BrownBlossom

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Wrote this letter to an OH'er about to undergo surgery, thought it might help someone else out there: Good for you that you've decided to go ahead with the surgery. It's a good first step. It took me years to make the decision, and for the time to be just right. I opted for the open procedure, I liked the concept of the doctors having full open view of my organs while adjusting them rather than through the lens of a microscope and working to the best of the ability of the machins they use and not the actial doctor's hands. Sounds funny, but it made a difference to me. I wasn't crazy about the recovery time, it's substantially longer. It was about a month before I could sleep on my side again and I really needed the extra help getting in and out of bed the first week or so. I'm not sure how this compares to the lap, but I hear lap patients are back at work in under two weeks. I took the time and enjoyed it. Plus, I really needed that healing time not just for my body, but also for my head. The first month is hellish trying to get acustomed to drinking clear liquids then moving into mushy foods while everyone around you is consuming the foods you love. And, it takes a long while to figure out how your body is going to w ork on this, what can you eat and can't YOU eat. My friends did well with the sugar free puddings, and I dump it immediately. I couldn't eat chicken for weeks after I should have been able to. It takes time to adjust to how your body is adjusting. I also think that, and this might sound nuts to you but to me it makes sense, but I think that the open patients appreciate more the surgery thay went through. I know 5 women who had the surgery. 3 of them had the open and 2 had the lap. The two who had the lap lost substantial weight and put it back on within two years. One of them is back to over the weight she started at. The three who had the open have all kept it off, at differing weights of course, but all of them have kept it off. My one freind agrees that there is something about the suffering you do with the open, about the seriousness of the open that makes you work harder to never do that again to your body. Also, I find the small scar helpful in a weird sort of way. When I'm craving, for example, the large bag of halloween candy I keep in my bottom drawer for my clients com halloween, I rub my little scar and remember what I'm doing and where I intend to be. And, I promise you will lose weight. I thought I'd be the one girl who got fatter with the surgery. And, every time, now, that I swear I've gained weight or haven't taken off a pound, I get on the scale and see that there seems to be nothing I can do to stop the weight loss. I do, however, have to stop obsessing about it. It's a wonderful surgery. Are there risks? Hell yeah. Is it scary? Hell effing yes. But only you know what's right for you. This was right for me, and I recommend it to everyone in my same shoes (whch are now way too big on me). I feel so good, and not just about the way I look (because I loved the way I looked when I started this journey), but how I feel. But, also, hell yes about the way I look and how I fit clothes I thought I'd never fit again. And, Dr. Iannace is a dream. Not only is he soo cute and kinda sexy with those soft hands and little lisp, but he's talented and he's experienced. And, as you will begin to see, when you start telling people who your doctor is, they will be impressed and have only wonderful things to say about the man. He's wonderful, he remembers me when I see him, he's blunt and honest, and he's a pure professional. I wish you the best of luck really. And, your doing the right thing by asking a million questions. You need to be informed and you need to ask those who've gone through it. I'm here if you need me. Please don't hesitate to ask any question you have. Make a list and email it and I'll do the best I can. That's what a support group is for, after all, right? Keep me informed. -Rebecca.

Finally I'm putting that lifetime Bally's membership my mother, so full of hope then and dissapoitnment now, bought me in my early teens. See I was always a fat girl. Yet, the membership has come in handy afterall. I'm going to the gym three to four days a week not counting weekends, and then I make a weekend of the gym or a good solid Saturday at the gym. I love it. I throw on my headphone and set my 3G aging iPod to the playlist entitled "Caribbean Tunes," which is a collection of CD's I robbed from tour guides on each of the islands I spent my Spring Break. Then I hit the treadmill, the cycles, the weights and what used to be called a general aerobics class, now fancily titled things like "Zumba Class" and "Boot Camp." But, here's a word of advice for the gymnastically challenged like myself: steer clear of the dreaded eliptical machine, it will work you out like you've never worked out before. My trainor told me this, he said, stay away until you've progressed, because it's tough. But see, the thing is, you can't say that to a Vassar Girl like me. The moment I walked in after hearing this news about the big bad eliptical, I walked straight up to it, threw inthe headphones and hopped on, ready to conquer the eliptical monster. Determined to do a 30 minute work out, I hopped on after 5 and sat legs spread on the floor. The other thing the traainor guy warned me about was stretching. Hmm. Guess I'm not so good a listener. Its been four days since I've been in the gym and I'm obsessing now about the shit I'm eating. My legs were so sore I could not bend my knees for three days. My boss asked if I was alright and I had to tell her, she nodded in agreeance. She had also encounted the monster. Moral of this story? Stay away from the dreaded eliptical, or if your like me and feel the feminist need to conquer that bad boy, please please please make sure you stretch first. Oh, and always hold your stretches for 30 second a piece, or you'll be wriitng from your bed like me. Peace out Girl Scout.

