2 years ago....

Two years ago yesterday, my life changed.  Two years ago yesterday, I took my biggest step in this very long journey.  Two years ago yesterday, I did something some people think is the "easy" way out.  Two years ago yesterday, I had bariatric surgery.  I had a sleeve gastrectomy.

In the months between my initial appointment and my surgery date, I thought things were the most difficult they'd get.  I had multiple appointments each week for tests and clearances, not to mention a couple of very large health scares.  I didn't know it then, but that was just the beginning of this roller coaster... a roller coaster I'd ride again and wish I rode years prior.

I'm going to take the lead of a friend of mine who also had the sleeve surgery and talk about what I miss since surgery.

I miss pasta, rice, and bread (and oh boy do I!).

I miss ice cream (although Halo Top is pretty darn good).

I miss fast food - because sometimes you just want some fries and a Frosty.

I miss beef (because my sleeve doesn't tolerate it well), but a good burger or a nice filet sound really yummy, especially as we enter grilling season.

But I also have a list of things I don't miss...

I don't miss dreading my PCP's office calling with lab results, only to learn my blood sugar is pre-diabetic and my triglycerides and cholesterol are high.

I don't miss being embarrassed meeting new people and ashamed when I went with my husband to a work function.

I don't miss thinking how I'd like to do something (like going to the mountains to see waterfalls, for instance), but knowing that it wasn't feasible because I didn't have the physical stamina.

I don't miss having to skip rides at Disney because I didn't fit (or not trying because I was worried I wouldn't and couldn't bear that embarrassment).

I don't miss people asking if I was pregnant.  This one was especially painful as a woman unable to bear children.

I don't miss being the most obvious, most stared-at person in the room, while simultaneously being the most invisible.

I don't miss being given the once-over at the airport to determine if I need to buy an extra seat.

I don't miss needing to ask for a seat belt extender when I did fly.

I don't miss getting winded walking up a flight of stairs.

I don't miss being forced to shop online because I wore a size too large to be carried in stores.

I don't miss needing to catch my breath after bending over to tie my shoes.

I don't miss being treated as sub-human, being ignored, and being talked "at."

I don't miss not being able to take my dogs for a walk.

I don't miss dreading the sight of a restaurant booth,.

I don't miss having to squeeze into the the drivers side of the car or an airplane seat.

I don't miss my C-PAP machine!

I don't miss taking 2 different blood pressure medications.

I don't miss people making judgments of me based solely on my size.

I don't miss people offering hugs to others but not to me (obesity is not contagious!).

I don't miss doctors dismissing very real and unrelated symptoms, blaming them on my weight.

*these lists are not by any means exhaustive, just limited by my current brain shutdown.

The list of things I miss...those are all tangible.  But most of the things I don't miss are the opposite - they can't be held or touched or bought.  They are intangible and they weren't going away unless I lost the weight.

On another note, 7 weeks ago today I had my panniculectomy.  I saw the surgeon on Monday and he is pleased with how I'm healing.  He said I don't have to return for 6 weeks, which about sent me into shock.  I've seen him at least every week or two for the past 7 weeks.  I think I'm going to have withdrawal!

I also saw my bariatric surgeon this week.  While the 5 lbs of skin removed during my panniculectomy would have put me at half of my highest weight, I remain the same weight I was the day of surgery (I suspect due to fluid retention...that, and not being able to workout).  I'm a stubborn woman (although the word tenacious is so much nicer, isn't it?) and will get to that 163 lb mark so I can officially be half of my former self.  It just may take some time to do it because I'm slightly less strict with my diet than I was a year ago.  However, the bariatric surgeon said that he wishes all of his patients were as successful as I've been, since I've maintained my weight within about 5 pounds for the past year.

You've come to learn that I'm very open about my journey and want to help out anyone I can.  Please don't hesitate to share my blog if you know someone considering surgery or who has had surgery (either bariatric or skin removal).

