Okay, so this is supposed to be Hell. Banded hell or bandster hell, that is. From what I've read, that's the time between LAP-BAND implacement and the achievement of restriction, where you feel full appropriately and where you usually begin to experience weight loss. Maybe there's something wrong with me but I'm not miserable, nor do I feel deprived. Also, I'm losing weight.
I spent several hours this past Saturday weeding through cooking magazines I've been hoarding for a few months, clipping out recipes I want to keep and tossing the rest. Here's what was unusual about that: I looked at all those recipes, including ones for high-fat, high-calorie foods, and wasn't tempted. Not a bit. I didn't feel hungry. I didn't experience cravings. Conversely, my attention was caught by the healthier recipes. I also found myself looking at those borderline recipes and calculating how they could be made healthier, lighter...allowable.
Wanna know what's really odd? I'm getting the urge to cook again. Not necessarily to eat, but I want to get in the kitchen and start experimenting. The only thing keeping me from that at this point is not being able yet to taste those experiments and see if they're working out or if they should just go directly to the doggie dish. Or, since we love our OggieDoggies, straight to the gar-bahj. Kitty? Smoke? Mommy wuvs 'er 'ittle babiekins, jes I does. Oh, sorry. *Harrrumph*
I don't want to mislead anyone and make this journey sound "easy peasy puddin' n' pie". But I honestly do think there's a powerful mind/body connection that affects the route you take. My mind was ready for this; my body needed it. Today we're going to pick up my new treadmill and I'll be able to walk no matter what the weather. It's something I'm looking forward to.
You have to be ready and willing to embrace a change in lifestyle and you have to be surrounded by people ready and willing to embrace those changes with you. I'm blessed to have that kind of support. My husband. Our daughter and daughter-in-law, who live with us. There's no one saboutaging me, just many people cheering me on.
I've been looking forward to 2008 for several months now. Remember my "Becky Reclamation Project"? It's time.
Huah! Let the games begin!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 30, 2007
The Candyman Can
Thank goodness for a required twice-a-day calcium supplement. Viactiv, my own little bit of chocolate heaven...without the guilty conscience.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Tonight's the Night
I had a meal tonight! A real, honest-to-goodness meal. Okay, so it was sprite-sized, but it was a meal. One ounce of mashed potatoes and one ounce of pureed fish doth a meal make. But do you know how hard it is to smush up fish in a blender? It's kinda clumpy, but doggone it, it was good enough to make my tastebuds stand at attention and salute the flag!
The Incredible Edible Egg
Who knew a scrambled egg could taste so good? Mana from Heaven! Nectar of the gods! Songs will be sung and homages written to the great and glorious scrambled egg! As of yesterday I have graduated to Phase 2 of the LAP-BAND diet and went right to the grocery store to indulge in V-8 juice, various seasoned fish filets, and some chicken breasts. I can have white meat now! And did I mention scrambled eggs? Everything has to be pureed to the consistency of baby food still, but nonetheless that scrambled egg felt so full-bodied and substantial. My HH says he never thought he'd be jealous of an egg. Silly man. Silly, silly man. He can't be too worried, though, since he just served me another one for breakfast. Wonderful man. Wonderful, wonderful man. I think I'm in love. With the man. Not the egg. Although right now it's a tight race.
Anyhow, after yesterday's first postop visit with Dr. K and his staff, I'm reassured that things are right on track. My weight on their scales was a little higher than the ones at home registered, but I always weigh myself first thing in the morning and *insert maidenly blushing* in minimal clothing; my appointment was in the afternoon and fully attired.
Progressing with my BRP (Becky Reclamation Project) the next phase in my LAP-BAND journey will include a build up to 45 minutes of sustained exercise per day, overseen by monthly visits (for the next six months) to a physical therapist. Because of the variable weather we have at this time of the year, HH and I have already been looking at treadmills and plan to purchase one in January. This is where HH and I tend to disagree. He thinks in terms of "the bigger, the better", while I think in terms of "if I trip over that *#$#*#&#*^* one more time I'm gonna SCREAM" and want one that folds up when not in use. Anyhoo, the PT clinic has my info from the surgeon's office and I should be receiving a call from them next week to set things up.
Overall, I'm pleased with my progress. I've been averaging about a half pound per day of weight loss. I tire easily, but that's probably due more to life stresses and worries than surgical concerns. We had a wedding at our house Thursday night and after all the shopping and preparations I was exhausted. There's no way I could have done it without HH and our oldest daughter. Except for the shopping, most of my work was done through my supervision. But our son's fiance is now his wife. HH performed the ceremony. The bride's father gave her away and all her family was present from Canada via webcam and teleconferencing. It's a cute thing at a wedding when the question is asked, "Who gives this woman in marriage?" and all heads turn toward a laptop.
When my son returns from Iraq, I want him to find a mother who is healthier, who's more fit and active, than the one he left. And I want my grandchildren to remember a mamaw who can shoot hoops and play hide-and-go-seek, not one who can only sit and cheer from the sidelines.
