Wednesday, October 10, 2018
Week 7 - Still going
It's been awhile since I did a video blog, so I thought it was time. Click here to see what's new.
Friday, September 28, 2018
So, how did we get here?
Guess who woke up at 1:30 AM and couldn't go back to sleep? My loss is your gain because I'm finally going to tell you about the amazing love of God that got me to this point. It comes at a critical time too, because I have been angry the past couple weeks and second-guessing my decision to have weight loss surgery. I'll give more details on that next week after my six week follow up appointment, but know that I've been feeling crappy and the scale hasn't been moving. Anyway, I often have trouble sleeping through the night when God wants me to understand something. The first thing I thought when I woke up was that I needed to pee, but the second thing was that it was a perfect opportunity to wrap up the story of what led to my surgery. I can't possibly have regret or be angry when remembering that. So here goes...
After my gall bladder surgery, when we found out my liver was bad, the surgeon suggested weight loss surgery and for the first time I strongly considered it. I always dismissed the idea because I was terrified I wouldn't wake up from the anesthesia and (at that point in time) you couldn't get pregnant afterward because it was too dangerous. Now, the things that I was fearful of were out of the equation. I hit my max out of pocket with the insurance company, so based on my research on their website, I could have the surgery at no cost to us. It seemed like a no-brainer. My biggest concern was whether or not I could have it done by the end of the year because if not, I would have to pay a few thousand dollars and that would be out of the question. So, I looked up our insurance company's requirements while the doctor's office was checking too, and saw that I met all the criteria and should be able to have the surgery this year. I cried tears of joy at the prospect of finally having a tool that has such a huge success rate.
That joy was short-lived when I got the call from the doctor's office saying my insurance plan doesn't cover any form of weight loss surgery under any circumstances. Punch in the gut. This was the story of my life. I have some hope for things to go well, then it all gets taken away in an instant. This is the world I live in...at least for the next few years if I'm lucky. I don't know what the doctor actually told me at that wake up call about my liver, but what I heard was that I needed to drop a lot of weight quickly and it was going to be next to impossible for me to do it without surgery. So I did what any strong, confident woman does. I cried. All day. We had a counseling appointment that afternoon where Steve was super-supportive and talked about how we would do Whole30 for a year and lose weight together. I was deflated, but thankful for my husband and his commitment to me. I told him I needed a backyard pool where I could do water exercise everyday. He agreed and built me a deck with stairs so I could get in and out of it. I live in plan B, so I put on my big girl panties and got to work.
On July 4th, I posted on Facebook about what was going on and bragged about how wonderful my husband was for building not only a pool, but hope in me. The point of my post was to share how amazing Steve was and the sad news was there just to provide context for his awesomeness. Well, my dad read it and got the idea that it would be even better if I had the surgery to go with Steve's support. He called me that evening and said that he would like my family to all pitch in to pay for the surgery because they all love me and want to save my life. He also added that he would cover the cost, but felt I would be more successful if more people rallied around me because, in his words, it would be easy for me to disappoint him, but much harder to disappoint everyone else. He wasn't wrong.
My dad and I have always had a rocky relationship. I don't think it will do any good to drudge up why, but just understand there have been mistakes and hurt. There has also been forgiveness, but that doesn't always translate to a wonderful relationship. While I didn't hold animosity for him, I also didn't call him regularly and we didn't share each other's lives. I was shocked when he called me making the offer to pay for my surgery. I was also skeptical because I didn't want to be manipulated and owe him. I talked with Steve and friends about it and to my surprise, everyone was in quick agreement that I should accept his offer. After several conversations with my dad, I heard that he loved me and wanted to do whatever he could help his daughter even at great cost to him. He is not a wealthy man and it was going to be a huge sacrifice for him to come up with this money. I was seeing the potential this surgery had to change my life beyond just losing the weight. We don't have a lot of positive memories and this could be the start of actually building a good relationship.
So, after I accepted his offer, it was time to see if any other family wanted to contribute. I have never asked for money or to borrow money. I don't even remember doing it as a kid. I value self-sufficiency and believe people should handle their business. That makes it really difficult to ask someone to sacrifice for you. We talked to Steve's parents and they immediately said they would help. I don't share their blood, but they have always accepted me as family and treated me as their daughter, but I was still surprised when they said yes. Talk about a humbling experience.
This is when I started to see God at work here. I have struggled for decades with my relationship with my dad, my weight, depending on others, and feeling worthy of love. All of that was being dealt with in this surgery. I was seeing my dad in a new light and thought this might be how he comes to know God. Not the god he saw as a child that was more about a social agenda at church, or even the legalistic god I knew growing up, but the God who moves heaven and earth for his children. The God who inspires people to stand up and help each other. How awesome would that be?! That's when I started feeling nudged to talk to my church family about this. They are my family after all.
I was awoken every night for at least a week with the nagging thought of asking my church family to be a part of contributing to my surgery. I am very responsive to God. When he asks me to do something, I do it, usually without hesitation. This was not one of those times. I didn't want to do it. Then he reminded me, that it wasn't about me. My dad was taking care of the surgery. It's covered. But what if I could show him God's love by the people of God rallying together to pay him back just a small portion when they don't even know him. On July 15th (a day which will live in infamy), I explained my situation and what my dad was doing. I explained that my dad doesn't know Jesus and would they help me show him what Christ's love really looks like. I wanted to throw up, but I also felt relieved because I knew I had been obedient.
