The Year That Was...For Real!

Reflections as 2012 comes to a close


I knew that 2012 was going to be a year filled with changes and challenges, with preparation for weight loss surgery and CPE happening during the first half of the year, then surgery and all its aftermath.  In my head I knew it was going to be a big deal.  In truth, I only had the slightest notion of what this year would hold and the many changes in store for both me and The Hubs.  So I thought I would share a running tally of just some of the changes the past year has brought to my life.


What I have lost:
98 pounds so far
over 16 BMI points
about 5 dress/pant sizes, depending on the garment and the manufacturer
caffeine and carbonation
most of my hip and ankle pain
some hair (but the hair loss has pretty much returned to normal)
the need (most of the time, anyway) to have everything all figured out, all the time!


What I have gained:
protein, vitamins and supplements
tighter hugs
increased energy
improved confidence
greater comfort
a keener sense of gratitude...for everything
new experiences, insights and friendships through CPE which have changed me forever


What I pray for in the year to come:
good health, peace and happiness for the Hubs and me, our family and everyone else we love
to stay on track with my weight loss
to continue growing stronger and healthier, physically, emotionally and spiritually
to continue seeking ways to serve and honor the God Who loves me, and opportunities to share His love with others
to live my life well, as a work of art that pleases my Maker


I am so very thankful for the support of so many people throughout my journey thus far; for those who have faithfully read my ramblings here and encouraged me to keep rambling;  for the people who are urging me to write a book (whether it happens or not, just knowing there are people who think I could do it makes me so proud and happy);  for the people who pray for my continued improving health and weight loss;  for God's tremendous blessings and redemption.  His mercies truly are new every morning!  My journey is not over, because every day the journey begins again, with new challenges, chances and changes to be faced.  My prayer for everyone who reads these words of mine is that you find something here to make you think, laugh or pause to give thanks for your own life.  I pray for you every possible blessing in the year to come!

For Auld Lang Syne, my dear, for Auld Lang Syne,
We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for Auld Lang Syne.

Ribs, Recognition and Reunions

More new experiences in shrinkage


Life for the Shrinking Diva continues to be interesting and full, happy and sad and...rich.  I'll start with a couple of "wow" moments.  I felt my ribs a few days ago.  I've been conscious of more bones making their presence known for a while now.  It began one night in bed when I realized that my arm was stretched down along the side of my body and I could feel my hipbone and the muscle there.  Then my collarbones started to become visible and feel-able.  Now it is the ribs.  They don't stick out or anything, but I can feel them, which I can't remember doing in forever.

Today I had an appointment and afterward I ran by to see The Hubs at his work and sign something that needed my signature before it could be faxed.  He and I were standing at the fax machine and his boss came down into the lobby, nodded and smiled courteously.  In a minute or two, after the receptionist mentioned my name, she laughed and came over to hug me.  She had not recognized me.  Granted, we don't see each other often, but still, it's the first time someone has failed to recognize me.  It was both weird and cool.  Another "first" to go into the books (and the blog!).  This kind of moment happens for most weight loss patients at least once, and most find it gratifying to realize that their appearance has changed so dramatically, that their hard work and efforts are indeed visible.

The appointment I had earlier in the day was to meet with Randy, my supervisor from CPE.  I had made a batch of Christmas goodies (the recipe is called "White Trash" and it's definitely a special-occasion-not-weight-loss-friendly candy treat) to take for the department to snack on and enjoy during the coming week just as a small Christmas token.  It was nice to make something to share without the compulsion to eat it!  I had a bite of it with Randy today, and the one bite satisfied me.  Seeing him was a joyful reunion for me and we had a great visit.

It was also very well-timed, as these moments usually are.  My cousin Betty (she was married to my cousin Crawford, so she is a cousin by marriage---once you marry into the family, you're in till you die) passed away last Friday and her daughter/my cousin Judy asked if I would sing for the funeral home service, which I agreed to do.  The next day she asked if I would consider conducting the graveside service as well.  It overwhelmed and honored me to be asked to do this, especially since I am not a minister.  After panicking a little and checking with a couple of minister friends to make sure I was "allowed" to do this, I learned that it is indeed permissible for a lay person to conduct a service.  Good to know.  Touching base today with Randy made me feel calmer and more at peace about going ahead with this new experience.  So tonight, I will go to the funeral home to be with my family was we prepare to say goodbye to Betty.  I will sing and try to offer what comfort I can with the voice God gave me.  I will hug and laugh and cry and see family I don't see nearly often enough, some who have not seen the shrinking me.  And tomorrow morning I will preach Betty's graveside service.  Another first for the books.

This year began with the adventure of weight loss surgery preparation and the journey of CPE, blessings of unknown and unknowable scope, a season of new things.  Now I end the year with sadness at the loss of another loved one. Through God's goodness and the faith of my family, I have the opportunity to serve God and my family in an old, familiar way, through music, and in a new way as I commit my loved one to the ground, and into God's heavenly care.  As sweet as the reunions are down here, I cannot begin to imagine the ones to come in Heaven.    

"She LIVED Hers"

The Power Of Three Little Words


I've had Mama on my mind a lot lately.  My parents' 55th wedding anniversary would have been this past November 9, and the anniversary of Mama's death was December 8.  It is a sentimental, moody time of year for me, with lots of memories.  I get my sensitivity to things like this from Mama, actually.  She always seemed to remember the anniversaries, both happy and sad, especially concerning my Granny, her own Mama.

Mama was 33 when Granny died, and in the room with her when she departed this life and went to Heaven.  I was 33 when I watched Mama go there as well.  I don't really put a lot of stock in "magic numbers" but sometimes there are patterns that I can't help noticing.  I think Mama at age 33 was much more mature than I was.  She had given birth to my brother and me and raised us while taking care of Granny and looking after Dad, keeping the home fires burning.  I think that having human children grows people up a lot.  I have no human children and I think that has allowed me to hang onto a little childishness of my own.

Sentiment and childishness aside, I remember one thing that she always said about Granny.  "She LIVED hers."  She was talking about how Granny lived out her faith and didn't just talk about it.  Granny gave birth to and raised 9 children, each child with his or her own personality, problems and talents.  She loved them all despite the heartbreak some of them brought to her.  This is a mother's heart, to love her children.

Mama was the youngest of those 9 kids, and the one still living at home when my Granddad died.  She was 15 years old, and something of a handful by all recollections, including her own.  She told me how hard it was for her because some of the older siblings tried to advise Granny about how to finish Mama's upbringing.  "I don't believe I'd let her have a car or get her license..."  "Did you let her do that to her hair?"  "I don't think she needs to be going-here-doing-this-seeing-that-boy-or-running-around-with-that-crowd..."  Mama said she just wanted Granny to tell her what to do, and she promised that if Granny would be the one voice she had to listen to, she would do her very best to obey the rules and not cause trouble.  I can't imagine what that must have been like, for either of them.

Mama must have seen sides to Granny that no one else in the world would have known about.  I know that there were times near the end of Granny's life when Mama was so exhausted she could barely move, but Granny insisted on Mama being the one to look after every little detail.  When Dad's parents were nearing the end of their own independence and Mama and Dad were at the end of their ropes, Mama would sometimes go out on the back deck to have a cry and sling snot for a few minutes...then go back in to handle another round with Mamaw and Papaw.  That's one thing I have to give both my parents credit for; they loved each other's parents just like they loved their own.  They spent the majority of their marriage taking care of someone besides themselves and their kids.

When Mama uttered those words, "She LIVED hers", her voice had a reverence about it that wasn't often there.  There was a respect, almost an awe, about how she viewed Granny and the way Granny had lived her life and faith.  What would probably surprise Mama now is that I see her the same way.  Yes, she was a handful, and thank God she was!  She was sweet, and sometimes spicy.  She could smell BS a mile away and didn't have any patience for it.  She actually didn't have a whole lot of patience, period, for most of her life.  But for all the little foibles, bad words, inappropriate humor and times she flew off the handle, there were hugs and love, apologies when she felt she had been wrong, humble moments and tears when she thought she might have hurt me.  She could not stand a hypocrite, and she could not stand to see someone being mistreated.  She always rooted for the underdog, shared what she had and made sure nobody was ever hungry in her presence.  I never questioned Mama's faith in God.  She didn't preach about it, she just answered questions when I had them, and walked out her faith the best way she knew how.  She was not perfect, but she was real.  Mama lived hers.

Mama LIVED hers.

Now I am trying to live mine.  I hope Mama's mansion in Heaven has a little plot of ground out back of it for my shack to be built on.  If I can get anywhere close to her neighborhood there I'll be grateful.

A Big Week And A Two-Feather Day

My 6-month checkup at the surgeon's office and some other stuff

I collect feathers.  I don't remember exactly when it started, but several years ago, I began picking up feathers whenever I see them.  Today when I went out to retrieve the trash can from the curb, I actually found 2 feathers!  Not huge ones, but still, I took finding 2 as a very good sign.  I like to imagine that the feathers I find are from the wings of an angel God sent to watch over me.

This past Sunday night I went to my college for their Christmas oratorio presentation, which, this year, was portions of Handel's "Messiah".  I told my music fraternity students that I have performed in many more of these than I have had the chance to watch and listen to since I've been an adult.  As musicians, this is what we do.  We make music.  Sometimes, though, it is good for us, and even necessary, that we sit back and let others make the music, allowing it to minister to us.  I felt as though God were saying to me, "Let Me feed your soul as you listen this time."  It was exactly what I needed to start my Christmas season and my soul was indeed nourished.

