Turning 70

In honor of Mama's 73rd birthday, I am sharing a note that I wrote on Facebook 3 years ago.  I hope it gives the reader a little insight into who she was, why she was special, and why I hope I inherited some of her more memorable traits.  I miss her every day, and I hope she'd be proud of some of the things I've been up to.

This July 4, my sweet (and sometimes spicy!) Mama would be turning 70. She died on Demember 8, 1997 at about 2:40 in the morning. I was with her all that last long day that she lived, during most of which she was in the "agonal stage" of dying, I have since learned. And that night, when Dad came to the hospital thinking he was relieving me so I could go home, I stayed on because I felt sure she would not survive the night and I didn't want to leave.

Mama was not the first loved one for whose death I was present. When one of my Uncle Johns passed away, (I was blessed with 2 Uncle Johns in my family) I was with my cousins and Aunt Ruby, who so generously included me in the final moments of his time on earth. I have found that the experience of watching a loved one die is life-changing and, for me, a sacred moment. As difficult as it is to lose someone I've loved, I have been aware that I was watching them go to be with God. And with each person I've seen begin that journey to heaven (Uncle John, then Mama, and then Pop-In-Law and Mom-In-Law) I loved them deeply and hoped that when it's my turn to go, someone is with me who loves me just as much.

My Mama was like no one else, strong but tender, independent but hated being alone, quick to fly off the handle but also quick to apologize. Full of contradictions, complexities and compassion, she spent the biggest part of her life taking care of other people. She was a rebellious spirit but also a woman of great faith in Jesus. Mama was not always concerned about being very well-read, but she had the most sense about people of anyone I've ever met and could smell BS a mile away...and had a very low tolerance for it. She always made our friends feel welcome in our home and could carry on a fun, thought-provoking conversation with anyone (provided they were not spewing the aforementioned BS.) She lived and loved with her whole heart and died way too early.

I always tell people that her July 4 birthday suited her perfectly because she was a real firecracker. Even though she's gone from this world and my daily, physical life, she is always with me and gives me gifts every day. Sometimes now, my laughter sounds like hers, and it's like the music of the ages bubbling up from me and her and all the women of our family. I'll never outgrow the reality that when I am in trouble or sadness or pain, I still want my Mama. 

The Ever-Changing Never-Changing

Why losing weight won't solve every problem


Yesterday I caught a glimpse of myself in a full-length glass door as I was walking to enter a building.  What I noticed, aside from wicked humidity hair, was how big my jeans looked on my body.  I am only down about 20 pounds since my surgery, so the sight of my pants swirling around my legs was a surprise.  Still, progress is progress, however slow it might feel.  At my next appointment with my surgeon I need to ask him what his expectations are as far as the pace of my weight loss.  If I lose the weight too slowly I could get discouraged and lose momentum.  If I lose too much too quickly, I know it can lead to some health problems.  If I wanted health problems I would not have bothered with surgery in the first place!

Flash forward to this morning when I awoke with a THUNDERING headache.  As I have written about in earlier blogs, I have been a headache sufferer for as long as I can remember, with migraines starting around puberty.  Unfortunately, my headaches are an issue that weight loss most likely will not resolve.  I am not a doctor and I don't pretend to have any special knowledge about the headache phenomenon other than my own experience, but I suspect that headaches are not going to go away as my size decreases.  I don't expect them to.  I don't recall any research that makes a correlation between weight and headaches.  And as much research as I have done over the years I surely would have found it.

So, as much of my body changes, parts of it will not.  As much of my body changes, some things in my thinking will also change.  And they need to.  A book given to me by a dear friend and fellow traveler along the weight loss path deals a lot with our self-talk and how important it is for us to discard the old, negative thinking and replace it with self-encouragement.  The world in general is not all that friendly to plus size people, and for many of us, that unfriendliness begins early in life.  Years of scripts run through our minds and  try to sabotage our efforts at change...the voices of those who have seen us fail at weight loss saying that we are bound to fail again because failure is all we've ever known...that we can't change.

Yes, we can.  We CAN change.  Can I change my headaches?  Maybe not.  Can I change my body?  That is why I opted to pursue weight loss surgery.  Can I change my thinking?  With effort and dedication, you bet I can.  I am staking my health and my future on it.