Grace Harbor church is a small group of people (around 100) who are sinners recognizing they have been saved by the grace of God and they just want to be a harbor of grace to others. Our motto is: getting the love right. These people have changed my life for the better in more ways than I can count. Everyone should have a Grace Harbor. In making my request, I was hoping to raise about $100 to give my dad. When I sat back down, a young girl ran out to the car to get her money to give to me. Before I left that day, someone let me know that we would see what the church gives, then they would cover the difference to pay my dad back. What?!?!?! I type this through tears remembering how deeply moved I was (and still am). Who does things like that? Someone who has committed to live their life for God. There are some who say they live following Jesus' footsteps, and then there are people who actually do. I am blessed beyond measure to be surrounded by several of the latter. I'm the one who made a lifetime of bad health decisions that got me in this mess, but when I couldn't pay the debt, others stepped up to cover it for me.
In the weeks following, my friends organized an event to raise money which resulted in us collecting about $10,000 from my family and church family! When I relayed this story to our counsellor, she even contributed some money because "she wanted some skin in the game too." I have never felt more loved in all my life. It was beyond my wildest dreams. Our pastor has been preaching through the book of Acts and all this lined up with the section right after Pentecost when the church first began and lived in community with each other, selling their possessions and sharing with each other where any had need. Talk about scripture coming to life! I loved being able to call my dad and let him know what happened.
My surgery was scheduled for August 22nd, less than 2 months after my first appointment. When dealing with insurance, the process often takes up to a year with all the hoops they make you jump through. I was able to skip all that. It made the process so much easier, and just as my dad expected, knowing how many people were literally invested in my success made me work that much harder. It's a tangible example of what Jesus' dying on the cross did for me. I screwed up. People stepped in to cover my debt to save my life. My response to that is to want to live life to the fullest serving Him. I don't follow Jesus out of guilt or obligation, but it's a response to my gratitude. I want to be as successful as possible with this surgery so I can pay their generosity forward. I want my life to multiply what they have given me.
God is amazing! He truly does what Paul talks about in Romans 8:28 weaving together seemingly unrelated things for the good of those who love him according to his purpose. So, how can I sit here today and be angry about anything? How can I feel discouraged or flirt with regret? This has been one of the best things that has ever happened for me and I will continue to climb this mountain until I can shout God's goodness from the top. I'm thankful He has given me a story. Life is hard, but the people around us make it better. Don't we owe it to them to entertain them with a good story?
After my gall bladder surgery, when we found out my liver was bad, the surgeon suggested weight loss surgery and for the first time I strongly considered it. I always dismissed the idea because I was terrified I wouldn't wake up from the anesthesia and (at that point in time) you couldn't get pregnant afterward because it was too dangerous. Now, the things that I was fearful of were out of the equation. I hit my max out of pocket with the insurance company, so based on my research on their website, I could have the surgery at no cost to us. It seemed like a no-brainer. My biggest concern was whether or not I could have it done by the end of the year because if not, I would have to pay a few thousand dollars and that would be out of the question. So, I looked up our insurance company's requirements while the doctor's office was checking too, and saw that I met all the criteria and should be able to have the surgery this year. I cried tears of joy at the prospect of finally having a tool that has such a huge success rate.
That joy was short-lived when I got the call from the doctor's office saying my insurance plan doesn't cover any form of weight loss surgery under any circumstances. Punch in the gut. This was the story of my life. I have some hope for things to go well, then it all gets taken away in an instant. This is the world I live in...at least for the next few years if I'm lucky. I don't know what the doctor actually told me at that wake up call about my liver, but what I heard was that I needed to drop a lot of weight quickly and it was going to be next to impossible for me to do it without surgery. So I did what any strong, confident woman does. I cried. All day. We had a counseling appointment that afternoon where Steve was super-supportive and talked about how we would do Whole30 for a year and lose weight together. I was deflated, but thankful for my husband and his commitment to me. I told him I needed a backyard pool where I could do water exercise everyday. He agreed and built me a deck with stairs so I could get in and out of it. I live in plan B, so I put on my big girl panties and got to work.
On July 4th, I posted on Facebook about what was going on and bragged about how wonderful my husband was for building not only a pool, but hope in me. The point of my post was to share how amazing Steve was and the sad news was there just to provide context for his awesomeness. Well, my dad read it and got the idea that it would be even better if I had the surgery to go with Steve's support. He called me that evening and said that he would like my family to all pitch in to pay for the surgery because they all love me and want to save my life. He also added that he would cover the cost, but felt I would be more successful if more people rallied around me because, in his words, it would be easy for me to disappoint him, but much harder to disappoint everyone else. He wasn't wrong.
