I haven't posted in a few days because nothing noteworthy has happened. I am not sore or in any pain. I am getting in all my fluids and protein even though it is a struggle. I am sleeping a little better and overall I feel pretty good. I have lost a total of 25 lbs counting my pre-op loss and I have noticed some differences already. Some of my pants that were beginning to feel a little snug are no longer tight on me. My hip does not hurt, I am able to stand for more than 5 minutes and my step has become a little quicker. I was told that I no longer sound like Darth Vader when I breathe as well. It always drove me crazy when my father would ask me if I was ok because I was breathing heavy. (I was not aware that I was breathing heavy at all, but due to my lung problems in the past, it always worried my family that I seemed constantly out of breath.) I can walk further than I was able to before. I am no longer daunted by a long walk through a parking lot. It's all the little things like the ones I just named that keep me going. I really did not expect to see any sort of a difference until much further along, so it was a very pleasant surprise to notice positive changes already. I even stood for a long time at Trunk or Treat at my church today. I may have been a little sore since it is the first time I have done anything physical since the surgery, but I did it.. These things help me when I am feeling down and depressed, too. I have days where I am ready to say, "Screw the stupid liquids and the protein. I am tired of it already." I start feeling down and don't want to do anything. I don't cheat on my diet though. I know the consequences and stick with it, I just don't do it happily. One of the men at my mother's church had the same surgery done a year or so ago with the same doctor and he asks about me all the time. The other night, there was a big dinner at the church and I was able to talk to him. He cheated and did not always follow the doctor's orders and he warned me to not do the same. He explained that if I cheat now, I could bust the staples in my stomach. I may feel great on the outside but my insides are still healing. This is what keeps me honest. I look at it this way...I had to go to an extreme (surgery) just to be able to lose the weight. It is very hard and I knew it would be going into it. I committed to making a major change in my life and allowed a doctor to remove 85% of my stomach in order to do it. Obviously, my eating was out of control if I had to take such a drastic measure to be healthy. I want to turn my life around and be the best mom I can be for as long as I possibly can and I am not going to mess this up. This is not just another diet....this is serious and so am I. The only thing I need to do now is start walking. Unbelievably, I actually enjoy it. I am so happy that I can go further than before and that I am walking more quickly that I enjoy walking. Tomorrow, I think I will go to the park for a little while and take a walk along the river. The fall weather is perfect for it. And for once, I don't have to be afraid of not being able to make it back to my car.
In August, our church took a trip to Longwood Gardens. It is a beautiful place with acres of land. I knew the walking would be hell on me, but I didn't want my son to miss out on this opportunity. I had no idea just how horrible it would be for my body. I was out of breathe the entire time. I had to sit down every chance I got because of the pain in my back and hip. I was sweating like a pig and felt that my heart would burst everywhere we went. I was so upset with myself but I didn't want my son to know just how bad it was for me. He worries about my breathing because of the lung problems and extended hospital stay 2 years ago and I didn't want to scare him. I was afraid of collapsing though. After a couple of hours, I just wanted to go back to the little store, browse and sit in the air conditioning. I knew I had reached my limit. I was trying to find a quick way back and when I realized that in order to get where I wanted to go, I had to go uphill, I almost burst into tears. I began walking (trudging, lumbering....) up the incline. All the while, I am praying for one of the workers on a golf cart to come by, because I had reached a point where I knew I needed help. At the top of the hill, I started having some chest pain, became extremely overheated and was having a lot of difficulty breathing. I barely made it to a bench and told Nick to get help. Thankfully a couple of the ladies on the trip with us saw us and came over to help. All I wanted was a ride to the main building but I got oxygen, a wheelchair, an ice pack, water and 5 men surrounding me checking my vitals. I was wheeled into the building and then to the car to go home. I never got to browse through the store with my son. I was absolutely mortified. I blamed it on a massive asthma attack, but I know the real reason. I was too fat and my body couldn't handle it. I am planning another trip to Longwood Gardens with my son after I lose more weight. I want to make it up to him and prove to myself that I can do it. This time I will go up the stairs in the treehouses instead of staying at the bottom because I can't go up stairs. This time, I won't leave in a wheelchair. No more letting my son down because I can't keep up. I am going to do it.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Betrayed by the Ball Buster
I woke up at 5am because my stomach itches! Grrrr. Apparently, I am allergic to medical tape. I vaguely remember this fact now from my last surgery. Unfortunately, I remembered this too late. Whenever I have to get bloodwork done, I never leave the tape on long enough to notice anything. Well, at the hospital, the tape from my many needle sticks during the IV fiasco had to remain on for some time because I had been given a blood thinner and I was just too out of it to care. That began the rash in the crook of my arm. Then there were the bandages on each of of small incisions....and the steri strips. The ones that the nurse said had to stay on until they fell off. The doctor took one look at my incisions and said, "Your belly must really itch. Take a shower and get the steri strips off." THANK YOU! My incisions are swollen, red rashes that itch so bad I want to scratch my skin off. I am keeping itch cream on it but it wakes me up at odd hours and I can't scratch too hard because I am still healing.