By Way of Explanation

How the Blog Got Her Name


I started thinking recently that some people might find the name of my blog a little self-indulgent, or even pompous.  So I wanted to break it down and give a little insight into why I chose the name I chose.  After all, everything has a reason.

"Shrinking" obviously refers to the weight loss part of the journey, the biggest single impetus I had for starting the blog in the first place.  My size and shape, and my feelings about my size and shape, have been a huge force in my life for about as long as I can remember.  In writing about those issues here, as well as chronicling my shrinkage in writing, I hope to put some of my demons to rest and maybe even help some other woman somewhere to feel better about her own body.

"Diva" is a nickname I have had for-pretty-much-ever.  The Italian definition for the word is "goddess", which I know I am definitely NOT.  The American slang meaning for Diva is more a reference to a performer, particularly in the opera world, who can be challenging to work with but has undeniable chops.  I strive to be easy to work with, at least in the musical arena of my life, but I also strive to maintain the musical chops and voice that God gave me.

"Incredible" is the part I thought might give some people pause.  It's not that I am incredible, because I'm not.    And while losing weight may feel incredible to me, it's really not all that miraculous for everyone.  The incredible part is the wonderful things God is allowing me to learn and to experience, in part through the weight loss journey and in part through the rest of my life.  There is a lot more to my life and my world than just weight-loss surgery.  The unit of Clinical Pastoral Education I took part in this past winter and spring did way more to change me than losing weight will do.  God allowed me to take part in some incredible things in that 6 months, wonderful, tragic, humbling, heartbreaking experiences that have left me changed.

My first night on call at the hospital I got to baptize a beautiful, healthy 3-day-old baby boy.  This was unusual for a few reasons.  First of all, I was called to the mother and baby's room in the wee hours of the morning.  Secondly, I went there straight from a trauma downstairs.  Thirdly, when a chaplain is called to baptize an infant, it is usually because the infant has either died or is expected to die shortly.  My opportunity to baptize a healthy baby who was about to go home the next day with his mother was nothing short of...incredible!

As I continue to write these blog entries, I will write about the Shrinking Diva parts of my life, but I also hope to share more of the Incredible as well.  I'm not incredible.  What God is doing in my life is.  And THAT is worth sharing.

Gravity Is Not My Friend...

...why what goes up needs to STAY there


Recovery from surgery has been going really well, knock wood and Lord willing. Some soreness, some back pain, little annoyances all, but I am doing great for just a week and 2 days out from surgery.  However, in the spirit of full disclosure I must say that in addition to dealing not only with the issues specific to recovering from weight-loss surgery and surgery in general, I spotted a new-old nemesis yesterday.  

The big, black, bristly Chin Whisker.  A relative of The Humility Pimple referred to in a previous post.

This hair used to live happily among my eyebrows, framing my face and giving added expression and zest to my communications, verbal and otherwise.  My eyebrows used to be lush, thick and jet black.  I actually had the nerve to complain about having too much eyebrow hair.  I am learning now that it is much easier, regarding eyebrows, to have too much to work with.

I used to hear middle-aged women in my family talk about how "things fall down" as we get older.  Chests drop and droop, fannies sink, and cheeks become jowly.  I always knew these changes were awaiting me as I approached a "certain age".  They never told me that gravity would apply to my hair as well!  Such an indignity!  The lush, black hair that used to adorn the top of my head and those abundant eyebrows of mine has started appearing on my upper lip and chin.  This is not the nicest kind of surprise for a woman to discover.

Is there a kind of hair transplant for eyebrows that could restore mine to their former glory?  I know there are removal methods for the facial hair that we don't want, and I've experimented with some of those.  It seems sad to remove hair from one place when I need it in another...like I am wasting hair somehow.

