Well ... today I am exactly eleven weeks out from my surgery. That sounds like such a short time ... but it hasn't really felt that way.

The weight loss, though substantial, has started to slow considerably - not that I didn't expect that it would, just that it is hard not to fixate on that stupid effin' scale. It's like it controls my entire mood. My husband has taken to hiding it so I can't look at it.

There have been a few rough patches over the past month - going back to work was a whole lot harder than I thought it would be. Plus, I sit on my arse at a desk all bloody day ... not like when I was home and going like a blue ass fly. Plus, I find the stressiness of my work environment is a little on the unhealthy side anyway ... so the spirits have been a little low and my energy has been zapped. (read - I am not exercising anywhere NEAR where I should be)

On the up side, I am down 65 lbs. I am wearing size 18 pants today ... down from 24 wide.  These are 1 of 3 pair of pants I bought over four years ago at a second hand store that I couldn't fit into at the time, but promised myself I would get into soon ... HA! All three pair fit me now! I also had size 18 JEANS on this past weekend ... for a whole day! (so not just squeezed into and then discarded). There are certainly big changes going on with my body. I really needed to be photo documenting this ... but I'll piece a few pics together in the coming weeks to demonstrate my personal shrinkage.

Otherwise, I am struggling with the winter blues. I hate this time of year. February is usually my hardest month. Hubs and I are planning a short little "trip" with the kids. We're going to book a hotel room and spend a day and night in the city, where we'll take in the T-Rex exhibit at the Museum of Natural History and then the girls can spend the afternoon in the pool (at the hotel) and we'll hit a cool restaurant for dinner and then maybe watch a movie (in bed) in our hotel room. I think they will find that to be TRES KEWL. I find I am wanting for Hubs and I to be able to do something that is 'just us' (except that I kinda feel like offing him just now) but the girls need some special time too ... so I think we'll do this for now - it should help break up the February blahs a bit.

Hubs has started his own business and is finding it to be a little on the stressful side. I have faith that he'll get it figured out. He's determined to involve me in EVERY LITTLE DECISION ... and I know if he was blocking me from it, I'd likely be wild ... but I honestly don't want to be involved. I don't want to do the accounting ... don't want to set up the web site ... don't want to be responsible for making up the invoices or recording messages or designing logos or mailing crap out to people, or making a fucking e-flyer to send out. I just can't bring myself to give a crap about it. (<--- and this really worries me, because I bloody should care)

I know that makes me a selfish wife ... and I also know it is driving him batty that I am so reluctant to jump in ... but since he has been doing this, he has not been doing much of anything else in the house. Plus, I think I spoiled him bad while I was off. I find that with working again, having to come home and figure out a meal for my fussy kids, my husband and my mother ... I have to also try and come up with something for myself that is both nutritionally sound AND won't commit assault on my already battered tummy. Usually, I am clearing away the breakfast dishes that I served to my children the morning before ... (still sitting on the table or counter where they left them ...with dried cereal bits and congealed milk and/or cat slobber - because he has undoubtedly been up at them throughout the day having a feast) in order to have room to cook or set the table. I know - poor me, right? If it's such a big deal, why don't I get up earlier and make certain the breakfast & lunch prep mess is tidy before I leave for work, right? (Just for the record ... his business venture is done FROM HOME ... so he is at home all day, while I am at work and the girls are at school. There is simply no reason why he couldn't take 10 minutes out of his day to load and run the damned dishwasher ...)

WRONG!! I get those kids up every bloody morning and get them ready for school WHILE I am trying to get myself ready for work. I feed them, make their lunches, get them peed, teeth brushed, faces washed, hair brushed, dressed, socks on and into their snow suits (a feat that is substantially more difficult than it sounds - especially since Stretch has taken to arguing about EVERY.FARKING.STEP!!!)... all while I am attempting to spackle and plaster, plus designing both breakfast and lunch ... and snacks that are healthy, tummy friendly AND measured out so I can keep track of my calories/protein/fat/carbs ... 'cause I am supposed to be writing this shit down (no surprise, that I haven't been - right?) All the while, my husband is lounging in BED! Ask me why I have been so fucking cranky for the past few weeks.

So, no! I am NOT interested in taking on any more responsibility in this house! Not with your business, not with ANYTHING! (Geez ... I actually had not articulated any of this to myself and haven't been able to figure out why I have been so hateful to him for the past few weeks ... *light bulb ignites and blows up* ... this blog may well save the life of my husband!)

