Long time no Blog!

Hello all!

So, its been a while! I have been working on a separate project (all will be revealed soon!) but in the meantime, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about friendship, and what it means to be a friend. Sometimes the hardest thing we can do is let go of people that we have a long history with. Lately I've been going through some rough stuff, and it's really surprised me the people who have stepped up for me and the people who have not.

To be a good friend, I believe that it's a give and take situation - and we all go through seasons of giving and seasons of taking. Recently I've unfortunately had to go through a season of taking without being to give too much (although I do try) and I have asked my friends to step up and support me in something really hard. It's been just as hard and even HARDER than I anticipated, so the support of my friends became so incredibly important. The people who stepped up, kept in contact with me, supported me and made my journey their own were a little unexpected but OH so amazing - I've been lifted up on the wings of angels, but they're not the angels I expected so the experience has been bitter sweet, and it's created a real disparity between who I THOUGHT my true friends were and who actually was there for me.

Its amazing how adversity does this - it's like the bible says about separating the chaff from the wheat - when everything is shaken up, the goodness is separated from the rubbish and things become a little clearer. Another aspect of friendship that I haven't been paying much attention to until now is the qualities of certain people, their character, and their morality. The bible talks about the company you keep, being selective as to who you let into your heart and who you let speak to your spirit. I've been on Facebook a little bit, looking at profiles of people I used to be really close with, and the content on there is really disturbing and a little disappointing. I've realised that through this whole experience I've matured in a way I didn't expect and if that makes me a prude then so be it. Perhaps I'm just boring, but graphic, smutty conversation about really base things just doesn't tickle my funny bone anymore. It makes me sad and disheartened, because the people involved in that conversation were once close to me. But I've moved past that kind of humor, and I'm in a completely different place in my world now. I want friends who are not only going to lift me up when I need it, but who are going to meet me where I'm at and interact with me at that level. I don't want to be dragged down anymore and I feel like I've allowed myself to be dragged down for the sake of staying friends with people who hold valuable parts of my history.

The thing I DON'T know how to do is to let go. I don't know whether to send a message saying goodbye or to just drop off the radar. I don't like the idea of just fading away because she wont KNOW why, but at the same time fading away is just easier. I don't want a big confrontation, and I don't want her to then try and change herself to "keep"me because that's not fair either. We're just in two different places, and I just want things to just be left alone. I think I should move on and get on with my life, and I think she should do the same, but I know if I make the contact it will turn into something dramatic and I don't want that either. No, I take that back, I don't have the CAPACITY for that. I don't have the mental or physical capacity for that right now.

So, what do I do? Any ideas? Comment me if you have thoughts.....

Until next time!

Review time!

So today was my follow up appointment with the surgeon and we decided that we would pack up the car in the hopes that he might give me the all clear to go home. I was a little nervous knowing that I hadn't been entirely good when it comes to taking the benefibre, drinking enough fluids and taking my multi vitamins like I should. I suitably got a little kick in the butt, not by the staff but mentally by myself because I was reminded at the appointment how serious this whole thing is, and that I am by no means out of the woodwork yet. I have another two weeks before it can be confidently said that I wont have a leak, so I have to be really careful until then. So 27th of October is my "all clear" date :)

The surgeon suggested before I even asked whether we'd like to go home today, I said well yes we were hoping to and he said he was happy with my progress and I was welcome to head home. A quick trip back to the motel to grab our gear and check out and we hit the road, only stopping a couple of times for fuel and a stretch. We took a quick detour to Curlewis to pick up our Gizmo, and then raced home. The reception from both fur babies was SPECTACULAR - Gizmo wagged his bum nearly clean off, and Max hasn't stopped talking and smooching since we got home (about 7 hours ago now!)

So now we're home - its just past 1am and I cannot seem to get to sleep. Brad's already in bed and out to it, but for some reason my legs are really restless and I just couldn't settle. So I got up and tidied my office up instead.

