Bariatric Rewind

I am approaching another "anniversary".  Yes, in three weeks, I will be celebrating three years since my sleeve surgery.  I know, where did that time go?  I know where and I also find it hard to believe that so much time has passed.  Every day has been blessed and every challenge has been a gift.  And, yes, there have been challenges, both within my body and within my personal world, but they have been part of what and who I am today.  I am stronger and more committed to life than I have ever been and still raring to go.  I'm a gal with a plan.....plans. In a few weeks, I will joyfully write about my own take on being seventy two and having met those challenges, but for now, I am catching up with myself and maybe, maybe, if this gets read by someone who really needs my advice, I am doing a good deed.

Let me begin by saying that there was so much information dealt out by the Bariatric Team during the pre-op months.  Made my head spin. Scared the beejeezus out of me most of the time.  I have a hard time remembering so much of it.  During and after the surgery, the surgeon is rarely seen or heard from.  I think I actually only had two office visits with the man.  But, it was his words that burned a hole in my brain when he told me that he fully "expected" a weight gain of ten pounds.  So, just when I met that expectation and found myself heading back up the slippery slope, a gem arrived in my mail.  My program produces a periodic newsletter.  I love newsletters. They oftentimes bring news!  Page Two.  Announcement.  "Get Back on Track" program.  I called them up.  The morning of February third.  By two o'clock, I was at the office and meeting with a highly skilled nutritionist, the same wonderful woman with whom I met for my last pre-op info session.  And, on that glorious day, I was reminded, with words and visuals (she has lots of empty food containers on a display table), of what it was I used to stock my shelves with.  Vitamins?  OMG!  I cleared my kitchen counter before leaving for Italy and forgot to pack them.  Came home, and totally disregarded the need.

CAN'T DO THAT!!!

Deficiency in Vitamin B12 is one of the greatest threats to Bariatric surgery patients.  It, along with a host of other micronutrients, is not produced by the body in sufficient quantity due to the removal of such a huge portion of the stomach. Therefore, supplements are vital. Protein deficiencies are also common in this group and it's hard to get enough in before feeling very, very full.

Getting back "on track" means stocking up grocery shelves, filling the refrigerator, drinking gallons of water and walking, walking, walking.  Pepping up all the steps.  Reading, writing and arithmetic.


Paying attention to details is a full-time job.  New purpose to my life.  A great shot in the arm in the middle of Winter.  But, a few days into this, and I have renewed my outlook on life.  I'm hooked on a  new food-guy, blissfully watching YouTube after YouTube as I get inspired and stoked by Bobby Parrish and his flavcity.com.  He's totally amazing and for anyone who is seeking a better path to good health, Bobby is the one to watch.

It's a new day.  Still early.  I'm going to prepare a "Bobby Appproved" breakfast now.

Breakfast

It is incredibly easy to become bored and burnt out when using the Bariatric tool to its fullest.  Pardon the pun, but it is also incredibly easy to become incredibly full in an incredibly short time!
So, here I am at almost fifty pounds down, with one more month to go before the six-month goal is met, dreaming up new ways to keep the romance alive.  That's the romance with my new stomach I'm speaking of.  I promised to love and honor it and I'm keeping that promise, I promise.

One of the hardest meals of my day is breakfast.  I don't like to eat upon rising and find that simple egg to be totally unfulfilling.  It just doesn't do "it" and it is dangerous to not have a good start to the day.  I can't afford to be hungry before that "snack" time rolls around.  Also, I cannot have coffee or anything else to drink, during a meal.  I have to wait thirty minutes to an hour after.  You may recall that post about the food slipping through the funnel.  Still works that way.

I gave breakfast a lot of thought and it wasn't until very recently that I came up with a new idea, one that works and will tide me over until the next wave of boredom arrives.  It all happened when I took my granddaughters out for a morning treat at a local cafe a few weeks ago.  I ordered an egg for myself.  The counter person told me that they bake all of their eggs and I gave it a try.  Sounded like a lot of work but the other day, I had some time and a burning desire to find out what a baked egg was and what it actually entailed and I was thrilled to find out that it is easy and quick.  You can Google baked eggs and you will find a multitude of ways in which to get results.  This morning, I cranked the toaster up to 400, sprayed a tiny bake dish with cooking spray and layered some uncooked turkey bacon pieces, next some uncooked greens and finally, 3 eggs that I scrambled a bit.  Popped that in, watched it until the eggs were set and there it was....baked eggs for two.  Easy and so good.

Joe made me a second cup of coffee.  Not a thrill after the eggs but.....I dumped my coffee (with its half and half already in), into a tall plastic cup and added a container of chocolate protein drink and a bunch of ice cubes. Over thirty grams of Protein in that alone and something to sip on an hour after the nice protein breakfast. Yummy!

One meal at a time. Changing the way I relate to food.  Yes.  It can work.

It all starts with breakfast.

Three Months

I'm drinking a Carnation Instant Breakfast as I write this.  I'm having zero problem getting it all down and I'm not too certain that it will do the job of filling what used to be my full-sized adult stomach, the one that today, is the size and shape of a medium banana. As I sip, I can't help but recall Day One, post-op, my breakfast tray, and the hour it took me to ingest a few ounces of the same item, vowing with each forced sip, that I'd never eat or drink anything again.  Nausea and anesthesia fall-out ruled my life for the first twelve hours and all I truly cared about was getting back to my home.  That was three months and forty unwanted pounds ago.

It scares me to think how quickly time has passed.  Four times the short time span becomes an entire year.  At my age, I wish for longer time spans, less fleeting memories. But, in that time, I became an eye-witness to my life as it changed for what I hope, will be forever more.  I didn't cry, but I did fess up to "this" being the hardest thing I had yet done, in those early hours after being "sleeved".  I had a moment of intense fear and quite possibly, agonizing guilt for what I had done to my poor body.  How could I, how dare I, consciously and willingly make an irreversible change to what had been a body that had honored me with years of perfect health and strength?  Was I reversing my good fortune?  If I could not drink an ounce of Instant Breakfast, how could I ever have a normal meal again? Would any of my life return to normality? Again, I held back tears.  I did what I should have done many years before.....I decided then and there to take one day at a time, one meal at a time, one sip at a time.  A promise I was to forget over the next few weeks as I doubted myself and felt that I had become a "statistic", one who failed to see results following the loss of 80% of a stomach. I returned to that state of mind, and trusted my brain and body once more, drawing upon my deepest religious convictions and all of my self-preservation skills and I soldiered forward to where I am now, at the three month mark.  My blood work came back.  I passed with flying colors.  I have had no side-effects other than changes in food preferences.