Well ... I must say, I feel somewhat better having gotten this off my chest. I guess I should really be having this conversation with him. I really don't want to discourage him in any way - I know this opportunity has the potential to be very good for him ... but if some things don't change in this set up, I am afraid things could continue down an ugly path with us ... which essentially means that I will continue my descent into evil three-headed psycho bitch-dom. I would expect he'd rather I just told him.

Guess I should get some work done now. Have a great Tuesday!

D-Out

Sooo ... I managed to pick up a nasty little flu virus a mere 8 weeks after having one entire side of my tummy sewn up with surgical staples ... nice.

I will say that I was pretty scared for a little bit, but I am happy to report I have remained intact in all the important inward-organ-type-places. This flu is a nasty bitch, too. My entire family has had it. It seems to take about 5 - 6 days before it starts to buzz off. I was down for the count on Tuesday ... so incredibly sick, I wanted hubs to smother me ... but he was still too weak to get a good seal on the pillow.

On the up side, I lost 5 pounds! Rough way to do it, but hell - I'll take what I can get!! So ... that brings my grand total to 61 lbs lost!! Gimme a WOOT WOOT!! 

I can safely say at this stage that it is getting noticeable. I put on a pair of pants yesterday (to come into work) that were actually very tight before surgery ... and they were actually dragging on the floor, they are now so loose. Wild, no? They looked horrid, but then - so did I yesterday. I was still really feeling nastified. Today, I am wearing dress pants I haven't had on in close to a year ... and they are LOOSE! 

I haven't done my measurements in a while, and will likely do so on the weekend ... I'm starting to get that Shar pei dog look - lots of loose skin, but the fat is going. (Next stop ... $10K on tummy tuck surgery ... sorry Hubs ... no new cars for a while)

Anyhoo ... my camera is finally working again and I guess I will soon have to start posting pics ... if for no reason other than for posterity. 

I suppose I should go and try to locate some soup or something for sustenance ... I haven't really eaten anything for about 72 hours. This virus means business ... I try to eat, but I just can't do it. Next, I'll be in a stall because my body has gone into starvation mode ... then I'll be pissed!

Hope everyone else is avoiding the plague.

Happy Thursday!!

PS - I FINALLY got money from Employment Insurance ... Y-E-S-T-E-R-D-A-Y!! Nearly NINE weeks later ... UNCOOL, EI ... UNCOOL!

K - so I love Katy Perry ... I keep denying it, but every song she comes out with, I love. Her latest, Firework came on in the car this morning while I was driving to work and I listened a little closer to the words. I have now declared this my theme song for 2011.

I have included the music and lyrics for your listening pleasure ... one thing, the line that says:
"Like a lightening bolt, your heart will GLOW" - not blow ... d'uh...

What's your theme song for this year?

So - I have made it to the 5 week mark after surgery.

I am eating actual food - which is good ... though my ability to eat much of anything is stunted considerably (I suppose that really is the point). I am thrilled to report that as of yesterday afternoon, I have hit the 50 pound mark!!

That's right, boys and girls - I am officially 50 pounds lighter than I was at Halloween this year! That is 2 pounds heavier than my (nearly) 6 year old daughter - and I can scarcely lift her ... it's bizarre to put it into those terms.

A few things I have learned are that first and foremost, I detest exercising just for the sake of exercising ... what a colassal waste of time that seems to be. I know - I know ... I have to do it, but I would far sooner tear around the house doing the magnitude of work that seems magically to appear - as if out of thin air. I still do not have enough hours in the day to do what must be done - even now that I have been off for nearly 6 weeks! Canada's Employment Insurance program has no concept of reality - absolutely none ... if they did, they would not screw with people's lives the way that they do. Here I am on my SIXTH week off and still, I have received NO MONEY! How the hell are people supposed to survive waiting this kind of time to be paid for an approved claim? At this rate, I will be back to work before I get any damned money from them - that is just not right. I mean, really - what am I supposed to do, tell my kids "oh sorry, girls ... Santa can't come this year because Mommy had 3/4 of her gut removed"? Butt Munchers!

Other than money, life is pretty good. I was able to borrow enough to get Christmas together (as best as possible) ... luckily, we have been warning the girls that since their behaviour has been spotty at best, that they best prepare themselves for a reduction in loot. I know this sounds harsh, but from this parent's perspective it's called making the most of a shitty situation ... they are getting less regardless, might as well serve some purpose - right? No worries, they'll still get plenty to open ... just less than last year is all - the whole present thing has gotten outta hand anyway.

Anyhoo - I must go and get some house work done ... we are at 4 sleeps and counting. 

Merry Christmas to you all! Take good care.

D - out

So ... I am three weeks post op today. One more week until I can begin to eat something resembling food ... eggs, soft fish, perhaps some well cooked and mashed veggies ... woot to the hoo!