I forgot to post some info I got the other day from my doctor....I don't have a nutritionist. The day after my surgery, I met the hospital nutritionist and she made a comment along the lines of "Kelli isn't here anymore, so I will be talking to you". Of course, I was on meds and not thinking straight so I put it out of my mind. After I came home, I was struggling with the protein and what to eat and when to eat and had a lot of questions. I figured I had my post-op appointment on Tuesday so I would talk to her at that time. When I mentioned it to my doctor, he said, "Kelli isn't here today." Well, that triggered the memory from the hospital and I asked the receptionist. She told me that Kelli had a taken a job closer to home. Ok, I get that. I understand that need, but how about saying something? I saw her exactly 15 days before my surgery and spoke with her one week prior to the surgery about a pre-op diet issue when my aunt passed away. Not a word. So now, at a time when I need a nutritionist the most, I do not have one. I have to rely on the forums on Vertical Sleeve Talk to help me out. Her newest patients knew that she was leaving because I ran into one of them and she said Kelli mentioned it, but she never told the people that were heading to surgery and would need her the most. So, yeah, I'm kind of pissed that the ball buster left without a word. Who knows? Maybe she left in a hurry...there is no one there to replace her yet. It is not my business.
On a brighter note, I got all my protein in today and even went over! I finally broke down and decided the only way I was getting in the protein was to drink the shakes. I figured out that one shake with 8 oz of skim milk is 32g of protein. I have to get in at least 60g per day. So if I have 2 shakes a day, there is my entire protein total and I don't have to worry all day. I was having a very tough time because everything that has protein either tastes bad or has so little protein that I have to have a lot of it. And having a large amount of anything just isn't happening. I still have to break up the 8 oz shake to last an hour or more because I cannot consume that much of anything at one time without getting sick. Even a yogurt takes me 2 sittings. (Honestly, I never thought I would see the day where I could only eat 1/2 a light yogurt in one sitting. Wow.) So now, I can have my yogurt, soup, popsicles, sherbert, pudding, or jello whenever I feel like it and not worry about the protein count in it as long as I have 2 shakes per day. Thank goodness. I was stressing over the whole thing because if I do not have the correct amount of protein, I can get protein malnutrition and with that, I can start to lose my hair. I was losing hair by the handfuls 2 years ago when I had my lung surgery and I do not want to go to through that again. There are other things that can happen as well, but that is the one that stands out to me. It is getting late and I'm not thinking straight. So off to bed I go, it is bloodwork in the morning. Good night, my readers of none. (for now, anyway. I am optimistic.)
I forgot to post some info I got the other day from my doctor....I don't have a nutritionist. The day after my surgery, I met the hospital nutritionist and she made a comment along the lines of "Kelli isn't here anymore, so I will be talking to you". Of course, I was on meds and not thinking straight so I put it out of my mind. After I came home, I was struggling with the protein and what to eat and when to eat and had a lot of questions. I figured I had my post-op appointment on Tuesday so I would talk to her at that time. When I mentioned it to my doctor, he said, "Kelli isn't here today." Well, that triggered the memory from the hospital and I asked the receptionist. She told me that Kelli had a taken a job closer to home. Ok, I get that. I understand that need, but how about saying something? I saw her exactly 15 days before my surgery and spoke with her one week prior to the surgery about a pre-op diet issue when my aunt passed away. Not a word. So now, at a time when I need a nutritionist the most, I do not have one. I have to rely on the forums on Vertical Sleeve Talk to help me out. Her newest patients knew that she was leaving because I ran into one of them and she said Kelli mentioned it, but she never told the people that were heading to surgery and would need her the most. So, yeah, I'm kind of pissed that the ball buster left without a word. Who knows? Maybe she left in a hurry...there is no one there to replace her yet. It is not my business.
On a brighter note, I got all my protein in today and even went over! I finally broke down and decided the only way I was getting in the protein was to drink the shakes. I figured out that one shake with 8 oz of skim milk is 32g of protein. I have to get in at least 60g per day. So if I have 2 shakes a day, there is my entire protein total and I don't have to worry all day. I was having a very tough time because everything that has protein either tastes bad or has so little protein that I have to have a lot of it. And having a large amount of anything just isn't happening. I still have to break up the 8 oz shake to last an hour or more because I cannot consume that much of anything at one time without getting sick. Even a yogurt takes me 2 sittings. (Honestly, I never thought I would see the day where I could only eat 1/2 a light yogurt in one sitting. Wow.) So now, I can have my yogurt, soup, popsicles, sherbert, pudding, or jello whenever I feel like it and not worry about the protein count in it as long as I have 2 shakes per day. Thank goodness. I was stressing over the whole thing because if I do not have the correct amount of protein, I can get protein malnutrition and with that, I can start to lose my hair. I was losing hair by the handfuls 2 years ago when I had my lung surgery and I do not want to go to through that again. There are other things that can happen as well, but that is the one that stands out to me. It is getting late and I'm not thinking straight. So off to bed I go, it is bloodwork in the morning. Good night, my readers of none. (for now, anyway. I am optimistic.)
