You Can't Call it a "Party" Without Balloons...

I'm so horrible at keeping up with this blog.  I have been sucked into playing Minecraft on a private server with a few of my fellow vapers (e-cig enthusiasts), so I've been wasting time digging holes and building a homestead.  Well, when I'm able to sit at the desk anyways...

Not much has changed.  I'm still playing paperwork bingo with the specialist at HUP (Hospital of the University of Penn) and waiting for his office to call.  They have to review my file and decide if they want to accept my case.  My surgeon seems to think that possibly someone outside of his local network may be able to think outside of the box.  I'm hopeful, but very pessimistically so.  I'm not very up and cheery lately.  I'm just getting downright tired of feeling so awful.

I still have the random rubberband twang feeling going on.  Sometimes it's just a little twitch, other times it leaves me curled up in the fetal position.  I never know when it's going to get to that point.  It doesn't seem to coincide much with eating or drinking, though eating solids can make it a little worse.  Any kind of physical activity seems to make it act up a bit.  But there are times where I'm just being a couchlump and it will decide to say hello and kick my arse...

I called the surgeon's refill hotline today to get my pain meds refilled.  If the pharmacy has to order them, it'll take me two days to get them.  I have to wait two days to go pick up the Rx since my meds are of a narcotic origin, so now I'm in a panic about running out of meds.  I know I can ration myself and make it through, but being low on meds makes my OCD act up and makes me slightly paranoid.  I still don't like taking pain meds, but they make my stomach accept foods and liquids a little better.  More meds = less pukey.  Less pukey is definitely a good thing.

I'm still bringing back about 50% of my intake, but most things stay down on the second or third try.  Protein shakes have been my staple.  I'm still not very brave about solid food.  I miss it sometimes, but solids are more of a hassle and cause more pain when they come back.  It's just easier to drink a protein shake...

Friday night I had my second experience with intestinal impaction.  I swear this is what is going to end up killing me.  I had no abdominal cramps or bloating like I did last time, so the impaction caught me completely by surprise.  It must have taken me at least an hour to get that cleared up, so I've just been exhausted all weekend.  It's amazing how tiring pooping can be.  There, I said it.  Though everything is tiring when you average 600 calories on a good day.

I'm starting to think I'm just stuck like this.  Possibly I did something so horrible and heinous that this is my karma payback.  I wish I could figure out what I did...  The negative thoughts are getting harder and harder to ignore.  I'm afraid I'm going to be wallowing in my own self pity soon.  I'm trying to avoid that.  I know that no good can come out of it, but it's just getting to me.  Maybe I'll go out this week and get myself a bouquet of balloons so I can have a proper pity party and get it out of my system...

I'm sooo sorry, kitteh....

So many things going on at once now, I think my head is spinning...

After the follow-up with my surgeon, he has decided to put together a think-tank of specialists from Temple University, UPenn, and Johns Hopkins to see if they can come up with new ideas.  I'm currently playing phone tag with UPenn, trying to get a consultation with one of their bariatric/GI specialists.  My surgeon has set this up as a second opinion case, not a patient transfer, so it's hard to get in to see a new doctor when the doc knows you won't be his/her permanent patient.  It took a few phone calls worth of sad, angry crying to get them to accept me as a patient without having to sit through their "required introductory seminar."  I let them know that the post-op girl puking at the back of the room may scare off prospective patients...  they finally listened.  So, now it's just a matter of signing releases, transferring paperwork, and getting all the background info up to the UPenn specialist.  Hoy...

I'm still taking my Rx vitamins and getting close to, or over, my 60g of protein a day.  My system has now suddenly decided that it no longer appreciates the thick, milkshakey texture of either Chike or Syntha-6 protein shakes.  I can't keep either one down.  Not with water, not with milk, not with almond milk, not with or without ice... Dammit.  They tasted the best out of all the protein shakes I've tried.  Fortunately, I still have a metric crap-ton of samples laying about, so I've been on the hunt for a protein shake that tastes tolerable and doesn't make me puke the whole time I'm trying to drink it.  My "stomach" has decided that Syntrax Sweets shakes are good. 