Current weight: 225.6 pounds (-9.4 pounds)
Anyhow, after yesterday's first postop visit with Dr. K and his staff, I'm reassured that things are right on track. My weight on their scales was a little higher than the ones at home registered, but I always weigh myself first thing in the morning and *insert maidenly blushing* in minimal clothing; my appointment was in the afternoon and fully attired.
Progressing with my BRP (Becky Reclamation Project) the next phase in my LAP-BAND journey will include a build up to 45 minutes of sustained exercise per day, overseen by monthly visits (for the next six months) to a physical therapist. Because of the variable weather we have at this time of the year, HH and I have already been looking at treadmills and plan to purchase one in January. This is where HH and I tend to disagree. He thinks in terms of "the bigger, the better", while I think in terms of "if I trip over that *#$#*#&#*^* one more time I'm gonna SCREAM" and want one that folds up when not in use. Anyhoo, the PT clinic has my info from the surgeon's office and I should be receiving a call from them next week to set things up.
Overall, I'm pleased with my progress. I've been averaging about a half pound per day of weight loss. I tire easily, but that's probably due more to life stresses and worries than surgical concerns. We had a wedding at our house Thursday night and after all the shopping and preparations I was exhausted. There's no way I could have done it without HH and our oldest daughter. Except for the shopping, most of my work was done through my supervision. But our son's fiance is now his wife. HH performed the ceremony. The bride's father gave her away and all her family was present from Canada via webcam and teleconferencing. It's a cute thing at a wedding when the question is asked, "Who gives this woman in marriage?" and all heads turn toward a laptop.
When my son returns from Iraq, I want him to find a mother who is healthier, who's more fit and active, than the one he left. And I want my grandchildren to remember a mamaw who can shoot hoops and play hide-and-go-seek, not one who can only sit and cheer from the sidelines.
Current weight: 225.6 pounds (-9.4 pounds)
Monday, December 24, 2007
Slip Slidin' Away
Whoo hoo! The pounds are finally starting to slip off! Now I can look down at my four little incisions and one tad larger one (for the port) and say, "Yeah, baby, we're doin' it!" I know, I know, again with the conversin' with the random body part.
My HH is being wonderful. Actually, my entire family is being wonderful about making sure I don't feel overwhelmed by cooking smells. I have to practically force HH and daughter-in-law to cook. Left to their own devices they'd be eating sandwiches 24/7. Right now the standing joke is that our youngest granddaughter, our wonderful little Butterbean who's almost a year old, has more substance to her food than Mamaw does. Hey. It ain't really a joke. Have y'all seen that Stage 3 stuff? Lemme tell y'all somethin'...Gerber rocks!
Which brings me to the subject of the one thing I really do miss right now: texture. Yeah, I miss texture. I miss chewing and feeling that little bit of crunch. I miss pieces and bits of meat and veggies. Since I haven't seen my diet plan for Week 2 yet, and won't until my postop follow-up with the surgeon this Friday, I have hopes that maybe those things will be part of the next phase. Cream of chicken soup pureed until it's the consistency of milk, mashed potatoes thinned until they're the consistency of unpureed chicken soup, pudding, milk...these are all good things and provide enough nutrients for me at this point. Plus, they don't pose a threat for creating a blockage in the stoma formed by the new upper stomach pouch. But doggone it, I wanna bite into somethin' so bad right now....
Today's weight: 231.6
My HH is being wonderful. Actually, my entire family is being wonderful about making sure I don't feel overwhelmed by cooking smells. I have to practically force HH and daughter-in-law to cook. Left to their own devices they'd be eating sandwiches 24/7. Right now the standing joke is that our youngest granddaughter, our wonderful little Butterbean who's almost a year old, has more substance to her food than Mamaw does. Hey. It ain't really a joke. Have y'all seen that Stage 3 stuff? Lemme tell y'all somethin'...Gerber rocks!
Which brings me to the subject of the one thing I really do miss right now: texture. Yeah, I miss texture. I miss chewing and feeling that little bit of crunch. I miss pieces and bits of meat and veggies. Since I haven't seen my diet plan for Week 2 yet, and won't until my postop follow-up with the surgeon this Friday, I have hopes that maybe those things will be part of the next phase. Cream of chicken soup pureed until it's the consistency of milk, mashed potatoes thinned until they're the consistency of unpureed chicken soup, pudding, milk...these are all good things and provide enough nutrients for me at this point. Plus, they don't pose a threat for creating a blockage in the stoma formed by the new upper stomach pouch. But doggone it, I wanna bite into somethin' so bad right now....
Today's weight: 231.6
Sunday, December 23, 2007
What a difference a day makes!
On this 4th postop day I woke up realizing that I'd slept through the night and that I could lay on my side again. Whoo hoo! Who'd a'thunk it, that one day could make such a big difference? I'm not obsessing about what I can or can't eat; I'm content with my two ounces of calorie-containing foods every hour. Actually, I haven't even eaten that often; every two hours has been sufficient for me. What it all boils down to is that for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I'm in control. Choosing LAP-BAND was definitely the right choice for me.