Now, I can't think for one moment that anyone would be led to believe that I take any of this for granted.  When I first started writing about my "journey", I told my writing mentor, June, that I was going to knock it off.  I feared that my words would bore readers, that they would feel that enough was quite enough already. I was afraid of being billed as "self-absorbed".  June's response was "no, don't stop!" She encouraged me and kept me on track by suggesting that perhaps I might be of assistance to someone who was considering weight loss surgery, that my words might be just what they needed to hear. So, I chose to continue.  It has been said that it is when we write we discover much about ourselves and when I write, I am amazed.

Every journey begins with one step and all great journeys are made in faith.  Mine began with friends who buoyed and supported me, step by step.  My best coach ever, my husband Joe, who remembers all the things I forget and forgets all the things I remember and my amazing, amazing, mind-blowing friends who have kept me going with patience, understanding and generosity. I am grateful every day and thank God for this abundant gift, this beautiful array of loving people who encourage me, trust me and live my life with me.  They are so courageous! Friends who have taken walks, accompanied me on visits to the Surgical Center, making each one a fun trip rather than an annoying ride over the bridge when they could be elsewhere.  The friends who say "let's do lunch" or "how about dinner?" and don't avoid me because they think I don't eat. And, my best friend of all, my daughter, my "second-shooter" who I was reluctant to tell of my plans lest I would worry her. Instead of taking on the burden of worry or trying to discourage me, she made it her business to do the homework.  She researched and learned what would lie before me with the same fortitude that she has shown in making her own successful life choices.  When I was discouraged, she listened with empathy and made suggestions.  When I was encouraged, she celebrated with me and when I hadn't noticed signs of progress, she quickly brought them to my attention.  If I did this entire thing for no one else, I did it for her and her daughters and somehow, I think she totally understood that.

There will be more grunts and groans, of that I am sure.  Life won't always be this peachy-keen. I didn't buy an insurance policy that guarantees me perfect, lasting health and happiness.  I simply took a leap in faith and for now, it's paying off.  One day at a time and prayers for those who don't have choices, who have to go on journeys to far worse places.

Million Dollar Question

I heard a meteorologist on the Weather Channel refer to this May as one very cold and rainy one.  No, really?  This has been the most miserable month of May that I can recall in years.  Here in the Northeast, we haven't any guarantees at this time of the year but these past few weeks have been off the charts and everyone, everyone, is complaining....as if that would change anything.

Yesterday was the one day, after Easter, that I really count on for being sunny and bright.  It wasn't.  It was Mother's Day and it was cold, cloudy and eventually, it became stormy.  A Nor'easter.  Hard to imagine.

Other than the weather, what made yesterday unique, was the presence of my mother-in-law.  She's 102 years old and still going rather "strong" for her age.  Her full-time care provider took a nine day vacation so, before I could censor myself, the words, "have her come here", fell out of my mouth.  That was before my father, a mere 95 years old, landed up in the hospital and then the rehab center for treatment of pneumonia.  His illness came on slowly and defied my attention.  I thought perhaps it was a little cold, a cough, maybe even an allergy when I heard his groggy voice each morning for a week.  Next, a much-anticipated visit from our granddaughters took up my time and my attention and before we all knew it, he was off in an ambulance.  So, it's been child care and elder care since mid-April.

What good is living through a whole day unless you learn something from the hours?  I've had nothing but time to observe the stages of life.  Each day, when I dragged my weary body through the halls at the rehab center which also serves as a skilled nursing facility, I witnessed lives being drained of the juices that had once kept them plumped.  I watched family members putting in time as if they had done something terribly wrong for which they were now being punished.  And I wondered, how much longer would this go on for them?  And each day, I went through the same topics with my father, trying to act as if the questions were brand new and the answers were understood.  Until the next time, sometimes five minutes later, when the litany would restart.  "What's it doing out there?", "
When am I getting out of here?", "Are you coming tomorrow?".  Relentless.  And now, he's home and the same questions get asked over and over.

My husband's mother can't see due to macular degeneration.  She can't hear much, even with a hearing aid.  She has virtually no muscle strength in her arms or legs so she can't walk without assistance, something she does not always seem to grasp, so she requires constant observation and supervision.  She, like my father, has dementia.  Their brain synapses have become rusty.  The thoughts and ideas cross slowly and oftentimes, they go haywire.  It's sad. It won't get any better and I'm told that in my father's case, one day it will accelerate quickly.  He's holding his own for now.  His home is safe and there is very little he can suffer as he shelters-in-place.  But he also needs supervision.

So, yesterday, I spent the day wondering.  When will this all end?  Will we miss them, or have they truly worn out their welcome?  Are we going to be too old to appreciate our "freedom" when it finally does arrive?  Is it okay to resent all of this?  What will next Mother's Day be like?

Who will take care of us one day?  That's the Million Dollar Question.
i
P.S......for those of you who have been so supportive, in every aspect of my life, especially since my surgery....wait for it......38 pounds!!!  Thank you.

Seven Weeks

Harder to believe than the six week mark is the seven.  Still holding my own and trying to get it all figured out but it is, thankfully, so much easier and there are some results.  My daughter, for instance, came to visit last evening and she told me that there is a huge "difference" in my appearance.  So, I can breathe a bit easier.  I am not failing!  Oh sure, it has its moments.  I still get hungry but I am an avid reader of Bariatric forums and I know I am not alone.

Head hunger. That's what they, who are supposed to know this stuff cold, call it.  It differs from other hunger in that it is an emotional response rather than a physical one. Sorry, it is not what I have been experiencing.  Hyper-acidity.  That's more like it.  So, I am trying a new medication.

What bothers me most about all the "remedies" is the fact that I hardly ever took an over-the-counter medication.  Now, I have an arsenal of them. Vitamins and fiber pills and antacids to name a few.  My hope is that one day soon, I will have only vitamins in that arsenal.

