The Blog

I had my psych appointment last Thursday and scheduled my other group sessions. They are going to be starting Monday the 28th. I have my personal nutrition appointment on the 28th as well. I’m moving forward at a pretty decent speed. I’m nervous and hoping that everything will work right with the insurance. My insurance will cover it, but they require 5 years of documented support that I have been suffering with obesity. I’m going to call UHC tomorrow and see if they can send me statements from when I was insured with GE back in 2000 to 2004. From there I can get the names of the doctors I visited and request my charts. they have to keep charts for 10 years so it should just be a matter of submitting the right request forms, kissing the right ass, and then getting it all to the insurance company.

I move onward….

I often sit and wonder if this surgery is going to work for me. I have high confidence and I know that I can do what it takes to make it work, but I still sometimes think about all the cravings and emotional eating that I can’t control now. The doctor told me that some of the hunger signs, such as a growling or ‘empty feeling’ stomach will go away, but what about cravings, and that desire to grab control of something edible in order to grab control of my emotions or any emotional affair. I’ll be able to answer that part after the surgery once I am faced with what it’s actually like. I have no idea if I’ll crave anything, or even if I’ll continue to like the types of foods that I like now. If you ask me, some of the ‘drawbacks’ of the surgery are truly some of the saving graces of it. For instance, if I choose to not follow the plan, then I’ll probably get sick. And if I get sick, I’m going to stay away from those things that make me sick. So, isn’t that a plus when you consider all the guesswork that goes into how my body takes those kinds of foods now? Sugary and salty foods, and breads are listed as the top intolerables after the surgery. Well, no wonder diabetics go off their medication after this surgery. The very nature of the problem is eliminated because the stomach isn’t going to be able to tolerate those things afterwards.

I’m looking forward to it. I have my psych evaluation tomorrow morning at 11:30am. I’m going to be open and candid about my frame of mind. I’m going to listen to the doctor and take his/her advice and guidance to heart. Every single word that any of my counselors say to me is going to be etched in stone in my brain. This event could fail in the operating room if I don’t reveal everything. This event could fail days, weeks, months, or years after surgery if I don’t use the tools and resources available to me. And I could die if I don’t listen to people when they tell me what my body and mind can and are supposed to be able to handle.

We got a nice new futon today. It sits a little high and the mattress is really thick. My feet dangle and my huge stomach just sits in the middle of my body like I’m some kind of giant sized Oompa Loompa or something. I’m wearing a 4x tshirt, a 3x sweatshirt, and 3x knit pants. It is absolutely unbelievable how I can still look in the mirror and like what I see. I mean, I notice that I’m extremely large and everything, but in all honesty, I think I carry my weight well and have a certain style about me. Then again, I have my days when I look in the mirror and give myself the ‘confused’ eye squint and wonder why on earth I think what I’m seeing in the mirror is nothing more than morbid and obese. I’m blessed that I don’t feel that way except maybe two or three times a month. Others I’m sure aren’t as lucky. I especially wonder how people cope who have once been thin, or even super hot in their previous years, and now weigh in the same range that I do. I know that has to be worse. I’ve never been thin so being fat doesn’t hurt me completely. But I think for people who were once thin, it could hurt them more deeply, more personally, and bring more self blame or dissappointment. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong. Please feel free to comment if I am.

I’ve recently been having no appetite in the evenings. I guess that is good because we always eat too late anyway. Eating after 8pm is a bad idea and we always end up eating sometime between 7 and 11pm. I had sushi tonight, which I asbsolutely love. I’m enjoying a SOCO and DICO too. I need to go to bed. I need to start some of the required habit changes that are going to be an integral part of my life after surgery. I thought that I would want to eat all the crap I won’t be able to have anymore, but after going to eat Chinese food on Friday, I realized that it doesn’t make me feel good anymore. Whereas I used to eat to make me feel good, now I eat just to eat. Maybe I’m conditioned to eat as if I’m Pavlov’s dog, hearing a bell in my head which makes parts of my brain think that it’s telling me when to eat. What do you do if your brain is malfunctioning, and your brain is the involuntary party affected by the malfunction. The cycle is in my head and I have to figure out how to fix it. The surgery is for my stomach, not my brain.