Thanks for taking the time to read this!

Cancelled Surgery and My Mood

It's not easy to admit, but my mood has taken a real hit since surgery was cancelled.  This process has been very difficult for me for reasons I'm choosing not to reveal in such an open forum.  Suffice it to say, having to delay it has really affected me.  I feel more depressed and sometimes that means I want to eat emotionally - which is never veggies, I can tell you that!

I'm on a newer mood stabilizer, but have maxed out the dose.  It's another month until I see the nurse practitioner so for now, I deal.

What does that look like?  It means getting as much sleep as I can.  I have a bunch of chronic illnesses (doesn't it seem like it should be illni?) so sleep can often evade me.  I must maintain good sleep hygiene.  I try to steer clear of the junk food.  While I'm only ever able to do small amounts anyway, it's best to try to avoid the junk totally.  It means I keep all of my doctor appointments - with all doctors.  It means taking all of my meds, except those I'm now under mandate to stop (vitamins and supplements, most of which I'm taking since the bariatric surgery and aspirin).  It means trying to move... to do something physical.  I haven't been back to the trainer since the week before surgery was rescheduled.   I have an exercise bike here at the house and I'll ride that for several miles while streaming something to distract myself.  I've also taken on the enormous task, both with and without my husband, of walking the dogs.  The fresh air won't hurt -- when it's not snowing (can I say - what's up with April snow??  I suspect it doesn't bring May flowers... just sayin').  It means maintaining relationships and not isolating, but keeping good boundaries and making very intentional decisions about when and what I do so I don't overdo it.  That's the short list.  And it's exhausting.

Tonight it means I'm going to bed super early.  I see the surgeon in the morning to get final clearance for surgery.  I did see a dermatologist about a week and a half ago and she was going to send a letter to the surgeon offering her opinion (which would not pose a problem with surgery moving forward on Friday).

Yes, this is a short post.... you're welcome ;)  But having a lot of stress in my life does pretty horrible things to my mood and I felt like addressing it here was somehow necessary.

How do you feel?

I often hear the statement "you must feel SO much better."  Wow, define "better" if you would, please.  Do I have a stamina for physical activity I lacked at 326 pounds?  Without a doubt!  Do I feel less ashamed by my appearance, especially when meeting new people or seeing people I haven't seen for years?  For sure!  Am I relieved to not be the proverbial (and literal, it felt like) elephant in the room while being totally invisible all at the same time?  You bet!

But do I feel better?  That's a loaded question in my world.  You see, I feel.  I feel deeply.  I feel pain.  I feel the pain of fibromyalgia.  I feel the pain of a mental illness.  I feel the pain of being a trauma survivor.  Losing nearly half of my weight... well, that doesn't change those "feels."  In fact, I can no longer try to eat away those feelings.  I can't shove a bag of candy down my throat in an attempt to turn off feeling all of that.  There is no box of cookies to numb that.

Losing nearly half of my body weight doesn't make me able to work again.  It doesn't shut off all the reasons I became disabled in the first place.  It's easy to assume, and I choose to presume a very innocent thing to tell me how much better I must be feeling.  But if I'm being honest, this is probably the hardest thing I've ever done, so in some ways I feel worse.  This isn't an easy fix - none of it is.

I know around any corner is a monster waiting to steal from me.  Not in the physical sense.  Not having my wallet taken or my car broken into.  But stress is a thief.  For me, stress is a direct arrow shooting towards a decline in my mental health.  Stress is everywhere and I work hard to manage it, but I remain aware of the damage it can do to me in no time flat.

I don't harbor ill feelings towards anyone who says that to me, who assumes I'm "fixed" because of having lost so much weight.  I walk away frustrated by the ignorance our society holds regarding so many of the issues I had at my highest weight.... issues that didn't disappear when the weight did.