The days of Spring that I had longed for are slowly slipping by without delivering their goods.  The weather has been the usual for Cape Cod in the Spring.  A no-show.  We have lots of chill in the air still and a thick white cloud fills the sky where blue is supposed to be.  It's hard to feel inspired and easy to feel that the fun days of Summer, those days spent spinning around in our swimming pool, will never show up.  Oh, they will. And I'm sure that I will be venting about how much I dislike heat and humidity.

For now, I just want those blue skies.  Oh boy, do I want to return to my life.  You know, the one filled with hope and promise and friends and laughter.  I'm tired of looking up remedies.  I'm bored with reading forums and trying to decide if the writers are telling the truth when they say things such as this....."I've lost 50 pounds since I was sleeved in the middle of February and I walk 6 to 10 miles a day".  My answer?  If you've lost 50 pounds in less than three months, you probably do not have the strength to walk 6 to 10 miles a day.  And when do you drink that water that the Bariatric people tell us we must take in every day, no sooner that one hour after a meal and no less than 30 minutes before. Oh, give me a break.....there aren't enough hours in a day!!!!

That's a whole other "head" something, don't you think??

Six Weeks????

A six-week time span used to seem like a very long time.  At least that's the way it went when I was forty years younger.  But now, time has a way of flying by and six weeks feels very much like three used to.

I went for my six week post-op visit this week.  Progress report here.  I'm still living the Bariatric Life and growing more and more accustomed to having very little choice in the feed-me department. I'm still on what is known as Stage 4 and won't progress to the big 5-0 for almost two more weeks but then, in the light of things, two weeks is an incredibly short time.  I honestly don't know where the past six have gone and what I had perceived as ultimate challenges, well, that's kid's stuff and it's all behind me now.  If you had told me some time ago, that I would be living on liquids only, for two weeks, I would have asked you to have your head examined.  But, I did it.  And give up coffee?  Wine? Anything with sugar? Pasta? Bread? A glass of water with a meal? Yahoo!!!! I did it.

With my ever-present-sidekick Beth, up we went to Wareham for the big visit.  This time, I met again with a Nurse Practitioner.  She answered a lot of my questions.  She was very nice.  Some of what she said made sense.  Other things I'm not too sure about.  She told me that I can now lift more than 10 pounds.  Wow!!  My father would have starved if I did not lift more than 10 pounds every week. I survived.  Good grief.

The hardest part and I mean it sincerely, of this whole new way of eating, is the big "rule" that says
that one cannot drink a half hour before eating and close to an hour after.  I'm not thirsty any other time of the day.....in fact, I cannot get in the recommended number of ounces of fluid per day.  Water makes me gag.  That is, unless I am told that I cannot have it.  There are a few other "rules" that can be altered to suit the occasion and the individual but this one about drinking within eating times, it cannot be dissed.  I saw a perfect little video that really impressed me and I thought I would share it.  It gives you an idea of how a "sleeved" stomach operates and why, should we be dining together, I will not join you in a cocktail.  And, cake and coffee? Ask this guy.

Enjoy!

Think ME

The hardest adaptation in the world for me is the one which demands that I think of myself first.
I'm totally unfamiliar with this type of thought and it is, I am told, vitally important that I adopt this new and different approach.  I've spent almost sixty years thinking otherwise.  I'm not self-absorbed and I was trained very well in the art of putting everything and everyone else before myself.  So, now it's time to think otherwise and it hurts.

I am so blessed.  I cannot even think of one thing irregular about my recovery from my Gastric Sleeve surgery and on Tuesday I will go for my six-week check up.  I'm waiting for my hair to start falling out but not a strand so far.  I have escaped nausea, vomiting, abdominal problems, fatigue and a gamut of other things I am told that others who have preceded me in this crazy thing have suffered.
Thank God, I am still healthy and hearty.  But, it takes a lot of work and a lot of thinking to maintain that status.

So, every day, from now on, I am going to think of ME and the things I will need all day to keep me strong and healthy. It doesn't work if I don't and I've had a few days to prove that to ME.  I left the house for a whole day yesterday with very few instant sources of protein.  Big mistake.  I can't go many hours without protein.  I do get "hungry" but not often enough and certainly not with the same urgency that my hunger once had.  My stomach feels empty at the appropriate times for the most part but getting 60 to 80 grams of protein in a day takes more than hunger signals.  It takes diligence and being prepared.  This morning, I did it again.  I knew my father's food supply was getting low so I took off, did some errands, and then did his and a bit of my own, grocery shopping.  Lunchtime passed and when I finally got to his house to deliver the goods, it was well past one o'clock.  I was grouchy, lethargic and in a full blown low blood sugar mood from which I did not recover until I ate and called Joe to blow off steam.

From now on, I don't leave home without my "supply".  I have a lovely little insulated lunch bag, one I bought especially for this time,  I also have a brand new set of plastic containers.  Think Bento Box.
I'll pack it up in the morning, pretending I am a child that I am sending off to school.

I am a child.  I still have a lot to learn.

Angel in the Waiting Room

I accompanied my Joe to an appointment at the plastic surgeon's yesterday.  Our dear Dr. Jones removed a benign cyst from his forehead.

While we were sitting in the waiting room, an adorable young woman bounced in.  She had a chic, short hairdo which I noticed at once, and a very nice body, topped off by a lovely face, angelic.  I watched as she wiggled her way into Dr. Jones' office and figured that she probably was going to see him for some breast enhancements.  She didn't look like she needed that or, for that matter, anything else in the realm of plastic surgery but hey, it's what she thinks, not I.

I've been a patient of Dr. Jones for the past four years.  He's my good buddy, having performed my breast reduction surgery, the one thing that on my death bed I will pronounce as THE best decision I've EVER made.  I love him. And, I love everybody in his office, including Jenny who does the scheduling for his surgical engagements.  I hadn't seen her in a very long time so she took five and came out into the waiting room to hug me and catch up.  I told her about my sleeve and how discouraged I was.  She related to me that Dr. Jones sees a lot of patients who come to him following massive weight losses, for skin reductions.  In telling me this, she referred to my bariatric surgeon by name......just as the young woman I had been envying, was within earshot. She stopped in her tracks and said "I'm a Dr.Kruger patient!"  What???