Thursday is my official 6-month "surgi-versary", and today I had my 6-month checkup at the surgeon's office.  I met with both the dietician and the exercise physiologist to go over my food log and exercise since my last checkup.  My blood pressure was good, 110/68.  I'll take that.  My BMI is down over 16 points.  And according to my scale at home, I am down 93 pounds, which is still ahead of schedule.  I'll take that, too.

I was a little nervous about this appointment because it was my first big nutrient check since surgery.  I went in  last week for the dozen or so (OK, I am exaggerating, a little) vials of blood to be drawn to check everything from vitamins and protein to iron and thyroid levels.  My phosphorus is a little low but no action is required at this point.  That will be checked again in 6 months.  Protein and vitamins are all within range, so that is a big relief.  I am, however, anemic.  (Thank you, Cramp Fairy, for bringing back my periods and stealing my iron!)  So I am adding an iron supplement to my routine.  The dietician also recommended a probiotic to help with intestinal issues, so I'll be adding those as well.  Overall, considering how many nutrients I could be lacking and all the health complications that could result, I am actually thrilled that iron is my only problem.

I have also officially been cleared to advance to phase 4 diet, which means I can add some starches, as tolerated and within reason.  I can also gradually begin to increase my portion sizes, which means that over time I can start getting more protein from food and less from supplements, which will be a good thing.  I am so used to doing 3-ounce math, I'll have to start looking up nutrition information for different amounts of foods.  No problem.

The Hubs's birthday is tomorrow, and to celebrate a little early, we got dressed up and went to a fancy steakhouse for dinner last night.  He looked so handsome in his dress slacks, shirt and tie, and I had the chance to wear the black velvet dress I have mentioned in a couple of previous posts.  I had him take a quick picture of me just so I could see how I looked in the dress (because the image in the mirror is neither lasting nor accurate).  It looked nice on me, showing my recently-discovered waist and legs that have become surprisingly small.  Dinner was delicious and I have a couple of meals' worth of leftovers to enjoy.  The atmosphere was both intimate and festive, with beautiful Christmas lights and decorations everywhere in the restaurant and a gloriously festooned tree next to the hostess station.  The service was impeccable.  And the company was perfect.  I'd rather be with The Hubs than anyone else in the world.  Not only do I love him, I genuinely like him.  He is the funniest person I know and after 30-plus years of togetherness, 26 of those married, he can still make me laugh so hard I cry or pee my pants.  Or both.  Humor like that can carry people over a multitude of problems, as it has for us.  Laughter is indeed a good medicine.  Plus, it's great for your abs!

Tonight was the music fraternity's Christmas party at the home of our Chapter Advisor.  Every year she makes supper for this bunch of hungry college students and welcomes the whole chapter into her home.  She decorates all over the house at Christmas, with a tree in every room and candles everywhere.  It was a joy to be surrounded by these precious student musicians and share an evening of fellowship and, again, lots of laughter.  At the end of the evening, she spoke of how blessed we all are and how especially at Christmas we should be mindful of those who do not have the opportunities we enjoy.  And she suggested that we take a moment each day and think of someone who means something special to us, considering the attributes that make that person unique and giving thanks for their presence in our lives.  As I left her house tonight, I thanked her for the evening and especially for her words, and I told her that when I consider those special people who have contributed so much to my life, she is one of the people for whom I am so grateful.

God has blessed me so greatly, with the people He has placed in my path, the experiences of my life that have made priceless memories for me to treasure, and even the trials that have hurt me for a season but taught me valuable lessons.  With the week and its activities fresh in my mind, I am especially grateful for my most immediate family, The Hubs, and my larger musical family of college students and teachers, past and present.  And I am grateful for the doctors and other specialists who are helping me to get healthier and stronger.  I am indeed blessed beyond measure.

Having A Holly, Melancholy Christmas

Why the holidays are bittersweet for me


The 15th anniversary of Mama's death is approaching, and I find myself even more blue this season than I normally am.  Maybe it is the number of years causing me more melancholia than usual. Maybe it is just the events of this past year catching up with me.  Surgery, weight loss and the inevitable changes that happen as a result might make anyone feel a bit off-balance.  I've also been thinking about the unit of CPE I did in the first half of the year.  I spent a lot of time in the hospital dealing with the stresses and tragedies of other people, remembering other times when it was me and my family who were patients and caregivers.  And of course, my most intimate experience within my own family was with Mama at the end of her life.

She died very early in the wee hours on December 8, 1997.  What follows is a poem I wrote a few weeks after she died.



The World Still Turns

Somewhere between land of the living and domain of the dead
inside this room my world has ground to a screeching halt

A small space littered with soiled gauze, used syringes, bloody linen

Mama's broken, worn-out body

My battered soul in pieces
Beaten black and blue from
worrying, waiting, watching

This place has become my home

Weeks I've spent here
looking on
sickness slowly, meticulously
enveloping her in its cocoon
layer by layer suffocating us all

Her first night here she was terrified
I tried everything, nurses tried everything
the medicine they gave her for panic made her sick

The morning they needed to take blood
Stuck her twice and couldn't get her to bleed
The third time they couldn't get her to stop

Now she's taken no food in over a week

In that time every day the IV has had to be replaced
by angels of mercy who sit patiently at her bedside
and sweat trying to find a usable vein

"Help me, Honey."
"What can I do for you, Mama?"
"I don't know..."

She's been dreaming about Aunt Mary, calling out for Granny
They're both dead

Today her breathing has changed
her face has taken on the look of a corpse
a horrible smell now seeps into every corner of the room
it's coming from her

Old blood
the smell of death

Daddy insists on coming back here
to relieve me

I'm not going
Anywhere

He goes to sleep and I watch

Another breath
and another
and then nothing

her lips turn white
I know the next breath isn't coming

A wave of panic
nausea
alone-ness rises up in me

But not the relief that was supposed to come

I count two minutes on my watch and
go to find the nurse

"I think we're done here, but I
need you to make sure before
I wake Daddy up."

She looks in Mama's eyes
listens all over her chest
shakes her head

"She's gone."

It's 2:40 in the morning
Daddy stirs and asks what's happening
I tell him that it's over

Mama's gone

We cry
He says a prayer
We make phone calls and
gather our things to leave

I stay behind with her until
they tell me that I have to go

I step out into the hallway and
somehow put one foot in front of the other
the walk to my car seems to take forever this time

Inside that little room my world stopped
But out here in the cold hours before daybreak

I feel the chill of December air as it freezes the tears on my cheeks
I smell the aroma of bread from the bakery down the street
I notice the Christmas tree lights twinkling on downtown rooftops

A new day is coming
whether I want it to or not

Out here the world still turns

Somehow

I have to turn with it

Thank You For The World So Sweet...

Thank You for the food we eat

Thank You for the birds that sing

Thank You, Lord, for everything

It's a simple little childhood table grace that has been on my mind a great deal lately.  Sometimes simple prayers are the best ones, and sometimes they are the only kind we can muster.  My prayers this week have been very childlike indeed, often very brief and usually kind of desperate.

"Lord, please help..."

"Please protect..."

"Please grant us peace..."

"Thank You so much..."

Thanksgiving came with an abundance of family, fellowship and, of course, food.  The Hubs and I made it to lunch with a big contingent of my Mama's side of our family, with my beautiful and precious Aunt Ruby as the centerpiece.  My cousins, her kids, some of the grandkids, great-grandkids and even the great-great-grandbaby were there.  As far as the menu was concerned, I had safe food choices and enjoyed my lunch greatly.  Turkey is a great lean protein for weight loss patients if it is not dry, and the turkey we had was moist and flavorful.  

We visited there most of the day until it was time to mosey over to Bonus Brother's house for supper with that branch of family.  Dad, Bonus Mom, Bonus Brother and his family and some friends were in attendance, and we enjoyed a feast there as well, including freshly fried catfish (yes, I ate half a piece and yes, it was delicious!  And yes, I brought home some leftover catfish to enjoy, in small portions.)  Was a fried food in strict keeping with my food plan?  No.  But I kept my portion small and enjoyed what I ate.  

Thanksgiving came and went this year without a single bite of any kind of potato passing my lips, which is a minor miracle.  No cake or pie or cookies, either.  I had 4 yogurt-covered pretzels, but not all at the same time, and a very few bites of dressing.  So while I was not 100% adherent to my program, I am claiming a victory for the holiday because I managed to eat sensible amounts and didn't even really feel like I was missing much of anything.  I will advance to phase 4 diet in a week and a half, when I will be allowed starches in small quantities.  Thanksgiving was just practice!

Changes are coming in my extended family which have us all doing a lot of soul-searching and, for those of us who pray, a lot of praying.  The time has come for my Aunt Ruby to move to an assisted living facility.  She is 87 years of age, nearly blind from diabetes that has become brittle, and needs a walker to get around.  Her kids, my cousins, are sad that this decision needed to be made, but they've done their research and this is truly the best option they found.  My prayers are that peace and comfort will attend all of us, that God's protection will be strong where it is needed most, that Aunt Ruby finds friends, engagement and companionship in her new surroundings, and that the adjustment will be a smooth one.  