I work with a trainer twice a week.  Do I feel like getting up and going to work out?  Not usually.  I don't feel energetic enough lately to get out of bed and pushing my body to its limits.  In fact, I'd rather do just about anything before going to that gym.  But I do it.  It doesn't feel good.  I do it because I know I need to.  I do it because I've worked too hard to gain back the weight I've lost.

This may sound like a bit of a pity party and it's not - I assure you.

I will say that at my highest weight, getting up in front of a group of people to work my direct sales business felt more overwhelming than there are words in the English language to describe.  I have gained confidence - both from losing weight and from having a successful business.  But let me define success - because it's not the same for any individual who's reading this.  For me, working my business, staying an active Consultant, helping people - that is success.  I was a social worker.  It's in my blood to help people.  Now helping just looks different than it did.  I help people find solutions to problems.  I help a local food bank or cancer center by doing a fundraiser.  That...that is success.  Will I ever be able to go as far in my education as I'd hoped?  It's not likely.  I was going to get my PsyD, possibly simultaneously getting my JD so I could be an advocate for those who can't advocate for themselves.  But because of my chronic illnesses, furthering my education is unlikely.  I have had to redefine success.  I want to inspire people, help people, prompt positive change in people.  That is success for me.

Has my weight loss story been a successful one (if you'll allow me to use the word in a different context)?  I'd like to think so.  In fact, exactly one month from today I'm scheduled to go in for a panniculectomy to have excess skin removed from my abdomen, pending insurance approval (praying for insurance approval).  A surgeon doesn't even consider that procedure if someone hasn't been successful in their weight loss journey.  It's a long and tedious operation.  It carries some risk.  But he sees it as a good thing for me.  He feels confident that insurance will approve the surgery.  Am I at my goal weight yet?  Not exactly, although I'm a matter of a few pounds away from being HALF of what I was.  I'll lose a few pounds of skin and that's a good thing.  I don't have pictures to show since I last wrote.  In fact, I've had a few difficult weeks and have put some food in my body that's not ideal.  I won't get on the scale.  I won't let those few bad weeks define my journey...my success.  But this surgery feels like the next step.

So, I hope you accept my honesty and bluntness.  But know that assuming anyone feels "so much better" because of no longer being super obese (the actual BMI category when my number was over 54) isn't a safe assumption.  There was more to me than my 326 pounds and there is still so much more to me than my 167 pounds.

Do I feel better?  That's complicated.

Short and Sweet: my Failed Attempt at Weight Loss Surgery

Ok, ok, I can hear it now - it wasn't your fault, you aren't a failure, you didn't fail, the doctors did what was in your best interest.  Yes, logically I know all of this.  Emotionally, well that's a different story.

And it begins.  April 26th, the day ingrained in my whole world.  I had a countdown clock on my phone and could look at any point how many days I had left until my life would change.  Yes, I've made plenty of positive changes since my first visit with the surgeon on 12/30.  Between then and 4/24, I lost 40 lbs!  Granted, I was on the mandatory 2-week  liquid diet, which certainly helped matters, but still - 40 pounds!  I'll tell you right now that I've gained about 14 of those lbs back since the infamous failure day.

I arrive at the hospital and am almost giddy with excitement.  I may have been the only person in pre-op who was joking around and happy to be there.  I was PUMPED!  The doctor came in, telling me he had plenty of sleep the night before... whew!  My mind was at ease on that one (not that I even considered it a factor).  I was there for one reason: to start an irreversible journey.  Yes, before I move on, I know several people who have taken this journey and wound up gaining some or all of the weight back.  Here's my reality, though.  I HATE to vomit.  While I've always had weight issues, I have never even considered (even as a dancer) purging.  I know life after this surgery will be radically different.  I know my relationship to food will forever be altered and that there are foods I won't be able to eat ever again (without the whole puking thing).  It's sort of very hard to fathom right now, but the thought of never having gnocchi or my Mom's red velvet cake again may be a reality.