She took out her cell phone and immediately pulled up a photo of a very overweight woman who in no way bore any resemblance to the one standing in front of us.  "This is ME, five years ago" she proudly told us.  I've lost it and kept it off.  She was here for a follow up for her abdominal skin reduction procedure she added.

Well, I umbrella-hooked her right over to my chair and asked her how long it took before she lost weight....."Oh, a good five months before I saw any results"

I've always had a thing for angels.  I believe in them and know that they are out there, that they appear in various forms, just when we need them.  If we open our minds and our hearts, we will see them and even speak to them.  You see, God can't be everywhere no matter what He tells us.  He's too busy and I know He has better things to do than reassure neurotic people like me. So, He sends his worker-bees and I met yet another one just yesterday.

Thank you God.

Lose That Scale Already!!

I hid it but only from myself. Took it out of the bathroom and placed it on a shelf in the basement closet.  Oh boy, I'll never use it again!  Who was I kidding.  Every morning, instead of hopping right on in the bathroom, I stole down the stairs and got it out of the closet.  What a very un-smart thing that was.

The scale.  My nemesis.  The thing that rules my life?  Apparently.  If you insist on meeting someone early each morning and basing your entire day upon that meeting, I guess you could safely say that your life is being ruled by that "person".  My scale is very much a "person", one with enough of a brain to know that if I visit, I will come away with some form of emotional response.  So, like any other person who craves attention, it beckons me to get on for a ride, to pay attention to it and to consider it to be the most important part of my life.  That's what's been happening and it isn't a new story.

My mother was on a perpetual diet.  I grew up with the knowledge that food wasn't a very good thing, that it was okay for some people, but not for me and certainly not for my mother.  To this day, a whole array of diet books line the shelves in my father's den, almost five years after her death.  Together, we attended one of the earliest groups of Weight Watchers in our area.  Good God, I could not have been more than 12 years old.  The "numbers" were so important to both of us.  To me, because I was learning, to her, just because she had spent a lifetime up to that point, using the scale as a measure of her happiness or a reason to feel depressed.  She allowed that depression to become part of a viscous cycle.  Weight loss, happy and reason to continue eating plan.  Weight gain, a signal for depression and reason to eat as a way of compensating.  The scale, an emotional trigger. I knew the whole drill by heart by the time I was a teenager.

What is this total pre-occupation with numbers?  Why is the amount that we weigh so much of an issue that it causes us to weigh more? I understand the importance in the morbidly obese (but maybe they got there by scale-sabotage too), but why, why, why is it the be all and end all?  It's just a number, isn't it?  Does it make us more valuable if we weigh less?  How about self-esteem?  Aren't we happier when we are not burdened by what others consider "normal" or "acceptable"?  How many of us resort to food as a result of feeling burdened?  And tell, me, why is it that the first thing that happens during a doctor visit is the weigh-in?  Can we simply refuse?  Yes, we can.  And maybe more of us should.  Maybe we should start asking, "why is this important?".  Getting weighed is the number-one reason women avoid seeing the doctor.  Think of how many lives could be saved through early diagnosis and prevention if the scale were never used in the office?

I turned to my wise Muse this morning after I stupidly stepped on that damned scale in my bathroom and saw a gain.  Despite what the dietitian at the
Bariatric Center professed, yes, it is entirely possible to gain weight at this stage of my recovery from surgery.  I know what I saw. My Muse texted me this sage advice:

THROW YOUR SCALE AWAY!  YOU ARE DOING ALL YOU CAN.  SO LIBERATE YOURSELF FROM THE SCALE.  THROW IT AWAY AND DON'T EVER STEP ON IT AGAIN FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

And if that wasn't enough:

WEIGHT IS THE GRAVITATIONAL FORCE BETWEEN THE OBJECT AND THE EARTH. THAT IS ALL.

So, I'm taking a well-needed break from that nasty scale.  I'm focusing on better things.  Spring is here and the weather is sure to improve.  I'm going to take walks, not for "weight loss" but for the opportunity to be out, observing the beauty of my surroundings.  I'm going to use that time to listen to podcasts, maybe some lively music.  But I'm not focusing on how much I might lose when stepping on the scale the next day.  I won't, because I won't be able to.  That scale is being permanently removed from any place I can access.  I should have done that a very long time ago.

Baggy

Okay then!

I did enough griping about my scale, stuck in one place, numbers not moving.  Now, it's time to share some good news.  Guess what?  It's moving. In the absolute correct position.

I had to figure a lot of things out on my own and by George, I think I've got it.  A few calls in to the Surgery Team. They did very little except reassure me.  Come to think of it, that's a lot!  A bunch of visits to the Bariatric Forums on line, armed with the knowledge that most of those people, the bigger losers, are probably half my age and two times my starting weight.  That would account for the fact that they were dropping pounds like flies and I wasn't.  I had to have patience as everyone on my support team urged.  And I did. And it has finally paid off.  My scale is behaving quite nicely, thank you, and weight is coming off.  Finally.

A day with my "stomach" is not like a day with any other stomach I know.  Yes, I do get hungry. But that's a good thing.  Call it "head hunger" if you will, but it is a signal that tells me that the bit of my stomach called a "sleeve" is empty and probably should have something in it again.  So, I give in to the signal, making choices that are protein-first, and the signal goes away. I spend hours in my kitchen, either prepping or cleaning up.  Remember, Joe's still got 100% of his stomach!!   Come meal time, I am still following the "soft" diet and, protein first, getting some veggies in along for the ride.  Again, my sleeve works very efficiently as it gives me yet another signal. This one says, NO MORE! If I don't listen, I pay the price.  Do you know how it feels to be "stuffed" and to not have the capacity for one teensy bite more?  God bless my recliner chair.  I take to it like Winston Churchill, and I wait for the feeling of way-too-much to leave.

Now, I have a new problem.  My clothes are baggy.  Or is it that they're just old, tired, worn out and stretched?  Hmmmm.  I think that was my stomach's problem.  I am truly sorry for it. 