The biggest change has been with my diet coke. Now, I'm an addict as far as diet coke is concerned and could usually down a 2-liter bottle of the stuff daily. I wouldn't recommend my strategy for everyone, but I opted not to wean myself from caffeine and carbonation gradually (carbonation can cause the pouch to stretch, so it's a huge no-no). Instead, I drank diet coke and my daily two cups of leaded coffee right up to two days pre-op, the day before I had to go on a clear liquids only diet. My logic has worked out for me - during the time when I'd miss those substances the most, I've been getting the anesthesia worked through my system and/or using Lortab or Tylenol to manage the discomfort. That helped me avoid the headache and grumpiness associated with caffeine withdrawal. That's my opinion anyhow; HH may have a different point of view. We wont' ask him, though.
The biggest change has been with my diet coke. Now, I'm an addict as far as diet coke is concerned and could usually down a 2-liter bottle of the stuff daily. I wouldn't recommend my strategy for everyone, but I opted not to wean myself from caffeine and carbonation gradually (carbonation can cause the pouch to stretch, so it's a huge no-no). Instead, I drank diet coke and my daily two cups of leaded coffee right up to two days pre-op, the day before I had to go on a clear liquids only diet. My logic has worked out for me - during the time when I'd miss those substances the most, I've been getting the anesthesia worked through my system and/or using Lortab or Tylenol to manage the discomfort. That helped me avoid the headache and grumpiness associated with caffeine withdrawal. That's my opinion anyhow; HH may have a different point of view. We wont' ask him, though.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Hit me with your best shot...and make it a good 'un!
Okay, I'm three days postop now and feeling pretty darned good. I'm not ready to run laps around the neighborhood, but hey, I wasn't doing that before surgery either. So, for those of you who are interested, here comes a play-by-play. For those of you who aren't interested, here comes a play-by-play, so scroll on by-by-by.
Getting up at 4:45 am sucks. Yep, that's my profound opinion. It ess-you-see-kay-ess, sucks. But since we needed to leave the house around 5:30 to arrive at the hospital by 6:00 and I wanted to shower and blow dry my hair (hey, I couldn't wear makeup, so my hair had to look at least okay, okay?), then I had to rise and shine. Okay, maybe not so much shinin' but I did at least manage the risin'. Getting up to the third floor surgery department right at 6:00 sharp (we're a military family - promptness is second nature) I didn't have to wait; we were taken right back to a private room where I changed into my lovely hospital nightie and climbed into bed. At this point, the nerves were really starting to get to me; not so much because of the surgery itself, but because of knowing that my "baby" is going back into war. So, mixing the common stress of surgery and the stress of sending a child into combat, meant I got misty-eyed a couple of times. The nursing staff was wonderful, though. We explained what was going on and the already-kindness I was being shown was multiplied.
Everything to come was explained in detail to me several times and I had many chances to ask questions. I spoke with an anesthesiologist and then Dr. K himself came in to check on me before I was wheeled back. The IV was put in place (good job on that one too - first try and hardly a pinch!), I was given a shot of blood thinner (it didn't hurt but it sho' did leave a bruise), and then I was given some la-la juice through the IV before I was taken back. Let me tell y'all somethin', that la-la juice is a wondrous thing.
When I got to the OR I was awake enough still to roll over so the gown could be removed and awake enough to remember (I think) trying to swat away the anesthesiologist putting the gas mask over my face. Let me defend myself here: I was told to let my mind wander to a happy place, away from son going to war, and then to take deep breaths as the mask was put over my nose and mouth. I didn't have a chance to find that "happy place"! I wanted to say, "Hey, give me a sec, will ya?!" Instead, I....fell...fast...asleep. *Snore*
Next thing I know, I'm in the recovery room being asked over and over how I feel, if I'm warm enough, if I'm cool enough, etc., etc., ad infinitum. Now, for me personally, fighting the haze of the anesthesia is always one of the yuckiest parts of postop. Once that stuff is out of my system I'm usually pretty good to go.
Finally I got wheeled upstairs to my private (thank you, insurance company powers-that-be) room. I had to scootch over from one bed to another, but that wasn't a problem. Also, Dr. K's office orders Zofran, an anti-nausea medication, to be administered during surgery and every four hours thereafter. Vomiting is something you want to avoid after LAP-BAND placement. I was also given Lortab (hydrocodone) for pain control, in its liquid form so I could swallow it and not worry about any kind of blockage.