Every family has someone like Aunt Ruby...or at least, every family should have someone like Aunt Ruby.  She has always been the even-keel, placid soul who brought stability to everyone else.  I don't know how my Mama would have survived raising us without Aunt Ruby's calm influence!  When my brother was very little and fussy/colicky/crying and Mama was at her wits' end, she would ask Aunt Ruby what to do.  Aunt Ruby's solution was a simple one that always seemed to help:  give the baby a warm bath.  There was nothing magical about the bath, as it turned out, except that it helped calm Mama as much as it calmed the fussy baby, and they both ended up feeling a lot better.  For years and to this day, when I am stressed, upset or needing come peace, I often find it in the bathtub (sometimes with bubbles, a book or a beverage, non-alcoholic of course).  When we were little and Mama needed a break, we'd often load up in the car and "go to Aunt Ruby's for a glass of tea".  Mama and Aunt Ruby would have their tea and their talk, and we had time to play with our cousins and whichever other neighborhood kids happened to be around.  

For many years, Aunt Ruby was a plus-sized lady as well.  When she became diabetic, she managed her condition for years by controlling her diet, and lost a lot of weight in the process.  She told me once a long time ago, after her diabetes had begun to steal her eyesight, that she would starve herself before going to the doctor in hopes of getting a good checkup, then leave the doctor's office and go get a donut on the way home.  She said she would do differently if she could go back, if it could give her a few more years of decent vision.  She made most of my clothes when I was a kid, and lots of them even through my college years, including the red satin dress I wore for my senior voice recital.  She was an avid quilter as well, often spending hours around the quilting frames with Mama and Aunt Martha and "Mamaw" Allred, our next-door neighbor until I was almost 17 years old.  Those quilts grace many of our beds, surrounding us with love and memories.  And Aunt Ruby loved to read, often devouring books into the wee hours after her family had gone to sleep.  Diabetes gradually stole her eyesight and her ability to enjoy doing the things she loved the most.

Aunt Ruby is philosophical about the coming transition and trying to see it in a positive light, as we all are.  I've been very close to her all my life and we've talked about a lot of things over the years.  In her moments of deepest sorrow and heartbreak, when she lost Uncle John, when she has had her own health problems, as she has watched her siblings die one by one, when she has agonized over the troubles of her beloved children, her response has always been the same.  She has always said, "God will take care of me."  Since I learned that she will be moving to assisted living, the old hymns have been playing in my mind and heart...the ones that assure me that God will take care of us all, that we will understand it all by and by, that His eye is on the sparrow.  That Jesus cares.  

"Does Jesus care?  I know He cares.

His heart is touched with my grief.

When the days grow weary, the long nights dreary,

I know my Savior cares."

  

Wonderful Words Of Life

Why I Read The Bible


If I have not mentioned it before, I should state that I graduated with a music degree from a Christian college.  My college choir has long observed a tradition of awarding a graduating senior a very special gift every spring.  Seniors must meet certain criteria to be eligible for the award, and then a vote is taken to determine the recipient.  The award is known as the Choir Bible.  My senior year, the Choir Bible was presented to me at the annual spring picnic.  I cried tears of joy and gratitude as I accepted this meaningful gift, humbled and overwhelmed…and ashamed.

I felt ashamed because I was not much of a Bible reader.  I felt undeserving of such an honor because, at that point in my life, although I had been a Christian for years, the Bible was something I grabbed on my way out the door either to church or to one of my religion classes.  I knew that there were seniors in my choir who managed to have a personal quiet time and devotions every day and would have really benefited from a new Bible.  The irony of the situation was not lost on me.  I don’t know what made me think to do it, but I brought that Bible in the following week, requesting that my choir-mates sign it, and those signatures and notes mean more to me with every passing year.  I began my adult exploration of God’s Word with this Bible, and years ago when I worked in Christian radio, I wagged it to work with me every day, marking passages to use in my on-air devotions.  The cover got so shabby that I sent it to be re-bound a number of years ago.

Over the years, I have become much more of a Bible reader, generally reading through it yearly.  In 2010, I joined a Bible in 90 Days Challenge group on Facebook that my college roomie was doing, (the roomie who, during our college/dorm years, read her Bible daily, first thing in the morning, without fail) and since then I have read the Bible through twice yearly, doing the 90 Day Challenge from June through August and my regular daily reading through the rest of the year (knock wood and Lord willing I will finish this year’s chosen version as well!).  Long ago I discovered that there are many Bibles formatted to be read through in a year.  Some give daily sections of Old Testament, New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs, while others go straight through.  Some have a devotion included with each day’s reading.  In 2011, I read a chronological version which divides the text up into the order that the events occurred.  I enjoyed the new perspective of the chronological version a great deal and passed it along to Bonus Mom to read this year when she expressed interest in doing it.
 
I have learned that in about 15 minutes a day, I can read through the entire Bible in a year’s time.  And I have learned that it is the single most worthwhile investment of time I can make.  Over the years that I’ve been reading regularly, gradual differences have started to show up in my life.  I find that I am a much more peaceful person now, less twitchy and obsessive about a lot of the things that used to make me crazy.  I still spin my wheels from time to time, but way less than I used to.  My prayers are different as well, taking little moments more often just to speak to God and try to listen to Him.

I have always been a re-reader, going back to revisit books that I have loved, and it always seems like when I read something for a second (or third, or fourth…) time, I pick up details that I did not catch the previous time.  The Bible is like that, too, more than any other reading I have ever done.  Every time I go through it, I glean more bits of truth than I did the time before.  Maybe my life situation is different and now a verse comes alive in a new way.  Maybe I have experienced a loss or a joy that God speaks to in a fresh way through a familiar passage.  I understand much better now why the older people in my family reached for the Bible in times of sorrow, because I find myself following their lead.  When I need comfort, God has given it in His Word.

I need to make a few disclaimers here, because I am no goody-two-shoes and I don’t claim to be.  I know I’m a black-hearted varmint.  My Bible reading doesn’t make me any less of a varmint.  It makes me conscious of how blessed I am to love the God Who loved me first, and Who loves me still, in spite of my many faults and failings, forgiving me and giving me new chances, new mercies and new blessings without ceasing.

I have unbelieving friends, and I have believing friends who don’t read the Bible.  I don’t use my Bible to beat them over the head.  What I hope to learn from my Bible is how to love them better.    

Nobody Knows But Jesus

Sometimes I'm Up, Sometimes I'm Down


It has been an up-and-down week, another roller-coaster ride.  Tuesday, as I mentioned in my last post, was my 5-month surgery anniversary and I was able to have lunch with a wonderful longtime friend.  Definitely an up day.

Thursday after work I grabbed a quick meal and went to the first rehearsal with instruments for the premiere concert of a major new choral work being presented by the chorus I sing with.  It was a long day, but the rehearsal actually energized me.  Hearing the music for the first time with the orchestra and soloists made the work come alive in a whole new way for me.  "Chronicles of Blue and Gray" for chorus and orchestra is the first major choral work commemorating the Civil War.  It includes texts from Abraham Lincoln's speeches, the Emancipation Proclamation, Walt Whitman and a heartbreaking letter from a soldier to his wife.  It also includes a medley of spirituals, one of which I stole for the title of this post.  It seemed fitting for the week I experienced.

Friday, November 9, would have been Mama and Dad's 55th wedding anniversary.  I thought about the last anniversary Mama was here for, their 40th, all day long.  We celebrated their 40th in the hospital where Mama had been for a couple of weeks.  It was a Sunday, and very cold as I remember.  Aunt Helen was in town and came by the hospital to visit with Mama.  There are a lot of things about the day that I just don't seem to be able to remember any more.  My parents exchanged gifts there in that little hospital room, gifts that they had chosen and I had gone to pick up for them.  The 40th is the ruby anniversary.  I now own the gold and channel-set ruby heart pendant that Mama put on that day.  I wear it often.  The Hubs gave me an emerald one just like it the following Valentine's Day, since emerald is my birthstone.  I've been known to wear them together sometimes, especially around Christmas.  The red and green are so pretty.

The Cramp Fairy decided to visit me on Friday as well.  Talk about kicking a Diva when she's down!  I was already weepy and withdrawn, remembering Mama in the hospital and missing her more than usual.  Once again I experienced a minor weight plateau prior to the Cramp Fairy's arrival, and once again I seem to have broken through it.  Maybe it's good that I entered the Hormone Zone on a day when I was feeling sad anyway.  At least it didn't ruin a wonderful mood.

Yesterday, November 10, was the world premiere performance of  "Chronicles of Blue and Gray", and I have to say, I think it was a triumph on every level.  We performed attentively and energetically, to a packed house filled with a very appreciative audience.  This work was commissioned by our chorus in honor of our esteemed conductor and artistic director, who also happens to be one of my choir directors from college, a longtime friend and now, a fellow weight loss surgery patient.  He had his operation last December, about 5 1/2 months before I had mine.  He has been a constant source of encouragement to me, both before and after surgery, and watching his progress has been an inspiration.  At chorus practice one evening last spring, before I had undergone surgery, I approached him during a break with a personal question, saying that it was none of my business and if he didn't want to answer me, that was fine.  He smiled and patted me on the shoulder and said, "Don't you know there's nothing you can't ask me?"  It's a moment I'll always remember and treasure.  So often we don't realize how important those seemingly small kindnesses can be.