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
It's a Numbers Game
I am 6 days out from the surgery. I have had little to no pain. Just some irritation in a couple incisions and general itchiness as I heal. I am getting in all my fluids. On day 4, I was getting light headed, waking with bad headaches and feeling slightly nauseous, so I called the doctor and he said I could be getting dehydrated. So I started pounding (sipping actually) the Gatorade. Thank goodness I started drinking it! I finally found something that tastes good to me! Mostly everything is too sweet or just tastes terrible to me. Gatorade which I was not a huge fan of before, saved me from dehydrating. I needed the electrolytes and the taste was heaven. I got in all my fluids and a little extra! I have had no fluid issues since then. Still working on the protein but I am talking to my nutritionist today and going shopping. I feel good and I am losing the weight.
For the first time in my life, I am not afraid to get on the scale because I know that the number I see today, I will never see again. In the past, the scale has always been a big scary monster and more often than not, I would tell doctors, "I am not getting on this scale." I have dealt with some seriously pissed off nurses, but I do not care. I have also done the whole "I am keeping my eyes closed. Tell me when the horror is over." Too many times have I gone a diet and when it is time to weigh in, I get all excited because I had a good week and I put on a pound or two because I just wasn't good enough. Weight watchers was good for this. Every week I had to submit myself to the monster, pay my fee and listen to some pep leader do a meeting. I would go in feeling excited and anxious. After the scale, I was usually disappointed but still hopeful, and after the meeting I could conquer the world. Of course, I hit burger king on the way out because that was the only night I allowed myself to cheat. Funny thing was, all the other cars in line were women from the meeting too. The next day reality would set in and I would spend the next week trying to choke down water (I hate drinking plain water and no, adding some lemon to it does not help), eat sensibly and get in some form of exercise. I wonder how many activity points I could get for choking the meeting leader? hmmmm. Each time, I was always extremely hungry. The loss was very slow and very hard and knowing how much I had to lose, I gave up. It was too much. I have been a member of weight watchers so many times, I should own stock in the company. Sorry, Jennifer Hudson, it just didn't work for me. Maybe if I had a hot WWE star to work out with and they were paying me to do it, I could do it too. So today, the new numbers game begins, but I am not worried this time around.
Every time someone asks me, "do you have a goal weight?" I say, "No." And it is true. Everyone seems to think that there is a magic number and for me, there is not. I know what I could weigh and what I should weigh and what a healthy weight loss goal for me should be but it is not about the numbers. It is about feeling healthy. When I am comfortable again. When I can walk without feeling like my heart will explode. When I don't get out of breathe from slight exertion. When I can cross my legs while sitting. When I can fit into seats with arms. When.....I am healthy. I will know when I get there. I will know by how I feel when I have lost enough. Not by how I look, but by how I feel.
Since I have mentioned something people always ask, I am going to address an issue here. I don't know about anyone else, but I was always highly offended when asked "Why have the surgery? You are losing weight on the pre-op diet, just keep following that." (this is where I suppress the urge bitch slap people or spit out some nasty sarcastic retort) They just don't get it. People that have never struggled with food addiction or been seriously overweight, just don't get it. It is not that easy. My father once said, "All you have to do is push away from the table." (yes, he is very overweight and eats constantly while sabotaging everyone else's diets and making fun of me for being fat. That's another story.) No, pushing away from the table is not that easy. If it was, weight watchers would have worked the first time. Maybe in another blog I will address this issue, I just wanted to get the warning out there. If you ask a pre-op patient this question, you are risking bodily harm.
On a final rambling note, I heard from a friend today. I have dated this guy a couple of times in the past and even though he is a terrific, smart, nice guy, we just don't have any chemistry, but we have kept in touch over the years. Every couple of months or so, we touch base with each other. When we met, we discussed my weight. He usually prefers thin girls (like most guys) but he found the way I was put together attractive. I like the way he said that. :) I weighed more than any other girl he had dated but I was solidly stacked. Physical attraction aside (yes, he is quite handsome), we didn't hit it off. Well today when he texted me, I told him I had just had surgery and told him it was the weight loss surgery. His answer? "I liked you the way you were". It just doesn't get any sweeter than that. We chatted and he again lamented the loss of my long hair, and told me I am a quality person, but I loved his reaction today. He is the only person that has said that to me, ever, and meant it. It was not said for any gain, or to make me feel better, it was just how he felt. Thank you, my friend. I appreciate it.
For the first time in my life, I am not afraid to get on the scale because I know that the number I see today, I will never see again. In the past, the scale has always been a big scary monster and more often than not, I would tell doctors, "I am not getting on this scale." I have dealt with some seriously pissed off nurses, but I do not care. I have also done the whole "I am keeping my eyes closed. Tell me when the horror is over." Too many times have I gone a diet and when it is time to weigh in, I get all excited because I had a good week and I put on a pound or two because I just wasn't good enough. Weight watchers was good for this. Every week I had to submit myself to the monster, pay my fee and listen to some pep leader do a meeting. I would go in feeling excited and anxious. After the scale, I was usually disappointed but still hopeful, and after the meeting I could conquer the world. Of course, I hit burger king on the way out because that was the only night I allowed myself to cheat. Funny thing was, all the other cars in line were women from the meeting too. The next day reality would set in and I would spend the next week trying to choke down water (I hate drinking plain water and no, adding some lemon to it does not help), eat sensibly and get in some form of exercise. I wonder how many activity points I could get for choking the meeting leader? hmmmm. Each time, I was always extremely hungry. The loss was very slow and very hard and knowing how much I had to lose, I gave up. It was too much. I have been a member of weight watchers so many times, I should own stock in the company. Sorry, Jennifer Hudson, it just didn't work for me. Maybe if I had a hot WWE star to work out with and they were paying me to do it, I could do it too. So today, the new numbers game begins, but I am not worried this time around.