I couldn't help but feel a little depressed in finding out that I don't actually start purees til Monday - so I still have a few days of fluids left (boo hiss!) but I have to follow the rules. Tomorrow I'm off shopping and I'm going to stock up on stuff I'll be able to have as of Monday (oooh so excited!) and I think I have a dietician appointment next week also which will help sort out the do's and don'ts so to speak!

I should probably try to sleep again....stupid restless legs!

The Bad and the Ugly...

I would have spent the last couple of hours laying in bed trying to get to sleep. My sweet husband, whose brain never ever seems to get away from him like mine does me is sleeping peacefully in our relatively comfortable motel bed just a few meters away yet sleep alludes me. So, in an attempt to perhaps slow down my brain enough for me to rest, here I am up instead to download my thoughts....

It's been a rough couple of days. Despite promises to the contrary I've been experiencing pretty severe pains in my stomach that prior to surgery I would have assumed were hunger pains. I have read in a couple of different places that this kind of thing is most likely due to acid reflux rather than any kind of real hunger, yet I am still highly concerned for a couple of reasons. Number one: I do NOT want to spend the next 12 months being in pain and feeling perpetually hungry and two: If this pain persists its likely I will not be able to read when I'm full, thus increasing my chances of stretching my new stomach and completely undoing all my good work tenfold. Yet unlike hunger, the feeling gets WORSE when I try to drink anything, making my fluid intake over the last couple of days drop to dangerously low levels. And my spirits right along with it despite my husband's best efforts. 

Poor Brad. At one point during my despair and worries he exasperatedly said "I thought this surgery was going to INCREASE your confidence!!" We've come all this way, at great expense, to improve my chances of losing weight, feeling healthier, happier, and living a fuller life and all I can do is gripe about it. It's really not fair on him at all. I can't seem to find the words to tell him my fears in any intelligible way that he would understand because, lets face it, unless you've been there yourself you cannot possibly know what this is like. He tries, Lord love him, but I feel like I've already burdened him far more than I should have. I cannot ask him to understand something he's never experienced for himself. 

The horrid psychologist I saw just before the surgery who made me feel AWFUL (see previous post for sordid details!) said something interesting to me. She pointed out that my putting on weight was a way of me abusing myself, which in itself is hardly a revelation, but she then went on to say that perhaps me having the surgery was just switching methods to a different form of abuse upon myself...I thought that was a preposterous concept until recently but now I wonder whether me having this surgery was like my own brand of self harm. But then I think to myself, perhaps not getting the surgery would have been more abusive - how can I ignore such a serious problem that will eventually kill me? Is having 80-90% of my stomach cut out my own personal brand of terrorism, or a way to spare myself from my own personal brand of terrorism?

Sometimes I feel like I wouldn't even need to physically visit a psychologist - all I need to do is send her the link to this blog in an email with the message "here's where to start" and let her have at it! Wouldn't she have a field day! I feel like it would be terribly remiss of me, nay a higher form of neglect, for me to not include the bad stuff along with the good. After all, this journey is not success only, and the hard stuff has only really just begun. I'm sure in the future there will be posts of successes, victories, smaller and smaller scale readings, new measurements, new outfits and all manner of good news. But at this stage of this very long journey I am feeling tired, and worn out, and disheartened. It's only been a week and I don't have that "hooray I've been sleeved" feeling at all. Instead I am wondering what the hell I have done to myself and I'm plagued with doubts as to whether this has been worth it at all. 

Of course intellectually I know it is. In my head I am as determined as ever to succeed and I know I have the professional and personal support team behind me to make that happen. I've done everything right, just like I always do. I've put all my ducks in a row, I've crossed my t's and dotted my i's and I've sought the best of the best in terms of advice and research. I was READY for this. So why do I now feel so scared and so bloody unsure of myself. The fact of the matter is, it's done. There's nothing that can change that. 