Almost April

Time for an update

The way I see it, I will be ending my fourth week post-op tomorrow.  Time for one of my boring updates.  Please bear with me.  This blogging is also meant to be a form of journal for me so if you don't feel like reading on, you are forgiven.

I did a lot of research on my own, unfortunately after surgery, on the weight loss outcomes for older
Bariatric patients.  By "older", the literature refers to all of us who are over age 60.  In fact, we're referred to as "elderly" by the researchers.  Blah, blah, blah.....outcomes are "different" with less success than in the younger patient groups.  We are expected to lose slower and one of the reasons is our "sedentary" lifestyles.

Okay, let me set this out there....you will NEVER find me at a gym.  I think they are seed beds for bacteria and icky diseases.  From what my husband tells me, most of the people at his gym don't seem to have a clue about hygiene and he is meticulous, wiping every piece of equipment free of the sweat from the person before him.  He never wears clothing that would allow his skin to come into contact with anything at the gym.  He also tells me stories of the rude behavior and disgusting sights in the locker room.  So, nope, I'll take a pass.  Don't get me started on other things that happen at gyms.

So, I walk for exercise and I never sit still when at home.  I'm up the stairs and down the stairs and up the stairs.  For an "elderly" person, I'm fairly active and always looking for ways to get my butt in motion.  So, maybe the theory applies somewhat but.....

I have not lost one single ounce since March 19th. and it was slow up until that point, when you look at the low caloric intake and the activity.And yes, I drink the buckets of fluid every day and just yesterday, took a 2 mile, brisk walk at the beach.  Had to be brisk, it was cold and windy!

I put a call into the Bariatric Surgery group and await an answer.  For the time being, I'm just ready to consider myself a statistic again.  

Stay tuned.

Tradition......Restriction.

                                        


I listen to Broadway show tunes in Joe's car.  He has Sirius Radio.  I only have a three month trial on my new car and won't continue it at the end of this period.  Howard Stern is one of the owners of Sirius and no way will I give him my money.  But, I do enjoy this particular station, especially for the memories it digs up as I make my way to and from the to's and from's.

The other day, a perfect number popped up.  Do you remember Zero Mostel and his famous character, Tevye, from Fiddler on the Roof?  He opened the show with a song that set the pace for what was to come. The song...."Tradition".

The song stuck in my mind and it now replays over and over. Whenever I eat.  But instead of "Tradition", my brain is playing "Restriction'.  I'm funny that way.

When I bought my new stomach, little "Prada", I bought more than just an anatomy re-configure.  I bought a tool, a working, breathing tool for doing a job.  If it's weight you want to lose, what you need is something that will help you eat less.  I got one of those.  Mine is known as "restriction" and there is a very good reason for this.  When you eat, you might keep on going until either the plate is empty (my husband's method) or you get a sense of "fullness" and even though you may push on beyond this point, at the end of the meal you might realize that you actually have eaten more than your stomach had room for and you may feel uncomfortable or remorseful.  A few burps and you're on your way. I have a whole other way of dealing with the question of how much is enough.  Mine is called "restriction".  I eat slowly, small bites at a time that I chew to the consistency of applesauce and then, all of a sudden, a signal pops up.  Loud and clear.  Oh boy, does it ever.  I get a tightness in the tummy and I know that it is time to put down the fork and call it a meal.  I don't dare go beyond that point.

So, Zero, you are on my mind at breakfast, lunch and dinner, every day of my new life.  Restriction pays off.....perhaps slower than I, who always likes to see results, would want it to but it does work and that nasty scale proves it.

What I did not know before surgery, was that the weight loss was going to be slow.  No, I'm not resorting to Weight Watchers.  I am sticking with my program, eating slowly and waiting for restriction to announce itself.  I'm a Fiddler, sitting on a rooftop and this, my friends, is my new tradition.

Mystery

I'm trying to see the humor in all of this but today's it's hard.  Today is my first real day of being discouraged.  Hey, I'm allowed!

I just tried to eat one whole scrambled egg and had to stop half way through. That's called "restriction" and it is what keeps people with sleeves from eating any more than a few morsels.  It is not a new feeling.  I've been experiencing it in varying degrees since Wednesday.  Eat more than that signal allows, and spend an hour burping and feeling generally uncomfortable so the learn-as-you-go method really does work.

My scale tells me that it is happy with the weight I am at. That my body does not want to weigh less, despite the lack of food and the tiny number of calories.  I can't do anything more to make that change.

I must remember what I learned in my preparation for surgery.  One of the big things that I did not want to, but did, hear is that there are no guarantees.  Some bodies just don't respond to this whole thing.  I've stopped reading blogs from people who had surgery on my same day.  They're cruising along, dropping pounds like flies.  It makes me sad and angry so I just don't do it any more.

God gives us tools for our lives.  He works in strange ways.  I've always been very tolerant of the needs of people with special diets and of course, with people who have distorted body images. I don't think I needed a lesson in how to acquire any new virtues therein.  But, maybe He has other plans for me.  Maybe He wants me to be even more aware of the hell my son goes through with his Celiac Disease.  Maybe he wants me to learn to accept my fate and to be there for someone else who finds the same thing in his or her life.  I honestly don't know.

For now, all I can do is wait for the message.  I gave it my best, absolute, best, try.  I really, really did.
I just don't want to be told to drink more water.  Please do not do that.  I drink so much and have no idea of where it goes.  Some things are just meant to be mysteries.  I'll accept that.

Egg Down

The long-anticipated scrambled egg.  I have to report, it went down without a glitch so far.  I'm kinda disappointed because I honestly thought that I was going to have to stop, halfway through, because I was already feeling full.  Not so.  I could eat a dozen.  Maybe that's head hunger?  I don't know but it is discouraging.

This new stomach, it's only a tool.  There are no guarantees that after all this, I will lose weight.

But, I gave it my best shot and I'm ready for the next health professional who suggests that I lose weight and resorts to scare tactics such as "you are going to die from heart disease".   Bring 'em on, I'm waiting.

I have come full-cycle now with using this blog as a way to keep everyone posted on my progress.
I'm fine.  I really am. I'm back in the groove, ready to get together with friends again, go to movies, take walks, entertain.  Thanks for checking in and caring.  This stuff can be boring. Trust me.  My own daughter gave up being interested within the first week.  My son asks once in a while.  My father thinks I had something done to my foot, for what reason I do not know, but he's deemed me all put-back together so he's moved on.