Every time someone asks me, "do you have a goal weight?" I say, "No." And it is true. Everyone seems to think that there is a magic number and for me, there is not. I know what I could weigh and what I should weigh and what a healthy weight loss goal for me should be but it is not about the numbers. It is about feeling healthy. When I am comfortable again. When I can walk without feeling like my heart will explode. When I don't get out of breathe from slight exertion. When I can cross my legs while sitting. When I can fit into seats with arms. When.....I am healthy. I will know when I get there. I will know by how I feel when I have lost enough. Not by how I look, but by how I feel.
Since I have mentioned something people always ask, I am going to address an issue here. I don't know about anyone else, but I was always highly offended when asked "Why have the surgery? You are losing weight on the pre-op diet, just keep following that." (this is where I suppress the urge bitch slap people or spit out some nasty sarcastic retort) They just don't get it. People that have never struggled with food addiction or been seriously overweight, just don't get it. It is not that easy. My father once said, "All you have to do is push away from the table." (yes, he is very overweight and eats constantly while sabotaging everyone else's diets and making fun of me for being fat. That's another story.) No, pushing away from the table is not that easy. If it was, weight watchers would have worked the first time. Maybe in another blog I will address this issue, I just wanted to get the warning out there. If you ask a pre-op patient this question, you are risking bodily harm.
On a final rambling note, I heard from a friend today. I have dated this guy a couple of times in the past and even though he is a terrific, smart, nice guy, we just don't have any chemistry, but we have kept in touch over the years. Every couple of months or so, we touch base with each other. When we met, we discussed my weight. He usually prefers thin girls (like most guys) but he found the way I was put together attractive. I like the way he said that. :) I weighed more than any other girl he had dated but I was solidly stacked. Physical attraction aside (yes, he is quite handsome), we didn't hit it off. Well today when he texted me, I told him I had just had surgery and told him it was the weight loss surgery. His answer? "I liked you the way you were". It just doesn't get any sweeter than that. We chatted and he again lamented the loss of my long hair, and told me I am a quality person, but I loved his reaction today. He is the only person that has said that to me, ever, and meant it. It was not said for any gain, or to make me feel better, it was just how he felt. Thank you, my friend. I appreciate it.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
The Big Day is Finally Here!
On October 16, 2013, I went in to the hospital at 6:15. They took me back, put me in the sexy gown and tried to get an IV in. I am what is called a "difficult stick". I am used to this. Nurses that are not used to this usually stick me a couple of times before giving up and calling in someone else, leaving a big bruise as a reminder of the experience. This time was no different. Nurse #1, tried my hand twice and did the "poke and hope". That is where they think they found a vein, put in the needle and move it around trying to find it. It is quite painful. I was getting irritated. Nurse #2 didn't even attempt it. She was leaving it for anesthesia. (My pastors had visited me at the hospital to pray with me before the surgery, I should have asked them to pray for an easy IV as well.) I go back, the anesthesiologist is kind of a strange man. He looks at my wrist and declares "There is a perfectly good vein right here." Then proceeds to tell me how he puts IVs in places most other people won't but he will numb me first so I won't feel it. Bippity Boppity Boo, I have my IV. I talk to numerous medical staff, I am excited, they are excited for me, then off to la la land I go. (Please Lord, no big fat liver).
I start to come to in the recovery room and all I can say is "I'm nauseous, I'm nauseous". They give me something and I'm out again. The only thing I remember before waking in my room was the nurse telling me there would be a bump going in and out of the elevator. All I cared about was going back to sleep because I was so nauseous. When I woke up, I felt like hell. It took forever to come out of the drug induced haze. There was a pain button in my hand that I could push and go back into oblivion but I wanted to see my mom. I hit the button only 1 time. I later heard a nurse say that the button was for dilauded. I hate dilauded. It makes me hallucinate and I do not like the way it makes me feel. In my class, I was told I would more than likely have morphine. I refused to hit the button again and put it down. Amazingly, I was not in pain. My upper back hurt from being on the table but other than that, just a little sore and a lot uncomfortable. But, oh, the nausea!!! It was so extreme! I have never felt like this. At one point, I told my mom, with my head down, "What have I done to myself?" I instantly regretted the surgery. Did every single person who had this surgery lie to me or am I have reactions that no one else has? I was confused, sick, and extremely upset. I was so tired and miserable I could barely talk. My mom told me that the doctor came out and told her I had a big liver but he did the surgery anyway. She was obviously tired at this point, she has been there since early morning, and she goes home for a nap. I try to find a comfortable position and begin to pray. I just want out of my skin. I know that I am going to vomit at some point, no one can possibly be this nauseous and not get sick, but I am so scared that my stomach will open if I do. Will my stitches come out? I can't seem to get enough anti-nausea medicine and it is not helping. The entire day is just a loop of the same thing. I can have zero liquids until my upper GI the next morning. My mouth, throat and lips are so dry they hurt. My gums are sticking to my teeth and the lemon swabs help some, but not much. (One of the nurses points out to me that I have a fat lip because the anesthesiologist must have hit it when intubating me, which, by the way, is another extremely difficult thing to perform on me for some reason).