As usual, I've fooled myself into believing that by getting everything just so my emotions will catch up. But the bad and the ugly part of life is sometimes you just have to fake it til you make it. And so, tomorrow I'll get up, put on my bravest smile, ring the clinic to discuss my concerns, and try again.....

Week One Recap

Ok, so I’ve been REALLY slack blogging about the actual surgery and immediate aftermath, so here is a full recap of what’s been happening over the last 6 days:

Sunday

Sunday morning dawned early for us, as I had to be up early to head to Sydney and I had a TONNE of things left to do before we left. We madly tried to pack up everything, Max threw up three times (including twice BEHIND the couch) and finally we got on the road. It was a pretty uneventful trip, which ended in us parking a mile away from where we should have been – but we finally found where we were meant to go, got the key for our accommodation and got settled in. Poor Brad was a little horrified to learn that the unit we have is a shared unit, so there was other people living there, but I still say we were lucky to get the place we got – it’s really nice and fully self contained which means we can do our washing etc.

Sunday night also meant that I was finally going to treat myself to some real food – Brad cooked chicken tenders which tasted AMAZZZINNNGGGG and then later that night I had salmon and veggies. It was so great to finally eat protein again! Going to sleep was a bit hard on Sunday night but I eventually got there.

Monday

My alarm went off on Monday at 5am and I got up. I thought I would have an optifast, but I didn’t really feel like it so instead I got stuck into some water which I was allowed to have up til about 8:30am. I parked myself in one of the living rooms in our flat with a book, the TV and a heater and that’s where I stayed all morning, just relaxing and trying not to think about what was about to happen to me! I had my last sip of water at around 8:20am and then we headed over to the hospital at around 10am. I was admitted and taken up to the day surgery area and told to wait there, but we didn’t have to wait too long before my name was called and I was taken into a small room where I was asked a bunch of questions. I was told there was another girl to go in for surgery ahead of me, and that I might be waiting a little while. Brad was allowed to be with me the whole time which was REALLY helpful to me, and I didn’t once panic or get really nervous about it despite the circumstances.

When they came for me to go into surgery Brad said goodbye and for the first time I got a little teary. They wheeled me into the anaesthetic bay and had some difficulties getting a line into me (surprise surprise) but did get one to take eventually after a few goes. By that stage I was beginning to panic a bit, so they gave me something to settle my nerves and I was wheeled into the operating room. They had this amazing blow up mattress thing underneath me that hovered me over to the operating table, and despite being told I probably wouldn’t remember it I do remember being angled up towards my feet and told to slide down to the bottom of the bed so my feet were flat on the foot of the bed. I don’t remember a thing after that.

Waking up in recovery really hurt – my shoulder was KILLING me, the gas pain was so bad. I also had a mask over my face which I found claustrophobic, and I kept trying to take it off but they said I couldn’t just yet. Because everything had been so well explained before hand I knew what was I in for, so there was no real surprises to me except the pain. I was soon taken to my room and introduced to the nursing staff, then realised that my husband was there too JI was so pleased to see him!!!

That evening the nursing staff offered for me to get changed into my own clothes and I told them I’d like to go for a walk. I think they were surprised I’d be up and about so soon, but I’d had it drilled into me to get up and walk as soon as possible, so I began lapping the ward and continued to do so every time I was awake and alert. It gave me something to focus on, some measure of control, and something practical I could do to decrease the pain. I think the nurses were very impressed J

The next day or so is a bit of a blur – lots of ice (everytime a nurse turned up I’d ask for more ice because it kept melting on me!) and everytime I pressed my little button off I’d go for a snooze…I felt bad because Brad would sit with me most of the day and every time the machine would beep he and I would both know I’d be out for the count, but he stayed anyways. Having him as a constant prescence through this whole experience has been the most incredible thing I feel like I’ve been able to share this journey with him, and that’s made me feel even closer to him than I ever have before. We’ve done it together, and he’s been such an amazing pillar of strength.