I almost outdid myself, though. Maybe I wanted to be Super Patient or somethin', I don't know, but I had it in my head that if the doctor's office wanted me walking or at least sitting in a chair by six hours postop, then I was gonna one-up 'em and do it even earlier. The nurses talked me out of it at 4 hours postop, but then at five hours I talked them into letting me give it a whirl. Oy. Big mistake. I old-lady shuffled about eight steps and then started retching. Accoding to the nurse, my face went pure white. Luckily, my hubby was right there at my side and helped guide me to a chair. Okay, they were right, I was wrong. I opted to wait for a little more time to pass and then tried again...SUCCESS! After that, it became my goal to walk two laps every two hours and sit up in the chair for periods of time in between. Medical people aren't lyin' when they say walking helps ease postop pain; it really, really does.
My son (the one who's deploying) and his fiance came by with their baby that night and spent a couple hours visiting with me. Yes, I felt like having visitors.
Probably the biggest mistake I made was trying to be "macho" Super Patient again and let several hours go by before asking for another dose of pain medication. Y'know what? I'm not a toughie. And when I hurt I get, well, let's just say "female doggish".
Thankfully, my hubby was ready, willing and able to spend the night with me. I could have gotten out of bed on my own, but dealing with the catheter bag, the battery pack from the electrodes scattered on my chest, and unplugging and plugging the IV thingiemajig, much less juggling that darned IV pole, would've been overwhelming.
Now, here's how I maneuvered. I would raise the head of the bed all the way up and then ease my legs over the side of the bed. HH (Handsome Hubby) would take my hand and gently help pull me to standing. Getting back into bed was a bit more challenging so what I ended up doing was climbing back into bed on my knees. I could hold onto the foot of the bed for leverage and then could "walk" on my knees to the position I needed to be in on the bed, there were the upper part curves into the lower part. All I had to do then was park my keester there in the fold of the bed and then uncurl my legs. Now, I couldn't have done that if I'd had a "neighbor" 'cause it sets a full moon to a'shinin', but hey, it worked!
Once I was up and walking they came and removed the catheter. I swan, I heard the angels singin' "Glory Hallelujah". The IV was left in, of course, both to keep me hydrated as well as to provide entry for the Zofran and an antibiotic.
Because I'd had an "oozy" problem (not to be confused with "seepy", "weepy", or "gooky") during surgery (my blood didn't want to clot), a phlebotomist came in every four hours to draw blood. In retrospect I'll admit it's scary, but keep in mind that no surgery is without risk. Anyhow, there were also the routine visits to check vitals, etc. Hospitals are not conducive to a good night's sleep, but hey, they were on top of things and always courteous and respectful.
Before discharge I had to undergo a barium swallow. Eeeeeyyyyyuck. Actually, the ride down to radiology was the worst part. For some reason, every bump seemed magnified and it was also unbearably (for me anyhow) warm. The nursing staff in that department brought me cool compresses, which helped immensely. The barium itself wasn't so boy-howdy awful, probably because I only had to take two swallows. Thank goodness for that 'cause I don't think I could've handled anymore than that. Okay, the x-ray showed that I didn't have any leaky valves or faucets, so I was good to go and cleared for discharge. Home again, home again, jiggity jig!
Now, I'll admit that I was tired when I got home. However, that probably wasn't so much from the surgery as it was from not being able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time in the hospital. I will tell y'all that I was able to seat myself fairly comfortably and get out of a chair without help. I was also able to get into and out of bed by myself. No surgery is ever completely pain-free, but laparoscopic surgery beats the open kind hands down.
It's funny. My surgery was done four days ago and I'm already glad I did it. I'm able to take in two ounces of food at a time (your own doctor will have his specific food guide), and I'm not hungry. And this is before the first fill!
So for anyone thinking about undergoing this surgery, my advice is to do what I did: research, research, research. Talk to people who've been through it. Nothing prepares you for success like knowledge, so be knowledgeable. And don't be afraid to ask questions.
Getting up at 4:45 am sucks. Yep, that's my profound opinion. It ess-you-see-kay-ess, sucks. But since we needed to leave the house around 5:30 to arrive at the hospital by 6:00 and I wanted to shower and blow dry my hair (hey, I couldn't wear makeup, so my hair had to look at least okay, okay?), then I had to rise and shine. Okay, maybe not so much shinin' but I did at least manage the risin'. Getting up to the third floor surgery department right at 6:00 sharp (we're a military family - promptness is second nature) I didn't have to wait; we were taken right back to a private room where I changed into my lovely hospital nightie and climbed into bed. At this point, the nerves were really starting to get to me; not so much because of the surgery itself, but because of knowing that my "baby" is going back into war. So, mixing the common stress of surgery and the stress of sending a child into combat, meant I got misty-eyed a couple of times. The nursing staff was wonderful, though. We explained what was going on and the already-kindness I was being shown was multiplied.
Everything to come was explained in detail to me several times and I had many chances to ask questions. I spoke with an anesthesiologist and then Dr. K himself came in to check on me before I was wheeled back. The IV was put in place (good job on that one too - first try and hardly a pinch!), I was given a shot of blood thinner (it didn't hurt but it sho' did leave a bruise), and then I was given some la-la juice through the IV before I was taken back. Let me tell y'all somethin', that la-la juice is a wondrous thing.