My dad and I have always had a rocky relationship. I don't think it will do any good to drudge up why, but just understand there have been mistakes and hurt. There has also been forgiveness, but that doesn't always translate to a wonderful relationship. While I didn't hold animosity for him, I also didn't call him regularly and we didn't share each other's lives. I was shocked when he called me making the offer to pay for my surgery. I was also skeptical because I didn't want to be manipulated and owe him. I talked with Steve and friends about it and to my surprise, everyone was in quick agreement that I should accept his offer. After several conversations with my dad, I heard that he loved me and wanted to do whatever he could help his daughter even at great cost to him. He is not a wealthy man and it was going to be a huge sacrifice for him to come up with this money. I was seeing the potential this surgery had to change my life beyond just losing the weight. We don't have a lot of positive memories and this could be the start of actually building a good relationship.
So, after I accepted his offer, it was time to see if any other family wanted to contribute. I have never asked for money or to borrow money. I don't even remember doing it as a kid. I value self-sufficiency and believe people should handle their business. That makes it really difficult to ask someone to sacrifice for you. We talked to Steve's parents and they immediately said they would help. I don't share their blood, but they have always accepted me as family and treated me as their daughter, but I was still surprised when they said yes. Talk about a humbling experience.
This is when I started to see God at work here. I have struggled for decades with my relationship with my dad, my weight, depending on others, and feeling worthy of love. All of that was being dealt with in this surgery. I was seeing my dad in a new light and thought this might be how he comes to know God. Not the god he saw as a child that was more about a social agenda at church, or even the legalistic god I knew growing up, but the God who moves heaven and earth for his children. The God who inspires people to stand up and help each other. How awesome would that be?! That's when I started feeling nudged to talk to my church family about this. They are my family after all.
I was awoken every night for at least a week with the nagging thought of asking my church family to be a part of contributing to my surgery. I am very responsive to God. When he asks me to do something, I do it, usually without hesitation. This was not one of those times. I didn't want to do it. Then he reminded me, that it wasn't about me. My dad was taking care of the surgery. It's covered. But what if I could show him God's love by the people of God rallying together to pay him back just a small portion when they don't even know him. On July 15th (a day which will live in infamy), I explained my situation and what my dad was doing. I explained that my dad doesn't know Jesus and would they help me show him what Christ's love really looks like. I wanted to throw up, but I also felt relieved because I knew I had been obedient.
Grace Harbor church is a small group of people (around 100) who are sinners recognizing they have been saved by the grace of God and they just want to be a harbor of grace to others. Our motto is: getting the love right. These people have changed my life for the better in more ways than I can count. Everyone should have a Grace Harbor. In making my request, I was hoping to raise about $100 to give my dad. When I sat back down, a young girl ran out to the car to get her money to give to me. Before I left that day, someone let me know that we would see what the church gives, then they would cover the difference to pay my dad back. What?!?!?! I type this through tears remembering how deeply moved I was (and still am). Who does things like that? Someone who has committed to live their life for God. There are some who say they live following Jesus' footsteps, and then there are people who actually do. I am blessed beyond measure to be surrounded by several of the latter. I'm the one who made a lifetime of bad health decisions that got me in this mess, but when I couldn't pay the debt, others stepped up to cover it for me.
In the weeks following, my friends organized an event to raise money which resulted in us collecting about $10,000 from my family and church family! When I relayed this story to our counsellor, she even contributed some money because "she wanted some skin in the game too." I have never felt more loved in all my life. It was beyond my wildest dreams. Our pastor has been preaching through the book of Acts and all this lined up with the section right after Pentecost when the church first began and lived in community with each other, selling their possessions and sharing with each other where any had need. Talk about scripture coming to life! I loved being able to call my dad and let him know what happened.
My surgery was scheduled for August 22nd, less than 2 months after my first appointment. When dealing with insurance, the process often takes up to a year with all the hoops they make you jump through. I was able to skip all that. It made the process so much easier, and just as my dad expected, knowing how many people were literally invested in my success made me work that much harder. It's a tangible example of what Jesus' dying on the cross did for me. I screwed up. People stepped in to cover my debt to save my life. My response to that is to want to live life to the fullest serving Him. I don't follow Jesus out of guilt or obligation, but it's a response to my gratitude. I want to be as successful as possible with this surgery so I can pay their generosity forward. I want my life to multiply what they have given me.
God is amazing! He truly does what Paul talks about in Romans 8:28 weaving together seemingly unrelated things for the good of those who love him according to his purpose. So, how can I sit here today and be angry about anything? How can I feel discouraged or flirt with regret? This has been one of the best things that has ever happened for me and I will continue to climb this mountain until I can shout God's goodness from the top. I'm thankful He has given me a story. Life is hard, but the people around us make it better. Don't we owe it to them to entertain them with a good story?
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
Four weeks post-op
I'm so sorry It's been almost three weeks since I posted an update. I took a video at the two week mark, but it was 30 minutes long and YouTube wouldn't let me upload it, saving you from my ramblings. Here's a quick recap:
I started feeling pretty good at about the two week mark and was given the clear to exercise more intensely and I was back up to walking about an hour a day. Then week three came and I started having issues with number two. I'm going to leave it at that and just say that a week later, it's not 100% resolved, but it's definitely improved. It zapped all my energy and I was only able to exercise a couple times for about 30 minutes in the past week.
Today, I am four weeks out and am starting to feel good again. My weight loss stalled last week, but I do notice my body changed even though the number on the scale only moved about a pound. I've lost over 90 pounds since my highest weight last year with 45 of those pounds coming off since my first visit to Dr. Roller's office in July.