I have lost a total of 38 lbs. I am NOT supposed to be weighing myself every day ... alas, I have been. I remain stuck at -38 lbs ... for the past WEEK! I am NOT impressed ... not one bit.I will point out that I have lost a total of 17 inches, though and it is quite evident that my body is undergoing some pretty big changes. Mom calls me 'the incredible shrinking woman' ... this doesn't make up for her ignoramus commentary, with which I am assaulted on a semi-regular basis, but it's something, at least.

My body is well recovered. I am able to do most everything I want (well, with the exception of eating). I have been keeping busy decorating for the holidays, cleaning the house, doing laundry and chasing after my kids. I have also been reading, and trying very hard not to allow myself to feel discouraged. I am having wicked second thoughts and doubts about what I have done to myself. (Apparently, this is common ... or so I am learning by continuing my education on this massive life style change.)

The one thing I find the most unsettling is how often I still feel hungry. I do believe that much of it comes from my brain and not from any real dietary need ... but it is bloody powerful. I am usually good until about 4:00 in the afternoon ... this begins my witching hours ... it is pretty much a continual battle of wills between myself and ... well ... myself - until I go to bed (at which point I seldom sleep very well). This is a challenge I didn't expect straight away. I figured it wouldn't be until I started eating real food again that I would be battling cravings and pseudo hunger. It blows, let me tell you.

I have not been doing the structured exercise I was supposed to be doing, though I have been very active around the house. I decided today that it would be wise to get into doing some time on the treadmill and some resistance training. I did 30 minutes on my treadmill (2 of which were jogging ... not too shabby for a fat ass like me). It actually felt surprisingly good. I must do this every day. I am supposed to be doing 60 minutes of structured, sustained exercise every day. I'm going to try to do 30 minutes with resistance bands later this afternoon. Perhaps this will kick start the pounds dropping again. I'm really only eating drinking about 700 - 800 calories per day (if that) I can't imagine why the pounds aren't flying off still. <-- it is super hard not to allow that to mess with my mind.

Anyhoosit ... I guess that is enough of an update for today. For the most part, I am full of energy and fairly happy much of the time. It is evident that the changes in my body are for the better, and THAT, after all was the ultimate goal here ... I was just hoping for the encouraging scale feedback to help fuel the desire.

Until next time, I remain ... fuckin' hungry

D

***Originally written Sunday Nov 21***

Oh man ... I do not respect wimps.

I am seriously feeling like one right now.

I will warn you up front, I may not be overly popular after posting this self pitying piece of drivel ... I am choosing to view the fact that I am so cranky today as a good sign of recovery ... that is truly my hope.

First of all ... I came through the surgery just fine Everyone seemed very pleased with themselves on my overall recovery and tolerance. I can even recall feeling so proud of myself in the recovery room when the nurse kept saying how she didn't understand why I needed to be watched for sleep apnea when I didn't even snore (SCORE!!). Then she proceeded to tell me what a great job I was doing. (I'm ROCKIN' the recovery room - double SCORE)

I was feeling fairly good with my bad self all the way around when they brought me back to my room. I was crackin' wise with the 'm'urse or possibly porter that was wheeling my bed down the hall. They got me in my room and promptly set about taking my vitals, pricking my finger and whipping up my johnny shirt to check my incisions ... which, given their pattern on my tummy, prompted me to shout ... "okay, piggies - I got room for six of y'all!" I think my 'm'urse may have peed in his scrubs a little.

Finally my husband was allowed to come in. I felt much better once I knew that HE knew I was alright. My procedure didn't get started on time ... equipment failure ... and that made it necessary for me to stay under for 3 times longer than originally anticipated ... then recovery was twice as long as expected ... I had gathered some of this while coming to and hearing them talk about me all around the edges of my consciousness. So - I was highly concerned about the mental health of my spouse by the time I actually saw him.

I was conscious for approximately 6 minutes (possibly less) in his company, before I lapsed back into a drug induced slumber. To say I was stoned would be like saying Keith Richards 'experimented' with drugs in his younger years. I didn't know what planets even were ... much less which one I was on. I slept on and off for quite a few hours more ... to my hubby's credit, he was sitting right there every time I woke up. It was finally time for me to try my legs and attempt going to the loo.

My first attempt failed. So did my second and third. I was beginning to panic. Catheters and me just don't get along well. Finally after what seemed like days, I woke up ... got up out of bed (with some help) and went ... literally "went" - which was tinkly music to my ears and soul. It was at that point that I insisted hubby go home. (Yes, I selfishly kept him there until I peed ... I didn't want to have to go through the whole catheter thing without him there to talk me through it.)