At last year's fall concert, when he and I both knew we were each planning surgery, but not many other people knew, we posed backstage for a  picture together, one that I now refer to as The Before Picture.  It was a good photograph, big smiles and pleasant expressions.  We were just both a lot larger.  Last night before the concert started, we posed for The After Picture.  I printed and Facebooked them today, and the difference is definitely profound, especially in his case.  He's ahead of me on the path and a lot closer to his goal weight, but there is a noticeable difference in my size as well.  Between the two of us we have lost in the neighborhood of 250 pounds.

So the emotional course of the week has definitely been up and down.  I am thankful for so many things...memories of Mama, even the ones from the hospital.  I am thankful for the gift of music in my life and the many people who share it.  I am thankful to have had people ahead of me on the weight loss surgery path to offer encouragement, guidance and concern.  I am thankful that when I am up or down, when nobody in the world seems able to understand, when I can't even put my feelings into words, the Lord knows.

"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen,
Nobody knows but Jesus.
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen,
Glory Hallelujah!

Sometimes I'm up, sometimes I'm down,
Yes, my Lord.
Sometimes I'm almost to the ground,
Oh yes, Lord."  

Five Months Since Surgery

Election Day


Five months ago today I had my weight loss surgery.  It's hard to believe it's been so long, and yet so short, a time.  My total weight loss is 86 pounds, with 64 more to go until I reach goal weight.  Aside from a nagging headache today, I have felt great lately and I continue to notice improvements in how my joints feel and function.

Today I had several things on the agenda.  First and most fun, I met a longtime friend for lunch.  It had been several years since we had seen each other face to face, although we've been in touch through e-mail, texts and Facebook.  Our old favorite spot to meet was at a buffet restaurant, and that's where we met today as well.  Weight loss patients are generally warned about the possible dangers that await us at buffet places because of the chance we have to overstuff ourselves.  I am happy and relieved to report that I stayed with safe food choices (meat and beans) and I didn't overindulge.  We sat there for 2 hours talking, laughing and catching up on each other's lives.  I left the restaurant pleasantly filled, with both food and conversation.  My lunch companion told me that, not only could he get his arms all the way around me for a hug, but that he could  touch his elbows!  I never really thought about it before, but those are some of the nicest parts about getting smaller... tighter hugs and getting closer to people.

After lunch I went to the weight loss surgeon's to pick up vitamins and protein supplements, then to a local mall for some girly-makeup-type stuff I had run out of.  I haven't power-shopped in a long time, and I didn't today, either.  But I noticed how much easier it was to navigate the mall now that I take up less space.  I am still way large, but less large than I was before surgery.  My CPE peer group met one night last week for supper and one of my peers told me that my arms have become "stick-like".  That's OK by me!

In a couple of weeks I will go to get my first big labs done to check my nutrient levels and make sure I'm within desirable ranges prior to my 6-month post-op checkup.  I will admit that I am a little nervous about my labs and hoping everything will be OK with my bloodwork.  I feel good most of the time, so I hope that's an indication that my levels are all good.

After my other stops were done, I returned to my neighborhood polling place to vote.  It was encouraging to see a decent crowd there.  I gave thanks for the chance I have to cast my ballot.  I didn't even mind standing and waiting in line for the privilege of voting, partly because it didn't hurt my feet and legs to do so!  I don't know who is going to be President in the morning, but I know that I carried out my civic duty today.  In much the same way I approached weight loss surgery, I committed to give myself wholeheartedly to doing what I can do, and trusting God to do what I can't.

     

FrankenPants, Kissy Shirts and Argyle Sweaters

The Results Of Surgical Alterations...To Clothing and To Me


My Bonus Mom is awesome.  She volunteered to help me stretch my wardrobe while I am shrinking by altering things as they became too big.  I took her up on the offer for several reasons: to save money by not replacing items for a while; to save my sanity by not doing a lot of shopping just yet, as I still have a long way yet to go; to save some still perfectly good jeans that I've worn and loved for a long time before I have to give them up to the "donate" basket.  It's strange how sentimental I can be about certain items of clothing, but the jeans I'm talking about in this case also have pockets, so they are practical.  I can be sentimental about practicality as well!

After several fittings, Bonus Mom called last week to tell me that my jeans were all done and I could come and pick them up anytime.  Hallelujah, my beloved jeans and their pockets would soon be back on my frame and fitting me better since their surgical alterations, necessitated by my surgical alterations.  The last time she did a fitting, she asked if I wanted her to cut out the excess fabric from the seams inside where she took them in, and I said that wouldn't be necessary since the pair I tried on felt fine without it removed.

I am so glad I had her leave the excess fabric there!  If I turn the pants inside out, I can see exactly how much she took the waist in, both front and back, as well as the inches taken in on each leg.  Turned inside out, they look like FrankenPants!  But in a wonderful way.  It is one more bit of tangible evidence of the progress made since this whole weight loss adventure began.

As I think about my wardrobe, there are some items that I'll never part with no matter how much too big they are, just because I love them, because of their history.  I have a ginormous red sweatshirt with "St. Simons Island" emblazoned on the front.  It was too big when I bought it, so it's really too big now.  But I'll never get rid of it.  I bought it on my first trip there with The Hubs.  We usually took vacations in Destin, Florida, but that particular year, our favorite place had experienced hurricane damage.  I had been to St. Simons as a teenager with my church youth group and suggested we might try going there for a change.  Our first trip to the island was magical, and was not our last.  It has become another favorite vacation spot for us. My sweatshirt is like a warm hug reminding me of every wonderful time we've enjoyed there.  No, I won't be donating it.

I have a white shirt with bright pink and red lipstick prints on it that swirls around on me now, but I won't be getting rid of it, either.  Too much history and too many good memories.  It's been with me on every trip with The Hubs ever since I bought it a hundred years ago.  I've had strange ladies yell at me in shopping malls in other states to say my shirt was cool.  At the end of a trip to Las Vegas, as we were leaving our hotel around 4 in the morning, we stopped in the hotel restaurant to get some pre-airport breakfast and I was wearing The Shirt.  There were a couple of inebriated and clearly sleep-deprived young male gamblers in the breakfast line behind us, flirting with me and saying how much they liked my shirt.  On a different Vegas trip, we were having dinner in Quark's (the Star Trek-themed restaurant that used to be in The Star Trek Experience at the Hilton, DON'T JUDGE ME, I KNOW I'M A GEEK!) and the resident Klingon stopped at our table and commented on my shirt, expressing concern that numerous small creatures had been biting me and left their marks behind.  I've worn it to work pretty often, but one day, on a dare or something, I ended up taking photos of a bunch of my male coworkers posing in the "kissy" shirt.  Dudes in that shirt were just too funny.  Those pictures died several computers ago, unfortunately.  I'd love to be able to Facebook them now!

Some items of clothing are irreplaceable, either because they are no longer made or because of the history and memories attached to them.  Some things, however, can be replaced, in the smaller sizes I can now fit into.  As I write this, I have just received a little gift from the UPS man.  It was a package containing smaller versions of my favorite flannel pajamas and a slightly different version of my favorite black and red argyle sweater.  I am meeting some friends for dinner in a couple of days, people who have not seen me since surgery.  I may wear the new sweater and take the old one with me, to show them, and myself, how far this journey has brought me to this point.

Fifteen Years Ago Today...

...The Beginning Of The End


This day 15 years ago, Mama went into the hospital.  I remember it vividly even now.  It was a Tuesday, cool and very autumn-y.  I worked that day and then went to an appointment after work, returning home a little after 6 pm.  It was still daylight and I remember the maple leaves were so brightly colored that I stopped before I went into the house to pick up a handful from under the tree where they had fallen.  I was watching a lot of Martha Stewart back then because the TV station I worked at aired her show, and she had just done a segment about preserving leaves and using them in decorative projects, and I was going to preserve them to frame as wall art.

When I got inside the house I checked the answering machine.  I heard Dad's voice saying that he had taken Mama to the hospital that afternoon and that she had been admitted.  My pager had never gone off during the day and I remember being annoyed that he had not paged me, and that hours had gone by without me knowing Mama was in the hospital.  I was also very scared.  Mama's COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, usually emphysema or chronic bronchitis, or both) had been getting steadily worse that year.  In fact, the appointment I had been to that afternoon after work was to see my therapist, an insightful woman I had been seeing for months in part due to Mama's worsening condition and my emotional issues stemming from my fears that she was dying.  There were other issues that spurred me to seek counseling, private things that I won't discuss here.  (As wide-open as I am and as transparent as I've been with this blog, even I have limits, and some things don't need to be rehashed for public consumption.)  We had just gotten Mom-In-Law out of that same hospital where she had been for colon cancer surgery, and I had been in there a few months before that, in May, because I had fallen and broken my leg and both sides of my ankle and needed emergency surgery to repair the damage.  It felt like, by the end of 1997, I and my family, either as patients or caregivers, had spent half the year inside those walls.

I had a minor meltdown in my kitchen, railing at God in anger, crying out in fear and desperation.  Then I rushed to pack a bag so I could get to the hospital to spend the night with Mama.  That first night was rough for her, and for me.  She was agitated and the Ativan administered upset her stomach but didn't do much to calm her nerves.  That day and night were the beginning of the end of a lot of things, for all of us.