Up until a week ago, I was feeling so good that I started jogging to train for the Disney Princess 5K I want to run at Disney World in a little over a year. It was short lived because this past week I have felt terrible and been shaky, nauseous, and just exhausted most of the time. This week I decided to pretend that I felt better in hopes of my body getting on board. Well, I think it's working, but it's a slow process. It feels like I'm taking two steps forward and one step backward, but that's still progress. Even if it's slower than I would choose, I'm in a better place than I was the day before and my health is only improving.
I've decided I may have jumped the gun a bit on learning to run and I need to focus on walking and building up my strength and endurance. Yesterday I was able to walk for about 30 minutes at a pace of 2 mph. My goal is to build that up to an hour at 3 mph by the end of the month. Wrigley helps out by going to the community center most days where he does his school work in the library room that connects to the track where I walk. He's done a great job staying focused and getting his work done which allows me to focus on my work.
Eating is still hard. Especially last week when I didn't feel good and had no appetite, but I had to eat. My plan consists of eating 1 ounce of lean meat protein at each meal. If I'm still hungry, I should eat another ounce, then add an ounce of non-starchy vegetables. The goal is to be able to eat 3 ounces of protein with 1/4 cup vegetables at the 3-6 month mark. I'm able to do about 2 ounces of meat right now, so I think I'm progressing well. We are definitely saving money on food! I really do miss eating vegetables and look forward to getting to eat the way I did in preparation for the surgery, but I'm a few months away from that.
These past couple weeks I've experienced a lot of changes in my body (for the better). I was able to buy a couple t-shirts at regular stores and even a t-shirt from our homeschool co-op. That was something I couldn't have done in over a decade. Everyday tasks are getting easier. Things like tying my shoes, getting out of bed, standing up/sitting down, bathing. My seatbelt doesn't get locked up in the car and I can wear a seatbelt in the back seat. These are dumb, little things, but they give me glimpses into the future where I don't have to waste so much time thinking about or preparing to do simple tasks.
Now here's a weird confession: I find that I touch myself a lot. Ewe, no! Not like that! When I'm watching TV, or laying down for bed, I find myself running my fingers over my jawline that didn't exist a few weeks ago. I can feel my collar bone and shoulder blades. I can even feel my pelvis (I think) and hip bones. They are all parts of me that I don't recognize and it feels like we're being introduced to each other. When I went to my first support group meeting I noticed that everyone looks like they are in various stages of melting. I'm now seeing my body start to melt. It's interesting how it happens though. It doesn't just proportionally disappear. I have what I call an "apron" of fat that is like a muffin top on steroids that decided to go rogue. My legs are pretty muscular and normal size all the way up, but my stomach hangs about 100 pounds of pure fat like an apron resting on my legs (which is why it's so hard to exercise). My apron, decided that the middle would shrink a little, the right side decided it would hang a little lower, and the left side is just chillin' waiting for an invitation to the party. It's not attractive.
I've also learned that skin looks better with fat under it. Maybe not in overall appearance, but hanging skin without fat looks like you blew up a balloon a couple years ago then decided to let the air out. It has all these weird lines and stretch marks that were nearly invisible now taking center stage. BUT....I'll take all this new weirdness over my death row body any day. The doctor said that I will definitely need skin removal surgery on my stomach after I lose the weight, then hopefully I can stay out of the hospital for 40 years. He said he would not be surprised if my skin hangs down past my knees. Maybe I could make a kangaroo pouch and have a permanent fanny pack! Better yet, can you donate excess skin? Maybe to burn victims or something? I have some pristine skin that's never even seen the light of day.
Anyway, I've been sleeping well, so it's been hard to post on here, but I'll try to do better. I still need to finish up my story and I plan to work on that for my next post. Do you have questions for me? Have you always wondered something about weight loss surgery, but felt it was inappropriate to ask? I'm your girl. Lay it on me and I'll do my best to represent "my people." That's why we have the anonymous comment feature. 😀
- My liver showed major improvement from my gall bladder surgery to my weight loss surgery
- My diet was advanced to soft foods meaning I can eat meat, dairy, and well-cooked vegetables that can be cut with a plastic fork
- I began taking my life-long supplements that include a multivitamin, probiotic, calcium, and acid reducer (this one is only for the first year to prevent ulcers)
- I now weigh less than Steve for the first time in our marriage
I started feeling pretty good at about the two week mark and was given the clear to exercise more intensely and I was back up to walking about an hour a day. Then week three came and I started having issues with number two. I'm going to leave it at that and just say that a week later, it's not 100% resolved, but it's definitely improved. It zapped all my energy and I was only able to exercise a couple times for about 30 minutes in the past week.
Today, I am four weeks out and am starting to feel good again. My weight loss stalled last week, but I do notice my body changed even though the number on the scale only moved about a pound. I've lost over 90 pounds since my highest weight last year with 45 of those pounds coming off since my first visit to Dr. Roller's office in July.
Up until a week ago, I was feeling so good that I started jogging to train for the Disney Princess 5K I want to run at Disney World in a little over a year. It was short lived because this past week I have felt terrible and been shaky, nauseous, and just exhausted most of the time. This week I decided to pretend that I felt better in hopes of my body getting on board. Well, I think it's working, but it's a slow process. It feels like I'm taking two steps forward and one step backward, but that's still progress. Even if it's slower than I would choose, I'm in a better place than I was the day before and my health is only improving.
