the paperwork and hoops and was set to have it done.
I remember talking to him in the days right before the surgery. He was excited and nervous. He told me how he couldn't imagine what it was going to be like to be thin. The day of his surgery, my sister, my mother and I were all there. It was a long day, but once he was out of recovery and in his room, we all sat with him and chatted and joked and he seemed in good spirits, as post-operatively in good spirits as possible that is. We all looked forward to him coming home and starting his new life.
I remember the phone call like it was last night. Anytime the phone rings in the middle of the night, it's never a good thing. I vaguely heard the phone ring in my sleep. I opened my eyes and noticed the time, then I heard my mother yell out. I was out of bed in a flash and upstairs in her room. I heard just a piece of the conversation from her end and knew what had happened. I just started screaming, "No No No..." and fell to my knees, crying and screaming. He would never get the chance to find out what it was like to be thin...
As I sat there in the surgeon's office waiting for him to come in the room, I thought about my dad. Why am I doing this? Am I crazy for wanting this? What if something happens to me? I have a 2 year old to watch grow up and I have a lot of living to do with him and his daddy. The consultation was quick. He told me to do what I needed to do for my insurance and we would go from there. I left still not completely sure yet of what I was going to do.
Months passed. Maybe it was a combination of my dad and fear, Winter, and the speed of life in general, but I did nothing to move forward with the surgery. I was stagnant. Soon the nice weather returned and the reality of being overweight, and the limitations and embarrassment which always resulted, came back in a flurry as it always did when the shorts came out of the drawer for the season. It was a late summer outing to my in-laws cabin in Western Maryland that I think kick started my motivation.
They wanted Joe, Cameron and I to go kayaking with them. I had always managed to avoid going kayaking whenever they'd gone. I have a slight fear of water but can overcome it most of the time, albeit the occasional wave of panic will hit me without warning, requiring me to focus on something other than the water at the time. Joe had become increasingly frustrated at my refusal to do these kinds of activities with him and Cameron. I was feeling the pressure to participate. I wasn't happy about it, but I decided to do it anyway.
Honestly, I was really just terrified that the kayak wouldn't hold my weight. Right as I was getting into it, I panicked and got his mother to assure me that it would. I could not find a weight limit printed on the kayak after an extensive search when no one was looking. I had never vocalized this concern to anyone before that moment of panic, and I was so thoroughly embarrassed by asking the question, that I didn't even take satisfaction in the fact that the kayak did carry me down the river without incident.
By the way, it really does suck to always have to be aware of weight limits. People who have been thin their whole life never give it one brain cell's worth of thought, of that I'm sure, and so they cannot even begin to fathom the stress. The kayak was but one more thing that set me apart and highlighted my condition. And, I think for me, it was the final thing. The answer to my question in the surgeon's office became clear. In fact, I had already answered myself that day. I was going to do this because I had a son to watch grow and because I had a lot of living to do with him and his daddy.
I soon called my primary care physician and made an appointment to begin the journey...
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Fun Weekend
I had an active and fun weekend. I mentioned that I ride motorcycles as does my husband. We've been riding street bikes for several years but recently acquired a couple of dual sport bikes. For those unfamiliar with the term, it basically means a street legal dirt bike for both on and off road riding.
On Saturday, I participated in my first dual sport group ride. I was quite nervous about riding with this group. One because it's all men who've been riding dual sports for longer than I, and 2 because riding in groups just makes me nervous anyway. I prefer riding alone or with Joe. I will occasionally ride with 3 or 4 more but not too often. This ride was organized to be a "noob" friendly ride, so I figured it was the best opportunity for me to jump in with the group. When I realized it was 30 riders that showed up, my nerves frazzled a bit more. I've really only been dual sporting a couple times since getting the bike and only with Joe, so this was a very new experience.
It turned out that my nervousness was unfounded. Not only did they break the riders up into smaller groups, but the ones I did get to talk to and ride with could not have been nicer or more welcoming. Plus, the pace of my group was perfect for my novice dual sporting skills. My bike and I got a little wet and muddy and I had a lot of fun. The ride ended with a lunch gathering at a place in Middletown, just outside of Frederick, MD, called The Main Cup. They had good food and I enjoyed a very yummy hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream on it, which took the chill off from the cool morning. The picture above was taken by the lead rider of our group of me at a ford crossing. Saturday evening was quiet as we rested up for Sunday's event.
My husband was diagnosed with MS in September. It was a whirlwind couple of months that followed, dealing with the new reality of that diagnosis, and probably the subject of a post all unto itself at some point. Suffice it to say for now that things have settled down for the most part, even though the reality of MS will be at least a small part of our daily lives forever. Some days are more challenging than others, but mostly we live the sames lives we did before. Of course, I'm sure my husband has a different perspective, but I think things are going pretty well overall.