After depleting my sample supply, I decided to use up my drugstore.com dollars and order some Syntrax Sweets (in Strawberry Mousse and Double Stuffed Cookie flavors).  Thanks to my extensive time for research and my savvy shopping skills, I managed to get 2 ginormous canisters of Syntrax for about $30.  Yeah, I know.  Drugstore.com was the cheapest prices (factoring in my drugstore.com dollars) and I know they have crazy fast shipping.  Ordered 'em on Saturday, the arrived here this morning.  I had a few samples of the Strawberry Mousse (which tastes to me like the evil pink powder with the bunny on it that you mix into milk as a kid), but I went off of the rave reviews from MeltingMama.net for the Double Stuffed Cookie flavor.  Holycrapmonkies.  Seriously?  The powder itself is delicious.  Yep, it smelled so good, I licked the powder off of the peel-off seal from the top.  I'm THAT classy, I know.  Envy me.  But yeah, it still has the slight "protein" smell, but man, it's tasty.  The Syntrax Sweets (which is their candy/bakery/creamy varieties) have weird instructions, but basically one scoop in 8oz of 2% milk is my measurements.  One scoop has 23g of protein.  They mix up rather thin, which my "stomach" likes now, but they lack much of that protein-ish taste.  Of course, now I have several opened and unopened cannisters of Syntha-6 and Chike to put into storage until my stomach throws me for another weird loop...

I'm trying to "take it easy" as per doc's instructions, but I'm finding it more and more difficult to sit on my arse.  My husband yelled at me last night... he said "You just can't JUST SIT, can you?!?!"  Yeah, nope, I'm tired of being sick.  I'm tired of just sitting.  Though I did get a bit of a wake-up call on that.  I was moving things around in our storage room, looking for stoopid Brita filters of all things, and got myself worked up into a cleaning frenzy.  Our air conditioner was down for two days, it was hot, and what do I decided to do?  Yep, Malnourished Cleaning.  Needless to say, after about 30 minutes of sorting and organizing, moving, throwing, and cleaning up after a leaky bottle of Tide, I started feeling horrible.  I was dizzy and sweating like a maniac.  I stood up to dispose of some papertowels full of Tide, when all of the sudden I went all tunnel-ey.  You know, when your vision starts to get fuzzy and dark around the edges?  Yep.  I felt like I was falling, and my vision was going fuzzy and black.  That was it.  Scared the bejeebies outta me.  I told the youngest son to finish the last of the picking up and went promptly to the couch for a cold beverage.  Two sips of cold water later, I leaned over and puked on the cat.  I'm still apologizing to said cat.  But, needless to say, I'm not really doing much today.  I thought I was going to have a stroke or a coronary or something.  Cripes.

So, here I sit.  On my arse.  I figured since I'm not doing anything, I might as well update my blog.  And now that I think about what happened yesterday, maybe I should get up and get the cat some treats...

Yep, I have medical proof that I'm a stubborn bitch...

My visit to the Weight Management doc today didn't go as well as I thought... My blood work came back pretty bad.  I'm deficient in Vitamin D, B-12, Thiamine, and protein.  My levels are scary-low.  The doc said "The only reason you are still able to function is because you're a stubborn bitch.  I've seen better levels in ICU patients."   Keep in mind that this doc has seen me from the get-go and knows how I am, so I was not offended in the least...

I'm supposed to pay close attention to any numbness or tingling feelings, and watch for any difficulties or signs of a stroke.  Apparently malnutrition can make you more susceptible to stroke.  Great.

I got an Rx for Vitamin D 5000 IU once a week (little gelcaps) and was told to discuss my Thiamine levels with the surgeon.  I have to take twice my usual dose of B-12, and try and get more protein in.

I have a follow up with the surgeon scheduled for tomorrow, so I'll write a more in-depth post after that one.  I've got nothing quirky or snarky to add.  This kind of scares me.

Happy Independence Day...