I've decided I may have jumped the gun a bit on learning to run and I need to focus on walking and building up my strength and endurance. Yesterday I was able to walk for about 30 minutes at a pace of 2 mph. My goal is to build that up to an hour at 3 mph by the end of the month. Wrigley helps out by going to the community center most days where he does his school work in the library room that connects to the track where I walk. He's done a great job staying focused and getting his work done which allows me to focus on my work.
Eating is still hard. Especially last week when I didn't feel good and had no appetite, but I had to eat. My plan consists of eating 1 ounce of lean meat protein at each meal. If I'm still hungry, I should eat another ounce, then add an ounce of non-starchy vegetables. The goal is to be able to eat 3 ounces of protein with 1/4 cup vegetables at the 3-6 month mark. I'm able to do about 2 ounces of meat right now, so I think I'm progressing well. We are definitely saving money on food! I really do miss eating vegetables and look forward to getting to eat the way I did in preparation for the surgery, but I'm a few months away from that.
These past couple weeks I've experienced a lot of changes in my body (for the better). I was able to buy a couple t-shirts at regular stores and even a t-shirt from our homeschool co-op. That was something I couldn't have done in over a decade. Everyday tasks are getting easier. Things like tying my shoes, getting out of bed, standing up/sitting down, bathing. My seatbelt doesn't get locked up in the car and I can wear a seatbelt in the back seat. These are dumb, little things, but they give me glimpses into the future where I don't have to waste so much time thinking about or preparing to do simple tasks.
Now here's a weird confession: I find that I touch myself a lot. Ewe, no! Not like that! When I'm watching TV, or laying down for bed, I find myself running my fingers over my jawline that didn't exist a few weeks ago. I can feel my collar bone and shoulder blades. I can even feel my pelvis (I think) and hip bones. They are all parts of me that I don't recognize and it feels like we're being introduced to each other. When I went to my first support group meeting I noticed that everyone looks like they are in various stages of melting. I'm now seeing my body start to melt. It's interesting how it happens though. It doesn't just proportionally disappear. I have what I call an "apron" of fat that is like a muffin top on steroids that decided to go rogue. My legs are pretty muscular and normal size all the way up, but my stomach hangs about 100 pounds of pure fat like an apron resting on my legs (which is why it's so hard to exercise). My apron, decided that the middle would shrink a little, the right side decided it would hang a little lower, and the left side is just chillin' waiting for an invitation to the party. It's not attractive.
I've also learned that skin looks better with fat under it. Maybe not in overall appearance, but hanging skin without fat looks like you blew up a balloon a couple years ago then decided to let the air out. It has all these weird lines and stretch marks that were nearly invisible now taking center stage. BUT....I'll take all this new weirdness over my death row body any day. The doctor said that I will definitely need skin removal surgery on my stomach after I lose the weight, then hopefully I can stay out of the hospital for 40 years. He said he would not be surprised if my skin hangs down past my knees. Maybe I could make a kangaroo pouch and have a permanent fanny pack! Better yet, can you donate excess skin? Maybe to burn victims or something? I have some pristine skin that's never even seen the light of day.
Anyway, I've been sleeping well, so it's been hard to post on here, but I'll try to do better. I still need to finish up my story and I plan to work on that for my next post. Do you have questions for me? Have you always wondered something about weight loss surgery, but felt it was inappropriate to ask? I'm your girl. Lay it on me and I'll do my best to represent "my people." That's why we have the anonymous comment feature. 😀
Saturday, September 1, 2018
Singing' the blues
I've had a few people check on me to see how I'm doing, so I guess that means its time for an update.
This surgery stuff is weird. Talk to any Plexus rep and you'll know how important gut health is to the earth spinning on it's axis. That's just how important our stomachs are to our entire body. When you cut into your stomach, it jacks up all your hormones (pretty sure that's the clinical term) and leaves you feeling like a confused pregnant woman. Last week I bawled at seeing a fat person and for the past several days I've felt lifeless and a little depressed. These are common side effects to be expected after my surgery. Does it make you feel any better getting hit in the face if you know it's going to happen? Nope. There isn't really anything you can do to prepare for depression, so you just paint your door with lamb's blood and hope the angel of death passes over you. But I wasn't so lucky.
The supposed "cure" for pretty much every symptom you say you have from surgery is to "move, move, move." I don't think they even listen to you get out your symptom before jumping in with "you just need to drink more small sips of water and move, move, move." Well, when you feel like someone has sucked your will to live, telling you to move is like telling a vegan they can't talk about the horrific abuse your cow endured so you could enjoy that hamburger. You're just stuck and a little dumbfounded. But....I put on my big girl panties and I kept walking. I even stepped up my game and doubled my walking. I'm not allowed to break a sweat or walk outdoors, or do anything that could cause me to deplete my precious fluid resources, so I have been walking on an indoor track and watching my heart rate to make sure it stays in the 80s or less. It hasn't been a magic wand, but it has helped me feel like I can control something on this journey. I'm told what I have to eat and I am at the mercy of my body to see what results from the surgery, but I am in complete control over moving my body. It feels good to be in control of something.