When I got to the OR I was awake enough still to roll over so the gown could be removed and awake enough to remember (I think) trying to swat away the anesthesiologist putting the gas mask over my face. Let me defend myself here: I was told to let my mind wander to a happy place, away from son going to war, and then to take deep breaths as the mask was put over my nose and mouth. I didn't have a chance to find that "happy place"! I wanted to say, "Hey, give me a sec, will ya?!" Instead, I....fell...fast...asleep. *Snore*
Next thing I know, I'm in the recovery room being asked over and over how I feel, if I'm warm enough, if I'm cool enough, etc., etc., ad infinitum. Now, for me personally, fighting the haze of the anesthesia is always one of the yuckiest parts of postop. Once that stuff is out of my system I'm usually pretty good to go.
Finally I got wheeled upstairs to my private (thank you, insurance company powers-that-be) room. I had to scootch over from one bed to another, but that wasn't a problem. Also, Dr. K's office orders Zofran, an anti-nausea medication, to be administered during surgery and every four hours thereafter. Vomiting is something you want to avoid after LAP-BAND placement. I was also given Lortab (hydrocodone) for pain control, in its liquid form so I could swallow it and not worry about any kind of blockage.
I almost outdid myself, though. Maybe I wanted to be Super Patient or somethin', I don't know, but I had it in my head that if the doctor's office wanted me walking or at least sitting in a chair by six hours postop, then I was gonna one-up 'em and do it even earlier. The nurses talked me out of it at 4 hours postop, but then at five hours I talked them into letting me give it a whirl. Oy. Big mistake. I old-lady shuffled about eight steps and then started retching. Accoding to the nurse, my face went pure white. Luckily, my hubby was right there at my side and helped guide me to a chair. Okay, they were right, I was wrong. I opted to wait for a little more time to pass and then tried again...SUCCESS! After that, it became my goal to walk two laps every two hours and sit up in the chair for periods of time in between. Medical people aren't lyin' when they say walking helps ease postop pain; it really, really does.
My son (the one who's deploying) and his fiance came by with their baby that night and spent a couple hours visiting with me. Yes, I felt like having visitors.
Probably the biggest mistake I made was trying to be "macho" Super Patient again and let several hours go by before asking for another dose of pain medication. Y'know what? I'm not a toughie. And when I hurt I get, well, let's just say "female doggish".
Thankfully, my hubby was ready, willing and able to spend the night with me. I could have gotten out of bed on my own, but dealing with the catheter bag, the battery pack from the electrodes scattered on my chest, and unplugging and plugging the IV thingiemajig, much less juggling that darned IV pole, would've been overwhelming.
Now, here's how I maneuvered. I would raise the head of the bed all the way up and then ease my legs over the side of the bed. HH (Handsome Hubby) would take my hand and gently help pull me to standing. Getting back into bed was a bit more challenging so what I ended up doing was climbing back into bed on my knees. I could hold onto the foot of the bed for leverage and then could "walk" on my knees to the position I needed to be in on the bed, there were the upper part curves into the lower part. All I had to do then was park my keester there in the fold of the bed and then uncurl my legs. Now, I couldn't have done that if I'd had a "neighbor" 'cause it sets a full moon to a'shinin', but hey, it worked!
Once I was up and walking they came and removed the catheter. I swan, I heard the angels singin' "Glory Hallelujah". The IV was left in, of course, both to keep me hydrated as well as to provide entry for the Zofran and an antibiotic.
Because I'd had an "oozy" problem (not to be confused with "seepy", "weepy", or "gooky") during surgery (my blood didn't want to clot), a phlebotomist came in every four hours to draw blood. In retrospect I'll admit it's scary, but keep in mind that no surgery is without risk. Anyhow, there were also the routine visits to check vitals, etc. Hospitals are not conducive to a good night's sleep, but hey, they were on top of things and always courteous and respectful.
Before discharge I had to undergo a barium swallow. Eeeeeyyyyyuck. Actually, the ride down to radiology was the worst part. For some reason, every bump seemed magnified and it was also unbearably (for me anyhow) warm. The nursing staff in that department brought me cool compresses, which helped immensely. The barium itself wasn't so boy-howdy awful, probably because I only had to take two swallows. Thank goodness for that 'cause I don't think I could've handled anymore than that. Okay, the x-ray showed that I didn't have any leaky valves or faucets, so I was good to go and cleared for discharge. Home again, home again, jiggity jig!
Now, I'll admit that I was tired when I got home. However, that probably wasn't so much from the surgery as it was from not being able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time in the hospital. I will tell y'all that I was able to seat myself fairly comfortably and get out of a chair without help. I was also able to get into and out of bed by myself. No surgery is ever completely pain-free, but laparoscopic surgery beats the open kind hands down.
It's funny. My surgery was done four days ago and I'm already glad I did it. I'm able to take in two ounces of food at a time (your own doctor will have his specific food guide), and I'm not hungry. And this is before the first fill!