Tuesday

Tuesday was a bit of a blur, but I do remember Dr Taylor coming to visit finally sporting some VERY graphic photographs proving that INDEED the surgery was done, and indeed I had been sleeved. His proof was a particularly disturbing image showing the part of the stomach he cut away laying on a stainless steel slab with his fist next to it for sizing purposes - lovely! LOL I was relieved that it really did happen and that my liver was small and soft enough for it to happen safely, and even though I'd tested myself every couple of days and I had not cheated on my pre op diet I was still a little nervous about making sure that it really DID happen. 

Wednesday-Thursday

As the days wore on I realised I was pretty keen to get out of the hospital. There was a big question mark hanging over us as to whether I’d leave Wednesday evening (an early mark) or whether I’d wait til Thursday. The push button machine was taken away Wednesday lunch time, but I’d stopped using it the day before and had only pushed it a couple of times even then. I struggled to drink the fluids given to me Wednesday lunch time, and then Wednesday evening my cannula (faithful though it had been up til then) finally gave way. Thankfully I was able to drink a whole cup of apple juice in time for the nurses to agree to not put in another one (PHEW) which meant that I had a whole night of sleep without being tethered to anything J J Because I didn’t have the machines anymore I was left alone for 5 hours and got a serious stretch of sleep, and when I woke up I went for a walk straight away and had a shower and got packing – I was dying to get out of the hospital!!! Brad came for me at 9am and I was practically ready to go, I’d been given my instructions and medications and was ready to head off. I found out I’d have to give myself shots every day to prevent blood clots (owch!) and was taught how to do it (I’m so brave!!!) to which surprisingly I DIDN’T freak out but rather just calmly accepted (God is so good!).

The only time I got upset was when I was brought my liquid breakfast – I looked at all the liquid and I freaked out because I knew how difficult it was for me and I felt completely overwhelmed – amazing what a bit of juice tea and broth can do for a body when you’ve had this surgery! The nurses calmed me down, assuring me that while it does seem like a lot all at once, the most important thing to do was to just keep sipping on something, and not look at the big picture. I was assured that it WOULD get better, despite how things were feeling right now, and that in time I’d be able to tolerate more and more.

After I calmed down we dropped into the pharmacy for the rest of my meds and came straight to the unit, it felt SO good to be out of the hospital Jit was my first step towards getting back to my life and it felt SO good J Brad immediately became my fluid nazi (in the nicest possible way) encouraging me to continue sipping on the sustagen popper I’d been given at breakfast as well as later on juice, optifast and even going to the supermarket down the road and getting me frosty fruits (OMG so good!). Swallowing was still hard, with pain coming up in my chest after most sips of drink. It was a big learning curve figuring out how much was too much and how little was too little. It also dawned on me just how long I had to go, and how tough the smallest amounts of liquids had become for me.

Friday

Friday dawned with me really not knowing what to do with myself – apart from wandering down to the hospital to pay for my accommodation I really didn’t have anything to do, so we spent the day lazing around, having a nap watching tv and the odd movie. We’ll be very ready for some action by the time next week rolls around and we’re closer to the beach that’s for sure! I was able to have some more liquids actually making it over the 1ltre mark which was encouraging! I also for the first time experienced what I think was hunger pains! Incredible! I could definitely feel an improvement in the way I was able to consume liquids, and I snuck a peak at my booklet given to me by the clinic to have a look at the next stage (which would start next Thursday) and began thinking about things I could puree! JHooray!

So, that’s the recap of the week. It’s been the toughest thing I’ve ever done, but so far I’m just concentrating on healing and resting at this point. The real work begins when I am able to consume real food again but I’m confident that because I’ve come this far I wont quit and I’ll keep the next 9-12 months always in the forefront of my mind – this is the time I have to make a concerted effort, there’s no going back now. I have to keep my stomach as small as possible for as long as possible, and I must make good choices NOW to set myself up for the rest of my life. I’m going to get every single lost kilo I can out of this, because this is a one time deal – I’ll never be doing this again!!! I have to keep the end goal in mind – it’s about health and wellbeing and losing the damn weight!

