Okay,so I'm not the most techno savvy person

If I were, it wouldn't have taken me so long to realize that the reason I couldn't access my own blog was because I was logging in with the wrong e-mail address. Hey, my hubby is the techno geek of the family; it's why I pay him the big bucks ;)

An awful lot has happened since my last posting, most notably that after consults with three different plastic surgeons, and a surprisingly easy insurance approval for panniculectomy, I underwent a belt lipectomy, or lower body lift, three weeks ago, on March 29th. A pretty intense surgery, my LBL took approximately six hours (nine hours from the time I was taken to the OR to the time I was released from recovery and sent to a room) and involved an incision all the way around, about where low-rise pants or a bikini bottom would sit. Mine included removal of the pannus (the "apron" of skin that falls below the belly button in people who've lost weight) with a with the creation of a "new" belly button, tightening of abdominal muscles, an outer thigh lift, and a buttocks lift - in true "green" style, my surgeon "reduced, reused, and recycled" some of my own fat to give shape and lift to my tush. All the excess fat over my hips and below my bum is gone, and so is all of the cellulite that dimpled the backs of my thighs.

My research showed that roughly 99% of surgeons have their patients wear a compression garment after tummy tuck, but my surgeon reassured me that he would suture me so tightly that a compression garment wouldn't be needed...and he was right. I joke that if my hubby gets bored he can amuse himself by bouncing quarters off my bum or my belly :).

Now, I have to admit that this surgery is not for the weak of heart. I was so scared that even after having the LaLa juice administered I was telling everyone that I was okay with living with a layer cake top (having surpassed muffin top about 75 lbs ago) and would be glad to get up and just go on back home. My husband and our youngest son, who had accompanied us that day, just laughed. I vaguely remember putting my hands up, thinking I could push away the mask, and that's my last memory before hearing someone call my name in the recovery room. Apparently I was pretty worried about picking my maltese up from the groomer, even though he'd been the day before and was safely ensconsed at home. It's funny the things the mind can dredge up under the influence.

No matter how hard I tried to stand up and walk that night, I simply could not do it. I'd make it as far as to stand up beside my bed (and my gosh, but that hurt) and then a wave of heat would wash over me and I'd start to get sick. Thankfully I was able to ambulate early the next morning, which we all know is a big part of recovering from surgery.

There never was a point when I was so miserable that I regretted having this surgery, not even when I waited too long between doses of pain medication...NOT a smart move. From the moment I lifted the covers and, through the bandaging and drains and tubes could see a flat stomach, I knew I'd done the right thing. The day after, when I could stand in front of the mirror and assess everything, that was confirmed. In spite of the fact that I looked like I'd been pieced together by a manic-depressive quilter during a manic phase, I could see the immediate changes and imagine the ones to come as my body healed.

I can't sing enough praise of Bio-Oil and Mederma, but mostly the Bio-Oil. Once the incion was closed, I started four-times daily deep tissue massage (or my version of it anyhow), twice with Bio-Oil and twice with Mederma. Even though I know it can take up to nine months for all the redness to dissipate, there's a noticeable improvement in color and texture on a daily basis. I highly recommend these products.

One of the hardest aspects of the surgery was dealing with the drains. I came home with four of them. Two came out after nine days, a third came out after another five days, and the last one was finally removed three weeks post-op. They didn't hurt; they were just a big incovenience and trying to keep them hidden was a huge challenge. Thank goodness for loose fitting tops. The absolute hardest part has been not being able to pick up our second-youngest grandchild. Every day she asks me if my tummy is better and every day I have to say not yet, because I know as soon as I say yes I'm going to be expected to pick up Her Highness and tote her around. Right now we compromise by having somebody lift her onto my lap so we can snuggle.

Belt lipectomy is not a cheap surgery, but it was financially doable for us because of our insurance covering the panniculectomy part. That approval helped defray some of the expense by covering part of the costs, including one of the two nights I spent in the hospital. I was tempted to forego all the rest of it and just have the fully-covered panniculectomy, but I knew I wouldn't be happy with the results of that procedure alone.

I've been blessed with a very strong network of help. My husband took vacation time from work to focus on taking care of me, and he, our son, daughter-in-law, and oldest daughter, took care of everything related to the house and meals and laundry and pets so that I didn't have to worry about a thing. Even though I'm three weeks post-op, I still tire easily, and they're all still pitching in. I feel like a lady of leisure! Of course, the girls can be a bit bossy at times *LOL*, and I can't get away with a darned thing, but I honestly can't imagine how people manage after surgery when they don't have the kind of strong support system I've enjoyed.

It's drummed into us that we undergo weight loss surgery for the health benefits, and that's true. Goodness knows that I'm certainly enjoying the relief of the severe osteo-arthritic knee pain that slowed me down for so many years. Chasing grandkids wasn't something I was able to do before undergoing lap-band back in December of 2007, and I can't imagine being able to carry our Butterbean around the way I do if I hadn't bitten the bullet and fought with insurance companies and had weight loss surgery. But I don't think it's fair to deny that there's an aesthetic component to it too, at least for many of us. Yes, we're healthier, but we want to look good too. And what's wrong with wanting the way we feel on the inside to be reflected on the outside? What's wrong with wanting to look as fit and healthy as we feel? Nothing, that's what. A person who's physically and emotionally healthy wants to look their best. A little vanity is a good thing because it shows that we care about ourselves and want to present our best face to others.

Of course, I'm not a therapist or counselor or psychiatrist or any kind of trained, educated professional. What I am is a woman who's been there, done that and bought the t-shirt and who can now wear that t-shirt without looking like the Michelin man. And that's a good thing.

Well, spit...

Because I was still experiencing discomfort and vomiting, my surgeon's office set me up for an upper GI, which was performed this morning and showed a gastric ulcer. The result is that when I saw him this afternoon in his office he removed all the fluid from my band and has scheduled me for an EGD Friday morning. That test will give him a clearer image of the ulcer and he'll also be able to take biopsies and hopefully determine the cause. I've been on an NSAID for my knees for several years, and that's probably the culprit, although I had ulcers on two separate occasions in the past, long before I'd started NSAIDS and without any risk factors for developing ulcers.

So now I'm feeling more than a little discouraged. It will probably be 12 weeks before I'm cleared and will be able to continue use of my LAP-BAND. That's a long time for someone who has to fight for every pound she loses.

Oh well, we'll see what happens.

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.

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)?!