We live in a culture that embraces a very narrow standard of beauty, both in the literal narrowness of a woman's waist and hips, and the broader narrowness, if you will, of the images were are subjected to/ bombarded with, depicting the feminine American ideal.  That ideal does not include mustaches and beards on female faces.  If I lived someplace else, someplace more forgiving, maybe the Chin Whisker would not bother me as much as it does.  But I live in the good old US of A, the breadbasket of the world (just don't eat too much of that bread), the place where the slightest imperfection is noticed and scrutinized.  So Mr. Whisker gets tweezed, while the eyebrows get filled in with a little extra color.  That deals with the perverse irony of thinning and misplaced hair.  I will save the rant about grey for another post!

We are now giddy with anticipation, aren't we?!



 

More P's For Your Consideration...

Pain, Posture, Perspiration, Purging and Poop


Yes, the Diva has had her first post-op bowel movement!  It feels like a monumental occasion for which one might hire a string quartet, or at least a bluegrass band.  In all seriousness, after any surgery, it is very important to make sure that the bowel is not sluggish once the anesthesia begins working its way out of the patient's system, because a sluggish bowel (or ileus) can cause a host of other complications.  At the hospital everyone was just asking if I had "passed gas" yet, because there was not enough in my intestinal tract to make anything more than air.  Since my bowel sounds were good, they agreed to release me.  That was Friday, and it has taken until today, Monday, for the "monumental movement" to occur.  (And it wasn't really all that monumental...it just felt that way.)  Mama would be so proud!  She was an extremely regular pooper.

I've been dealing with some pain from various sources since surgery, and that is also to be expected.  Back pain has been a stubborn issue because I've been unable to lie on my side when I sleep or rest, which is a major drag since I am a side sleeper.  So my back has been taking all the pressure, all the time.  The Hubs helped me get a shower last night, and as tiring as it was, having him clean my back with my favorite scented scrub felt fantastic!  And even though it tired me out, it made me feel a lot better over all, and I think the warm water did a lot to loosen my sore muscles.  Later last night, an ice pack felt really good jammed up against my sore back.  I may do that again tonight if I need it. Today I have napped and used a pillow to support myself on my sides and that has been really helpful.  I hope that this posture boost will allow me to get a decent night of sleep.

I have also noticed that my body temp seems to fluctuate pretty widely as I sleep because I am waking up sweating fairly often.  This may be due to a combination of factors:  purging the many IV bags of hospital chemicals from my system; the surge of hormones that we are told will occur once we have undergone the weight-loss operation; just my own age and tendency toward night sweats anyway.  I am 48 and I have been suffering night sweats on and off since I was 30.

My dreams since coming home have been unusually vivid, even for me, and their wildness may bring something to bear upon the sweating as well.  That, I figure, has GOT to be related to getting the chemicals out of my system, and as such, I hope it settles down a little over time.  Right now I just feel like a sore, sweaty, pajama-clad mess...but that will also pass.  Considering all that's been done to my body in the past week, I think I am getting along pretty well, Lord willing and knock wood!      

Be It Ever So Humble...

There really is no place like home


Came home from the hospital Friday afternoon, after a 2 and 1/2 day stay.  I will not lie about how I feel.  I am sore, my neck especially has been bothering me.  And I have a painful place on my lower right side that has made me unable to lie on my side for sleep or rest, so my back is bothering me because it is really tired and sore from being the only spot to lie or lean on.  But it has been great to sleep in my own bed again and it's very liberating to be able to go to the bathroom without an IV pole in tow!

Now for some surgery nitty-gritty.  I had undergone abdominal surgery twice before.  The first time was in 1977, shortly before my 13th birthday.  My symptoms made the surgeon think my appendix was the trouble.  It turned out that I had an ovarian cyst that had ruptured and, since it was on the right side, the appendix was the natural assumption.  And he did remove the appendix since he was in the neighborhood.  The second operation was in January of 1995 when my gallbladder (and 15 marble-size stones!) were removed.  As a result of these previous surgical adventures, my surgery on Wednesday took longer because my doctor had some significant adhesions (scar tissue) to deal with before he could get to the actual business of my weight-loss procedure.

In addition to these considerations, weight-loss surgeries generally come with the installation of a drain.  Of course, I was still under anesthesia when the drain was installed so it was nothing for me to be concerned about.  The removal of the drain was something else entirely.  I won't lie and say that it was a breeze.  It was unpleasant.  Had I known just how uncomfortable it would be, I might have asked for conscious sedation for that couple of minutes!  Seriously.  The good news is that it doesn't take very long for the removal.  Still, some twilight sleep or nitrous oxide or something mind-altering would have been nice.