It’s now Saturday morning, another perfect day in Sydney all wrapped up in our comfortable little unit like a cocoon. Brad will be heading down to the shops later to pick up some more food for himself, but other than that there’s no much we have in the way of plans. I will likely go for a short walk today just to stretch my legs and get things moving, and I’ll be trying to bump up the liquids as much as I can. Here’s to week two! 

Nearly There...

Well, technically we ARE here. We've made it to Sydney and after Brad having to make a MILLION trips back to the car to get the TONNES of luggage we some how managed to bring with us, we're finally settled into our unit. A little hiccup however, neither hubbie or myself realised that the unit was shared - so there's two other rooms and two other couples also living in the same place. Thankfully there's two sitting rooms, so hubbie and I can watch telly privately and our room isn't terrible so it's not all bad. Plus its fully self contained, so Brad can cook his meals and be ok and I'll know he's at least got a nice place to stay while I'm in hospital.

This morning, in lieu of a will, I wrote out some "last instructions" in case the worst happens and had myself a little cry - then I decided I was not going to cry anymore. I spent practically all weekend in tears, labouring over all the unknowns.....will there be complications? will I suffer? will the pain be really bad? what will "post sleeve" feel like? will i be hungry? have I dealt with my issues enough to successfully make the sleeve work for me? Will this be 6 grand down the tube, or am I going to make it? I honestly dont know. I have no idea what life after tomorrow will look like, and its likely the scariest thing I'll ever do. I feel like I'm literally jumping off the cliff, not knowing what is at the bottom - a terrifying thought even if you DONT take into account the pain i will go through for the privalege.

I have to believe that this whole journey so far has been guided by God's hands, and that He knows exactly what I need. Despite massive mood swings, swearing at the cat this morning (he flicked kitty litter EVERYWHERE and then proceeded to throw up on the loungeroom carpet - once in the entrance and then TWICE BEHIND the couch.....just as we were trying to get away.....UGH! He REALLY didn't want us to go!). Frankly I've been a moody bitch lately, but I know eventually that will pass - as of tomorrow life will be very very different. For the better I pray!

Well, there's nothing really more to do now. I'm treating myself to customary vegetables AND salmon, and maybe a chicken tender or two from the box brad is cooking up right now.....nothing too heavy but enough to give me one last taste of real food before tomorrow. I can't eat after 6am in the morning so it will be optifast at 5:30 then sipping water til 8:30 and nothing after that.

So, here goes. If I get the chance to write tomorrow morning I will otherwise I'll blog on the other side!!! Adios!

One Week to Go!

So, this time next week I will be in Sydney preparing for life changing surgery....am I nervous? Totally! Am I excited? Not really....just nervous! People ask me that a lot - are you excited? I get where they're coming from, but the actual sleeve doesn't really excite me. The RESULTS however do! This morning I smashed my pre op weight loss goal and broke through 140kgs - haven't been this light in quite some time! Here are just SOME of the things I look forward to:

1. I look forward to being a very cheap date! (and a very cheap drunk!)
2. I look forward to living my life free from obsessing about food (eventually!)
3. I look forward to looking in the mirror and being happy about what I see
4. I look forward to costume fittings without being worried about finding something that will fit
5. I look forward to shopping at the FRONT of clothing stores rather than at the "plus size" section
6. I look forward to going to the cinema and fitting comfortably in the seats
7. I look forward to flying without asking for a seat extension and not worrying about how much I'll encroach on someone sitting next to me
8. I look forward to taking my doggie for walks very very often and not dreading it
9. I look forward to bushwalking with my husband
10. I look forward to many other things with my husband!!!! ;)
11. I look forward to strutting my stuff on stage in many TMS shows (in lots of fab parts that aren't "fat" parts)
12. I look forward to having children and running around after children!
13. I look forward to being 51 yrs old, and 52 yrs old and 53 yrs old, and 54 yrs old......
14. I look forward to b!@#s at work who wouldn't give me the time of day all of a sudden saying how great I look - and me promptly brushing them off for the ppl who were always there for me
15. I look forward to making new friends at bootcamps and gym classes and playing sports (even though I'm totally unco!)
16. I look forward to the day when all the family members who ditched me realised that they completely missed out
17. I look forward to going to my 20 year high school reunion (if we have one) looking AMAAZINNGG
18. I look forward to eating real food again (in smaller doses)
19. I look forward to the day I reach my goal weight
20. I look forward to the day when I stand in front of that awful psychologist and give her the finger for telling me that I'm too emotionally messed up to have this surgery!

