BrownBlossom

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I weighed myself yesterday, 9 days into my journey and I'm 20 lbs down. In just 9 days. Unbelievable. It's crazy, even kind of creepy, but I feel better already.

Feeling much better today. The "oohs and ahhs" I'm getting already are both disturbing and exciting. It's just weird. The pain isn't gone yet, but maybe I'm asking too much, and I still cannot sleep straight through the night. I'm much more worried about my lack of a BM in eight days now, though. I've tried every laxative over the counter, trying to avoid the dreaded E word. Gulp. But if by noon today it still isn't happening, I'm heading over to CVS - I'm starting to get really scared. Other than that things are going well. Kind of tired of the liquid diet already and I have a few days left. It's just smelling the food the rest of family eats that makes me crazy. So, for those of you out there who haven't gone under surgery as of yet, the one thing I wish someone would have told me was to sit down with an antire cake and a half gallon of cold milk and eat until you can't anymore. It's what I wish I would have done, just once, because I will never have that chance again. Ok, as you can tell I'm still coping with the psychological loss of food. Physically I'm fine, no hunger, no cravings, no nausea, nothing.... but fuck what I would give for a slice of cake and a slice of Pizza Hut pizza.

Walked the dog the length of an entire block (won't do that again anytime soon). Mom gave me my first unsupervised shot of lovenox in the belly to ensure there aren't any blood clots. I wish I was still in the hospital, I feel safer there, like they'd know if something was wrong. I/m full of gas that I don't have the muscle to manipulate. 4 ounces of drink seems impossible, it's too much. My belly hurts when drinking the end of the first ounce every 15 minutes, but I am accrediting that to the swelling in there. Almost overdosed on percacet (spelling?) this morning. Ended up taking three in the course of three or four hours instead of 1 or 2 because I misguessed the time I took the first dose. Didn't sleep well at all last night. Can't find a comfy spot for sleep, and I don't like sleeping on my back in a barely reclined position, which you have to sleep in at this point. Okay, percacets kicking in. Getting sleepy eyed and unintellingable as you can tell by the flow of this post. Nightie night lovers.

So, I've been home now about 1/2 hour. I went in for surgery Tuesday morning and things went perfectly, but that I had a slight fever the first two nights I was in the hospital which landed me another night and a set of x-rays. I have so much to tell you all about this process, but I'm exhausted. My body is sore and I'm not even sure how I am sitting at this desk right now. I have no drugs in my body, my sides are black and blue from the heparin and morphine, my livingroom is boiling and I have yet to find my comfy stop in the house. So, I am off to turn on the air, do more of the most painful coughing that has ever existed in the world, and find my comfy spot. I'll try and post again today if not tomorrow. This is gross, but the gas is fucking killing me. Love, Becky.

The clear liquids have started and I've pumped my body full of multivitamins, iron and calcium. I go under the knife tomorrow and put my body, and life in Vincent Iannaces hands. Helps to know people seem impressed when I mention his name. I'm kind of nervous, but oddly I don't feel nervous enough, like it really isn't happening. I went yesterday and bought two pairs of pajamas and five pair of panties (the Ave had a great sale), so I don't have to walk around showing my culo to the entire hospital. Everyone is calling to wish me luck and it helps to know I have the support and prayers of so many. I just wish my best friends lived on my coast. My bags are almost entirely packed, I've got the facial cleansers, lotions, pillows, book, slippers and the bandanas for when company comes. I'm going to call over to the hospital shortly to see if wireless internet access is available so I can keep up to date with this journal and my email. I can live without food, but email? I think not. I've only been in the hospital once that I can remember and it was such a long time ago that I don't really remember the details. Well, it should be a short stay and I'll be home soon. Wish me luck everyone. Let the journey begin.

Can you beleive it, that two days before I'm, to have my surgery I come down with one of the worst colds I've had in years, YEARS! I had a 101.7 fever and had to be iced down to bring down my fever. Thank God mommies never stop being mommies. I'll say this, I'm not exactly the most religious of people, though I consider myself fairly spiritual, and I certainly believe that there was a reason I came down with a cold at this time. I believe God (or Gods) doesn't want me to have the surgery tomorrow morning. Everything happens for a reason. Even my Dr., a man of science, said it to me this afternoon. What concerns me is that I'm supposed to be starting a new job that I so desperately want to start already in exactly two weeks, the day before my new surgery date. Hopefully they'll let me keep my job. Hopefully this cold will run it's course soon enough. Night all.

So, for some inane reason, Dr. Iannace's office is requiring me to pay them 2,000.00 before the surgery. Ridiculous. My insurance has assured me that they will pay them the money they are asking for. They told me not to pay it, that they should bill me. But the office is requiring me to give it to them anyway. Fucking ridiculous. I feel like I'm stuck in a scam though everyone assures me these are amongst the best Dr.s doing this surgery. They're threatening to cancel my surgery if I don't pay them up front. They're fricking worse than the insurance company, than the mafia even. Anyone out there who can help?

Toby from Dr. Iannace's Office called today and through my shaky cell reception I heard her utter the words: You've been accepted. The thing is I've been big all of my life. The thought of losing the weight suddenly made me feel like a sell out. Like I was a traitor to my weight, to all the big women out there making life happen despite the snears and the comments behind our backs. We're no different than skinny people. We love and laugh and hurt just the same. But, society doesn't see it that way. And, to be honest, it wasn't until I was seriously contemplating this surgery that I realized how deep fat hatred runs. My family loves me, they love who I am, the way I am. But suddenly, when the prospect of this surgery came to reality, and me, ther person, Rebecca, was seperated from the fat that encases my body it became acceptable for them to be comfortable expressing the way they feel about fat people, and scarier, about me as a fat person. My sister, jokingly (sort of) expresses her discomfort with the concept of me being "beautiful," as it would threaten her position in the family as the pretty one. I've been the sweet one, the smart one, the funny one. And while everyone tells me constantly how gorgeous I am, I know as do they, that I have never been the pretty one. They see it cause they love me, but they know that on the outside, other's don't . So, this is going to be a very interesting journey. This will challenge the foundations of many of the relationships I hold dear, including the relationship I have with my mother. It will push my limits, my fears and dreams. Will I still want to be the woman I've always wanted to be? Have I hid beneath this fat shell? Will I want more? Will I be more? I'm so very excited about what all of this will bring. When the fat is gone, who will the girl beneath really prove to be?

I almost forgot to mention this: I have a date for surgery. August 21st. Which, is of course why I'm so nervous about the insurance approval. I'm getting myself psyched up emotionally and mentally for the surgery, yet I don't even know if it will happen.

Well, here I am, ready to go, wait for BCBS of NJ to give me the go ahead. I can't sleep at night because I need this surgery so bad, and I'm absolutely frightened that the insurance company will say no for some reason. It makes me nauseaus to think of it, to think they have the final say on how I'll live the rest of my life (gulp). I'm praying for the best (please pray for me out there!). I'm not the most religious person in the world, but I just keep thinking that God will make happen what he thinks is best. Out there in insurance land, please please please approve my surgery!