I had lots of nice visits while I was in the hospital,as well as tons of phone calls and text messages checking up on me, which made me feel very much loved and cared for.  Flowers and balloons and a goody bag with journal, prayer box and cool pen (shaped and painted to look like a brunette Diva!) are on my coffee table here at home, and their fragrance and color remind me what wonderful friends and family I have been blessed with.

The Hubs has been the most excellent caregiver I could ever have asked for.  He has been concerned, patient, loving and supportive throughout this whole thing.  Not just the hospital and recovery, but the months beforehand during medically-supervised weight loss and CPE.  So even though I feel kind of crappy right now, I realize how very much I have to be thankful for.  The crappy part is all stuff that (I hope!) is going to pass soon.  The blessed part is what will last.      

The P's of Life...

...Preparation, Pain, Pee, Puke and Provision


This time tomorrow my surgery will be over!  Glory, Glory Hallelujah!  Can I get an "Amen"?!

Surgery day is upon us!  After midnight tonight I am to have nothing by mouth to prepare for tomorrow's festivities in hopes of, among other things, not experiencing nausea or vomiting as I wake up from anesthesia.  I've had that happen and it is MOST unpleasant.

I've been put to sleep 4 times, and I vomited twice coming out of it.  The first incident was after my gallbladder was removed.  Imagine, if you will, coming out of a hazy state with 4 newly-poked holes in your belly, lying flat on your back and puking like a champ.  I don't recommend it.

The second time I yakked after surgery was with my wisdom teeth, and I yakked with such gusto, that I also peed my pants.  (Yes, it is OK to laugh, because it is funny.  I think it may have the makings of a sitcom episode someday.)  And I did not take any pain medication with me to the appointment because I knew they were going to send me straight to the pharmacy for medicine immediately after surgery.  And they did.  However, it snowed that day, and even though the roads were not dangerous, there was extreme gridlock.  So what should have been a 45 minute drive from the oral surgeon's office to the pharmacy turned into about 4 hours of creeping, crawling agony.  Imagine again, if you will, the anesthetic (from having 4 impacted wisdom teeth jackhammered out of your face) gone before you even leave the office, and when you emerge from the office to the parking lot, all there is, is snow and crawling traffic as far as the eye can see.  And because you've peed your pants, you ride home not only in excruciating pain but also with a cold, wet tushy.  Talk about adding insult to injury!  Fortunately a nurse gave us a trash bag for me to sit on so I wouldn't  soak the car seat.  I thought that trip would never end.  The Hubs, I am sure, felt the same way.  We can laugh about it now...sort of.

And this, boys and girls, is why I never leave home now without hydrocodone in my possession or on my person.  NEVER.  Accidents happen.  Falls happen. Pain happens, and never when it is convenient.  So now, I am of the "It's better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it" school.

Because I won't be able to take large pills for a while after surgery, this time I have been prescribed a liquid hydrocodone to use for pain.  The nurse says it takes effect more quickly and lasts longer than the pill form.  I hope not to need much of it while I recover, but I ain't gonna white-knuckle really awful post-op pain.  I will take medicine if I need to.  I know from working with hospice patients that it is easier to control pain before it gets too severe than it is to relieve it once it has reached the "oh-dear-Lord-I'm-in-the-worst-pain-of-my-life" stage.

I expect to feel really crappy for a few days.  But when I think about all I've been through preparing for this step of the journey, I am amazed at how God has provided what I have needed, when I have needed it.  He got me through the withdrawal from caffeine and carbonated drinks, which was not a fun process.  He enabled me to do my overnight sleep test the night before my CPE interview and to be accepted into the unit.  He got me through the barium swallow test without more puking!

He has given encouragement from family and friends for not only my weight-loss surgery but my writing as they have read both the blog posts and some of my writings for CPE.  And He will provide what I need going forward.  Maybe not exactly how I might expect, but He will take care of me.  He always has.