MsCathyV

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It's been several months since I've posted . . . partly because I didn't feel like I had any bragging to do anymore.  Not true really, but I haven't been doing as well as I probably could have. When they say "work the tool" they mean it. 

Once I got the go ahead on lifting the food restrictions, it became kind of a challenge to see what I could and couldn't eat. I'm one of the lucky unlucky ones -- I don't get sick from hardly anything.  No tummy aches, no dumping, etc.  For those that have these reactions, it is a side affect of the surgery but for those of that don't have them, it is somewhat of a curse.  So, I started eating pretty much as a normal person, just less quantity. As usual, the carbs took hold and I'm doing battle with them again.  Every day I say I'm going to break the spell and go cold turkey off of them and then every day I give in just a little, the next day a little more and the next thing you know . . . right back at it.  I feel like a junkie.  A couple of things have changed for the better though . . . with the arrival of spring and the weight loss I've become more physically active.  I enrolled in a ZUMBA class (a dance exercise class that uses salsa and merengue moves), started walking outside at least 3 times a day (motivation thanks to my new dog, Dolly) and just yesterday took a bicycle ride.  Even though the weight loss is going slower right now, I can tell that my body is changing shape.  I've gone from a size 26/28 to size 16's on the bottom, size 3X on top to 1X's or XL. So, I'm trying to focus on the positives and kick myself in the butt to regain my focus.  I need to just keep reminding myself that I didn't receive a cure, only a gift -- I have this wonderful opportunity to resolve this weight issue once and for all.  Maybe tomorrow . . .  

Okay . . . so I simply had to get some new slacks.  Even my "skinny" jeans were starting to bag and sag.  For the past 3 weeks I've pulled my slacks down to go potty without unzipping/snapping, like they were elastic waist but they weren't. 

So I went shopping.   For those of us that are used to going to the far side of the clothes rack, even stopping to ponder the middle of the rack (a couple of sizes down) is intimidating.  I took a deep breath, looked around to see who was watching and ventured there anyway.  I thumbed through the size 22's, the 20's and decided to brave the 18's. What the hell?  I was feeling adventuresome.  As I walked to the dressing room I found my brain chastising my behavior -- how could I expect to drop this far from my usual 24/26's?  I dropped my gaze like a criminal so as not to make eye contact with anyone and continued toward the dressing room.  Once there, I stood for a brief moment staring at the slacks on the hanger, as if they were going to speak to me or someone beyond the walls of the fitting booth would start laughing.  Once I realized I was there all alone, I took another deep breath and started trying them on.  As I pulled them up over my thighs, I realized there was no strain.  When I pulled the waistband together in the front and hooked the closure, zipped the zipper, I realized I was holding them a good 1 - 1 1/2" away from my skin!  COULD THIS BE POSSIBLE??  Assuming it was a fluke but not sure what else to do, I returned them to the hanger and returned to the sales floor.  I then took a leap of faith and grabbed a pair of size 16's from the rack.  Now let me say here, for we girls who have spent the bulk of our lives in the chubby category, the size 16 holds a special meaning.  16 is the threshold that moves us from "normal" to "plus size."  Few other things communicate the obese status to a woman than moving from the size 16.  For instance, you may start to notice that your midriff hangs over your waistband by more than an inch, you may not be able to bend over and tie your shoes without turning blue, you may start to notice your significant other snicker when you disrobe with the lights on . . . but all of that you talk your way out of and ignore.  The size 16 is gospel. 

Once again, I entered the dressing room. I took note at how much more carefully I placed the size 16's on the hook, almost reverently, as if to convey special respect.  After a few minutes, I pulled them over my calves.  "Of course that works, I have skinny ankles," I told myself. I pulled them up over my thighs and I felt the fabric brush lightly against the skin there, but there really was no significant resistance.  They even slid over my hips and I felt the fabric mold to my hips as I pulled the waistband together.  I looped the buttonhole over the button (remember . . . I'm not lying on the bed) and it slid in with great ease.  With little convincing, the zipper came up.  Before I even looked in the mirror, the entire experience took my breath away.  I paused and then looked in the mirror.  By golly!  They actually fit.  I noticed some things too -- the curve at my thigh had straightened out, my tummy looked so much flatter and . . . my butt looked . . . good.    As easy as they went on though, they were a little more difficult to get off, not because of the fit but because of the tears that were welling up in my eyes.  I would've bought these pants had they cost a $1,000 and were lime green plaid.  Luckily, they were from the mark downs and were dark navy.  But still!
Other events of the past 2 weeks -- I decided that I was now saving close to $400/month on co-pays for insulin (now insulin free) and other meds and groceries (its amazing how long a package of chicken lasts me now).  I decided to turn that money around to something that I could enjoy and would benefit, so I bought a new treadmill.  Although I only live a couple of blocks from my gym, I find it so handy to be able to jump on the treadmill whenever I want AND in my jammies.  All in all, I think I made a wise decision.  And besides, I deserve it.  :) 