So for anyone thinking about undergoing this surgery, my advice is to do what I did: research, research, research. Talk to people who've been through it. Nothing prepares you for success like knowledge, so be knowledgeable. And don't be afraid to ask questions.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Ch-ch-ch-changes
Well, today's surgery almost got postponed when we found out last night that our youngest son will be deploying again to Iraq. He and my husband talked me out of it, pulling the whims of insurance companies and my achy breaky knees into the fray. James won't be leaving for the sandbox until March (at least as it stands now), but he'll be away from home for training and I want to be sure we enjoy all the time we can with him until then.
At any rate, here we go...
(Today's post-liquid diet weight: 235 lbs)
At any rate, here we go...
(Today's post-liquid diet weight: 235 lbs)
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Pre-op day!
Here it is, the clear-liquids-only day. I've got ready-made Jello cups in the fridge, sugar-free fruit pops in the freezer, and caffeine-free, sugar-free peach tea packets to jazz up my bottled water. My hubby, bless his li'l ol' heart, is going to spend the day painting our bedroom so I don't have to come home to blah white walls. It's a project we're all set for, but he's got his mind made up to have it done today. Aaahhh. My heart goes pitter-patter when this man gets his mind made up. It's just so darned...manly. Yummmmm-oh!
Oops, back on track here. Today I'll remove the spicy, spunky, fun red polish from my toes and the clear from my fingernails, pack a bag for an overnight hospital stay (Kleenex with Lotion? Check. Blistex? Check. Table fan in case I get hot? Check. Socks in case my feet get cold while trying to cool down the rest of me? Check.), and make sure everything I need in the morning is staged and ready to go, especially since I know that between being nervous, caffeine-less, and downright HUNGRY, my brain won't be functioning worth a plug nickel.
So, here's where I start my before and during. Weight today: 238.6 lbs. Measurements? Hah! What do I look like here? A glutton (for punishment)?!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Part 2 - The chop shop: choosing a surgeon
Like I said before, my choice of a surgeon came through a referral from my primary care physician. But, I did have options, which included going to Louisville (Loo-a-vull, for you non-Kentuckians). In one of those quirks of fate, destiny, karma-karma-karma-karma-chameleon kind of things, I saw my PCP (of course I "say no to drugs" - this is my doctah dangit) for something totally non-related, and slid my question about weight loss surgery into the consultational conversational. It just so happened that he was meeting another doctor for lunch that day - a doctor who specialized in Lap-Band surgery. We decided that if Dr. S felt this surgeon would be a good "fit" for me, he would have his nurse call and give me the contact info. Well, that phone call came later that afternoon.
Now, I didn't get to meet the surgeon, Dr. K, right right away, which I admit made me a tad itty bitty bit nervous. What if I didn't like him? What if he was rude and mean and hurt my feelings and made me cry? What if he didn't like me? What if he looked at me and announced in a God-like voice, "Woman, get thy fat self away and nevermore darken my doorway with your presence." What if, what if, what if? While I understood the logic for not meeting the surgeon right away, it still gave me a case of the heebie jeebies.
Oh, yeah, the logic. Well, it seems that Lap-Band surgery has become pretty popular. The homecoming queen of the bariatric ball. The Angelina Jolie of Fat Films Production Company. This surgeon's office was being inundated with calls for people wanting more information. Dr. K would have been spending hours each day meeting potential new patients. It was best for his staff to handle the initial meetings, to ensure that a patient was dedicated to the procedure and would be compliant. After all, compliance to a diet and exercise program before surgery is more likely to lead to compliance to a diet and exercise program after surgery, thus increasing the potential for success.
Yup, it made sense to me too.
Unfortunately, I almost failed. My initial consult came right before my husband ended up being sent to help a customer on-site. Now, my hubby hardly ever travels these days, and this "six weeks at the most" assignment ended up lasting over five months. Luckily, I'm able to travel with him and got to spend some time visiting friends and family; however, it meant that I had to work appointments around trips home. It also meant that I wasn't cleaning house or helping to take care of grandbabies; instead, I was living a life of luxury in a hotel suite. So, I gained weight. Uh oh. Now that was a Bozo no-no. I was about to sabotage myself and my own goals, so I buckled down, cut my calorie intake down to about 800 per day (not recommended but definitely necessary) and spent two 15-minute intervals each day on the hotel treadmill. It paid off, netting me a 16-lb weight loss in the course of a month and putting me back on track.
Then finally, finally I met the surgeon. Miracle of miracles! Glory hally loo yah! Joy of joys! I liked the man! Yep. I felt comfortable wit him, with is straight-forward, tell-it-like-it-is-but-still-be-nice manner.
And then....and then...
.................................and then came the insurance company approval.
Now I'm two days preop. Getting nervous and excited at the same time. Hoo boy! It's gonna be a heckuva new year!
