For the record . . .

I've been meaning to create a SkinnyR chart . . . here tiz. It doesn't seem to work right, though. It shows the pounds lost, but not the starting and current weight.

I'll keep working on it.

Get your own graph at skinnyr

The first 20 . . . or 28

I'll have my 2 week followup with the surgeon this Wednesday. I've been faithfully keeping my little log book, slowly walking the neighborhood, and eating my eensy teensy meals.

It's hard to know where to start counting the losses. Do I reference my weight when I started the presurgery diet? The day of surgery? I guess that's up to me, but since the day of surgery, I've lost 20 lbs. and since the beginning of the presurgery diet, I've lost 28.

I feel the most difference in my hands, oddly enough.

The recuperation has been uneventful, for the most part. I've had a few instances of fatigue and a few stabs of side pain, but nothing that a short nap didn't cure, so I feel lucky.

I've grown pretty fond of my little cups of oatmeal and grits. Taking baby bites is interesting. I've justified it in my mind by picturing my stomach as a newborn (which it is, I guess).

The most interesting part is . . . whatever make the hunger sensation happen is evidently gone. It's miraculous, really. Last night, I was surrounded by Chinese food, and it didn't phase me.

That in itself is a miracle.

I haven't really taken any pictures; I'm not sure why. I guess I don't see much difference yet, and taking pictures seems like something you do to mark real change. I might be sorry later that I didn't take more pictures, but for whatever reason, I don't feel like having any made.

The skinny . . . .

(heh) well, not ME.

Not yet, anyway.

BUT, I did promise to come back and give an accounting of the whole surgery thing, so for those of you that are squeamish or easily bored, this will be an easy skip for you. Come back in a week or so, and this posting will likely be off the main page, and we can all pretend it was never here.

For the diehards, here's how it went down:

Wednesday, September 10
We check into the surgical waiting area. The kids are along (they insisted), GameBoys and video player in tow. I feel surprisingly calm. The Boy had asked me on the way in if I was scared, and I was able to say with total honesty I wasn't. I had a sense of peace. I was ready.

Fast forward to 10:30 am or so. I am enduring the third attempt to have an IV placed in my hand (hard to see veins in my chub, I guess). An angelic, very experienced nurse finally placed it quickly and before I knew it, soothing drugs were coursing through my veins. From there, I glided into the operating room. I was still coherent enough to crack to the surgeon that the LAST time I was wheeled into the operating room in this hospital, I woke up with a 10 lb bouncing baby boy, and would that be my fate this time? Even drugged, it was nice to hear some chuckles. As soon as I was laying flat, a mask was placed over my face . . . .

. . . . and my eyes opened to a dark post-op care room. I woke up and was able to make out several beeping machines, several nurses, and several gurneys. I remember being VERY dry and thirsty, but not much else. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew I was in a regular room, with Hub and the kids and my sister around me, chatting about . . . something.

The big push after that kind of surgery is to wake up and GET up. Walking around happens very quickly, and wards off a host of problems, and I knew going in that I would be asked to get up. I remember sitting up, being surprised at the lack of any pain, and walking the halls, but it was all very dreamy. It was much later that evening before I was really aware of much of anything. Nurses seemed to glide in and out, taking my temperature, taking blood, measuring, monitoring . . .

The next day, the halls were busy with walking patients and visiting families. I didn't feel quite as strong as I had the previous day, but I managed to get up a few times, each time with a wash of nausea that wouldn't go away. The nurses brought drinks, tempted me with popsicles, but nothing appealed. As the afternoon progressed into the evening, that initial nausea worsened, and things started to deteriorate pretty quickly. I vaguely remember being in the bathroom, and holding a large basin in front of my face, while sitting gingerly on the toilet.

Blood was pouring out of both ends.

I will say this: Throwing up (what appeared to me to be) a gallon of blood is shocking, but I felt SO MUCH better afterward. The relief was soon overtaken by the faint notion in my head that something probably wasn't right, and that was confirmed by the flurry of nurses that came in and out to see me and my predicament.

Let me say this . . . my surgeon was wonderful. He was there. He was there when things were going well, and he was there when things WEREN'T going well. He took the time to explain to me that in my particular case, I had bled profusely during the procedure, that basically everything that was touched bled. Certainly a bad side effect of my diabetes, but also a side effect of being a fair skinned person, evidently. Even though things weren't going as well as expected, I never felt that I was in real danger.

The blood transfusions began that day, and I had 4 in all. Amazing how much better you feel after that.

Once that issue was resolved, I started to make gains. I could walk the halls. I could eat popsicles and take my medication. I could shower.

I could come home.

I've been home for 4 days now, and I've felt good each day. I'm following the doctor's instructions to the letter, and watching the scale with slack-jawed amazement (from my intial visit with the doc to today, 24 lbs are off my frame.)

Even though we had a few rough spots, I'm still glad I did it.

Finally home . . .

Well, I had my first full day at home yesterday. I was in the hospital longer than I'd planned to be, and longer than the doctor had planned for me to be.

Some complications, but all seems to be well now.

When I am less tired, I'll fill in the details.

Blastoff!

It's finally time . . . I'll be checking into the hospital in the morning.

Thanks for all the well-wishes - see ya soon.

T-8 days . . . .

Time is flying.

I had intended to document the days leading up to my surgery, just for my own benefit. I wanted to be able to look back and remember what I was thinking about, since I figure I will begin to refer to instances in my life as B.G. (before gastric) and A.G (after gastric). I might be overestimating the effect this is going to have, but it feels like it will be a monumental change.

Guess we'll see.

So far, I haven't been nervous or anxious at all. I haven't struggled with staying on a low-carb plan - that's been really easy.

No second thoughts, no regrets. Just ready for it to happen.