Getting back to Sunday.....the Maryland Chapter of the National MS Society held a 5K Walk. They actually held several across the state this past weekend. Joe and I had decided we were going to participate in the Westminster walk awhile ago, so as soon as we were able, we signed up and started soliciting donations. Joe's parents signed on to walk with us and quickly gathered donations as well. It turned out to be a great day. The weather could not have been nicer...low 70's and sunny. There was a great turnout of people, and the food provided for the walkers by a local restaurant was above and beyond! Cameron even walked the first mile before getting cozy in the wagon and being pulled the last 2. We had a good time and raised over $1,500 for MS research.
Of course, I took a 2-hour nap when we got home and my leg muscles are quite sore today. No matter, though, because I'd do it again tomorrow....
On Saturday, I participated in my first dual sport group ride. I was quite nervous about riding with this group. One because it's all men who've been riding dual sports for longer than I, and 2 because riding in groups just makes me nervous anyway. I prefer riding alone or with Joe. I will occasionally ride with 3 or 4 more but not too often. This ride was organized to be a "noob" friendly ride, so I figured it was the best opportunity for me to jump in with the group. When I realized it was 30 riders that showed up, my nerves frazzled a bit more. I've really only been dual sporting a couple times since getting the bike and only with Joe, so this was a very new experience.
It turned out that my nervousness was unfounded. Not only did they break the riders up into smaller groups, but the ones I did get to talk to and ride with could not have been nicer or more welcoming. Plus, the pace of my group was perfect for my novice dual sporting skills. My bike and I got a little wet and muddy and I had a lot of fun. The ride ended with a lunch gathering at a place in Middletown, just outside of Frederick, MD, called The Main Cup. They had good food and I enjoyed a very yummy hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream on it, which took the chill off from the cool morning. The picture above was taken by the lead rider of our group of me at a ford crossing. Saturday evening was quiet as we rested up for Sunday's event.
My husband was diagnosed with MS in September. It was a whirlwind couple of months that followed, dealing with the new reality of that diagnosis, and probably the subject of a post all unto itself at some point. Suffice it to say for now that things have settled down for the most part, even though the reality of MS will be at least a small part of our daily lives forever. Some days are more challenging than others, but mostly we live the sames lives we did before. Of course, I'm sure my husband has a different perspective, but I think things are going pretty well overall.
Getting back to Sunday.....the Maryland Chapter of the National MS Society held a 5K Walk. They actually held several across the state this past weekend. Joe and I had decided we were going to participate in the Westminster walk awhile ago, so as soon as we were able, we signed up and started soliciting donations. Joe's parents signed on to walk with us and quickly gathered donations as well. It turned out to be a great day. The weather could not have been nicer...low 70's and sunny. There was a great turnout of people, and the food provided for the walkers by a local restaurant was above and beyond! Cameron even walked the first mile before getting cozy in the wagon and being pulled the last 2. We had a good time and raised over $1,500 for MS research.
Of course, I took a 2-hour nap when we got home and my leg muscles are quite sore today. No matter, though, because I'd do it again tomorrow....
Friday, April 9, 2010
A Seed Is Planted
Having vowed all through my 20's to not get married and then to find myself married at 30, I held onto but one last vow. I did not want children. Joe knew it from the beginning. I made it clear so as not to cause any false pretenses. For several years into our marriage, great care was taken on my part to keep that vow. Sure, I knew he wasn't completely on board. After all, he was still in his late 20's and came from a big family compared to mine. But, I was confident in having been straightforward about the issue, and since he married me anyway, his eyes were wide open as far as I was concerned.
I'll never forget the day I found out I was pregnant. I was getting ready to paint our master bedroom over the weekend. Something about the paint touched on a piece of knowledge deep inside the recesses of my brain that pregnant women shouldn't paint. My period was about a week late, but I hadn't given it too much thought until that moment, and then it suddenly was all I could think about. I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to test before I started painting just to clear my conscience. So, I told Joe I had to run to Walmart to get a couple of paint brushes and off I went.
I came home with a single test and promptly hid it in the bathroom cabinet. I thought you were supposed to do them with your first morning "go" and that opportunity had already came and went. I knew I couldn't wait until the next morning, though. I really did want to get the painting done, and so I drank a big glass of soda and waited for the need to arise. A little while later, I sauntered into the bathroom like it was just a routine visit. I locked the door, found the test under the sink and ripped it open. I read the directions 3 times and did exactly as instructed.