She was in the hospital for several weeks, released for about a week and then had to return for the final time.  I was writing a lot then, as I had been doing throughout that year, because my emotions were overwhelming and needed to come out in some way.  Journaling, LOTS of bad poetry, stream of consciousness, whatever came from my heart to my pen to the page to help me survive.  My spiritual life and my relationship with God were at an all-time low, due to my own stubbornness and bad choices, and the time I spent with Mama in the hospital was the first time in forever that I had actually wanted to do the right thing.  There is an old saying about when we feel like God is far away, He's not the one who moved.  That's where I was.  But He never left me, and looking back, I can see so many times when He was so close, His heart breaking with mine as I watched Mama get sicker.  He sent a nurse to comfort me on Mama's last day, one whose name and face I cannot recall, but I remember the feeling of her arm around my shoulder, her voice telling me that I could talk to Mama and hold her hand and pet her if I wanted, that nothing was bothering her now and she didn't believe Mama was in any pain.  I know now that Mama was actively dying.  I think that nurse might have been an angel, because I don't remember seeing her before that day.  He sent lots of comfort to us during our time in the hospital, comfort I needed but felt like I didn't deserve.  I am so thankful that God loved me in spite of my failures, and that He still does.  

I'll probably share more about this in the weeks to come, but for now I think this is about all you and I can stand!  Mama and God are together in Heaven, and I have learned to live my life without her physical presence in it.  She is always with me, in my heart, my memories and my family who also loved her so very much.  "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."    

Happy Anniversary

What A Difference A Year Makes


One year ago today, The Hubs and I began my weight loss surgery journey with our initial consultation at the surgeon's office.  I could not have imagined on that day that my body, my perspective and my life would be so different just a year later.  One year ago today, I was at my heaviest weight ever and had been hovering there pretty consistently for a long while, resulting in hip and ankle pain that had become too much to manage.  I certainly didn't dream that in one year, 82-ish pounds would be gone!  It would have been too much to hope for.

This year has been filled with new experiences, as well as the joy of old experiences revisited...little things, really, that average-sized people take for granted.  Last month I went to a meeting of the music fraternity on my college campus for which I serve as Chapter Mother.  The first part of the meeting took place in the normal classroom setup, complete with those one-piece student desks, the kind I hadn't been able to wedge myself into in years.  I fit into them now.  Crossing my legs is not not only possible, but comfortable again.  In a recent photograph, I could swear that I saw my collarbones.  I realize that most people can't relate to these little victories, but plus-size folk can understand what I'm talking about.  When you're big, the world doesn't fit you a lot of the time.  And when you're really big, you're also usually really uncomfortable.

This year has been one of extremes, both emotionally and physically.  My physical recovery from surgery was pretty painful, and for a longer time than I had anticipated.  But it was also the most invasive surgery I have ever undergone, and I am the oldest I've ever been (and that indeed makes a difference), so a longer recovery and more pain was normal and to be expected.  I tell people now that for me, surgery was a good decision and I am glad I did it.  I also tell them that if they need to lose weight and are able to lose it without surgical intervention, by all means do it that way!  For me, surgery was a much-needed remedy.

My emotions have run the gamut all year long, not just from surgery prep and completion, but from the unit of Clinical Pastoral Education I completed in the first half of the year.  Without going into a lot of detail I'll just say that CPE, especially doing it while I was also preparing for my surgery, was a Godsend and a revelation.  I learned so much about myself and what makes me tick, why some of my issues are so deeply ingrained, and how I could begin to help myself heal.  I was blessed to experience the acceptance and support of a group of people who began as strangers and became intimate friends during the time we shared.  I saw things I never could have dreamed I would encounter, and each experience taught me something valuable.  I have asserted before that CPE did more to change me than surgery ever will.  And I stand by that statement even now.

I'm still me even after all the changes this last year has brought.  As I wrote in my very first blog post, there are some things about me that will never, ever change.

I am a blunt, plainspoken Southern Diva, with big boobs and a big heart underneath them;
I am a woman, wife, musician, daughter/sister/cousin/aunt/niece/friend, volunteer and child of God;
I will always have curves no matter how much I shrink;
I am a big believer that God allows everything for a purpose, and that His timing is always significant.

I'm still me and I always will be.  My hope is that I am becoming the best me that I can be.

Milestones, Touchstones and Family

The Real Stuff Of Life

This past week has been a roller-coaster ride!  The chamber group I sing with had late rehearsals/concerts every night (although I missed the Tuesday practice due to a back injury).  We joined with the city's symphony orchestra for Leonard Bernstein's "Candide".  There are numerous configurations of this work; we performed a suite lasting about 45-50 minutes.  The music is demanding but also fun, and it was music I had never sung before, so I enjoyed the challenge of learning something new.

Wednesday morning when I stepped on the scale I nearly giggled with glee, because it showed me that I've lost 80 pounds.  HOLY MOLY!  I went digging through my closet again to see what was in there, and tonight I fit my body into dresses that not only have not been on me in a hundred years, but that I really did not expect to be fitting into yet.  The black velvet number I mentioned in a long-ago blog post fits me again...and fits me pretty well.  The Hubs may have to talk me someplace fancy for dinner so I can wear it.

Today we went to my cousin's wedding, to which I wore another dress that I have not worn in forever.  I will admit to some nervousness about today.  It would be my first time seeing a lot of my extended family since before my surgery, and I wanted to look nice.  My kinfolks are some of the sweetest, most supportive people in the world, and I heard lots of positive comments about the change in my appearance, as well as genuine concern about how I'm feeling.  The wedding was beautiful, an outdoor affair with a fall color scheme and a solo violinist providing exquisite music.  A longtime family friend and brilliantly gifted designer made vibrant flower bouquets, corsages and arrangements.  The ceremony was heartfelt and memorable, and the radiantly beautiful bride and groom assembled a Unity Cross which will be displayed in their home.

I had the chance to sit alone with my 87-year old Aunt Ruby (the Aunt Ruby whose biscuits were a big part of another previous blog post!) and to have a wonderful visit with her all to myself.  She looked lovely today, dressed in a periwinkle-colored top that complemented her silver hair.  She has always had a pretty complexion, and even now her face does not fully show her age.  We sat together as the sun started to set, enjoying the surroundings and each other's company.  She is a touchstone for me and always has been.  She is the last of her siblings living, and I know that my chances for visits like this with her won't last forever.      

The beauty and joy of the day was tempered a bit for me by news that my 4-year college roommate's father had passed away late last night.  Since our school and dorm days, she has been another touchstone for me, one of my core group of people I want to share my life with, my chosen family.  No matter how long it has been since we saw each other or spoke on the phone (she lives about 800 miles away from me) it is always as though we just talked yesterday.  As I prayed for my cousin, her husband and the new family they formed today, I also asked God to comfort my roomie in the loss of her father.  He is in Heaven with the Lord, and reunited with his precious wife, happy and whole in a way he has never been before.  Happy in his forever home.

In the grand scheme of things, my weight loss, while important, is only a part of the stuff of life.  The joy of new beginnings, the heartache of losses, the moments shared with people we love...those are the things that really matter.  My prayer for this whole weight loss adventure is that it will enable me to participate more fully in the life of my family, both blood and chosen, to share their burdens as well as their joys, and to do so for a very long time to come.         

Up Where We Belong

Homecoming, Coming Home and The Value of Support


This week I enjoyed some wonderful friendship, fellowship and encouragement from a few different sources.  Yesterday was Homecoming at my college (Alma Mater, Hail!) and I took a day off from work so I could attend some of the activities there.  I am not a huge sports fan so I didn't stay for the football game.  My biggest source of excitement was the music department's annual concert (the Music Sampler) at the church on campus.  Each of the department's ensembles presented 2 or 3 selections and the listeners got a good variety of both choral and instrumental music to enjoy.  The Sampler is also a huge draw for alumni from all majors, but usually there is a large concentration of music alumni who show up.  For me, it's a chance to see my former classmates, enjoy my students from the music fraternity on campus for whom I serve as Chapter Mother, and see current and former faculty members.  Yesterday a highlight for me was seeing my college voice professor and getting a photo made together with him.  He remembered me (I never take for granted that someone from so long ago will remember who I am because, in my fat-girl insecurity, I have never felt like I was all that memorable a person).  This man saw and heard something in my voice that he judged to be worthwhile,  and he did his very best to bring out my very best, as a musician and as a human being.  I will adore him until I draw my last earthly breath.  Every time I open my mouth to sing, I owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

I saw other faculty, past and present, as well as former classmates, some of whom I had pictures made with.  It's nice to be less afraid of the camera now that I have shrunk some!  I am paying a little bit today for having walked around for most of the day in boots I had not worn in years, but I had a great day.  Afterward I stopped by Dad and Bonus Mom's to pick up a pair of jeans she had hemmed for me.  Looking at myself in the mirror wearing a pair of jeans (jeans with a zipper and hip pockets!) that fit me better, I could begin to see the shrinkage and the progress made to this point.  It's encouraging... and a little strange.  My mind needs a chance to catch up to the changes in my body.  I'll get there, and if I have trouble, there is a therapist at the surgeon's office I can talk with.  It feels good to have that particular safety net in place should I need it.