Now, I didn't get to meet the surgeon, Dr. K, right right away, which I admit made me a tad itty bitty bit nervous. What if I didn't like him? What if he was rude and mean and hurt my feelings and made me cry? What if he didn't like me? What if he looked at me and announced in a God-like voice, "Woman, get thy fat self away and nevermore darken my doorway with your presence." What if, what if, what if? While I understood the logic for not meeting the surgeon right away, it still gave me a case of the heebie jeebies.
Oh, yeah, the logic. Well, it seems that Lap-Band surgery has become pretty popular. The homecoming queen of the bariatric ball. The Angelina Jolie of Fat Films Production Company. This surgeon's office was being inundated with calls for people wanting more information. Dr. K would have been spending hours each day meeting potential new patients. It was best for his staff to handle the initial meetings, to ensure that a patient was dedicated to the procedure and would be compliant. After all, compliance to a diet and exercise program before surgery is more likely to lead to compliance to a diet and exercise program after surgery, thus increasing the potential for success.
Yup, it made sense to me too.
Unfortunately, I almost failed. My initial consult came right before my husband ended up being sent to help a customer on-site. Now, my hubby hardly ever travels these days, and this "six weeks at the most" assignment ended up lasting over five months. Luckily, I'm able to travel with him and got to spend some time visiting friends and family; however, it meant that I had to work appointments around trips home. It also meant that I wasn't cleaning house or helping to take care of grandbabies; instead, I was living a life of luxury in a hotel suite. So, I gained weight. Uh oh. Now that was a Bozo no-no. I was about to sabotage myself and my own goals, so I buckled down, cut my calorie intake down to about 800 per day (not recommended but definitely necessary) and spent two 15-minute intervals each day on the hotel treadmill. It paid off, netting me a 16-lb weight loss in the course of a month and putting me back on track.
Then finally, finally I met the surgeon. Miracle of miracles! Glory hally loo yah! Joy of joys! I liked the man! Yep. I felt comfortable wit him, with is straight-forward, tell-it-like-it-is-but-still-be-nice manner.
And then....and then...
.................................and then came the insurance company approval.
Now I'm two days preop. Getting nervous and excited at the same time. Hoo boy! It's gonna be a heckuva new year!
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Part 1 - Fatty, fatty two-by-four: the decision for Lap-Band
C'mon, admit it. At one time or another, you've probably looked at some poor, fat slob walking down the street and thought, "Gosh, look at that poor fat slob..." yada yada yada blah blah blah. The general consensus seems to be that if a person is overweight they must lack self-control. To those people I say, "Walk a mile in my fat suit, bubba."
The truth of the matter is, it's so much easier to have myself sliced n' diced than it is to just "buckle down and lose weight, fatso!" Yuh, right. And the housing market is strong and holding steady. Hold on, gimme a sec...whoooooo hoo hoo hoo hooooooo *snort* Sorry, I just couldn't hold that back.
Frankly, for myself it's been a vicious circle. I gained some weight and started experiencing pain in both knees. Okay, so all I needed to do was lose that weight, right? Yeah, that's what I thought too. So, I started a vigorous walking program, the end result being that I was popping Aleve 'round the clock, trying to get a bit of relief from the throbbing pain. Dagnabbit. Next came the diagnosis of osteoarthritis and the doctor-lecture that someday I was going to need knee replacements, it was just a matter of holding out for as long as I could. In the meantime, I was to lose weight but avoid overloading my already overloaded knees. Great. There it was - the rock and the hard place. In order to lose that amount of weight I needed to be able to undertake an assertive walking program, but my knees were saying, "NOoOOoOoooOOOoo!!!! You've hurt us enough, dammit!" (What? Doesn't the odd body part ever talk to you?)
Okay, there it was. Miz Independent, Miz Idontneedanyfreakinhelp, Miz ImhappywithmyselfasIyam needed (yep, you got it) help. Dieting alone wasn't cuttin' the mustard. Over-the-counter weight loss meds didn't do a thing. Prescription medication? Zilch. Zip. Nada.
When I began researching the options for bariatric surgery, Lap-Band jumped out as the contender least invasive, with the quickest recovery period, and the most potential for long-term success. It became a no-brainer when I checked with my insurance company and found that LB was a covered procedure, of course within certain guidelines.
The truth of the matter is, it's so much easier to have myself sliced n' diced than it is to just "buckle down and lose weight, fatso!" Yuh, right. And the housing market is strong and holding steady. Hold on, gimme a sec...whoooooo hoo hoo hoo hooooooo *snort* Sorry, I just couldn't hold that back.
Frankly, for myself it's been a vicious circle. I gained some weight and started experiencing pain in both knees. Okay, so all I needed to do was lose that weight, right? Yeah, that's what I thought too. So, I started a vigorous walking program, the end result being that I was popping Aleve 'round the clock, trying to get a bit of relief from the throbbing pain. Dagnabbit. Next came the diagnosis of osteoarthritis and the doctor-lecture that someday I was going to need knee replacements, it was just a matter of holding out for as long as I could. In the meantime, I was to lose weight but avoid overloading my already overloaded knees. Great. There it was - the rock and the hard place. In order to lose that amount of weight I needed to be able to undertake an assertive walking program, but my knees were saying, "NOoOOoOoooOOOoo!!!! You've hurt us enough, dammit!" (What? Doesn't the odd body part ever talk to you?)