During the night, the shift change happens and the nurse I love goes home. I get a younger girl who is extremely nice but not as good. First she wakes me up because my oxygen level was down. I told her I was sleeping and that is why it was down and if she will wait 30 seconds, it will come back up. She seemed shocked when what I said was true. (Thanks for waking me. grrrr) She came in again to give me my anti-nausea meds and I told her it was not working. She ended up giving me something new which worked better for me. I asked for some pain meds but not dilauded. (My back hurt and I could not get back to sleep). She kept trying to convince me to take the dilauded. She even said "Did you hallucinate when you hit the button earlier?" I told her I did not like it and would go without rather than hit the damn button. She finally had to call my doctor and get permission for IV morphine. I had to put on oxygen before going back to sleep but it sufficiently knocked me out. I wanted oblivion for a couple of hours. Then I woke up vomiting. I was scared, it was painful. Would I open my stitches? Is this normal? Will I bust open the incision in my stomach? I was told that it was normal. If this is true, how come no one told me this before my surgery???? (Note that each time my night nurse came in, she did not turn on the lights. She did not check my IV, just pushed the meds in.)
The next morning, my favorite nurse was back. She took me down for my upper GI. I showed her my extremely swollen arm. The IV had come out of the vein during the night and the fluids were going into my arm. Damn. I get into position for the test, sip the horrendous barium and everything looks good. No leaks and I can start sipping water today. I don't care because I am still so sick to my stomach. I vomit again when I get back to the room. And again. And again. The nurse tries to find a vein for an IV so I can get fluids and no luck. She calls in someone else, no luck. She calls in someone else, no luck. This take about an hour and I get stuck all over my arms about 7 times. I look like a human pincushion. I am lethargic and trying to keep from dry heaving. I am miserable and my father is there trying to crack jokes and talking up a storm to keep my mind off it all. I finally tell him to please stop talking. I just want my meds and no one can find a freaking vein. I finally get some oral meds and I feel immediately better and go for a walk down the hall. This was a fun walk. My dad was with me and he has terrible knees. He is going through the process to have both replaced so he shuffles slowly. He says, "Let's race!" This cracks me up because we are both so slow. One of the nurses hears him and says, "She's winning!" I enjoyed that walk immensely.
When we get back, my doctor shows up and says he put in a central line or a picc line (I had one of those before and do NOT want one again) but because I am going home and can take meds and fluids orally, there is no point. I happily agree. What has me pissed off at this point is the incompetence of the hospital. I would NEVER have chosen this hospital if it were not for the fact that I wanted this doctor. I only come here for minor things. It is not known as a very good hospital. I stayed at a great hospital with my lung surgery and this place pales in comparison. The IV debacle has me fuming. When I have to get bloodwork, I always use a local blood lab and the ladies there have no problem at all finding a vein. Each time I had bloodwork at the hospital, I was poked, prodded, tapped and bruised. At the other hospital, it sometimes took 2 tries but by the second person, I had someone who knew how to find a hidden vein. It may be the head of phlebotomy, but I got what I needed quickly. Not so here. My original IV should have been checked during the night and wasn't. Young techs should also have more sense than to walk into a room with a woman barely holding down a sip of water and chatting about what she wants for lunch with the other nurse! I am just glad to be feeling better and going home. My friend, who had her surgery the same day, is spending another night because she has not stopped vomiting. I have been praying for her to feel better as well. We are both wondering why no one warned us. We thought we were prepared, but it is different than everyone said. Right now, I would not advise anyone to get this surgery. I just hope it gets better.....fast.
I start to come to in the recovery room and all I can say is "I'm nauseous, I'm nauseous". They give me something and I'm out again. The only thing I remember before waking in my room was the nurse telling me there would be a bump going in and out of the elevator. All I cared about was going back to sleep because I was so nauseous. When I woke up, I felt like hell. It took forever to come out of the drug induced haze. There was a pain button in my hand that I could push and go back into oblivion but I wanted to see my mom. I hit the button only 1 time. I later heard a nurse say that the button was for dilauded. I hate dilauded. It makes me hallucinate and I do not like the way it makes me feel. In my class, I was told I would more than likely have morphine. I refused to hit the button again and put it down. Amazingly, I was not in pain. My upper back hurt from being on the table but other than that, just a little sore and a lot uncomfortable. But, oh, the nausea!!! It was so extreme! I have never felt like this. At one point, I told my mom, with my head down, "What have I done to myself?" I instantly regretted the surgery. Did every single person who had this surgery lie to me or am I have reactions that no one else has? I was confused, sick, and extremely upset. I was so tired and miserable I could barely talk. My mom told me that the doctor came out and told her I had a big liver but he did the surgery anyway. She was obviously tired at this point, she has been there since early morning, and she goes home for a nap. I try to find a comfortable position and begin to pray. I just want out of my skin. I know that I am going to vomit at some point, no one can possibly be this nauseous and not get sick, but I am so scared that my stomach will open if I do. Will my stitches come out? I can't seem to get enough anti-nausea medicine and it is not helping. The entire day is just a loop of the same thing. I can have zero liquids until my upper GI the next morning. My mouth, throat and lips are so dry they hurt. My gums are sticking to my teeth and the lemon swabs help some, but not much. (One of the nurses points out to me that I have a fat lip because the anesthesiologist must have hit it when intubating me, which, by the way, is another extremely difficult thing to perform on me for some reason).