So, returning to the hospital.  The anesthesiologist comes in and puts in an IV.  She said that she didn't really like the vein (especially considering I'll be on IV fluids for a few days and it needs to be a strong vein), but it was good enough to put me under so she doesn't torture me while I was awake - I sincerely appreciated that, since I know I have horrible veins.  She gives me a muscle relaxant, to which I'm nearly immune, given that I used to be on something like 2 mg three times a day of Xanax.  I remember them wheeling me into the OR and putting the mask over my face.  After that, the next thing I know is that they're rushing me through the hallways telling people to get out of the way.  I wasn't really alert to know what, if anything, this meant (I mean, it could have been people on break having lunch or talking on the phone for all I knew).  I am slightly conscious and am asked if I'm in any pain, I'm shocked to be able to say "no."  I mean - major surgery brings with it some discomfort - at least - and I felt ok.

When I'm awake enough someone (either the anesthesiologist or the Fellow working under my surgeon) says "you don't know yet, do you?"  Ummm... know what?

Well, I woke up to needle sticks all over my body - from my foot to all over my hands and arms.  I don't think twice about it because the anesthesiologist said she would try to find a better vein.

So, here's what I didn't know.  They didn't do the surgery.  You read that right.  It turned out that when they put me under my blood pressure tanked.  I can't remember how low it went, but I think hubby said something about the bottom number being in the 60-range.  I was also told that when they took the oxygen away, my O2 level dropped to 80.  They tried for 40 minutes to increase my levels, but to no avail.

Everyone in the Operative Waiting Room was getting calls that their friend/family member was done with surgery, because they would get up to go to the PACU (post-operative care unit).  Then hubby saw my doc.  In person.  Coming to speak with him in the waiting room.  No other doctor did that.  First he said that I was fine and took him into what has come to be known as the "bad news" room.

I spent the day sobbing, and the rest of the week crying on and off when I'd think about it.  The Fellow came to see me often.  They ran a chest CT to make sure I didn't have a pulmonary embolism and a blood gas (I can't remember what that was for, but they had to get blood out of my artery -- in my wrist - OUCH!  That thing still stings if I hit it the wrong way).  They wanted to make sure they ruled out all life-threatening causes.  It seems that it was probably because I was on 2 bp meds and the ace inhibitor (not the beta-blocker) likely kept them from upping my bp.  Just FYI: I'm working with my GP and we think we have it figured out -- that I lost the weight to the point where it affected my need for as much medication to lower my bp.  One time when the Fellow came in, she asked if I was ok.  My typical answer for the day was "physically."  I said, through my tears, that I felt like I was over-reacting.  I have to say, she was wonderful!  She assured me that I was not...that I was truly expecting something life-changing to happen...something I'd prepared for since 12/30 by getting clearances and doing testing.  She thought my reaction was normal.  This conversation happened after I had the CT.  Prior to that one of the nurses in the PACU got an order from my doc to have lunch.  When the doc came in, he explained again what happened I sobbed to him that I could NOT do the 2-week liquid diet.  That just about killed me!  He said that he's done it and wouldn't make me do it again.  I would later find out that he'd only require 1 week.

People were coming and going and absolutely not eating in that unit, but as soon as I got back from the test, I ate (somewhat differently than had I had the surgery!).  Hubby had gone to get lunch during this time, so my conversation with the Fellow was private.  I was on that unit for the entire day!!!  The protocol/rule is that there can be 1-2 visitors at a time for up to 15 minutes.  Hubby was there nearly all day and we had a friend there who stayed for probably an hour into the PACU, but there were no seats and he was getting uncomfortable.  When my nurse came back from lunch (she rocked, by the way - hugely rocked!), she made the "isolation" room available to us.  Rather than being surrounded by curtains, it was a private area with 4 walls so I could be with hubby (and he could sit) and it could all be very private.  I'm sure anyone who was there heard the sobs, despite how discrete they were (and they really were).  I was told that the doc said he'd re-arrange things to get me in asap, which I thought was incredibly thoughtful and kind.  I found out that he did feel guilty that it didn't work out, especially since I was so excited in pre-op.