Another glorious holiday... I declined a few invitations to the usual barbeques and such today.  Sitting there watching people drink massive amount of alcohol and eat food that I long for doesn't really appeal to me anymore.  My husband and the kids decided to stay at home with me.  Not in the mood for the typical Fourth of July fare, the hubby asked that I make something different, so I made them oven fried ranch chicken, chicken fettuccine noodley side dish, and mixed veg.  It looked delicious.  There's also a homemade chocolate Heath bar pie in the fridge for desert.  I made myself a half of a slice of leftover soft meatloaf and ate a few of the carrots out of the mixed veg.  I have white chocolate sugar-free pudding in the fridge for later.  I could go on and on about wishing I had some chargrilled hamburgers or hotdogs, but there's no sense dwelling on it.

Two years ago at 7pm on July 4th, I would have been on someone's couch or porch, in quite the food coma after eating at least 2 cheeseburgers and possibly a hotdog (they looked so good I just HAD to taste one) and quite a few helpings of mac and cheese, sipping on some Captain and Diet Coke, watching the kids be moody and emo.  I'd be contemplating the 4th refill of my drink and deciding how I was going to have a piece of cake, a brownie, and a slice of pie without anyone realizing how much I was eating.  I would be planning and strategizing, asking one of the kids to just get two pieces of cake when they got their dessert and just bring me the extra one.

Two years ago at 7pm on July 4th, I would have been around 400 lbs and sweating like mad because I wasn't comfortable in summer clothes, so I would wear jeans and a t-shirt and an overshirt to hide my rolls of fat.  I was convinced that that 4x button-down, unbuttoned, made me magically appear slimmer.  There was no way I'd even wear shorts around the house, let alone outside with all these people.  I felt that the more clothes I had on, the less absolutely HUGE I must appear.  Nevermind the fact that I needed to carry around papertowels stuffed in my pockets to wipe the sweat off of my face constantly, nevermind the fact that I was pretty much beet-red all summer.

Two years ago at 7pm on July 4th, I would have been on the lookout for the sturdiest piece of furniture at the party.  I was always in fear that the flimsy plastic lawn furniture would break.  I was afraid of the cheap metal folding chairs collapsing under my weight.  I was leery about sitting on the ground because it would take 5 minutes and several embarrassing struggling noises to haul myself back to a standing position.  God forbid I had to sit on the pavement, then I knew there would be a very large ass-print of sweat when I finally got back up.

I've been through quite a lot in the past two years.  I can no longer celebrate Independence Day like I used to.  I'm still not healthy enough to BE independent.  My husband still takes care of me when I'm feeling sick, or when I'm having a bad day with food, or when the pain just refuses to stop.  I'm still quite self conscious about how I look and how I eat around people.  But looking back on it all makes me realize that I was much more miserable than I thought... than I ever would have admitted, even to myself.  I still struggle with holidays, they're just different struggles.

Holidays mean a little more to me now.  I have lived to see another holiday.  That, in itself, is something.  I'll be able to watch fireworks from my living room window tonight.  Some of the neighbors always set off some form of fireworks on holidays.  I'll be sitting on my couch, in shorts, eating my quarter cup of sugar-free pudding and smiling at the kids' constant teenage indifference.  At least that never changes.

Wonky much?

This morning I went for my pre-follow up routine bloodwork.  Not like I eat much anyway, but like most bloodwork, this requires fasting.  So, at 9:15 I show up for my 9:30 appointment at the blood lab.  The waiting room is packed with octogenarians who give me that evil old people stare that is generally reserved for criminals and tattooed people.  Oh, yay.  The hubby went with me, so ge stood next to my chair to give me something to lean on since I was feeling wonky and wobby today anyway.  I forgot to bring a book, so I had to amuse myself by listening to the plethora of complaints that emanates from a room full of oldsters.  The wait is too long.  It's warm in here.  I don't have an appointment, why do I have to wait? I tried to call for an appointment from the car on the way here, but no one answered the phone.

Really, you called a lab ON THE WAY HERE?  What the hell?  My parents ingrained in me that you make an appointment early and you show up early.  If I'm 15 minutes early anywhere, I'm running late.  When did being 80 make you entitled?