When I had my own house, I always kept it looking clean and tidy. My husband doesn’t understand why I can’t keep the house organized and cleaned up. Well, I have a history of being a complete mess in life and in my organizational persuits, so the presence of clutter and dissaray isn’t all that strange to me. For him on the other hand, he sees it as proof that someone doesn’t care for their posessions or care about themselves or others enough to aleviate the stress that comes with allowing such a messy house.

Problem is that this house was a wreck when I moved in. All his ex-wife’s crap was piled in here and didn’t dissappear until a year after they were divorced. I moved all my stuff in here and had no place to put any of it. It’s not like we had a clean slate to get organized and settled into. We’ve had to force comfort into this house and it’s failed more times than not. What I don’t get is that a lot of the blame is put on my shoulders, by both of us, but the fact that this place is a constant construction zone is never brought up. Maybe it should be.

I had my first group nutrition meeting today and it went well. There were 10 other people in the meeting with me. There was one other girl my age, who had extremely large legs. The fat in her legs had started to damage the skin around the upper part of her ankles where it was bulging out so much. There was a 45 year old man who seemed really happy to be able to talk to other people who are making the same decision he is. He wanted to tell everyone his story and why he wanted to have this surgery. He’s on medicaire and is scared that his surgery won’t be covered. I hope it will be. I think he’s ready to have a new life and I think he wants it more than anything. There were three elderly people in or above their 60s. Two mentioned having recently been presented with limitations related to their weight which really gave them a wake-up call about the need to do something about it. The wife of one of them is a surgical assistant for Dr. Sonnanstine, the surgeon who will perform the surgery. The fact that she was there supporting her husband was a comfort to many of us and she was able to give an outstanding positive word for his professionalism and care throughout our lifelong involvement with the center.

The nutritionist that came is was named Beth. She was very nice and open about all the questions that we had. She emphasized the importance of not mistaking this surgery for a magical pill that will make us lose weight and keep it off forever. She reminded me of one person I knew who has had this surgery who ended up gaining every single bit of weight back. I witnessed her eat the wrong things and put her responsibilities off. I wasn’t surprised the day I heard her whisper to herself that she had gained all her weight back.

I got a copy of the always mentioned ‘binder’ at this meeting as well. It has all the information I need to succeed from the very day of surgery. Some of it is a little confusing right now, but I have a few more meetings where I can really get these questions answered.

Right now, the only roadblock I know I’m going to face is the documented diagnosis of obesity for the last 5 years. I’m not sure who my doctor was in 2002, but if I can find him/her, then I can ask for copies of the charts which will show my weight and height. If you have that, you can’t deny that I have been morbidly obese. I can say that I’ve been lucky in not having any of the familiar health conditions that go along with obesity such as diabetes, but for this it’s going to cause me a problem because I don’t have diagnosis or treatments for anything relating to my obesity. This is what the insurance company wants. I’m going to write a letter and ask that others who have known me for years also write letters.
I’m not doing this surgery because of morbidities, I’m doing this for a better life experience for me and my family.

Hmm. I guess I could be considered someone who is following the herd (no punn intended) when it comes to deciding to have weight loss surgery. I didn’t really know until recently how many people are actually doing this surgery. The numbers are staggering, but for each and every person who decides to do this surgery, there are a million individual and personal reasons to do so. Some of them may be similar, some of them may be the exact same thing, but they are still personal and considerably important.

No one knows about this blog and no one except my husband knows that I’ve begun this process. There are many people who love and care about me, but this journey is about me from beginning to end. I just don’t know how people will respond and having to deal with their worry, criticism, or even praise, is not what I want to do right now. I’m confident I’ll come out of the surgery fine. I’m confident I’ll be successful with the effort and progress that follows. A few days before I’ll let some people know. I’m going to need help and those people are going to ask why I need the help. Once I start needing things from other people, it’s not right for me to continue to hide the truth. But, for right now, this is my own story.

I started getting heavy when I was in the second grade. I’m not sure why it happened, but I have a few theories:

1. Anesthesia - In second grade, I had surgery and went under anesthesia to have something done to cure chronic UTDs. I’ve read in more than one place that anesthesia can cause a person to start having weight problems. Of course nothing is documented because we all know that obesity isn’t a disease, it’s a choice, right. I’m hoping that this information might ring true for someone else. If so, high-five.