It was up in the air if I'd be admitted for the night or go home.  When they left the decision up to me I made it clear that I was in no shape to make decisions.  My depressive symptoms had reared their ugly heads and decisions weren't my "strong" suit.  The Fellow came back a bit later and said that the doc would release me if I wanted.  Somehow when she put it that way, I felt free to say that I just wanted to come home -- see my furbabies, sleep in my own bed, wake up in my house in the morning (and avoid hubby having to drive downtown again, paying another $25 to park).

I called the office the next day and the nurse said she'd have the scheduling people call me.  I heard back from them and the woman said she could schedule me sometime in June.  JUNE?  HUH?  I asked if that was the first and went into a bit of what had happened before; she said she'd talk with the surgeon.  They could fit me in on 5/24.  It is two weeks from tomorrow.  While I'm not required to do the 2 weeks of liquids, I'm going to try to do as much as I can.  I am mortified at the amount of weight I gained from my post-failure-op emotional eating.  I can't even write it down.  Hubby and I were talking on the drive home about what I wanted to eat.  Trust me, I had a good long list.  Spaghetti and hoagies from a certain place topped the list!

So, I had spaghetti for dinner tonight (with pesto - yummy!).  I've been trying to do 2 shakes a day.  Now that hubby is going to the gym at night (since there is no pressure to cook for the both of us), I'm more free to do a 3rd shake.  I'm supposed to have one within the first hour I'm awake and then every 3-4 hours later until I go to bed.  This is in addition to my 64 oz of water.  Well, with my previous overnight incontinence issues, I've tried to stick to stopping any food or drink in my body within 3 hrs prior to going to bed.  It leaves me lacking and will be especially difficult after surgery when I'm forced to take only sips of a beverage.

Ok, that was my not-so-short-and-sweet surgical failure.  I find myself less excited this time around.  I guess I'm just more aware that it's not guaranteed.

On the good side of things, we had some great coupons and rewards dollars so went shopping and I got some 1x and 2x clothes.  I held up one of the 1x shirts and thought, as I teared up, is it possible that I might fit into this?  It was surreal.

And I'll leave it at that.

Just a Few Days Left

Well, here we are.  Surgery is in 5 days!!!  Ahhhhhhhh!

I've been on a liquid diet since last Tuesday and have to go through next Monday (obviously I can't eat or drink the day of surgery).  Let me tell you - this is HARD!  The first few days I was cranky as cranky gets!  I needed to CHEW something.  NOW!  My poor husband :(  Well, I went back to the paperwork and saw that I can have Jell-O!  Now there's something I can sink my teeth into - literally!  Let me tell you, I've gone through a lot of Jell-O, but it has kept me from causing anyone physical harm.  Ah, the power of Jell-O!

I had my pre-op appointment a few weeks back and loaded them with questions.  They say that they love it, but I can't help but question what it's like being burdened down with questions and if that hinders their schedule, etc.  It's me, being an idiot, being overly sensitive, being overly considerate.  I've been told that I have to take care of me and that I'm worth their time.  Now that's a hard pill to swallow. Haha ( you'll see why I laugh at that soon enough).

I've learned so much about nutrition and reading specific things on food labels in the past few months.  This will be an uphill battle.  I'm not ignorant to that fact.  We will be taking a LOAD of stuff to the local food bank because I'm not strong enough to have it in the house and not eat it.  I can't go to the grocery store at this point because even the smells from the bakery will have me wanting to give up on the whole surgery (ok, so maybe that's a bit extreme, but you get the idea).