The night before was a supper club night with our small weight loss support group, another wonderful source of fellowship and encouragement.  It had been 3 weeks since our last gathering and we all had ups and downs to share.  The woman who initiated our little group told us about something she had read which reported that people who try to lose weight have the best success when they do it in a group.  It makes sense.  While weight loss is in many ways a solitary endeavor, the support and understanding of like-minded people who share the same struggle can make all the difference in one's success.  We have to do the work ourselves, but we can't really do it in a vacuum.  Reinforcement is vital.

After I got home from supper club, I auditioned a couple of outfits for Homecoming and The Hubs gave me his input on which worked better.  I was able to try them on with new, smaller bras that I had ordered and been praying would arrive in time to wear for Homecoming.  The ones I've been wearing were just too large around the ribcage and were not offering great support any longer.  What a relief to put on undergarments that fit properly and hitched The Girls up to their rightful place!  I could almost hear them sighing in renewed comfort and singing "Up Where We Belong"!  Well-fitting underwear of any kind improves both posture and confidence, and as I continue to shrink, it will also serve to hitch things up and pull things in.  There is an Internet joke that has gone around for the last several years about how good friends are like a well-fitting bra... always there to offer support!  I was reminded this week just how true it is, and I am so grateful for all the support in my life.  

Four Months (And Three Days) Since Surgery

"Wow Moments", The Latest Checkup and Last Year's Face


Today was 4 months and 3 days since my weight loss surgery, and I had a checkup with the dietician and the exercise physiologist at the surgeon's office.  My blood pressure was 104/68, which is pretty standard for me.  As for my weight loss, I am still ahead of schedule, almost at the 6-month mark.  The dietician and exercise physiologist were both very pleased with my progress and I got an "A-Plus" for the day.  According to my scale, I have now lost 76 pounds.  Thank You, Lord, for a chance to regain my health and strength.

In the last couple of weeks I have had a few "wow moments".  In the course of just a couple of days I ran into 2 different people at work whom I had not seen since surgery.  I ran into one in the lobby, asked how she was getting along and we chatted for a few minutes.  She looked at me for a second and said, "You look wonderful!"  I never had the chance to tell her about my surgery so I don't think she knows that I had it.  The other one stopped on her way out of the parking garage to holler at me from her car window and say, "You look great!"  She definitely knows I had surgery because I told her beforehand that I was going to do so.  As I have stated before, compliments are not why I did it...but they are nice.

Over the weekend we had the chance to visit with The Hubs's brother and his wife, as well as my out-of-state sister-in-law who was in town for a visit.  It was great to see them all, catch up on the latest family gossip and enjoy their support of my decision and my progress along the weight loss path.  As we were getting ready to go, I began to say something to The Hubs and then stopped short.  He asked what I was going to say, and I said that I was going to ask a ridiculous question:  Would my weight loss be visible?  He replied that yes, it is indeed visible and yes, it was a ridiculous question.  Then he had a question for me.  He said, "There's always going to be a little fat girl living inside you, isn't there?"  I said, probably so.

It got me thinking about self-image.  How is it that we can look in the mirror and see ourselves one way, then when confronted by a photograph we see something totally different?  I had trouble realizing just how large I had become until a little over a year ago when I was photographed as part of the United Way campaign at work.  Digital cameras give us the chance to view in an instant the captured images, as well as to delete the ones we don't like!  I went in for my photo shoot, a very brief affair, after which the photographer gave me the chance to view the shots he had just snapped.  Head-and-shoulders and waist-up shots were all OK...but I was completely unprepared for the full-length shots he had taken.  I looked like a basketball perched on toothpick legs!  After blinking and smiling my jolly-fat-girl smile, I asked that only the waist-up and/or head-and-shoulders shots be used for the campaign, and my request was honored (as far as I know, at least, I never saw any full-length shots in any of the campaign materials posted around the workplace).

They are using images from last year's shoot in this year's campaign as well.  When I pass by one of the water fountains, I see my face staring at me.  Last year's face.  Still mine, but much fuller and rounder than the face I have this year.  Over the weekend at my brother-in-law's house, my sister-in-law wanted to take a picture of me and The Hubs together.  It's the first photo taken of me since surgery, and the first time I've seen myself other than in the mirror.  I have to admit, the change astonished me, in a good way.  But I still asked for only waist-up shots!  Another part of the Ever-Changing Never-Changing.  I am still quite solidly entrenched in Plus-Size World, but much less so than a year ago.  And no matter how much I shrink, my self-perception will never be completely accurate.  I don't think anyone's can be.  The mirror always looks different than the photograph.    

Things That Go "Clump" In The Night

The Midnight Ride of The Vomit Brigade


I wrote in a previous post about some of the challenges facing patients after weight loss surgery, including the hazards of clumping and dumping.  Clumping/dumping can happen when the patient either:  eats the wrong thing or something that is too dry; eats too much; or eats too fast.  In the case of dumping, the food goes too quickly into the intestinal tract and is promptly dumped out, shall we say, south of the border, usually with severe cramps as well.  Clumping happens north of the border, when the food clumps up at the entrance to the stomach and feels like it will not go down.  It is painful, scary and nauseating.  Some patients describe the sensation as what they imagine a heart attack would feel like.

I've been pretty fortunate not to have experienced much of either kind of post-food episode.  However, a couple of nights ago, after having a long day and going too many hours without a meal, I clumped, big time.  I was eating baked chicken, a perfectly fine food choice for me.  But my belly was empty and I ate my chicken too fast, and I ended up making myself sick.  Shortly after I finished my supper I began to feel intense pain behind my breastbone combined with overwhelming waves of nausea, and I eventually vomited.  This is a big deal in my world because I very rarely throw up, and when I do it's usually caused by something needing medical attention.

These details are not pretty, I realize, but they are part and parcel of the journey I am on right now.  Lots of people assume that weight loss surgery and recovery glide by without a hitch, patients magically shrink without any effort and life after surgery is all rainbows and unicorns and fairy dust.  This is not the case at all.    As my pain and nausea began, I knew what was happening to me and knew that I was not having a heart attack, that it would eventually pass, and I tried to relax and take slow, deep breaths until it did.  Unfortunately, this episode was not to pass without the intervention of the Vomit Brigade.

What did I learn from all this unpleasantness?  First of all, no matter how empty my belly feels, I cannot rush a meal.  EVER.  Secondly, I learned that throwing up after surgery will not kill me, because it didn't.  It actually happens to lots of patients.  I was just really fortunate to have avoided it this long.  And thirdly, I learned that even this far out from surgery, my body is still very much in healing mode.  My recovery is not complete yet.  There is a reason patients don't enter phase 4 diet until 6 months post-op.

Having said all this, I am happy to report that the morning after the Ride of the Vomit Brigade, I felt pretty much back to normal, with only a headache to remind me of the previous night's adventure.  And as unpleasant and painful as it was, I hope never to forget the experience and its sensations.  If I forget history, I may be bound to repeat it.  NOT what I want.

Dr. FancyPants and The Stirrups of Doom

Surviving the Annual Indignity


First thing in the morning I will be in the office (and stirrups) of my gynecologist, affectionately known as Dr. FancyPants.  My family doctor laughs every time he hears me call my lady-parts doctor by that moniker.  I figure since I am in a position of such vulnerability, the least I can do is give the guy a snarky name.

I have written previously and extensively about The Girls and their care and containment.  But there are important concerns south of the border as well, and it is vital that we take care of those tropical vacation spots by seeing the appropriate medical professionals, having the proper screenings and tests done annually, and keeping track of our cycles on the calendar.  These simple steps can alert us to possible health problems and even save our lives.

I got my period when I was 11 years old.  I was fortunate that I had a Mama who had told me what was coming, and she told me in a way that didn't freak me out or make me think I was going to die when it came.  Her Mama had told her nothing about it at all, and when her period came she thought something was horribly wrong with her.  Those things just didn't really get discussed back then, certainly not as freely as they are today.  I mean, I am writing a blog entry about it, for Patti's sake!

The Annual Indignity and the Slam-o-Gram are not things that most ladies would honestly say that they look forward to with glee and jubilation, but we realize how necessary they are.  Most of us know someone who has been touched by a gynecologic cancer, or a cancer scare.  Even I have had the occasional "abnormal" Pap test result, and have endured the re-testing and nervous waiting for the result that I hoped would be normal the second time around.  I've been fortunate not to have any serious problems.  Knock wood and Lord willing, all that stuff down there will continue to be OK.

Truth be told, Pap tests, pelvic exams and mammograms are not all that unpleasant, or at least, they shouldn't be.  It can be a little uncomfortable, and that discomfort is due largely just to being undressed.  With these tests there is usually some pressure, but there should not be pain.  If there is pain, there is a problem.  Sometimes the person performing the exam is just too rough.  Sometimes, though, the pain is a symptom of something wrong (cyst, tumor, etc.), in which case it is good that the patient is getting examined in the first place.  Early detection can save lives.

I'll discuss with Dr. FancyPants my new normal, the weight loss surgery and what it's doing to my hormones and lady parts.  Maybe he will have suggestions for ways I can mitigate some of the changes I am experiencing.  I'd be happy if he offered to scoop out my uterus with a rusty spoon, but somehow, I doubt that offer will be forthcoming.  I will pray for normal test results and a good rest of the day.  I will be thankful for all the doctors who take care of me and help me to take care of myself.  And I will say a prayer for Dr. FancyPants, because I know what I look like undressed, and no one should have to start their day with a naked Diva on their examining table!      