During the night, the shift change happens and the nurse I love goes home. I get a younger girl who is extremely nice but not as good. First she wakes me up because my oxygen level was down. I told her I was sleeping and that is why it was down and if she will wait 30 seconds, it will come back up. She seemed shocked when what I said was true. (Thanks for waking me. grrrr) She came in again to give me my anti-nausea meds and I told her it was not working. She ended up giving me something new which worked better for me. I asked for some pain meds but not dilauded. (My back hurt and I could not get back to sleep). She kept trying to convince me to take the dilauded. She even said "Did you hallucinate when you hit the button earlier?" I told her I did not like it and would go without rather than hit the damn button. She finally had to call my doctor and get permission for IV morphine. I had to put on oxygen before going back to sleep but it sufficiently knocked me out. I wanted oblivion for a couple of hours. Then I woke up vomiting. I was scared, it was painful. Would I open my stitches? Is this normal? Will I bust open the incision in my stomach? I was told that it was normal. If this is true, how come no one told me this before my surgery???? (Note that each time my night nurse came in, she did not turn on the lights. She did not check my IV, just pushed the meds in.)
The next morning, my favorite nurse was back. She took me down for my upper GI. I showed her my extremely swollen arm. The IV had come out of the vein during the night and the fluids were going into my arm. Damn. I get into position for the test, sip the horrendous barium and everything looks good. No leaks and I can start sipping water today. I don't care because I am still so sick to my stomach. I vomit again when I get back to the room. And again. And again. The nurse tries to find a vein for an IV so I can get fluids and no luck. She calls in someone else, no luck. She calls in someone else, no luck. This take about an hour and I get stuck all over my arms about 7 times. I look like a human pincushion. I am lethargic and trying to keep from dry heaving. I am miserable and my father is there trying to crack jokes and talking up a storm to keep my mind off it all. I finally tell him to please stop talking. I just want my meds and no one can find a freaking vein. I finally get some oral meds and I feel immediately better and go for a walk down the hall. This was a fun walk. My dad was with me and he has terrible knees. He is going through the process to have both replaced so he shuffles slowly. He says, "Let's race!" This cracks me up because we are both so slow. One of the nurses hears him and says, "She's winning!" I enjoyed that walk immensely.
When we get back, my doctor shows up and says he put in a central line or a picc line (I had one of those before and do NOT want one again) but because I am going home and can take meds and fluids orally, there is no point. I happily agree. What has me pissed off at this point is the incompetence of the hospital. I would NEVER have chosen this hospital if it were not for the fact that I wanted this doctor. I only come here for minor things. It is not known as a very good hospital. I stayed at a great hospital with my lung surgery and this place pales in comparison. The IV debacle has me fuming. When I have to get bloodwork, I always use a local blood lab and the ladies there have no problem at all finding a vein. Each time I had bloodwork at the hospital, I was poked, prodded, tapped and bruised. At the other hospital, it sometimes took 2 tries but by the second person, I had someone who knew how to find a hidden vein. It may be the head of phlebotomy, but I got what I needed quickly. Not so here. My original IV should have been checked during the night and wasn't. Young techs should also have more sense than to walk into a room with a woman barely holding down a sip of water and chatting about what she wants for lunch with the other nurse! I am just glad to be feeling better and going home. My friend, who had her surgery the same day, is spending another night because she has not stopped vomiting. I have been praying for her to feel better as well. We are both wondering why no one warned us. We thought we were prepared, but it is different than everyone said. Right now, I would not advise anyone to get this surgery. I just hope it gets better.....fast.