I'm having protein drinks every 3-4 hours and trying my darndest to get in my 64 oz of water.  The thing is, I'm trying to perfect the art of "sipping" pre-op so it won't be such a transition afterwards.  Who knew sipping was an art?  I'm thankful that my program allows the use of straws, which is a variable among programs.  My doc's program told me (I asked specifically) that there is no definitive research to prove they provide a risk.  I know there are other programs who prohibit their use.  While it's going to make it difficult to get in 64 oz (which doesn't include the protein shake... BOO!), sipping also makes it very difficult to get down all of my meds (the list seems endless) and supplements/vitamins.  Some of the supplements are ordered by the bariatric surgeon; others I take because they're healthy or one specifically I take to prevent or slow down macular degeneration which is now in 2 generations of my family.  Well, my psych meds are a must - I absolutely, 100%, no question cannot miss those!  There are also my meds for blood pressure.  The cholesterol med isn't necessary for the day of surgery, nor are many of the others.

So, I guess that's the latest in the wonderful word of the hippopotamus.  Now, as the world of bariatrics says: I'm getting ready to climb onto the loser's bench.

Bariatric Update

Hey all!  I figured it was time for an update, so here it is :)

My psychologist has written a letter of support and approval for me to have the surgery.  When I met with the cardiologist he wanted to wait until I had a few tests before giving his ok.  I had a nuclear stress test two weeks ago and an echo last week.  I see him on the 15th and expect full go-ahead.

I've been testing some protein drinks/shakes and went through what the dietitian sent with a highlighter and pen.  I have studied my little heart out.  I'm also setting up a consult with a therapist simply for eating and food issues.  I've seen her before when my psychologist was gone and she was his student.

The next step is to have an endoscopy.  The nurse said that they typically wait until later in the process before scheduling this, when I called and asked it to schedule since it will require some coordination (using my GI doc with the surgeon in the room).  She called and said that the surgeon will be in touch with the GI doc in the next couple of weeks.

The nurse called to tell me that she received the information I sent with my C-Pap report and most recent blood work.  She expressed some concern over my triglycerides and is sending me a script for new labs (which they run anyway).  My sugar levels are elevated and there is a slight debate over if I should have a diabetes diagnosis or if I can be considered pre-diabetic assuming that my levels will decrease post-op.

After the endoscopy, I was told that the surgery is scheduled about 6 weeks out.  In the meantime, I'm having a protein shake for breakfast and working to keep my sweets and carbs in check.  The latter is HARD!  I was so cranky yesterday because I fought the urge to have some Skinny Cow chocolates.  I have to at least start to make big changes and not wait until after the operation.  I will be on a liquid diet for both the 2 weeks pre- and post-op, then 2 weeks of pureed food (I refuse to eat pureed chicken!).

My husband and I have joined a gym, at which I will use the pool - possibly taking an aquatics class.  My membership is on hold for now until I know when surgery is.  I'm sure I'll be limited after surgery and will likely not be in the pool for some time.  I did speak with the location nearest to me and she said that I can always activate my membership now and then freeze it again when I have surgery.  I loathe the thought of squeezing myself into a bathing suit, but the exercise may help me lose some weight and get into a routine.  For now, we'll see.....

I am both excited and terrified, but I have to do it.  I'll try to post more often, or at least as I have updates.

Medical Update (so that doesn't sound as good as "Weekend Update" on SNL, does it?)

Well, onward and forward....

I went to the doctor on Tuesday and she found the same results as I had.  She said that there is this CT that would be the next test, but she wanted to speak with the associate from prior to this appointment to make sure she is on the right track (she's a young doctor, but like I said... she's amazing!).  My Mom is a nurse in the office and after seeing me, the doc said to my Mom that it's "unusual" (or a similar word) and Mom said "if it's rare, that's my girl!"