Sadly, after being asleep the entire time he was there ... I was awake for the rest of the night once he left.

Other than being stoned out of my mind, I was actually doing very well. Pain was well managed at first and my mobility was good ... I even went for a little walk around the ward with my IV pole in tow. I wasn't expecting to see anyone on Wednesday, so when Pauly came for a visit, it was really nice. Not that I remember much about it ... except how happy I was to see her.

Things went rapidly downhill from there ... but I actually don't even want to share that. Suffice it to say, I was less than impressed with the rest of my stay.

I came home Thursday evening (Nov 18) and remained fairly miserable until Saturday, when things took a turn for the better.

***Update as of Monday November 29***

It's been nearly two weeks since my surgery. I am down 38 lbs. I have had some downs ... and surprisingly, have experienced a few doubts since having this done ... I really didn't expect that. Overall, though ... things are going very well. Last week, I got all 16 staples out of my incisions - that was interesting. I have two more weeks until my next check up and at that point, I will be able to graduate to soft foods like eggs and soft fish - I can hardly freaking wait!!

I've been painfully bored over the past two weeks, but I am very happy to report that my stamina is returning and I am able to complete many of the tasks that have been piling up around my ears. This is a very good thing. I have my sights set on being fully decorated (which means fully clean, first) by the end of this weekend. My hubs has to have surgery for Carpel Tunnel on Friday, so he'll be down and out for a spot now as well. Never rains, but it pours.

Other than that, my sister is coming home from Calgary on the 10th and I am really looking forward to having her here for Christmas. It's been a year and a half since we've seen her. I'm also toying with the idea of possibly working a bit from home for the next few weeks. I'm kind of in a "wait and see" pattern for that one.

Anyhoo ... I guess this wasn't quite so bad as it started off. My perspective is much brighter than it was.

Happy Monday, Bleeps!

Here I sit ... just one week away from my big day. Seven sleeps. I'm frightened ...  like, laying awake in bed at all hours of the night, frightened ... or heart racing into my stomach, frightened - but perhaps not for the reasons one might think. I'm not so much afraid of something happening during the surgery ... I mean a little, but really - I have a better chance of stroking out in a rage over one of Narci's bullshit stunts, than I do of actually dying on the operating table ... and all things aside, I am pretty healthy - thank heaven.

No, my fear is somewhat more bone deep than that. See, I have allowed my personal disgust in myself to colour every facet of my life for many, many years. I see the fact that I haven't been able to control this very personal thing, as not only a colossal failure, but a massive character flaw. I mean, please ... how could anyone allow themselves to gain 150 pounds, right? I did it, and  still can't provide an answer to that question. It keeps me from fully participating in my life. I have not applied for jobs (and subsequently suffered along in the one I have in a very unhappy manner), not gone to public functions, not  attended work functions - even award ceremonies where I won shit, not gone swimming with my children ... not even spent any sort of physical time with friends. In fact, the few people I call "friend" are mostly voices on the phone (no - not just in my head) and letters on a computer screen.

And so ... sitting on the edge of the precipice that I have spent nearly two decades digging ... with the impending promise of a bridge across staring me right in the face ... I'm scared shit-less. No safety net now, sweet pea. No excuses. You are here ... on the eve of the first day of the rest of your life. Whatcha gonna do now? 

I haven't been able to articulate this - even to myself until today ... but THIS is the fear I am feeling.

See - I have been researching weight loss surgery for around 3 years. In fact, I started off wanting an entirely different procedure, and have come to this one (Gastric Sleeve Resection) by way of information, safety, results and availability. In that time, (and mostly in the past year and a half) I have spent much of my energy on either campaigning to make it happen, talking myself into actually doing it and convincing the nay-sayers in my life that it is a sound decision. My mother being "Nay-sayer number 1".

See, Mom has not been very supportive of this decision. At first, I thought it was because she was simply worried about my safety and having any sort of surgery can be dangerous - so I tried to assuage her fears by providing data on the relative safety of the procedure. It didn't seem to help. I have come to realize over time that her lack of enthusiasm appears to come from a slightly darker place. I've thought a whole lot about it and I think she feels embarrassed about me having this. Let me state (for the record) that it is a bitter pill to swallow when your mother's opinions are the very echo of your own self deprecation.

Obviously, the first thing that jumps into anyone's mind is: How could she be embarrassed ...  first of all, it isn't about her and second of all, nobody knows about it? (Am I right?) But, see ... here's the thing ... she has told everyone in her world about it. The women she works with ... my sisters ... her friends (many of whom I have known for many, many years) ... and she's been running this twisted little opinion poll for the past several months regarding the validity of having this type of procedure done. And not that this isn't bad enough all on its own, but she's been presenting the various opinions to me as though she had been defending my decision to these people (passive aggressive, much?) ... when the reality is that she had absolutely no fucking right to say a bloody word to ANYBODY about this. It is not hers to share. This is mine, and I wish like hell I had never told her I was having it done.