Pre-Op Insanity
3 months! That is how long the insurance requires me to jump through hoops before paying for the surgery. What a pain in the ass, but a necessary evil. I met with my new doctor (I opted out of the gastric bypass surgery and decided on the sleeve instead so I changed doctors), office manager and nutritionist. He is an interesting man and very honest. He will tell me exactly what I need to do and if I do not do it, no surgery. Good. I need strict. His whole office is run this way and I like it. Very efficient. (Later, I may get irritated with them, but right now, I love them.) I have my list of hoops: upper GI, ultrasound of my belly, EKG, stress test (Oh Lord, help me), a psychological evaluation (seriously?), bloodwork (vampires take less), 3 months of nutrition classes, and I have to lose weight. What? Lose weight? I am getting this surgery because I can't lose weight on my own! I want my last hurrah of all my favorite foods! *stamps feet* THEN they tell me I have to quit smoking. This bit of information makes me laugh. You want me to quit smoking AND lose weight at the same time???? Maybe my doctor needs the psychological evaluation or at least bail money when I go crazy and begin randomly punching people in the throat. The tests are not a problem, I knock them all out 1, 2, 3. My bloodwork is normal except for a severe vitamin D deficiency. Apparently, I don't spend enough time in the sun, so he gives me vitamins. The stress test was sheer hell (I did not realize that 4 minutes of real exercise would damn near kill me) but I got through it. The psychological test was a pain because of insurance. The insurance companies insist that we have to get this evaluation done, yet they don't pay even the in-network doctors. I chose a guy near me and had to shell out $150. I could have gone to the guy all my co-workers went to....about 45 minutes away, just a copay, 2 visits and he asks creepy questions about your sex life. I did not trust my ability to remain straight faced and non-sarcastic. I envisioned my smartass self spouting off some sort of 50 shades of a terrible book just for shits and giggles. Not a good idea, so I paid the money. I went to the classes: introductory class on the sleeve and why I should have it, vitamins galore, how to read food labels and food journaling. Done! I had even successfully quit smoking without hurting anyone! All that was left was the pre-op diet. Dun, Dun, Dun.....
My darling doctor decides to put me on the pre-op diet early because when I quit smoking, I put on 15 lbs. I said I couldn't do both, I knew I would put on weight....he doesn't care. I at least wanted a congratulatory pat on the back for kicking a 20+ year habit, but all I got was "You will be on the pre-op diet for 3 weeks because you have to lose weight before surgery". Why? I am going to lose tons of it after the surgery! Will 15 lbs really make that much of a difference in my care? I am so frustrated, but the end is in sight and I am going to finish this race. I am allowed 6 protein shakes a day plus 2 cups of non-starchy veggies. If I am so hungry I am ready to eat my own son, I may have 6oz of skinless chicken. Within in 4 days, I am so miserable that my family is avoiding me. On day 4, my stomach is growling uncontrollably all day, I am light-headed and ready to hurt people. I cheated and had a small portion of stromboli. It never tasted so good. I emailed my nutritionist, knowing I would get no sympathy (remember the no nonsense office? well, now I am referring to that endearing quality as ball busting). And I was right. She told me I was not hungry, that my stomach will rumble and growl but not due to hunger. All I heard was Blah Blah Blah. (If you read this, Kelli, I apologize in advance. I am just explaining how I felt at the time. Love ya girl!) So on through the weeks I went. During the day, I had no problems. I was working and downing my shakes and crystal light. At night, I turned into Nosferatu. Hiding from everyone, grim, hungry, creeping around in the dark and....yes, I admit it, cheating. Not much just a little. A chip here, a noodle there, a spoonful of rice, a piece of cheese every so often. I was now viewing my doctor and nutritionist as cruel and inhumane people that were punishing me. I am miserable. Then we had a death in the family and the diet went out the window. My aunt passed away after a long battle from cancer. This was a little over a week before surgery. I did not care about the diet and took comfort in food. Not much, and I was careful of the carbs, but I ate. I admitted this to my nutritionist and she was understanding. She told me that I did what I needed and as long as I was careful for the next week, I should be ok. The whole point of the pre-op diet is not just to lose weight but to shrink my liver so it will not be in the way during surgery. My greatest fear is having my doctor open me open, say "Big, fat liver, close her up." But when my aunt passed away, I did not care. The funeral was exactly one week before my surgery. I took a couple of shakes with me but if you have ever been to a Greek funeral, it is an all day event. We had a big buffet luncheon at a local restaurant with all the family. I ate carefully but I had a bite of bread, 4 noodles and a bite of a small cannoli in addition to my diet drink, skinless chicken and veggies. Oh well. I still had 6 days to do this. Every day was difficult and I was not 100% following the diet. I struggled, I grumbled....I was a bitch. After 3 weeks, I can barely tolerate these things. I went from 5-6 a day to only 1-2 with my veggies. I was essentially starving myself because I could not stand them any longer. I just wanted it over. The day before surgery I was allowed NO PROTEIN SHAKES and only clear liquids. I had some broth and ate jello all day.
I have completed everything I am supposed to, all the paperwork, classes, tests are done and the insurance has approved the surgery. I made it through the pre-op diet. I am still sane (and 17 lbs lighter). I am excited. I got the call that I will be the first surgery of the day. Everyone talks about how it is hard but soooo worth it, the best thing they ever did, no pain, up and around right away, no problems with nausea, no need for the meds.....I sure hope so.