When I got the return call she said she is ordering the test.  Ugh.  Let me explain why:

OK, so I did a search online and couldn't find anything on my "go to" medical sites other than abstracts, which are by definition, pretty much less-than-helpful to a peon like me.  To start, three hours prior to the test, they want me to have 32 oz of water.  And hold it!  They will catheterize me (woo hoo) and put dye up into my bladder just prior to doing the CT scan.

If that isn't enough fun for you, I go to a uro-gynecologist (who knew?) the following week and he will catheterize me again to look into my bladder.  I have to question if this isn't a larger catheter so he can fit a small camera in it, much like a lower endoscopy or something similar.  In which case, OUCH and more than the first time.

I think this does beg the question: do people in the medical field really like catheterizing people that much?  I've had one catheter in my life and it was inserted while I was under anesthesia.  I asked my doctor if I was going to be awake (jokingly) and she said "no, but I can give you something."  I thanked her and said that I had plenty of stuff here.

Of course there is has been a lot of co-ordinating of services - there has to be blood work done at least 2 days prior to the test, the test needs to be pre-auth'd or pre-cert'd (I can't remember which) and after I was done with setting all of that up, I had to schedule with the uro-gyno and make sure that appt is far enough out from the test so the full results would be available.

There are far too many people "down there" - as if the annual gyn appt isn't bad enough.

For fun, in the midst of this, I've been doing aquatic therapy for my back 3x/week, seeing a hand specialist, seeing my neurologist for a hand-related test, and have my monthly psychiatry appt and my weekly therapy sessions.  I'm tired just writing it.

Anyway that's my Weekend medical update.

Any chance I can get on SNL, just for one update???  I didn't think so.

A Fistula? Huh?

To get this out of the way:

A fistula is an abnormal connection between an organ, vessel, or intestine and another structure. Fistulas are usually the result of injury or surgery. It can also result from infection or inflammation. (as defined by the NIH)

Now, getting back to the topic at hand.  I did a test this morning which would rule out a fistula.  I got the results (something required to be done on my end) and called the doctor.  She said "hmmmm.... let me talk with <another doctor in the practice> and I'll call you back."  Ok?  She called back and said it would be rare for me to have a fistula so far out from my hysterectomy (years!) and that she would like me to re-do the test (which is no fun, by the way) and go to the office on Tuesday for her to do the final part of the test so she can see the results for herself.  Gee, this isn't nerve-wracking at all!

It's important to understand that "rare" is the kiss of death for me.  With one injury alone:

1. most people don't need surgery for this injury
2. it's strange that PT didn't work
3. surgery: finds 5 torn ligaments in my ankle when only one showed up on the MRI
4. post-op I thought I popped a stitch, so call the doc.  I get his associate who says to go in.  It turns out I had a large burst hematoma (a pocked of blood beneath the skin)  It's uncommon in your situation and to be directly under the incision, says the doctor
5. I go and see my doctor a bit later (I can't remember if it was no more than 2 weeks later, but I'd imagine it was the sooner part of that) who says that in all his years of practice he's never seen such a this happen (it was ugly, people, super nasty - I won't disgust you by posting a picture)
6. There's nothing else I can do (says the surgeon) but it's odd for it not to heal by now so you'll have to go to the wound care clinic.

This was all in December 2013 when I had my ankle surgery and had the rollator, so that's why I'm saying it was within a shorter period of time.

You get the idea?  Rare = my world

So, I did some research.  I know, I know, the internet is a dangerous place for research, but I try to stick to the NIH, Hopkins, Mayo - reputable sites.  They all basically agreed with my doctor, although she is amazing and I'd expect no less.  There are some pretty uncomfortable tests which could be done after I see my doc on Tuesday.  Surgery is a possible cure.  Yep, rare.  Sigh....

Wintertime has Been Evil

Ok, so maybe "evil" isn't the right word, but winter sure has gotten to me.  Granted I'd given up walking the dogs back in Autumn (I think) but I also don't have any motivation to do it in this mess, either.  I don't have any energy to ride my exercise bike.  But... I am in PT for a number of things (the physical therapist saw the script and said "what happened?"  I saw him back in 2013 for my pre-op attempt at avoidance.  There are so many things on there he just didn't know where to start.