So I'm down 40 lbs. after my first month, and I'm happy about it, elated actually, but I robbed myself of 20 lbs I should have lost because of my nonsensical concerns over my hair. I'm worried about losing my hair, which I have heard happens after surgery. I mean... we are in starvation mode, right? Look, I had heard that taking 40-50 grams of protein daily will stop this hair loss. So I tried and I tried and I tried to stuff the protein down my gullet. But the time and the expense was unrealistic. I was eating nothing but protein and still no more than maybe 30 grams a day was being consumed. So, I tried protein shakes, fucking protein shakes robbed me of 20 lbs of weight loss because of the amount of calories it made me consume. I was consuming nearly 3 times the amount of calories I should have been eating. This process is like learning to ride a bike, or walking a fine wire, its a balancing act and I screwed up by consuming too many calories and too much protein. As my doctor said, after lecturing me to stop reading the internet for phycisians advice, "get over it." He said the hairloss is inevitable, it's going to happen regardless of how many protein grams I intake because of the shock. What he did say is that it will start at 3 months and end at a year, that it will really only be noticable to me and that it will grow back better than before. Oh, and that it's a very small price to pay for the ability to sit on my boyfriend's lap for long periods of time, for the ability to tie my shoe laces without momentarily losing my breathe.... he's right.

Okay so the Naked brand drinks are bull, I realized after having two that they amount to nearly 600 calories for one bottle. Not good at all. But I guess this is what this is all about now, right? It's a balancing act trying to do this right, I've fallen off a few times, not realized what I was doing, but eventually figured it out. On another note, last night I was out in the city with Teague and instead of trying to consume TastiDelite on our normal end of the night, walk around the city eating ice cream treks, I stopped into a market and picked up a desserty tasting yogurt, berries and cream light and fit, and it was just as pleasure inducing. Just thought I'd share.

Just thought I'd share that my clothes no longer fit and I no longer have work clothes. My heels also do not fit my feet - SOS. I'm so freaking out.

Okay so if your going through this with a full head of hair that you adore, like me, your biggest concern is likely also how the fuck am I going to consume the 40 grams of protein necessary to stop the hair loss we dread. I tried everything short of of buying powdered protein and eating it whole because it's just too damned expensive. So, on my way through 7-11 this evening I found NAKED brand Protein Juice Smoothie with no sugar added. It has apple, banana, organge, coconut and pineapple juice with added protein. It is DELICIOUS!! Also, if your looking for added iron (as I am anemic), try Taco Bells Pintos and cheese. Its like refried beans with a tiny bit of cheese on top. It's delicious and is chock full of both protein and iron, oh and only .89 cents.

So things are okay I guess. The weight is coming off fast, but I'm not yet sure I know where it's coming from (though I did have to leave my favorite pair of shoes in the car this  morning because they kept falling off, so now when I tell my mother I'm losing weight and she snidely respond, "from where, your toes?" she'll actually be right). But really, everyone says they can see it melting and that I look great... and get this, I realized after an hour of sitting on the couch watching Law & Order that I was sitting with one leg on the ground and one leg bent up with my knee near my face and the heel of my foot against my butt - I can't remember the last time I was able to sit like that, it felt good. 

Other things are bothering me though. I had this problem with my menstrual cycle that seems to have gotten worse with the surgery, just really heavy bleeding and such, but the good news, is that my blood pressure has been low enough for me to safely go on birth control, wich is the effing reason I had this surgery in the effing first place. 

Oh, yeah, I realized last night that biting into a wanton, no matter how long it's been in the soup and no matter how long you chew does not count as mushy foods. Darn it. It was my second throw up... hey, I tried. I just feel like I want the food to go into my mouth whole, get pureed by my teeth and then I won't be so depressed about it - ha! 