2. Crappy childhood - The fan was in full swing ever since I was four years old and for many many years later crap was slung everywhere. I have a Dad who is in constant need of external affirmation yet refuses to do what it takes to provide his own. This was true back when I was very very young and I believe that his need for validation was put on me. He wasnt’ in the house to provide guidance and love, so every time he saw me, I was suffocated with it. Everything was a big deal, neither parent was able to care about teaching any family values or the importance of family ties. School sucked too. Since I was in 3rd grade I was the wierd looking fat kid. It always seemed that my mom wanted to dress me in the dumbest looking clothes and give me the dumbest looking hair styles. You know, stuff that just accentuated how fat and awkward I was. I was a joke at school. Then, I would come home and have to put up with the biggest asshole of a brother anyone ever imagined. I just wanted us to get along, but he wouldn’t have it. I think he liked to start stuff because at school he was picked on just as much as I was. So, he would come home and dump it all on me, his little sister. In time I learned that he was never going to be nice to me so I chose to act accordingly. To my disgust, even to this day, my actions are blamed as the cause of us not getting along. So, my childhood consisted of constant impatience (mom), meanness and bullying (school and brother), constant pressure of validating another person’s existence (dad), and a complete lack of selfawareness. Boy, talk about feeling like shit all the time. I ate because it felt good. It was the only thing that did.
I liked gymnastics after seeing Mary Lou Retton kick Olympic butt. My mom let me try it. I could never pass the first level because I was too fat. It was the first of many things that failed for me because being fat got in the way. She put in me into cheerleading, which was okay. I liked the outfit and stuff but it was like a big clique; there were three girls who owned it and the rest of everyone was trying to step on whoever they could to prove that they belonged in it. Eh, it is what it is; a county cheerleading team. Yippee….. if I would have known any better I would have asked her to put me in soccer or softball. I had interest AND physical ability in those things. But I was a little kid, I wasn’t the one who was supposed to know any better.

Moving on… high school was fun, I had my friends, but every day brought about new and exciting insults and embarrassments, some brought on by my own actions, and others brought on by other kids who just felt like being assholes. The lowest I weighed in high school was 170 pounds and that was in 9th grade after doing the Presidental Physical Fitness thing. We had to run a lot. I lost 10 pounds. Even with that I got insulted by some of the ‘uglies’ in the class. I guess I would rather lose ten pounds, than be an ugly skinny girl in a state of mind where I would be jealous enough to hurt someone else’s feelings because they lost 10 pounds and I couldn’t. Wow…. that felt really good saying that… I didn’t know/care about my weight as much as she did hers. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. Poor thing. I wonder if she’s still ugly.

Anyway.. moving to adult hood.. I’ve used food as a celebration and a consolation, a reward and a punishment. Emotional eating is the only way I know to eat. Well, there were the times in school when I was told to go eat, but when it came to knowing how or when to do it on my own, I had no clue. And it just dawned on me that there really isn’t any point in a child’s life when someone makes an effort to teach that. I mean, we’re taught table manners and stuff, but when are we really taught about what bad eating habits and good and bad foods can do to us? Does anyone teach kids about diabetes or high cholesterol? I really don’t think so. I wasn’t taught anything. I was approached with pseudo-education after I was already fat.

So now I sit here… 278 pounds, the heaviest I’ve ever been except during pregnancy, which all came off fortunately. I have two kids now and I don’t have the energy to play with them. My two year old is getting in trouble all the time because she’s bored and energetic, with nothing to do to ease any of it. I want to live. I want to look pretty, which I know I do. I know I’m hot. I know I’m going to be beautiful without all this weight. I know I’m beautiful now, but the weight makes me feel ugly and deformed. I have a husband who is strong and hot and surprisingly hasn’t told me to get lost for being so lazy, unorganized, and un-motivated. I try to change, and I feel like I do, but I think it’s all related. All of it. My weight, my self-esteem, my motivation, and my willingness to just be a forthright, honest, and dedicated person, to myself and my family.