Eating.  UGH!  I haven't stuck to Weight Watchers at all.  I have added a few meals here and there - the same meals I was eating on the plan.  I just didn't track all the junk I've been putting in my body.  Last time I saw my PCP I refused the scale.  She thinks I'm still down 30 pounds.  I didn't realize until I left and saw the paper she'd written on, but I didn't make any attempt to fix it.

I'm embarrassed.  People stare and I want to say "I'm a middle-aged woman, so have the metabolism of a turtle, and am on enough meds to kill a horse.... oh, and by the way, nearly all of them have weight gain as a side effect; did I mention that I'm bipolar and severe depression makes me almost have negative motivation."  Now, you, "skinny person" stop staring and understand that things are not as cut and dry as you think they are.  So, go have a burger!

Tonight is an excellent example of our food intake of late: hubby is picking up hoagies and chips and we will have some drinks - granted it's usually one form or another of Coke Zero and when I'm not drinking water, it's either one of the Coke Zeros or diet, decaf iced tea.  One of my new meds has me on Lithium which causes me to have a metal taste in my mouth all the time, so drinking waster isn't as easy as it used to be.  I go as long into the day as I can with water, but at some point, I have to switch to something with taste.  Plus, wow, some of those un-coated meds are nasty!

I need fruit!  I think fruit will help get me back on track - and not the canned stuff, because while I'm eating Libby's no sugar added mandarin oranges in the can, I could really go for an apple that doesn't cost $1600 a pound!  Ok, we do have bananas, but I'm a brat and they have to be green or have at least some green on them.  I'm not a fan of banana mush or banana baby food.

That is that.  Wintertime isn't my friend this year.

Obvious

I don't want my blog to be all about being fat.  I mean, this is a fat chicks musings and not musings about being a fat chick.  That said...

If you're a fat person - not just 25 or even 50 pounds overweight - you become the center of attention just by the nature of being fat.  I have over 100 pounds to lose.  It's unfathomable!  It's a whole person worth of weight.

Let me clarify my comment about being 25- or 50-pounds overweight.  I felt enormous when I carried this amount of extra weight.  When I lost 40 lbs before my wedding, people took notice.  If I lose 40 lbs now -- well, it sure wouldn't be as noticeable.  Carrying 50 extra pounds isn't healthy and I don't want to say that anyone at that weight shouldn't lose it.  I just want to be clear about that.

When I fell in March of this year it was in a park, therefore not in some private environment.  Someone came over to me and asked my husband if he needed help getting me up.  Can you say "ashamed?"  It happened another time, earlier than that.  One person saw me fall and asked if she could grab someone else to help me up.  It was dreadful.

Now, when I began to creep further and further up the BMI chart, I became an obvious human being.  There's no staying in the corner.  No hiding.  This is a big deal.  I feel like people are staring at me all the time.  Kids DO stare.  They don't know better, but it sure is upsetting.

My weight is obvious.

It is obvious that I can no longer eveb shop in "plus size" departments... or "women's" as some stores advertise (presumably to be politically correct).

It is obvious to the point where every doctor I see tells me to lose weight.  This isn't just a PCP or cardiologist... we're talking the ENT and the dentist!

It is obvious that I'm fat.

I am obvious.

At this point, I am working towards not getting those embarrassing stares.  And while I'm doing that I hope that my husband will be less ashamed of me.  Ok he as never actually said it and he carries a bunch of extra weight, too.  But, how humiliating to be with someone who is a hippo?  Sure I'm trying to drop a bunch of weight for myself -- I've proven time and time again that if my motivation is anything outside of myself, I will ultimately fail and will regain far more than I lose to begin with.

Yes, I am obvious.  Yes, I am trying to become less obvious.