So, I'll update from time to time but from now on, I'm returning to writing about other stuff and other people and there will be times when I write about gratitude because that's the most important thing in the world.  I'm so grateful to my friends who showed their love and their concern.  About that, I could write an entire book.

We dodged a big bullet yesterday.  The Nor'easter that was headed our way with the promise of many inches of new snow, materialized in the form of an ocean's worth of rain and wind.  The sky is blue, the air crisp, and the sun is shining.  The promise of Spring has returned and with it, let's hope the patio contractor returns soon to complete the job.  I can't wait to have our new patio so that we can fill it with good times and our beautiful array of friends.

Gotta go.  I'm still hungry.  Remember.....I tried!!!!!

Week Two, Done.

Today marks a momentous occasion.  It is the official end to my two weeks of the famous post-surgery liquid diet and it means that two short weeks ago, I underwent surgery.  Now where did that time go?  I've healed and Joe's learned to cook.  Time well spent.

The past weeks have not been difficult.  I count my blessings for I know that not everyone who gets
"sleeved" has the same results.  Post-op complaints range from constant nausea to pain in the abdomen with each movement.  I've also been 100% compliant.  And, I know, that has a lot to do with my outcome.  For some reason, I think my surgeon wasn't too sure of my ability to get through all of this with flying colors.  He based a lot on my "age" and boy, was that a mistake on his part. I could have led a parade of people years younger than myself, at the hospital.

So, tomorrow, it's the real world.  Re-entry. Just like a baby, eating solid foods for the first time, I will be trying them on for size.  I get to add things like cottage cheese, eggs, soft cheeses, pureed fruits, overcooked vegetables and a small but welcomed list of other things.  I'm told that it would not be wise to scramble 2 eggs.  I've been consuming bowls, not just little cups, of creamed soups and broths, whole containers of Greek yogurt and gallons of drinks so it is hard to imagine that I won't be able to get one whole egg down at a sitting.  This should be very interesting.

So, I'm ready for a good night's sleep.  I feel like the kids do on Christmas Eve.  Let's get to bed, sleep and get the night over-with so that we can wake up to Christmas Morning.

I hope that Santa remembers that I have been a very, very good girl.  

Best Wishes

I have been drifting around on a Bariatric Forum.  I find it interesting to hear the stories of others, especially those who were "sleeved" on the same day as I. I already picked up a few tips from some of the contributors and hopefully, have helped a few with my own comments.  This is how I am going to roll. I am not going to attend support groups  Sorry, I'm just not a support group kinda gal. I am ready, willing, and able to give support to anyone who needs or wants it but I can't sit in a circle, sharing stories and what I know will be a catalog of "recipes", with a group of strangers.  That has never worked for me in the past and I doubt that it will do me much good in the future.  Were it such a great tool for success, I would have become a Weight Watcher leader by now.  I do my own thing, always have and always will.

My greatest support has come, and continues to come, from my friends. People who truly know me and people I truly know.  Most of them are thin, few of them even know what it's like to have a weight "problem".  But, they're there, all of them fresh and ready to cheer me on.  They have been there from the start.  I have encountered only one , shall I say "opponent". This, by the way, is the one person who professed to have known me "best" or at least, she, held that thought.  In the end, it became abundantly clear that she knew me the least and a long-lasting friendship came to a screeching halt.  It was this person who questioned my motives and boldly asked me why, "at my age" I would consider doing this.  Huh?  I'm not a hundred. And even if I were, I would still have been just as appalled.  Why? Why?  Why not????

On one of the forums, I came across a video done by a young man on the cusp of having his own surgery.  He answers the question, why?,  beautifully when he tells his YouTube audience that he has made his decision based upon some pure logic.  He's overweight, always has been.  He's tired of the fight but knows that this is not the easy way out by any means. But, he's 43 and knows that while he is healthy now, he won't be in ten years.  Like me, he does not have any real health issues.  Now.  Like me, he knows that surgery and big lifestyle changes become harder as we age.  So, like me, he made the decision to change what he can when he still has a choice and when he knows he will be able to pull it off.  Like me, he isn't in this for the "looks".  Like me, he isn't interested in appearing better, just feeling better.  Just changing what can be changed before it is too late. I like him.

I hope that my anonymous YouTube friend is as fortunate as I have been.  I know he's nervous about the surgery and very possibly, scared about the recovery.  He won't tell his Italian mother.  He doesn't want her to worry and knows she will.  Bless his soul.  I hope to find a follow-up video one day soon. I was nervous too.  I was sure that I wanted to be right there, at that time, in that pre-op room.  But surgery always presents a risk.  I had to sign a boat load of papers that testified to my understanding of those risks.  As I lay there, in between signing and getting poked and set for the procedure, the miracle of technology allowed me to check my email on my phone.  I received a note from a friend that lifted my spirits and carried me through the waiting time and the hardest moments of the recovery time.  It is a note that everyone should have in their in-box, at least once in a life time.
It was from my friend Patti.  God, I am so blessed.

All the things I love about you are unaffected by weight gain or loss. 

Best wishes   -   Patti

Leaving Stage Three

Well, I'm almost there.  My "new" life has "new" goals and of course, with each, new rules and new opportunities to feel a sense of accomplishment.

The Bariatric Surgery diet is conveniently divided into stages.  A "Newbie" learns, during the months of preparation, that passing from stage to stage post-operatively, one allows the reconstructed stomach to heal and to learn to contain food again.  Follow the rules, and it is expected that the organ will cooperate and will set up a pathway between itself and the brain and all will be well but different.
Don't follow the rules and the pathway gets interrupted and the poor, wounded stomach will not heal. Don't drink enough fluids and dehydration surely will ensue.  The professionals on the team drill all that into the heads of their patients.