   

Three Months Since My Surgery

And time for the monthly update...and a "monthly" update


I'll start with basic vital statistics.  Since surgery I am down 42 pounds, and 69 pounds total.  Again, it's not lightning-fast, but WAY better than before the surgery.  The hair loss is still a nuisance, but I am hopeful that it doesn't become more than that.

I'll be honest here, August just sucked for weight loss.  I hit my first real plateau since my surgery.  My scale shows not only my weight, but also my body fat and water percentages.  I could see my body fat creeping down and my water creeping up, and my weight not moving much at all.  Weight loss patients experience the occasional plateau, so I tried not to stress about it too much.

Finally my weight began to move again in the right direction...after I received a visit from The Cramp Fairy.  Lady hormones, cycles and birth control are issues discussed in the last big half-day class before surgery.  We learn that, even if a woman thinks she has gone through menopause, once weight loss surgery happens and she begins to lose weight and body fat, hormones can run amok and, as a result, irregular or nonexistent menstrual cycles can come back, and with a vengeance.  For this reason, we are told to begin using an extra birth control method if we don't wish to become pregnant.

This concludes the educational portion of this blog post.

I'm 48 years old.  I've been experiencing night sweats off and on since I was 30.  My cycles started becoming really irregular/skipping when I was about 40.  I don't plan on having any human children and would be more than glad to donate my uterus for scientific research.  Every time I get a period, I pray that it will be my last one.  So naturally I was not thrilled when The Cramp Fairy arrived.  But her arrival did explain my rising water levels and at least part of my plateau.    

Aside from The Cramp Fairy's visit, some cool things have happened.  My shape is changing.  I found my waist yesterday!  My ankles aren't bothering me nearly as much now.  My clothes continue to get bigger, so much so that I started digging through my closet to see what I have in smaller sizes that I can work with.  I found some pants that fit better, which is good, but they lack pockets, which is sad.  (I believe everything should have pockets, including nightgowns and pajamas.)  I'll wear the pocketless pants and find someplace else to carry my phone.

Probably in my bra.  There is a little more room in there now as well!      

What's Not Turning Grey Is Turning Loose

Why weight is not the only thing lost after weight loss surgery


I am almost 3 months out from my surgery, which is hard to fathom in many ways.  Time really does fly, as trite as that statement is.  And, as in my previous surgery/anesthesia experiences, I have begun to notice a little more hair coming out than usual when I shampoo.

In 1995 when I had my gallbladder removed, I was given valuable information about post-surgical hair loss, not by my doctor but by my hairdresser.  He told me that when a patient is put under general anesthesia, some increased shedding of hair will occur a few months later, that it is generally temporary and not a big deal.  I have found this to be the case each time I have had surgery.  In the pre-op class before my weight loss surgery we were also told that we could expect to experience some hair loss in the months after surgery, because our bodies are experiencing lots of metabolic, hormonal and nutritional changes, and again, we were assured that it is not total and generally only temporary.

For lots of women, hair is a big deal.  If a woman says she doesn't really think much about her hair, ask her to shave her head and watch her reaction!  Hair loss can be traumatic for anyone, no matter what causes it, but in our society it can be especially devastating for women.  Aside from Sinead O'Connor in the "Nothing Compares 2 U" video, we haven't been exposed much to beautiful, bald women, at least, not enough to make female baldness seem normal.  So much of our appearance, and how we feel about it, stems from how we feel about our hair.  Hair is a multi-million dollar industry in our country, both in product formulation and in marketing.  Cleansing, conditioning, coloring, curling/straightening...on and on.

I have always been a brunette, both in my soul and on my head.  I have a big, bold, brunette personality.  I have never been tempted to experiment with another color.  Some women play around with their hair color like they change socks, but not me.  When I color it is because the grey is showing enough to really bug me! Grey hairs show up much more vividly in darker hair, after all, because of the contrast.

My first greys started coming in when I was 19 years old and a sophomore in college.  I had a horrible start to the fall semester which included a viral infection in my throat that sent me to the hospital for several days, as well as some other personal issues, and a lot of stress.  I earned those first grey hairs...and all the ones since then as well!  When they first showed up they were more of a curiosity than anything else.

The Hubs will not be happy that I am sharing this, but it's pertinent (and kind of funny now).  When I was 28 years old, my Aunt Mary died, and all of us were in the parlor at the funeral home for the receiving of friends.  I was sitting on the end of a couch, and The Hubs and one of my cousins were a few spaces down from me.  My cousin remarked, "Looks like your wife is getting a little snow on the roof!"  To which The Hubs responded, "I think it's the beginning of a blizzard!"  I heard this exchange and decided that it was time to try coloring my hair.

I know people who have beautiful, full, radiantly silver grey hair.  Aunt Mary in the paragraph above had the best hair of anyone in her family, going from jet black to salt & pepper to snowy white in the front by the time she died.  Her hair never seemed to have an awkward stage as her grey came in.  I color now and then because I'm not happy with the way my grey is coming in.  My personality does not thrive in grey patches and streaks!

People do all kinds of things to change their appearances.  I have 5 ear piercings, but no piercings anyplace else.  I have no tattoos, but I have friends who have lots of them.  I wear makeup, but I have friends who don't.  And someday I expect not to color my hair any more...or maybe not.  It just depends on how things go.

For now, I'm just glad there is hair to color, even if a little more is coming out right now.  If it starts coming out in handfuls, I guess I'll wear hats.  In the grand scheme of things, it's just hair...but it's my hair, and, like the rest of me, I'd like it to be healthy.  That's what this whole process is all about.    

Firsts

The new normal and the old one


A few nights ago I had my first restaurant meal since surgery.  I met a new friend (and fellow traveler on the weight loss path) at a local restaurant which has a good reputation and good reviews, and one I had never been to before.  After the initial greetings and small talk, we decided to split an entree, as many weight loss patients do since we can no longer consume an entire restaurant-sized meal.  We shared the evening's special, grilled shrimp.  Since my dinner companion is also a weight loss patient, she understood my need to cut my portion into tiny, dime-sized pieces and my attention to thoroughly chewing each bite.  The last thing I wanted was to have a "dinner issue" in public.  I was thrilled that the shrimp not only tasted delicious, but it also made my belly happy.  Some foods are just uncomfortable to eat now, and they can upset my stomach,  or at the worst, threaten not to stay there.  The shrimp was a good choice.  I also had a couple of bites of sauteed mushrooms, which tasted wonderful as well.  I left the restaurant pleasantly satisfied and not too full.

The evening also gave me a chance to ask questions and share my concerns with another female who walks this same path and is about a year ahead of me.  It was reassuring to learn that some of the experiences I am having are normal and that yes, I am making good progress.  My friend and I hope to meet regularly for mutual support and accountability, to become a sort of unofficial support system for each other, and to include some other people in this new network of travelers.  With only a few people, there will be more opportunities for real sharing and interaction, rather than a support meeting with 50 people in a conference room where there is barely time for introductions before it is time to leave.

Tonight my chorus resumed rehearsals for the fall concert season.  It is always sort of an "I'm-so-glad-to-see-you-how-was-your-summer?" kind of moment as we pay dues and purchase concert music, touching base with one another after having the summer off.  I will admit to some apprehension about showing up there this evening.  Many of my fellow singers knew that I was having weight loss surgery in June, and I was nervous about seeing them again, wondering if my shrinkage would be noticeable, if today was a day when I looked peaked and tired, was I able to cover The Humility Pimple...on and on the insecurites raged.  When I opened the door and walked inside, I was greeted, welcomed and then applauded by more than a dozen people who were in the vestibule buying their music and paying dues for the season.  There were hugs, congratulations on my progress and lots of affirmation that my size is indeed different than when they last saw me in the spring.  It was almost overwhelming and a moment that I will treasure in my heart for the rest of my life.

Compliments are, of course, not why I had the surgery.  But they are nice.  I know a time will come when the compliments will stop coming, people will get used to me shrinking and it won't be a big deal anymore.  I need to prepare myself for that time and continually reinforce to myself that it's not about what I look like.  It's about getting, and staying, healthy and strong, in body, soul, mind and spirit.

Something has been a little "off" since surgery, and only recently have I been able to put words to it.  I was talking recently with The Hubs, and I said to him that since surgery, "I just haven't felt like myself."  That's the best description I have been able to come up with for it.  I've been subdued, unmotivated, almost as though a cloud or a fog has been hanging over me.  Having had surgery before, I knew that some mild depression can come after general anesthesia.  A friend at music practice tonight asked how long I was under, and I told him that surgery itself took 3 hours.  He told me that when his wife had surgery recently, the surgeon told them that for every hour a patient is under anesthesia, it can take about a month for the body to recover.  This revelation made me feel MUCH better.  I am only 2 1/2 months out from surgery, so if this assertion is true, it's not unusual that I still feel a bit unlike my old self.  I realize that I may never feel exactly like my old self again, because I am changing so much physically.

My hope is that I'll feel new and improved!

Two Months Since Surgery

And an eventful time it has been


Yesterday was 2 months since my weight loss surgery.  I have lost 34 pounds since surgery and I'm seeing big changes in the way my clothes, rings, and even shoes, are fitting me.  My plan is not to buy new clothes for as long as I can possibly avoid it, partly because I don't enjoy shopping, and partly because my Bonus Mom (I dislike the word Stepmother) has offered to alter things for me when I'm ready.