The biggest thing I look forward to is an increase in confidence. I know that can only come from the inside, and I think I've already begun that side of my transformation. I've come to realise that I just don't have time to chase after friends of convenience anymore - you know the ones - the ones who are all mates with you when it suits them, but only when it suits them. I've come to realise over the several months in the lead up to this surgery that there are even people who I've considered the very closest of friends that unfortunately fall into that category. I've also been pleasantly surprised by others who have truly stepped up and been there through the tears, the fears, and the trials of this journey.

To those who have left me hanging while I've gone through this, who haven't made a concerted effort to support me with even something as simple as a phone call or an email or anything and yet will get in touch when they want something (you know who you are).....know this. Change is coming. There is coming a day when I won't even take your phone calls or return ur texts anymore because I am worth more than that. I deserve friends who are present and who don't just take but who give as well. I'm no longer a friend of convenience - so you have two choices. You can either 1. step up and make an effort between now and next Monday and then beyond that also or 2. find someone else to use. I'm done being second best.

And to those who have supported me - Robyn, Cheryl, Carrie, Liesl, Bennie, Jeanette, Ros, Mark, Jocelyn, Kathleen, my fabulous family and my amazing husband, I love each and every one of you to my absolute core. You have chosen to make this your journey as well as mine, and the fact that you are walking with me means the world to me. I hope I never ever take your friendship and love for granted.

So, final week. Here's my goals for this week:

1. STICK WITH IT - I've come too close to cheat now!
2. 2ltrs of water a day - no exceptions!
3. hydrotherapy as much as possible
4. final opti shop!
5. get packing!!
6. final photos and measurements and maybe a video blog before I head off

Fingers crossed!

Time Minus Nine

This week has been a really really hard week. A LOT harder emotionally than I anticipated. I've been really really emotional, and my tolerance level for anything has gone right down into my boots. I've been swinging wildly from feeling ok to feeling really really desperate and I can only put it down to my surgery getting closer and closer.

Every day I feel like I climb Everest, only to know there's a new Everest to climb the next day - and the next day - and the next. After a while, its exhausting! Every single day I am inundated with thoughts and cravings for things I just can't have, and it scares me because this is what my life is going to be after the surgery too - always craving what I can't have. I keep wondering whether I am just too messed up to have this surgery - but then I think to myself that this is just part of the process that I have to go through, to change these thought patterns and of course that's not going to happen overnight after a life of relying upon food to make me happy.

I have to believe that I can do this. I have to believe that there's a better life out there for me. And most of all, I have to believe that I can change and rise above the bull!@#$ that my father put on my shoulders. This is the time for me to show that I'm more than my history.

And so I keep telling myself that - every time a craving hits, every time my mind wanders to what real food would taste like, every time I mourn the loss of being able to eat what I like, when I like, that this is my one shot. It's not just 6 grand out of my pocket, its not just appointments and blood tests and pain and self control - its the fight of my life. If I dont do this, my life will be a short one, a sad one, and one half lived. I cannot possibly live with myself if there was something I could do to prevent reaching my Lord Jesus and having to justify living a half life and not fulfilling the purpose He has for me.

And so today I dutifully get up, take my optifast, eat my vegetables and try desperately not to think of the food I was once permitted to have. I have a limited amount of patience and tolerance right now, but I can live with that :) Because I know I WILL live - a long long time :)