I started my day by going to the community center alone while my boys slept because I wanted to make sure I got a good walk in no matter where the day took us. I've gradually been increasing my time and I decided I wanted to do 45 minutes, but I ended up doing 50 while I listed to podcasts. I felt like a wet noodle afterward, but I did it. I'm hoping to build up to an hour a day by the time I get the clear to exercise then start working on my speed.
I also got to enjoy 20 quiet minutes of driving to and from the community center which gave me time to think. Uh oh. Just kidding. It occurred to me that leading up to the surgery I felt so full of life and grateful to God for my family, friends and their support in my having this procedure. I've been so aware of God's provision and hand in guiding this every step of the way. My awareness ended when the pain of the recovery entered. I have been so myopic in thinking about how hard this is and how I wish I could fast forward that I stopped thanking God for this gift and seeking him through it. That perspective helped shake the depression I've been feeling. I'm still a bit weak and ready to crash by 4 PM everyday, but I am alive. Every day I get stronger, healthier, and closer to the complete image God designed me to be. I just need to keep showing up and putting my loaves and fishes on the table and he will bless it into abundance that I can't even imagine.
Remembering that focus was a huge gift today. It helps me remember all the heart-touching moments that led up to this. It is the best part of this whole story, but that's another story for another post.
This surgery stuff is weird. Talk to any Plexus rep and you'll know how important gut health is to the earth spinning on it's axis. That's just how important our stomachs are to our entire body. When you cut into your stomach, it jacks up all your hormones (pretty sure that's the clinical term) and leaves you feeling like a confused pregnant woman. Last week I bawled at seeing a fat person and for the past several days I've felt lifeless and a little depressed. These are common side effects to be expected after my surgery. Does it make you feel any better getting hit in the face if you know it's going to happen? Nope. There isn't really anything you can do to prepare for depression, so you just paint your door with lamb's blood and hope the angel of death passes over you. But I wasn't so lucky.
The supposed "cure" for pretty much every symptom you say you have from surgery is to "move, move, move." I don't think they even listen to you get out your symptom before jumping in with "you just need to drink more small sips of water and move, move, move." Well, when you feel like someone has sucked your will to live, telling you to move is like telling a vegan they can't talk about the horrific abuse your cow endured so you could enjoy that hamburger. You're just stuck and a little dumbfounded. But....I put on my big girl panties and I kept walking. I even stepped up my game and doubled my walking. I'm not allowed to break a sweat or walk outdoors, or do anything that could cause me to deplete my precious fluid resources, so I have been walking on an indoor track and watching my heart rate to make sure it stays in the 80s or less. It hasn't been a magic wand, but it has helped me feel like I can control something on this journey. I'm told what I have to eat and I am at the mercy of my body to see what results from the surgery, but I am in complete control over moving my body. It feels good to be in control of something.
I started my day by going to the community center alone while my boys slept because I wanted to make sure I got a good walk in no matter where the day took us. I've gradually been increasing my time and I decided I wanted to do 45 minutes, but I ended up doing 50 while I listed to podcasts. I felt like a wet noodle afterward, but I did it. I'm hoping to build up to an hour a day by the time I get the clear to exercise then start working on my speed.
I also got to enjoy 20 quiet minutes of driving to and from the community center which gave me time to think. Uh oh. Just kidding. It occurred to me that leading up to the surgery I felt so full of life and grateful to God for my family, friends and their support in my having this procedure. I've been so aware of God's provision and hand in guiding this every step of the way. My awareness ended when the pain of the recovery entered. I have been so myopic in thinking about how hard this is and how I wish I could fast forward that I stopped thanking God for this gift and seeking him through it. That perspective helped shake the depression I've been feeling. I'm still a bit weak and ready to crash by 4 PM everyday, but I am alive. Every day I get stronger, healthier, and closer to the complete image God designed me to be. I just need to keep showing up and putting my loaves and fishes on the table and he will bless it into abundance that I can't even imagine.
Remembering that focus was a huge gift today. It helps me remember all the heart-touching moments that led up to this. It is the best part of this whole story, but that's another story for another post.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Day 6 post-op
I'm feeling a lot better than I did a couple days ago and hit a couple milestones over the last two days: I pooped, and I now weigh under 300 lbs. Both of those are cause for celebration in my book because they were both highly anticipated events. Watch the video below for more details.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Day 4
So, I had my surgery (a loop duodenal switch or SADI-S) on August 22, 2018 at 7:30 am. The day before, we went to the gym where I set a personal best of walking 30 minutes straight at a 20 minute mile pace. That doesn't sound very good, but it was huge progress from where I started. I also did some weight machines since I knew I wouldn't be doing any of that for at least a month. My "cleanse" went well and I got a good night's rest before heading to the hospital just before 5 am. I felt light and high-spirited bounding up stairs at the hospital.
The surgery was completed as expected and I was up and walking within a few hours. I progressed well and was able to go home around noon the next day. I appears everything went as well as could be expected, praise God! Even though everything went well, it's still hard. I'm in a lot of pain and struggling to get all my fluids in, but I'm still glad I did it and grateful to everyone who made it possible.