Anywho, they called me back and got my Rx for bloodwork and my insurance card and sat me in a big huge bloodwork chair.  My feet were swinging, I felt lost in the huge padded chair!  Then I realized that last year, I sat in this same chair for bloodwork.  This chair that made me feel like Edith Anne (yep, remember that?) was rather a tight fit last year.  The receptionist recognized me by my tattoos and squealed at me.  "Ohmygawd! How you lose dat much weight?? You look sooo guuud!!"  *sigh*  I thanked her for the compliment and proceded to explain that I have no stomach tissue and only 2/3 of my intestines left.  It works well for weight loss, but I wouldn't recommend it...  She stopped squealing at me at that point.

So, after getting 6 vials of blood drawn, I slowly got up from the chair.  I was feeling mighty wonky by this point.  The room was starting to tilt.  I said I was feeling a little lightheaded and tried to walk slowly.  The oh so helpful receptionist said "Oh, just go have a cookie or two and you'll feel better."  Yeah, thanks.  I'd like to have a cookie or two.  Bite me.

Maybe I'm just bitter and grouchy today.

The hubby helped me out to the car.  I did try to eat a little bit after we got home, but I'm still feeling wonky.  Dammit.

I'm going to the surgical follow up on July 10th with my Nutritionist and the Post WLS doctor, so I'll find out what kind of malnourished wonder I truly am then.  I have a feeling that most of my levels are still off.  Hoping that we can figure something out for the wonky dizziness... 

For now, it's time for more pain meds... and maybe a nap.  Perhaps a few hours of blissful slumber will make me less of a cranky, bitter, bitch today.  Let's hope so, for my family's sake...

Definitely a Lateral Move...

So, it's not really an improvement, but more of a trade-off.  It seems as though the nasty, bitter, horrible Bentyl has kicked my intestines into motion.  I have been able to keep about 80% of my food and fluid intake down, and I'm actually not all backed up like I had been for a while.  I'm tolerating more and more solid-ish foods and am making my minimum protein requirements (60-80g daily) on most days.  Of course, there's a catch.  There's always a catch...

My pain levels are going through the roof.  Especially after I eat or drink, I have this weird pulling/tugging sensation in the center of my abdomen.  The pain seems to be coming from my "stomach" or maybe from where my PEJ feeding tube used to be.  Some times it's just an annoyance, then there's the times where it feels like someone twanged my innards with a big rubberband and started trying to remove my intestines with pliers and a great deal of force.  On good days, I can actually feel the movement of the foods I eat.  On bad days, I curl up into a whiney, crying ball.  The pulling pain seems to get worse if I decide to try and move around, or if I bend to pick something up.  I've actually started taking my pain meds as often as prescribed, hoping that if I keep medicated it will keep the severe pain in check.  No such luck.  I'm terrified that I'm going to end up back in the hospital.  I'm trying to stay stoic, but it's getting more and more difficult.  I don't have another follow-up with my surgeon until July 11th, so I'm at least trying to hold out until then.

I do not want to go back to the hospital.  I would appreciate the stronger meds, but I really don't want to spend another holiday walking around the 7th floor of the hospital in a drafty, ugly hospital gown.  I really don't want another surgery, but it's starting to look like I won't have a choice.  I can usually put up a pretty good front about the whole pain thing, but this is getting worse and worse and I'm not sure I can keep up the "I'm fine" thing too much longer.

*sigh*

Some People Just Need a Good Ol' Throat Punch...

If I have to read one more post, email, or accusatory private message with the phrase "easy way" things are gonna get ugly.   I'm not generally a violent person, I am in fact an angry person.  I  do not mind simple questions.  I don't mind when people ask my opinion.  I do mind when people decide that I'm lazy and "took the easy way out by having surgery."

At the risk of offending any readers, the only answers I have for this accusation are both two word solutions:  Throat punch or "Fuck you."

I understand that some people are always healthy, have been raised healthy, and are perfectly fit.  I understand that some people decide to be Born-Again-Fit.  I also understand that some people are lazy and unfit and do, indeed, look for that quick fix.  We're all different, we all have different struggles, blah blah blah.