So, the very first Stage in this healing/learning life is met with tiny sips of water only hours after surgery.  Following the successful ingestion of a medicine cup filled with water, four small bottles of water are left at the bedside and it's time to prove you really want to go home in two days.  Sip, sip, sip, get those bottles chugged down.....without chugging.  Nurses come around, perhaps not as often as they should, but their eyes are on the prize.  They also have a goal.  Want to work on a Bariatric floor, make sure your patients get that fluid down orally in addition to intravenously.  From that point, the assaulted stomach is asked to accept some more fluids the following day.  This was not an easy task. Suddenly, everything that was the slightest bit sweet, tasted like it contained only sugar.  Jello, Carnation Instant Breakfast, Crystal Light and Snapple became the enemies.  I thought I was going to be nauseous forever and had a tiny moment of buyer's remorse.  The third day, still in the famous Second Stage, I felt a bit more tolerant and took in some more fluids in all of their forms.  My ability to get home was based upon my ability to empty things that were brought to me by the Dietary Aides, God love them.  Each tray was a monument.  Every slide of food, a weapon against remaining in that bed, walking the floors, dragging an I.V. pole.  If you know me, you understand that I was not going to stay another night in the hospital and I was going to convince my doctor to D.C. the I.V.
From the moment I became un-tethered, I met the food tray with new resolve.  "I'm getting out of here tonight!" So I dumped my tomato soup down the bathroom sink, put on my own nightgown and turquoise robe, and did a dance for my doctor when I met him in the hall.  Bam!

I came home, as I had anticipated, well into Stage Three.  I honored my new "pouch" which I now refer to as "Prada".  Excuse me, but if I have to rename my stomach, I'm giving it a fitting name. Think designer handbag if you don't mind.  So, for the past, not-quite two weeks, I have been feeding Prada clear liquids, protein drinks, strained soups, broths, artificially sweetened Greek yogurts devoid of anything that resembles fruit, teas, waters, and not much more.  I am proud to say that I did it.  Not once did I waiver.  Prada lets me know if I'm "eating" too fast or drinking more than sips.  Prada has been kind and we have worked it out together.  We're ready, together to move on.  We've made it through the storm and it's all down hill from here, or at least I hope so. One more day and I start "mushy" foods. I'll add a whole lot more to the list of things I can have and I am told that I will have to chew very slowly and listen to Prada when I'm getting the signal to stop.  It will be a learning curve, one that will take me through the next four weeks.  I'm not ready for more than this and I'm still following those rules.

In four weeks, I betcha I'll never eat another flavored yogurt or drink another Snapple.  Plain water never tasted so good.

Let's Hear it for the Girls

This is one of my absolute favorite photos.  I took thousands of them when I was in Italy all by myself following my mother's death.  For an entire month, I walked around the town of Assisi and my camera was firmly planted in my palm, ready to capture moments that I never wished to forget. One afternoon, these two beautiful ladies showed up.  As un-obtrusively as I could possibly be, I aimed my camera, hoping to find a story. My camera was my conduit to the stories that I knew I would later be writing, that the people and places I came upon were pieces of a big picture, participants in a life so large it could only be recorded one frame at a time. The pre-travel goal was simple.  I needed time to heal of course, but I wanted to find stories.  I needed to have new frames of reference that would carry me through the rest of my life if not through the mourning of a cherished one.

Who are these ladies?  Where are they going?  In a matter of a few seconds, my mind whirled with questions and I knew that there were so many possible answers.  They were oblivious to me and my camera, engaged in a conversation.  As they walked uphill, possibly a metaphor in itself, they continued to talk, neither needing to stop to catch a breath.  Apparently, they were conditioned to the demands of their walk, probably having done it on a regular basis for many, many years.  Did they always ascend this hill together at the same time each day I wondered.  One story finds them having just left the home of a friend or a relative.  Were they related?  Sisters?  Sisters-in-law? Cousins? Or, were they life-long good friends?  Were they gossiping?  Maybe they were planning something or sharing a recipe.  Or were they sharing mutual concern over the health of a loved one.  Maybe they weren't coming from a place at all.  They could have been on their way to a familiar location or home.
My questions will never be answered.  I can always enjoy the photo and speculate but it does serve as a constant reminder of the beauty of sisterhood.

This is not about celebrating International Women's Day.  I celebrate that every day, thank you.  But this is about girl friends, gal-pals. You have been MAGnificient and you know who you are.  You are a cause for jubilation each and every day and in my life, you have made your presence known in an even more joyous way than you have ever before.  The last weeks have brought you out in force.  You have called, emailed, texted, visited, driven and taken time to share.  Without you, I would have a lesser life.  With you, my life is filled to the brim with more than I could ever hope for. The times we spent together allowed us to share, gave us the opportunity to catch up on all aspects of our lives and hopefully, solve some of our own little problems.  Women are naturally endowed with that ability, the keepers of secrets, the solvers of problems.  We have power and we have strength and we are not afraid to share love.

Yesterday was filled with post-op medical visits.  My darling friend Beth drove the 45 minutes to the surgeon's office and waited for me.  We needed that time to catch up.  Our lives have been too busy and complicated lately and our regular weekly days-out had fallen by the wayside.  When she dropped me off, we hugged and promised to resume our weekly rituals as soon as we can.  The day before, my amazing pal Lynette picked me up for some R&R, getting me out of the house and helping me to re-enter the real world.  We shopped, we sipped tea, we shared and I was left with a beautiful basket filled with all of the right tools for pampering myself.  How did she know that I needed just that?  Girlfriends.  They know it all.  Intuition.  Empowerment.  Brave spirits.

My day ended yesterday with one final note of pure woman-power, when I had my appointment with my GP, Patty Fater.  She's an amazing woman and I am totally blessed to have her as my very own doctor.  I simply cannot explain her.  To know her is to love her and to trust her and I do all of the above.  When I asked her why I wasn't losing weight despite my low caloric intake and why I wasn't running to the toilet despite my high fluid intake, she put my mind totally at ease.  She spoke to me as only a woman, grounded in the truth would.  Here's what she said:

"Your body is still in a protective mode.  It does not know that you did this intentionally.  It assumes you have been assaulted and it will hold onto everything it can, including volumes of water, until it is sure that you are okay.  Then, and only then, will it feel free to release anything"

I hugged her as we parted and then I gave her some of my wisdom.