Okay, there it was. Miz Independent, Miz Idontneedanyfreakinhelp, Miz ImhappywithmyselfasIyam needed (yep, you got it) help. Dieting alone wasn't cuttin' the mustard. Over-the-counter weight loss meds didn't do a thing. Prescription medication? Zilch. Zip. Nada.
When I began researching the options for bariatric surgery, Lap-Band jumped out as the contender least invasive, with the quickest recovery period, and the most potential for long-term success. It became a no-brainer when I checked with my insurance company and found that LB was a covered procedure, of course within certain guidelines.
Friday, December 14, 2007
"Ewes not fat, ewes fluffy"
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'm fat. No two ways about it. No tiptoeing through those tulips. No pussyfootin', tapdancin', or artful dodgin'. Somewhere between Mamma Cass and pre-bypass Carnie Wilson lies I. Lies me? Hmmm, where's that grammar check when you need it?
But wait. I digress. The truth of the matter is that there's a lotta OggieMamma to love. OggieDaddy has never complained. Like a corny, cheesy love song, the man honest-to-goodness loves me for who I am. Somewhere in our wedding vows "through thick and thin" was added 'cause he's loved me through 'em both. It's me who has problems with me - with my achy breaky knees and too-easy-to-tire-ness. I've managed to lose half my body weight in the past, but that was at a time when I could devote my days to exercise. Before work, during lunch, after work. Seven days a week. Rain or shine. No mo'. I'm almost fifty and my body bears the weight (literally and figuratively) of my years of neglect.
So, after much research and reviewing of my options, I opted to pursue Lap-Band surgery (http://lapband.com/lapband/portal.do). A conversation with my PCP led to a referral to a local surgeon, which led to a consult, which led to...well, an actual, real, by-golly-by-gosh-I'm-gonna-do-this surgery date. December 19th, 2007. Next week. Five days. Not soon enough and too soon, both at the same time.
It wasn't a terribly complicated journey. Through my handsome honey bunny's employer we have good medical insurance, and my surgeon's office has a wonderful staff who knows how to cross t's and dot i's and deal with any amount of red tape. I had monthly visits with the surgeon's nurse practitioner, followed the diet plan developed for me by the dietician, saw the psychiatrist who gave me the a.o.k. (Yeah, I know! Can you believe it?! Har!), walked three times a week, and consulted with a physical therapist, following their exercise plan, plus I kept a food journal (http://www.my-calorie-counter.com). Five months from beginning to...well, beginning.
So many people have asked me about the process that I decided I'd try this here bloggin' thang. Not that my ego is all that big (well, it's not), but I figure, hey, maybe I can be a motivation or inspiration or curiositytion (I know that's not a real word, okay? Get. over. it.). Thus, it begins, my Becky Reclamation Project. Lawsie mercy, doesn't that sound cool!
But wait. I digress. The truth of the matter is that there's a lotta OggieMamma to love. OggieDaddy has never complained. Like a corny, cheesy love song, the man honest-to-goodness loves me for who I am. Somewhere in our wedding vows "through thick and thin" was added 'cause he's loved me through 'em both. It's me who has problems with me - with my achy breaky knees and too-easy-to-tire-ness. I've managed to lose half my body weight in the past, but that was at a time when I could devote my days to exercise. Before work, during lunch, after work. Seven days a week. Rain or shine. No mo'. I'm almost fifty and my body bears the weight (literally and figuratively) of my years of neglect.
So, after much research and reviewing of my options, I opted to pursue Lap-Band surgery (http://lapband.com/lapband/portal.do). A conversation with my PCP led to a referral to a local surgeon, which led to a consult, which led to...well, an actual, real, by-golly-by-gosh-I'm-gonna-do-this surgery date. December 19th, 2007. Next week. Five days. Not soon enough and too soon, both at the same time.
It wasn't a terribly complicated journey. Through my handsome honey bunny's employer we have good medical insurance, and my surgeon's office has a wonderful staff who knows how to cross t's and dot i's and deal with any amount of red tape. I had monthly visits with the surgeon's nurse practitioner, followed the diet plan developed for me by the dietician, saw the psychiatrist who gave me the a.o.k. (Yeah, I know! Can you believe it?! Har!), walked three times a week, and consulted with a physical therapist, following their exercise plan, plus I kept a food journal (http://www.my-calorie-counter.com). Five months from beginning to...well, beginning.
So many people have asked me about the process that I decided I'd try this here bloggin' thang. Not that my ego is all that big (well, it's not), but I figure, hey, maybe I can be a motivation or inspiration or curiositytion (I know that's not a real word, okay? Get. over. it.). Thus, it begins, my Becky Reclamation Project. Lawsie mercy, doesn't that sound cool!
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