From now on, I'll try to post videos to give you updates on the process. Please remember that this is my first time doing this, and I'm on drugs, so be gentle. 😌
The surgery was completed as expected and I was up and walking within a few hours. I progressed well and was able to go home around noon the next day. I appears everything went as well as could be expected, praise God! Even though everything went well, it's still hard. I'm in a lot of pain and struggling to get all my fluids in, but I'm still glad I did it and grateful to everyone who made it possible.
From now on, I'll try to post videos to give you updates on the process. Please remember that this is my first time doing this, and I'm on drugs, so be gentle. 😌
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
Having eyes to Seay
When a book is made into a movie, why do people usually prefer the book? Because a movie tells a story the way a director sees it, but a book allows each person's mind to conjure up any image that is unique to how the reader sees. The more vivid your imagination, the more a movie can seem a bit flat. My last post hinted at trouble in paradise. Maybe your imagination ran wild with possibilities. That's what mine did while I was going through it.
Remember that Enneagram thing I mentioned in a previous post? The Enneagram is a tool to help understand how we see the world and to better understand how others see it. There are nine different types each with a myriad of possible subtypes, but today we are going to focus on Eights and Fives. Why? Because Eights are the best number on the Enneagram and I happen to be an Eight. The worst number has to be a Five. Ok, not the worst, but definitely one of the hardest numbers to be with in a close relationship (BTW, no number is better than another and it is so Eight of me to pretend otherwise). Steve is a Five. What does this mean? We both perceive the world very differently. Here's a brief summary of each taken from the book, The Path Between Us, by Suzanne Stabile:
For the past few years I have had two marriages. The one that was being acted out in front of me and the one that lived in my mind. I was dissatisfied with my life and cast that interpretation onto Steve. He wasn't communicating anything different, so I figured I was right and went down the mental path of him leaving me at some point, probably when Wrigley was grown and gone. This caused me to see our marriage as very fragile, so if a problem arose, I tried to minimize its impact on Steve. I wouldn't tell him things that bothered me and slowly started closing off more and more doors in preparation for the storm brewing in my head. At the same time, he had no idea any of this was going on in my head because on the surface, everything seemed ok. The silence continued because from his perspective, if there was a problem, I'd be making him aware of it. I created a narrative in my head for his thoughts and feelings based on the lack of communication I was getting from him because if he had feelings, he'd be making me aware of it. Right?
Wrong. After my EMDR therapy, a lot of stuff came up that revealed issues in our marriage that we needed help resolving. My sweet friend who helped with therapy for me, connected us with an amazing marriage counsellor who has seen us for almost a year pro bono. It has been sooooo good for us! There is a big difference between going to counseling to check a box saying you tried before getting a divorce, and going before huge problems occur with an effort to truly improve the marriage. It gave Steve a safe space to talk and the counsellors poignant questions helped me hear what he was really saying. During this time, Steve wrote me a song explaining how he felt about me and I got to share my fears with him. Some really beautiful revelations came out of this time and showed me that we are each strong people and we are even stronger together. I needed to let my faith be bigger than my fear because he wasn't going anywhere and didn't even want to. What a burden lifted!
For almost our entire marriage, I felt grateful to Steve because I didn't see anything valuable in me (another Enneagram lesson here, Fives are so carefully guarded that they only enter into relationships with people they deem very special and valuable. It is a huge honor to be the person a Five has chosen to be their partner). Combine that with feeling like a burden in general and I was just waiting for him to realize how much better he could do. When I started to feel better about myself I was getting more resentful of his weaknesses. Counseling gave me an outlet to express this without fear of him being destroyed and leaving. He felt safe to unleash twenty year frustrations out on me. We finally had it out and realized (thanks to the Enneagram) how different we are and how wonderful that can be.
After my gallbladder surgery the counsellor asked how we both felt about the outcome. We were both scared I wouldn't come out of the surgery alive. I was terrified to go under anesthesia for the first time. He had a moment of panic when my surgery lasted almost three times as long as it should have. It was hard. She asked me what it felt like for Steve to be there taking care of me. My lame answer was that he did what I expected. It wasn't anything miraculous that he was with me at the hospital and helped me. He's my husband. Where else would he be with his wife having surgery? If you love someone, you're there for them. That's the key. I thought I didn't trust his love for me, but when things got hard, he came through, and I expected him to. The thought never occurred to me that he wouldn't be there every step of the way because I knew how much he loved me. And even with his need for independence and to never rely on anyone, he knew he needed me to wake up because he needed me. At the end of the day, I just wanted to be needed and loved. I always was. Nothing had changed except my perception.
We can't always change our circumstance, but we can always change how we see it. We all see the world differently which means there are many ways to see it. If you are dissatisfied with your life, take steps to change it. If that doesn't work, maybe you're looking at it through the wrong lens. Ask God to give you eyes to see yourself and others the way he does. Man's vision is distorted, but we can always trust His.
Tomorrow is my surgery. I'm about 98% excited and 2% nervous. I still have more to tell about this journey, but I also want to include more real-time posts because this blog is mostly about the weight loss surgery experience. This story is almost done, and the ending blows me away. I am awestruck by the way God has used this surgery to bind up all my life-long struggles and set me free.
