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.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
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!
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!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
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!
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!
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, August 20, 2012
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!
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!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
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!
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!
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