and a lifetime to go???  The first month has been pretty uneventful . . . if you can call having your britches fall off of you uneventful!  When I look at the progress I've made this first month, I'm amazed.  I've managed to get my diabetes under control, my cholesteral under control and found collar bones and re-learned how to cross my legs!  All of this with very little negative results from the eating plan.  So far, no pain, no dumping and no serious complications/events. I have followed the instructions of the medical professionals pretty much to the letter, which is how I accredit the success.  I've progressed from liquid to full liquids to "smashed" foods (or soft solids).  I still eat a very small quantity but have managed to create some variety to the flavors I'm taking in and although I'd welcome something crunchy, I appreciate what I am able to eat safely.  I'm starting to notice that I don't get "pleasure" from food any longer.  Its a really strange experience -- not bad, just different.  I've also realized that I've always eaten from the neck up -- all about the seeing, smelling, tasting, chewing and swallowing.  I don't think I've ever experienced eating thinking about chewing to the correct texture and then how it feels in my tummy.  Occasionally, I find myself thinking about what I'm going to eat . . . and then I realize how much work it is for no more than I'm going to eat and no longer than its going to take . . . and it kind of looses something experience wise.  
     This past weekend I experienced a light-headed, almost dizzy sensation off and on.  I increased my protein by adding in a protein shake and worked a little more on getting in my fluids and it seemed to go away. I guess you SHOULD believe most of what you read on these boards! ! !  
     Despite the transition with the food "experience" and feelings about eating, I keep being drawn toward looking forward. I look forward to losing more weight, getting more active, developing a routine with my new treadmill (I bought one this weekend), and little things . . . playing with Nicole in April when I go to visit, being able to fasten my seatbelt on the flight to Albuquerque in 2 weeks, maybe not feeling ashamed to get in a bathing suit and swimming this summer(?) and seeing just how far this trip is going to take me!  Essayons! 

During this process, the beginning of my journey to a healthier life, I kept waiting for the ball to drop -- for something to go wrong.  Like a delay of my surgery date because of some freak situation, or a health complication or whatever. With a little apprehension, I proceeded with the liquid prep-diet (apprehension because I've never been a milk drinker and wasn't quite sure how I would "survive" on the protein drinks alone for 10 days).  Surprisingly, they kept my hunger at bay and by keeping myself busy and organized, the time went relatively quickly.  I could tell during the process, however (which fell over the New Years holiday) that I was losing weight already, AND more importantly my diabetes blood sugars were well under control.  On Monday (4 days before my surgery) I received a call that my brother had died quite unexpectedly from a massive heart attack at his home in Iowa.  Out of 5 siblings, that only leaves myself and 1 other survivor.  It was important that I be there for myself, out of respect to my brother and sister-in-law, but primarily to support my remaining brother who was not taking the passing of his brother and best friend well.  I managed to catch a flight out of Minneapolis on Tuesday afternoon, arriving in Omaha by early evening.  I learned upon my arrival that the visitation was scheduled for Wednesday evening, the funeral on Thursday morning.  Keep in mind, that Thursday is my prep day . . . the one where you survive on clear liquids, drink the nasty stuff and then park in the bathroom for infinity.  I was clearly stressed because I could not let myself walk away from this surgery date . . . I was so prepared mentally and had already endured my 10 day pre-op diet. Also, given what had caused my brother's untimely death (he was 65) was only more motivation to seek the RNY tool to improve my health.  Perhaps his death was a message to me to "go for it" and not look back.  To make a long story short, it all worked out.  I attended the visitation on Wednesday, the funeral on Thursday and managed to put the beginning phases of closure on our loss.  
My son and daughter-in-law were already scheduled to drive up on Thursday evening to be with me during my recovery, so I just hitched a ride back home with them.  We left at 1:00, which put us arriving in the TC around 7:00.  Knowing that certainly wasn't the scheduled time to begin my prep, I pressed on -- drinking the nasty stuff down in flash and then spending the entire night on the thrown. By time to leave for the hospital, I was exhausted but cleaned out and ready to get the show on the road.  It amazed me that when I checked in at the hospital and relayed to the surgical nursing team what I had done, they didn't seem concerned.  As long as the prep was done they felt I should be good to go.   And it went off without a hitch.  It just goes to show you that if you really want something badly enough, you can endure alot and see yourself through more than you ever thought you could. 

Monday, I was pretty discouraged as blood sugar was going totally whack for no reason -- a situation that I'm just getting a little sick and tired of dealing with.  In the afternoon, I heard back from my GP regarding the echocardiogram they'd run on me last week.  He said things look great.  I'm thinking that it will take a few days for them to fax it over to Park Nicollet . . . but by Wednesday a.m. I get the magic call from Jennifer at Park Nicollet saying I'd been pre-approved by my insurance ALREADY! 
I'm so psyched!  I meet with my surgeon on 11/12 to set my date.  WOW!  This is really going to happen and hopefully the diabetes situation is soon to be no more or at least less of a problem in my life. 
At one of the coffees (Eagan) a couple of the people there talked about getting the date set and how your life becomes a whirlwind -- boom! boom! boom! you get your surgery date and things start happening and then the next thing you know your life is changing.  Well, I think I'm seeing the whirlwind . . . and I like the view.