I cannot lie people. I'm depressed damn it! I want food. I WANT IT. I'm getting by just fine, I have tons of support from the family, but grrr... sometimes I just want to eat like normal people. I know I know, it's only been two weeks, but this psychological crap is hard to beat. I'm working as a substance abuse counselor now and trying to help women kick drugs and alcohol, but I feel like I need my own counselor to help me kick food. It's as much of an addiction. 

Okay, back to doing some other mentally distracting things on my dinner break (a peach weight watchers yogurt and a few cheerios). Till later.

Yeah, so the night before last I had my first piece of fish with a small portion of rice and lentils and everything went down fine. So, thinking I was playing it safe, I repeated the meal last night, but half way through my meal, it seemed to be getting stuck somewhere in my throat. I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, but nothing was going down... and then, up it came. I thought I was lucky to have thus far gone without the dreading dumping, but I always knew it came with the territory. Ok, so vomitting is gross, standing over the toilet dry heaving with nothing but gobs of spit and bits of chewed food coming up (have I grossed you out yet?) is yucky, but it wasn't that bad. PLUS, yesterday I tabled at a health fair in my county for an organization I'm deputy director of and I saw so many people I know, all of them had something to say about how great I looked. It hasn't even been two weeks, and when I look down I can see the fat melting away. So a little vomitting? Not so bad. It isn't the same throwing up as before, there isn't the acid that burns so bad in the throat and that leaves that taste in your mouth for hours, its like a dry vomit. I can deal, and so can you! I'm feeling great. Going to work in a few hours for the first day. Exciiited!

Ok, so, I start a new job Monday and felt I should move into the next food stage a bit early so that when I go to shake my new bosses hand, I'm not adding vomit to the mix. With my Dr.'s permission (I must stress the importance of this because I was asked a thousand questiuons before it was granted) I moved into stage 2: Mushy Foods. And, I'm doing well so far. I just finished my third mushy meal (nonfat cottage cheese and unsweetened applesauce) and it was delicious. Everything is going down fine, no nausea (crossing fingers) and I'm completely satisfied. I was so excited about moving into this stage and jumped the gun a bit and bought a ton of babyfood (which is incredibly hard to find without tons of sugar, no wonder so many babies are so fat). And, the babyfood is disgusting. Ugh. Earths Best or Earths Harvest, something like that, was the lowest in sugars and highest in proteins, so I bought a bunch of it.... but babyfood, is just not my thing. I'm Latina, I need some spice in my life, some fucking sazon a dash of adobo... something. Anyway, the dog loved the other two ounces of winter squash, so I had half a dinner. I did the weight watchers white chocolate rasberry yogurt (so damned delicious) and soggy cheerios for breakfast, and tonight I'm trying some real food: tilapia and sweet potatos. We shall see. BTW, the small babyfood containers are exactly 4 ounces, perfect! OH, AND DO NOT DRINK LESS THAN A 1/2 HOUR AFTER EATING - TRUST ME.

So, I've never really been a huge pizza person. I just graduated from college and even there, pizza was the last choice to stave off growling tummies writing theses at 1 a.m. It had been months before my surgery that I had the taste of pizza in my mouth, but there is something, about a slice of pizza that has my mind running laps. I want it. I want the greasy, cheesy, salty, crusty, bready, saucy delicacy laying across my tongue more than I can believe I do. At times, I feel like I need it, like I just want to bit it, chew and spit it out before it hits my belly, but I know I can't. I think about it constantly, like an old lover whose call I was too scared to return. It haunts me. On TV, as I drive, as I shop for healthy liquids, it haunts me like a ghost. I want to scream. But still I stay strong. This is my prayer to pizza: please leave me alone. As much my mouth would like to caress you once again, to swallow down your garlicy goodness, I made a choice to change my life, to love more the ability to sit on a plane without quietly motioning to airline hostess for a seat extension (and praying I'm not charged or embarrassed doing so) than sitting in front of a television scarfing down cheese and sausage pizza slices and a pint of Pepsi... and later forgetting that I have eaten. So, know please that, YES I do miss you, oh how I miss you, but there are bigger, better things in my future, so please leave me alone. I made myself a promise that you and I will not coalesce once again until I've gained control over what I consume, and until I reach 175 lbs. So good bye my old love, till later.