But that's another story, for another post. 😉
Remember that Enneagram thing I mentioned in a previous post? The Enneagram is a tool to help understand how we see the world and to better understand how others see it. There are nine different types each with a myriad of possible subtypes, but today we are going to focus on Eights and Fives. Why? Because Eights are the best number on the Enneagram and I happen to be an Eight. The worst number has to be a Five. Ok, not the worst, but definitely one of the hardest numbers to be with in a close relationship (BTW, no number is better than another and it is so Eight of me to pretend otherwise). Steve is a Five. What does this mean? We both perceive the world very differently. Here's a brief summary of each taken from the book, The Path Between Us, by Suzanne Stabile:
EightsThey are called the Boss or Challenger. They are independent thinkers who tend to see everything in extremes: good or bad, right or wrong, friend or foe. Anger is their emotion of choice, but it doesn't last long. While Eights don't invite forthrightness, they want and respect it. Their focus is outside of themselves and they are always for the underdog. Eights are passionate! They have more energy than any number, giving everything they have to what they are doing or what they believe in, and engaging most with people who are willing to go all out.
FivesThey are called Observers or Investigators. Fives want adequate resources so they never have to depend on someone else. They are the most emotionally detached of all the numbers. This kind of detachment means that they can have a feeling and let it go. They manage fear by gathering information and knowledge. Fives have a limited, measured amount of energy for every day so they are careful about what they offer to others and when. It is extremely brave of them to show up for relationships because it costs them more than any other number.See any potential problems there? Ha! The biggest challenge is that an Eight is very forthright with how they see things and expects the same in others (even though no other number operates that way) while a Five is very private and keeps most thoughts and feelings to themselves, especially if challenged. So...what does all of this have to do with anything?
For the past few years I have had two marriages. The one that was being acted out in front of me and the one that lived in my mind. I was dissatisfied with my life and cast that interpretation onto Steve. He wasn't communicating anything different, so I figured I was right and went down the mental path of him leaving me at some point, probably when Wrigley was grown and gone. This caused me to see our marriage as very fragile, so if a problem arose, I tried to minimize its impact on Steve. I wouldn't tell him things that bothered me and slowly started closing off more and more doors in preparation for the storm brewing in my head. At the same time, he had no idea any of this was going on in my head because on the surface, everything seemed ok. The silence continued because from his perspective, if there was a problem, I'd be making him aware of it. I created a narrative in my head for his thoughts and feelings based on the lack of communication I was getting from him because if he had feelings, he'd be making me aware of it. Right?
Wrong. After my EMDR therapy, a lot of stuff came up that revealed issues in our marriage that we needed help resolving. My sweet friend who helped with therapy for me, connected us with an amazing marriage counsellor who has seen us for almost a year pro bono. It has been sooooo good for us! There is a big difference between going to counseling to check a box saying you tried before getting a divorce, and going before huge problems occur with an effort to truly improve the marriage. It gave Steve a safe space to talk and the counsellors poignant questions helped me hear what he was really saying. During this time, Steve wrote me a song explaining how he felt about me and I got to share my fears with him. Some really beautiful revelations came out of this time and showed me that we are each strong people and we are even stronger together. I needed to let my faith be bigger than my fear because he wasn't going anywhere and didn't even want to. What a burden lifted!
For almost our entire marriage, I felt grateful to Steve because I didn't see anything valuable in me (another Enneagram lesson here, Fives are so carefully guarded that they only enter into relationships with people they deem very special and valuable. It is a huge honor to be the person a Five has chosen to be their partner). Combine that with feeling like a burden in general and I was just waiting for him to realize how much better he could do. When I started to feel better about myself I was getting more resentful of his weaknesses. Counseling gave me an outlet to express this without fear of him being destroyed and leaving. He felt safe to unleash twenty year frustrations out on me. We finally had it out and realized (thanks to the Enneagram) how different we are and how wonderful that can be.
After my gallbladder surgery the counsellor asked how we both felt about the outcome. We were both scared I wouldn't come out of the surgery alive. I was terrified to go under anesthesia for the first time. He had a moment of panic when my surgery lasted almost three times as long as it should have. It was hard. She asked me what it felt like for Steve to be there taking care of me. My lame answer was that he did what I expected. It wasn't anything miraculous that he was with me at the hospital and helped me. He's my husband. Where else would he be with his wife having surgery? If you love someone, you're there for them. That's the key. I thought I didn't trust his love for me, but when things got hard, he came through, and I expected him to. The thought never occurred to me that he wouldn't be there every step of the way because I knew how much he loved me. And even with his need for independence and to never rely on anyone, he knew he needed me to wake up because he needed me. At the end of the day, I just wanted to be needed and loved. I always was. Nothing had changed except my perception.
We can't always change our circumstance, but we can always change how we see it. We all see the world differently which means there are many ways to see it. If you are dissatisfied with your life, take steps to change it. If that doesn't work, maybe you're looking at it through the wrong lens. Ask God to give you eyes to see yourself and others the way he does. Man's vision is distorted, but we can always trust His.
Tomorrow is my surgery. I'm about 98% excited and 2% nervous. I still have more to tell about this journey, but I also want to include more real-time posts because this blog is mostly about the weight loss surgery experience. This story is almost done, and the ending blows me away. I am awestruck by the way God has used this surgery to bind up all my life-long struggles and set me free.
But that's another story, for another post. 😉
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)