*next blog: the surgery*
My darling doctor decides to put me on the pre-op diet early because when I quit smoking, I put on 15 lbs. I said I couldn't do both, I knew I would put on weight....he doesn't care. I at least wanted a congratulatory pat on the back for kicking a 20+ year habit, but all I got was "You will be on the pre-op diet for 3 weeks because you have to lose weight before surgery". Why? I am going to lose tons of it after the surgery! Will 15 lbs really make that much of a difference in my care? I am so frustrated, but the end is in sight and I am going to finish this race. I am allowed 6 protein shakes a day plus 2 cups of non-starchy veggies. If I am so hungry I am ready to eat my own son, I may have 6oz of skinless chicken. Within in 4 days, I am so miserable that my family is avoiding me. On day 4, my stomach is growling uncontrollably all day, I am light-headed and ready to hurt people. I cheated and had a small portion of stromboli. It never tasted so good. I emailed my nutritionist, knowing I would get no sympathy (remember the no nonsense office? well, now I am referring to that endearing quality as ball busting). And I was right. She told me I was not hungry, that my stomach will rumble and growl but not due to hunger. All I heard was Blah Blah Blah. (If you read this, Kelli, I apologize in advance. I am just explaining how I felt at the time. Love ya girl!) So on through the weeks I went. During the day, I had no problems. I was working and downing my shakes and crystal light. At night, I turned into Nosferatu. Hiding from everyone, grim, hungry, creeping around in the dark and....yes, I admit it, cheating. Not much just a little. A chip here, a noodle there, a spoonful of rice, a piece of cheese every so often. I was now viewing my doctor and nutritionist as cruel and inhumane people that were punishing me. I am miserable. Then we had a death in the family and the diet went out the window. My aunt passed away after a long battle from cancer. This was a little over a week before surgery. I did not care about the diet and took comfort in food. Not much, and I was careful of the carbs, but I ate. I admitted this to my nutritionist and she was understanding. She told me that I did what I needed and as long as I was careful for the next week, I should be ok. The whole point of the pre-op diet is not just to lose weight but to shrink my liver so it will not be in the way during surgery. My greatest fear is having my doctor open me open, say "Big, fat liver, close her up." But when my aunt passed away, I did not care. The funeral was exactly one week before my surgery. I took a couple of shakes with me but if you have ever been to a Greek funeral, it is an all day event. We had a big buffet luncheon at a local restaurant with all the family. I ate carefully but I had a bite of bread, 4 noodles and a bite of a small cannoli in addition to my diet drink, skinless chicken and veggies. Oh well. I still had 6 days to do this. Every day was difficult and I was not 100% following the diet. I struggled, I grumbled....I was a bitch. After 3 weeks, I can barely tolerate these things. I went from 5-6 a day to only 1-2 with my veggies. I was essentially starving myself because I could not stand them any longer. I just wanted it over. The day before surgery I was allowed NO PROTEIN SHAKES and only clear liquids. I had some broth and ate jello all day.
I have completed everything I am supposed to, all the paperwork, classes, tests are done and the insurance has approved the surgery. I made it through the pre-op diet. I am still sane (and 17 lbs lighter). I am excited. I got the call that I will be the first surgery of the day. Everyone talks about how it is hard but soooo worth it, the best thing they ever did, no pain, up and around right away, no problems with nausea, no need for the meds.....I sure hope so.
*next blog: the surgery*
Why I Got Sleeved
My journey actually began 2 years ago. I was planning on having the gastric bypass surgery done but during the 3 month approval process, a tumor was found on my lung and all my attention was now placed on the tumor. Long story short, the tumor was benign, but I had a lot of complications from the surgery making me extremely wary of allowing anyone to operate on me ever again. I tried diet and exercise numerous times but nothing was really working for me. I was losing the weight very slowly, I wasn't seeing any real results, and I was hungry. Fruits and veggies lose their appeal very quickly, but the cheeseburger never does. I love food! And a lot of it. Only by God's grace was I spared all the obesity health problems. I did not have diabetes, sleep apnea, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, or any of the myriad problems plaguing seriously overweight people. (Just a note that I hate the term "morbidly obese" even though that is what I am. It just sounds rude.) On paper, with the exception of my weight/height, I am perfectly healthy. I was on no medications, whereas everyone else I talked to had a list of prescription medications that they had to take on a daily basis. The only physical problem I have is comfort. I am uncomfortable in my own skin. A lot of you will know exactly what I mean by this: tying my shoes became an Olympic event, putting on pants was difficult and had to be done by sitting on the bed and holding the waistband while trying to stuff one foot and then the other into the pant legs because I could not bend over, all my bras had to be either sport bras or the hook in the front kind because I could not reach to hook one in the back, if I had an itch on my back, my backscratcher was my best friend. Movie theater seats were impossible. I had to sit down sideways to get in them and ended up with my hips straining at the chair arms the entire time. My clothing size had ballooned to 24/26. I am only 4'9", imagine that size on my frame! Also, my hips had begun to ache. I have arthritis in my hips and the last 15 lbs I put on, made me very aware of this fact. It was painful to walk. I could not stand for more than a couple of minutes. I teach special education children in a kindergarten classroom and getting on and off the floor was a momentous task. Yet, all these reasons are not why I decided to brave the knife again. It was my son. I have only one and I want to see him grow up, get a job, get married, have kids of his own....and at my weight, the odds of a heart attack due to the strain on my heart caused by my weight was more likely. Sure, I want to be skinny again and wear normal people clothes, but they are just fringe benefits. I want to live.
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