"If you are scared that you will go down the same path of one of your ancestors, that heredity will be the only view of the future, be brave and change what you can. And, if you are not completely in love with your doctor, your friend, then find another"

On the scale this morning.....lost a pound. Things are changing.  My body knows I'm a woman!!!

One Week "Out"

Well, I made it.  Got through a whole week!  This time last week, I was getting ready for the journey's start and now, boy am I ever on that journey.  I'm still trying to get that massive amount of fluid down, still sipping because if I go too fast I get a pain in my "sleeve, formerly known as my stomach" that alerts me.  My Knight in Shining Armour came to the rescue again yesterday with a stop off at CVS after I found good information regarding the hunger pangs.  The rumblings that had been so overwhelming, have a lot to do with acid in the stomach,so liquid Gaviscon was suggested.  A quick text to the Joe and a bottle of the elixir arrived home with him.  One or two teaspoons and relief!  Now, I'm not going to say that I am totally un-hungry.  Let's wait til the week-after-next to make that assessment, but I am grateful to not be entertaining troops in the little banana that is at the base of my esophagus.  That was soooooo discouraging.  That, and the no-show at the scale.

I decided to take control of everything in my life again so yesterday was "Lay-Back Day".  I made a conscious effort to record everything I ate and drank so that I'm ready for the post-op visit with the nurse practitioner (that should be a story in itself) on Thursday.  I have an app on my phone called "Bariatastic" and it's all there.  Not even a thousand calories.  Plus lots of water.  Plus....a gigantic chunk of walking time yesterday afternoon.  Joe dropped me off with my iPhone earbuds and my Pandora Broadway Show Tune station and I never stopped for 45 minutes.  Not bad for an old broad at one week post "rip it out and run", is it? I'm grateful for my being in whatever fitness classification I fall into.  I went along at a good clip, never got winded or sore and today, not one twinge. So, needless, to say, I'm also ready for the "you have to exercise" speech.  You know the one, it's usually delivered by a 30 year old or an overweight doctor.  You get my drift.

My advice to anyone post surgery, no matter what surgery, is to slow down, take it easy.  Remember that your body and brain have been traumatized and it takes time to heal.  Just because you look all put back together or even notice the absence of pain, it does not mean that you are ready to face the entire world all at once. Sitting and thinking have their virtues.  Being mindful is a highly recommended past time.  And, about the hunger, I guess it isn't a real problem. After a nice relaxing day during which I pampered myself, I helped Joe cook his dinner.  It was an amazing version of chicken piccata.  It did not bring on one longing.  All that was stirred was the lemon sauce.  We made asparagus and I delighted in capturing the cooking water and claiming it as a "fluid".  In a mug, next to my chair, it was gourmet-ville.  I dreamt about pureeing the stalks and today making a creamy soup, another "fluid".

So, here's to another day, more special than yesterday for a number of reasons.  Why, a mere 46 years ago today, we became parents for the first time.  I held my beautiful baby son in my arms and promised him that I would protect him from harm all the days of his life.
He's a beautiful human being.  So smart and talented.  He's made us proud and been a source of comfort.  So, today, I dedicate to Joshua Charles Guardino.  Interestingly, it was Josh who questioned why I was doing what I was about to do.  He said that he did not think I was a candidate for weight loss surgery, that he loved me just the way I am.  Well, Josh, I am what and who I am and this is how I do it.  I love being loved.

Smart Baby Day

Day Three at home begins.  So far, all I can say is that as baffling as it all sounds, I am managing to get through this first week of the liquid diet and I don't feel tired, weak, nauseous or in pain.  I have more energy than I should have and have to keep reminding myself that less than one week ago, Dr. Kruger (an unfortunate name for a surgeon) came through my belly with a chainsaw and helped himself to a chunk of my stomach!  Were this thirty years ago, I would still be laying in Intensive Care and now that I think about it, my grandmother, due to stomach "problems" had less of hers removed 40 years ago and died while in the hospital.

So, it gets easier every hour it seems.  Apparently, I have been successful in getting enough fluids.Soupy-solids, not so much.  I'm progressing slowly in that department.  I read the info sheet that the dietitian handed out for this week and I willingly admit that I'm not up there with the best of the Protein ingesters.  That will come.  So much of that stuff is sweet and sweet is one of my new hate words.

I don't sleep any better ( and you know, I don't weigh much less yet) so when I woke up in the middle of last night......hungry......I had plenty of time to think about the situation at hand, er in abdomen.
I pictured what is now called my "pouch" and realized that the feeling I was experiencing was not "hunger".  It was the feeling of "empty" because it was not full. I thought to myself "This is what a baby feels like  when it wakes up crying at night. " What does an infant know of "hunger"? It just feels the loss of food in its tiny pouch that one day will be called a "stomach" and it cries so Mommy and Daddy will fill it up.  My mother is deceased and in a gazillion gazillion years there is no way I would call upon my father for sustenance and my incredibly amazing husband who would do anything on the Earth for me, was making it pretty clear that he was sound asleep so I got myself out of bed and into the kitchen.  Earlier in the day, we were in a store and I spotted little "portion cups" with lids, the type that they give you with your take-away food.We picked up a pack, knowing that we were directed to do so by the angels. I portioned out the amount of plain Greek, high protein yogurt that I imagined would fill my pouch into a little cup, and brought it back to the bedroom.  I sat down in my comfy chair and fed my inner baby.  Just enough.  I was correct in my estimation. As soon as I got the monkeys in my brain to stop swinging from tree to tree, I was back to sleep.

My Bariatric Team encourages support group attendance.  It's almost mandatory.  They believe that sitting in a group, listening to others either complain about how deprived they feel or spout out recipes for Instant Milk Enriched Artificially Sweetened Pudding, impacts upon ones success. Trust me, for a lot of people, this becomes a lifeline.  I know that I'm not going that route.  If for no other reason, I have Joe on my side, he's my sounding board and Director of the Cheer Squad.  I've got friends, oh-my-God-do-I-have- FRIENDS, who are right there, crashing me through the ceiling.  So, here's how I figure it.....instead of attending a support group of recent "Sleevers", I'm going to sit down with a group of smart babies.  I think they know a lot more about how to keep a tiny stomach full and how to keep those diapers wet.

Today, Smart Baby Day, Number One. Bring it on!!