October

Well this is it. The moment of truth. I arrived at the surgery center at 5:30 this morning to check in for my surgery. I had a moment of sheer panic while getting ready when I started my period. What does a person do in this situation? Tell the doctor? That is embarrassing. I was ushered into a room and given a weird gown with nozzels and hoses attached. I quietly confided to the nurse and she looked perplexed and told me to keep my underwear on until I went into the operating room. And yes I should mention it to the doctor. So there I sat in my blow up gown and in walks the anestheoligist. I was a little hyped up from all the excitement and also loaded with anxiety. He stated that he read my file and he considered me a saint. What was he talking about?  "You have adopted four kids and you are a foster parent. In my book that makes you a saint." Right on the heels of that exchange in walks my doctor. I blurted out "I started my period what should I do?" He looked uncomfortable and shifted around then said "We have a fine nursing staff to take care of those kinds of things." This situation was getting weirder by the second. Two men standing in front of me who were both about to see me at my most vulnerable, one thinks I am a saint. Akward silence. The nurse came in to escort me to the operating room. She said in what seemed to me a booming voice with everyone watching. Take off your underwear now. I felt like I was in a weird slow mo dream. I reached under my gown and removed my garments. The nurse asked me if I wanted them placed with my belongings. Impulsively I said "just throw them away. I have others." Everyone looked at me oddly and I climbed on the table. Now I am about to go to sleep and wake up to a new way of life. I feel like I am standing on a cliff about to jump. I could fly or fall. Either way I am going over the edge.

When I woke up in recovery I was in pain. But I was also still foggy so I could not put my finger on why I was hurting. I said to the nurse "Someone stabbed me". I was drifting in and out as she explained to me that they would give me good drugs for the pain when I got back to my room. When I woke again my Mom was by my side. She told me that the doctor had to repair two hernias in my esophagus and it took longer than expected. Thru a drug cloud I heard the nurse explain that I could press the pain pump every 11and 1/2 minutes. I said something to my mom about portable curling irons being dangerous because they could blow up in your purse. My Mom said "is that a real thing or are you just making that up because you are on drugs" I asked my mom to text my friend Jeanne and tell her I was ok. Then I handed my Mom the trigger for the pain pump and told her to push it every 11 and 1/2 minutes and I was out. When I woke again My children were in the room. Pop, as my step dad is affectionately known to them, brought them over after school. I have four adopted sons. Christopher age 10, Michael age 9, Dante age 4 and Evan who just turned 4 this week. Each boy is so different and I worried about their reaction to seeing me in pain. They all gathered around and asked questions about everything. I know my parents were taking good care of them but I worried. Evan piped up in his sweet little vice and asked "Mom, Mom, Mom are you going to die?" No I assured him I was going to live and be healthy. "Ok" he said and went on checking out the bed and the tv. I went home the next day and started my recovery. My folks left after a few days and I was back to work the next week. I had put it out there on Facebook that I would be having the surgery and the support was over whelming. I was on a liquid diet for a month. surprisingly it was not difficult. I was not hungrey and at first I did not mind he shakes. These protein shakes were my life line. I did make the mistake of ordering banana flavor. It was yucky. That big old canester You just never notice how much of every day life is food. My first day back at work was an all staff meeting. There were snacks at every table. Candy and treats for participation. People kept asking me how I was and questions about my surgery. I had only just began my journey but I felt so fresh and healthy and in control.

A Pile of Fat

This was me. 263 pounds of me. I loved food. I still do. But there was and still is so much more to me than just a number on a scale. I am funny. I am a laugh riot. I am a great mom. I work hard everyday to take care of my family. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend. But in this picture at my friends wedding shower all I felt like was a big pile of fat. I have been over weight since I was 17 years old. If you have been fat for a long time you know the drill. So many diets and "fresh starts" and "new plans". Some of it actually worked. For a while. Until it didn't. Or I gave up. And when that happened I felt such self loathing the only thing that would sooth me was food. Please don't misunderstand me. I don't live some miserable life devoid of happiness and blessings. Some times I would even forget that I was so fat. Until I saw my picture or caught my reflection from the corner of my eye. Then it would hit me like a ton of bricks. But most of the time I enjoy my life and my kids and my work. But in the spring of 2013 things were not good for me. My type 2 diabetes was out of control. My sleep apnea was kicking my behind. Acid reflux was keeping me up nights. My body ached. My feet and back and knees hurt. And just to lay it all out there I was peeing my self all the time. Diabetes was dumping sugar in my urine and I never could sleep deep enough for my urine to concentrate. The result? Bad news. TMI? Sorry. I just want to be as honest as I can. So when my mother suggested that I think about having weight loss surgery I decided to think about it. My friend (see above) had the surgery about a year and a half before with good results. So I went to the doctor. My wonderful doctor is a man of God. He held my hand and looked in my eyes and told me "you are a daughter of the King and it is time you know that" He said at the end of 6 months I may or may not want to have the surgery. The goal is health. That is the most important thing. So I did it. It has been five months and I have lost 62 pounds. I don't take my diabetes meds anymore. I don't need my sleep apnea machine. I no longer have acid reflux. I RUN on my treadmill every day. I don't pee myself anymore.  I sleep like a baby. I feel great. And I am only half way to my goal of losing 120 pounds. I want to keep a record of life after surgery. I should have started sooner. But you know. Life happens fast and before I know it time has slipped away. So here I go.