Moments later...there it was. A single little line that changed everything. I was momentarily frozen as a wave of panic enveloped me. Then, as suddenly as my life had just changed, my voice came back to me and I screamed out "FUCK!" Joe heard and yelled up to ask what was wrong. My response was a more than slightly irritated, "I'm fucking pregnant." To which his immediate response, as he bounded up the 5 steps to stand outside the bathroom door, was a huge grin and a triumphant "YES!" followed by some random hooping and hollering. He was so very proud of himself. I wanted to kill him on the spot.
The terror was a little overwhelming. I went outside to have a cigarette and calm my nerves even though I had just been worried about painting! It turned out to be my last cigarette. After 3 more tests over the next couple days, the denial was quelled and an innate protective instinct must have kicked in which allowed me to quit smoking cold turkey. Slowly over the next few days, reality took hold and the research began.
I like to be prepared. I like to read up, compare notes, know stuff. I don't like surprises. Of course, I realize surprises are a part of life, but research keeps me calm. It helps me deal with things without getting stressed out. So, I researched pregnancy and babies. I read some books and I spent hours online. I read forums for mothers and mothers-to-be. It was on one such mommy forum, that I learned of LAP Band for the first time.
Now, you might think it odd to be reading about LAP Band and thinking about weight loss surgery when I just discovered I was pregnant. Truth is, one of my biggest issues with pregnancy and children was weight gain. It was probably the #1 reason I had vowed to never have children. I didn't want to gain the weight. And, when I finally got pregnant, I was already very overweight. Pregnancy depressed me because I knew what was going to happen to my body. It was only going to get worse.
Back then, my interest in LAP Band was only in passing. I read a little about what it was and read some posts that a post-op woman made about her progress. She seemed happy and I was happy for her, but I was pregnant and at a different stage in life. Although that seed had been planted in my mind, it was the seed planted in my body that required my more immediate attention. So, I pushed the LAP Band research aside and focused on the more impending issue...the new resident that was going to make my body bigger than it had ever been.
I'll never forget the day I found out I was pregnant. I was getting ready to paint our master bedroom over the weekend. Something about the paint touched on a piece of knowledge deep inside the recesses of my brain that pregnant women shouldn't paint. My period was about a week late, but I hadn't given it too much thought until that moment, and then it suddenly was all I could think about. I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to test before I started painting just to clear my conscience. So, I told Joe I had to run to Walmart to get a couple of paint brushes and off I went.
I came home with a single test and promptly hid it in the bathroom cabinet. I thought you were supposed to do them with your first morning "go" and that opportunity had already came and went. I knew I couldn't wait until the next morning, though. I really did want to get the painting done, and so I drank a big glass of soda and waited for the need to arise. A little while later, I sauntered into the bathroom like it was just a routine visit. I locked the door, found the test under the sink and ripped it open. I read the directions 3 times and did exactly as instructed.
Moments later...there it was. A single little line that changed everything. I was momentarily frozen as a wave of panic enveloped me. Then, as suddenly as my life had just changed, my voice came back to me and I screamed out "FUCK!" Joe heard and yelled up to ask what was wrong. My response was a more than slightly irritated, "I'm fucking pregnant." To which his immediate response, as he bounded up the 5 steps to stand outside the bathroom door, was a huge grin and a triumphant "YES!" followed by some random hooping and hollering. He was so very proud of himself. I wanted to kill him on the spot.
The terror was a little overwhelming. I went outside to have a cigarette and calm my nerves even though I had just been worried about painting! It turned out to be my last cigarette. After 3 more tests over the next couple days, the denial was quelled and an innate protective instinct must have kicked in which allowed me to quit smoking cold turkey. Slowly over the next few days, reality took hold and the research began.
I like to be prepared. I like to read up, compare notes, know stuff. I don't like surprises. Of course, I realize surprises are a part of life, but research keeps me calm. It helps me deal with things without getting stressed out. So, I researched pregnancy and babies. I read some books and I spent hours online. I read forums for mothers and mothers-to-be. It was on one such mommy forum, that I learned of LAP Band for the first time.
Now, you might think it odd to be reading about LAP Band and thinking about weight loss surgery when I just discovered I was pregnant. Truth is, one of my biggest issues with pregnancy and children was weight gain. It was probably the #1 reason I had vowed to never have children. I didn't want to gain the weight. And, when I finally got pregnant, I was already very overweight. Pregnancy depressed me because I knew what was going to happen to my body. It was only going to get worse.
Back then, my interest in LAP Band was only in passing. I read a little about what it was and read some posts that a post-op woman made about her progress. She seemed happy and I was happy for her, but I was pregnant and at a different stage in life. Although that seed had been planted in my mind, it was the seed planted in my body that required my more immediate attention. So, I pushed the LAP Band research aside and focused on the more impending issue...the new resident that was going to make my body bigger than it had ever been.
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