I decided I was tired of being fat.  I was in Weight Watchers for years, I followed medically supervised diets with an endocrinologist, I did all the fad diets starting at about age 10.  My mom decided that one summer I would eat nothing but canned tuna.  She decided that one year, before every meal, I'd have to eat this "candy chew" that tripled in size in your stomach so you couldn't eat as much.  She fed me grapefruit and Sweet N' Low, yogurt, and salads.  We made KoolAid with NutriSweet and chewed gum instead of eating.  We followed diet plans out of magazines and the backs of tabloids.  We fasted and walked.  Everything that my mom could grasp to for hope of having a thinner child, that's what we did.  Did any of it work?  No, of course not.  That's why we had to keep trying.

Most people who are overweight, or the new medical catchphrase "obese," have been through their own gamut of these challenges.  I finally decided I was tired of chasing my tail.  My insurance was offering to cover gastric surgery (well, 90% of it), so I finally looked into it.  As an added bonus, the docs found stomach polyps during the pre-surg testing, so I could lean on that as a reason and excuse.  There's a certain shame that the general population hands to gastric patients.  Like "You want surgery to be thin, how dare you!"  So I convinced myself that I was having the stomach polyps removed and as an added bonus, I'd have a gastric sleeve!  There are still some people in my life that don't know I chose to have gastric surgery.  Some people that I know would not be supportive.  I don't need that.  Especially now.

Society tells us that gastric surgery is the easy way out.  That the patients of bariatric surgeons are lazy and unwilling to work for their fitness goal.  Society shames us into a hiding of sorts.  Gastric surgery is usually not the result of a need to be "prettier" or a superficial want for attention.  It's the last resort to get rid of things like diabetes, sleep apnea, high blood pressure, and the overall trapped feeling of being obese.  I didn't want to be 100 lbs.  I wanted to be healthy.  I wanted to be able to keep up with the kids.  I wanted to make sure I could attend graduations and grow old with my husband.  I knew that being over 400 lbs would, in all literal matters, eventually kill me.

After bariatric surgery, the patient has to be more dedicated than pre-surg.  Especially after so many complications.  I have very little leeway now.  I have very few choices I can make.  I can't have just one more cookie.  Hell, most days I can't have ONE cookie... I can't take one more sip, I can't have one more drink at the bar.  If I make the wrong choice, I will be sick for hours, or I may be dead.  Since I have no stomach tissue (well, I have a 1 cm band at the end of my esophagus), I can not have alcohol.  I no longer produce the enzyme needed to break down alcohol, so I would have one drink and may just poison my liver enough to kill me.  I can no longer make bad choices.  I have no choice now.  I've been Clockwork Orange'd.  I must do what I'm supposed to, or I get horribly sick.

Even patients that have no complication still did not take the easy way.  Major surgery is rarely easy.

There are post-surg patients that are not ready for the level of commitment.  I see posts on the boards about people slipping into bulemia (oh, I ate something I shouldn't have so I just made myself throw up), about people not ready for the dedication (I'm 2 months out from my sleeve and all I eat is cookies), and people just not taking advantage of the tool they've gotten.  This irritates me to no end.  I want to smack people.  Dammit, you still have a choice.  I DON'T HAVE THAT ANYMORE!!  I get jealous.  I just want to shake people.  It's the patients that were truly not ready that give us all a bad rep.

I get messages often about taking the easy way out, sometimes I answer them.  Sometimes, I educate them.  Sometimes, I cuss at them.  Most times, I just send them a link to my blog and say "If you really think I have it easy, email me when you're done reading."  I rarely get a reply.  Makes me wonder if my blog made them at least stop and think...

I'm glad you're losing weight the natural way.  I'm glad you have that ability.  I'm glad you're 120 lbs and have flat abs.  I'm just trying not to starve to death.  I'm trying to have enough calories every day so that I can get off of the couch.  I'm trying to wait for the dizziness to stop so I can go make my family dinner (that I cannot eat).  I'm trying to stay hydrated, and get enough protein in so that my hair will stop falling out and my fingernails will stop breaking.  Somedays, I'm just trying to think positive so I can keep going...

If you still think this is easy, you really have no idea...  If I had the strength, I'd punch you in the throat.