My favorite part was when she told me (just this past Saturday) that after having a long heart to heart with herself, she thinks that if she had such a huge amount of weight to lose (as do I) ... and this surgery was available to her ... that she'd likely opt to have it done, too. (This from a woman who had her throat stripped and part of her palette reconstructed so she would no longer snore, for fuck's sakes.) I sat there, looking across the table at her - dumbfounded. She went on to say that maybe this wasn't necessarily the "easy way out" after all ... though most people seem to think that it is ... and that even though she feared I might be going about this backwards and "dealing with my problems from the outside in" (as my 23 inch waist-ed, 26 year old sister so sagely commented) ... that she supported my decision, in spite of everything else. {This is where something snapped inside my head ... I said very little - a simple 'well ... anyone who thinks there is anything 'easy' about what I am doing here is welcome to say that to my face ... and perhaps waddle a mile in my crocs before they make such an arbitrary, unfeeling and glaringly untrue comment about something they clearly know nothing about.' I then gave an unenthusiastic 'thank you' for her "support" and promptly changed the subject ... because any other course of action would not have had any happy outcome.}

This is my MOTHER, people. The person who is supposed to have my back - NO-MATTER-WHAT! The person who provides my alibi when I freak out and go postal on my employer ... the person who picks up the pieces of my shattered ego and spit-glues them back together ... the one who kisses the owie better and makes the pain go away. What-tha-hell? This is the same woman who has BEEN there for every event that led to this "(apparently not so) personal failure" of hers mine. She was there for pretty damned near all of it ... and she's been there for the past 20 odd years it has taken me to forge some kind of life for myself out of the rubble. How can she possibly think that ANY of this has been easy? I've paid the fine ... I've done my time and it is time for me to finally move past this. Christ, I have had so much therapy over the years, I have undoubtedly put a few shrinks' kids through medical school ... it is unbearable to think that she doesn't 'get' this... and clearly, she doesn't. And I don't know how to tell her.

I talked to my long time friend this morning. She knew me when I was "me" ... or at least the me I best relate to. She has been there for much of the "stuff that brought me here", too. She has never had a weight problem ... not ever. She shouldn't be able to 'get' this ... but when I told her about the conversation that happened on Saturday, she had the following to say about it: (not a direct quote - I wanted to ask her to type everything she just said in an email, but felt that might be a little weird ... but I really needed for someone on the outside to see and say something like this) 'Look - I think I can safely say that you are one of the strongest people I know. I have watched you struggle with this (weight issue) for a long time. I have seen how the way you see yourself has robbed you of an awful lot of opportunities. I think you have done the work. I don't think for a second you are doing anything backward and can't see how anyone who knows the first thing about you could think - and certainly not say - something so stupid. Your outside image is simply disconnected from the person you are inside ... that is the most simple way to see this ... and it is merely time to correct that.'  She went on to say that she had one "stupid moment" after I got my date where she feared I might change ... but realized I have always been the same person ... just not an active participant in my life for too many years. 

She is such a talented wordsmith, and I am not doing this justice ... I really wish I had gotten her to email the comment to me. The point is, she gets it. She understands... and I need that right now. My husband has been his usual rock-star self ... and I am grateful beyond belief ... but I still need for the people in my world to really get this ... really embrace what I am trying to do here. Am I being too selfish in wanting that? Is it okay for me to just expect it?

This song is by Colin Hay ... I lifted this from Fadra ... who left it on a comment to the Grasshoppa I think it says a whole lot.

Any minute now, my ship is coming in - I'll keep checking the horizon - I'll stand on the bow, feel the waves come crashing - Come crashing down down down, on me

And you say, be still my love - Open up your heart - Let the light shine in
But don't you understand - I already have a plan - I'm waiting for my real life to begin

When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened - But in my dreams, I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path, and up this cobbled lane - I'm walking in my old footsteps, once again
And you say, just be here now - Forget about the past, your mask is wearing thin
Let me throw one more dice - I know that I can win - I'm waiting for my real life to begin

Any minute now, my ship is coming in - I'll keep checking the horizon
And I'll check my machine, there's sure to be that call - It's gonna happen soon, soon, soon - It's just that times are lean

And you say, be still my love - Open up your heart, let the light shine in
Don't you understand - I already have a plan - I'm waiting for my real life to begin