I have also advanced to phase 3 diet, which means I can gradually begin introducing some vegetables and fruit, provided that they are cooked, soft and I avoid seeds and peels.  Last night, for example, I had a small portion of baked chicken for supper, with a little dab of stewed tomatoes.  Delicious!  Vegetables can also add much-needed moisture to a meal, which makes it much easier to eat and digest.

The week after my last follow-up at the surgeon's office, The Hubs became ill.  He went to a midnight movie on a Thursday and had scheduled time off from work the next day because he would be out so late.  He said that after he got home from the movie he was having some abdominal pain that kept him from getting much sleep.  He called the doctor, who was able to see him that Friday afternoon and, suspecting diverticulitis, sent him to the hospital for an abdominal CT scan.  That night at 9:30, the doctor called us at home to tell us that the scan indicated pancreatitis, told us that The Hubs was to have no food for 48 hours, only clear liquids, take pain medication as needed and if his pain became unbearable to go to the emergency room.  This began a week of medicine, temperature-taking, gradually introducing bland foods, watching and praying.  The Hubs is not a complainer but I could tell that he just did not feel well.  God's timing being what it is, I had scheduled time off that week for a trip, which I cancelled so I could be home and watch over The Hubs.  I was so grateful that my time off was already in place and work was one less thing I needed to worry about.

We laid around a lot that week and didn't do a whole lot of anything.  We both had freak-out moments during that time, but we also had moments of closeness, and even enjoyment.  We spent an afternoon watching the first part of The Animaniacs box set, remembering when we first discovered these brilliantly written cartoons.  We watched a lot of TV criminal misadventures, the opening ceremonies of The Olympics in London, and he caught up on DVRed episodes of Craig Ferguson.  There was some Facebooking and other computer time.  He missed a week of work, which, it turns out, was probably pretty typical.  The doctor was prudent in suggesting that we treat the pancreatitis at home.  From what we were able to learn, the condition generally runs its course in a week to 10 days, which is what we experienced.  I am praying that this was an isolated thing that will not repeat itself.

The Hubs returned to work last week, says he has no pain, no fever and feels fine.  Thank God.  This was about as scared as I can remember being for a long time, maybe ever.  I learned a lot from this experience.  I  know what I feel like when I am sick, what my pain tolerances are and what I can live with.  When The Hubs is sick, I can't step inside him and feel what he feels.  Those feelings of uncertainty and helplessness are awful.  And it made me appreciate the times when he has experienced those same feelings as a caregiver when I have been the patient, including, most recently, following my weight loss surgery.

    

Following Up At The Surgeon's Office

Why I didn't need to be freaking out QUITE so much


I had my second follow-up visit at the surgeon's office today.  I spoke first with one of the registered dieticians there, followed by a consult with a nurse.  According to both of them I am actually a little ahead of schedule with my weight loss to this point, which is a relief.  I was feeling like my weight loss was slow, so hearing from 2 different medical professionals that I am a little ahead of expectations felt good.

I am going to address something now that is very personal and not for the squeamish, so if stuff of this nature is bothersome, stop reading here.  (I know there is no such thing as a paragraph with less than 3 sentences, but this is less a paragraph and more a disclaimer.)

OK. In the last few weeks there have been issues with...poop.  I am only writing about this because I know some readers might be considering their own weight-loss surgeries, and poop is something that will come up afterward.  Or in some cases, it won't come up...or, come out.  I had a week in which I experienced some, shall we say, irregularity, and during that same week I actually gained 2 pounds.  And I freaked out, hardcore.  Frantically, I printed out the huge document given to me on CD at my last pre-op visit and found the section on "Constipation and Diarrhea" (I know, appealing, yes?) and found that both conditions are common and somewhat normal after weight loss surgery.  It makes sense.  Patients are not consuming nearly as much as before, and during the all-liquid phase, loose bowel movements are common.  Once the puree' phase begins, the other end of the poop spectrum can happen, and with so little food going in, it can take time for a bowel movement to happen, and it can be reluctant when it does.  Fortunately, there are ways to get things to balance themselves out, including probiotics, either in yogurt or as a supplement.  The pounds I gained that week are gone, and they took a few of their friends with them, so that is also a relief.  That week may have been my first plateau following surgery.  Anyway, my weight loss seems to have resumed, at least for now, knock wood and Lord willing.

I am 1/3 of the way to goal weight.  I lost a good bit of that prior to surgery, but still, this is an accomplishment to be excited about!  And I am.  I am also obsessive and impatient, fearing that I am not doing well enough.  Old demons die hard, and those feelings of "not-good-enough-ness" will be difficult for me to shake, especially regarding something I have tried and failed at so many times.  Surgery is a wonderful tool, but it's not a magic bullet, and it's not a quick fix.  It's a tool...something I use to make the work a little easier and more efficient, not something that does all the work for me.

At my next doctor visit we will develop my formal exercise program, but today the nurse gave me some exercises for people with joint pain.  I still have some joint issues, but I do think that the weight loss to this point has helped, and I am hopeful that further loss will help more.  My energy is still not what I'd like it to be, but I think a lot of factors contribute to that.  June where I live was one of the hottest on record, with many days topping the 100-degree mark, and heat like that makes me feel like a limp dish rag.  Most days now we are in the 90's with about 1000% humidity.  Blech.  Plus, there are some sad emotional anniversaries this time of year and those things affect me.  I am a sensitive Diva, after all.  The document I printed from the doctor also said that some people experience a spike in depression following surgery, and I think that I have experienced that spike.  Not an all-consuming, miserable depression, just sort of a bluer, more moody kind of feeling.  As that fog lifts, and more pounds drop off, I feel sure that my energy will improve.

Knock wood and Lord willing!  

  

Frequently Asked Questions

Because, apparently, inquring minds want to know


Since my return to the workplace following my surgery, I've had people asking a lot of questions about my operation, how I've gotten along with recovery and other miscellaneous things.  So I thought I would take a moment and address some of those questions and answers here in case anyone else was curious about this process, and my progress with it.

1.  How are you feeling?

Pretty decent most of the time, considering the extent and invasiveness of my particular procedure.  I am a month out from surgery and my incisions are all healed.  I still have some internal soreness, especially around/behind my belly button right now, which may be normal.  I have an appointment with my surgeon soon and I'll be asking about that for sure, among other things.  I don't have a ton of energy yet, but I am hoping that will improve with time.

2.  What can you eat/what have you been eating?

For the first 4 weeks it was all liquids, but I have within the last couple of days graduated to the "puree' phase", which means that I can now add mashed beans and fish to my intake, as well as some yogurt and peanut butter.  (I could add eggs and cottage cheese, but I hate them so, thanks, but no thanks.)  It is still all protein foods, so I am still consuming a lot of the high-protein liquid supplements from the doctor to make sure I get enough protein, or at least, nearly enough protein, each day.  After 4 weeks of liquid diet, I have never been so excited about mashed beans or fish in my life!

3.  Do you get hungry?

Yes...and no.  I can tell when my stomach is empty and I need to put something into it, and since I can only consume limited amounts, that emptiness happens more frequently and I need to eat more often.  But as far as just thinking, "Oh, I'd like to get a bite to eat", not really.  Frankly, right now, eating is an effort and I have to remind myself to do it.  And that is totally strange.

4.  Do you get cravings?

Not really.  I mean, I remember the things I loved to eat before, but the thought of them doesn't really stimulate my appetite, and in some cases I get a little queasy thinking about them.  As I mentioned before, eating now is an effort, so it's really just about sustaining myself.

5.  What exactly did they do to you/how much did they cut you up?

My surgery was laparoscopic, so I have 7 small incisions, sort of in the shape of a smiley face.  (Yes, it is weird.)  The "eyes" were where the surgeon inserted some instruments.  The center of the "smile" is a vertical incision where the camera was placed so my insides were visible and my surgeon could see what he was doing.  On either side of that incision, there are 2 horizontal incisions where various other stuff happened, including possibly more instruments and one where the removed portion of my stomach was pulled out.  I know, right?  Gnarly.  I hope there are pictures of my insides that I can see, because medical stuff fascinates me. 


6.  Is your weight loss on schedule?


I'm really not sure, to be honest.  That's another question I'll have at my next visit.  I want to lose quickly enough to stay encouraged, but not so fast that I end up with health problems because of too-rapid shrinkage.  If I follow doctor's orders and my food and exercise plans, I can expect to get rid of 75-80% of my excess weight by the end of the first year.  Including the weight I lost prior to surgery, I am 1/3 of the way to my goal, which is great.  Surgery is not a magic bullet or a quick fix.  It is simply a tool, often a really effective one, to assist in major and lasting weight loss.  I still have to do the work.  Surgery just makes the work a little easier, in some ways.  I am expending more effort in other areas, such as making sure I consume enough, and enough of the right things.


These have been the most-asked questions, and these are the best answers I can come up with for them.  As I travel farther down this path, I'll learn more, know more and I hope that, once I do, I can pass along what I've learned to someone else who is starting the journey.  I am certainly grateful to those ahead of me who have shared their experiences and tips with me to make my journey easier.  Paying that forward will be an honor and a privilege, and another way I can serve God by serving another person along the path.