Listening To My Life

Anew: What I got from taking the easy way

Sitting in a cold exam room, I scanned the numbers on the printout lying on the sheet-covered table. Seeing that my A1C was below 5, I asked my endocrinologist when, if ever, I could actually say I’d beaten diabetes and am no longer diabetic. She smiled and said, “Now.”

This is why I had surgery. This is why I took the path of ease (and that some called a radical path). I’d eaten my way into diabetes, and I was determined to eat my way back out. I did it to save my life. I did it to be healthy. I did it because I didn't want this disease to render me blind, or numb, or without a digit or an appendage. I did it because of all the things that I absolutely can't do anything about, I had a way to do something about this. And I took that easy way. Beating diabetes was always the end game--my audacious goal.

And I’ve done what I set out to do. I can’t even begin to tell you what this feels like. It’s absolutely on par with learning, last summer, that I have a super-healthy heart. This news today was so big and I was so very giddy, that I almost missed the fact that all my other labs were wonderfully normal, too.

As for why I asked that question, it was because I’d heard this--that one actually never beats it. I’d heard that it’s always just over there somewhere, waiting to come back. I’d heard that it’s much the same as the belief (held by many people in the world of addiction), that addicts can never be free of the addiction—but will always be "in recovery."

I know it can come back, the diabetes. But in the same way that I can get a cold, get well, and not spend the rest of my life calling myself a “recovering cold-haver,” I can get on with my life and only call myself diabetic if I get the disease again.

If. Not when. A lovely distinction, that.

For now, and possibly the rest of my life*, I’m free.

*I'm thinking uber positively about this!

Saying hello to me

This has been a fairly surreal couple of days.

Yesterday, I got my hair cut--it's still mainly the same, only shorter for summer, and, I think, it's a bit more flirty (some have said "sassy").

I decided to take a pic of myself to share the new do with far-flung friends (it's up there in the right-hand corner of the blog). In doing so, I posted it to Facebook. When I did, I could then see it, very near to the old picture I've been using. As crazy as it may sound, it was really the first time I'd SEEN how much different I look today, than I did when that pic was taken.

I think the thing is that, for me, this journey has been lived second by second. And while the numbers in my dress size have reduced, in looking at myself in the mirror, I hadn't really noticed the changes. And, not one to love having my picture taken, it's not as if I've had gobs of evidence along the way to tell me the truth of things.

But there it was, in a way I couldn't deny. And what happened next? I had something akin to an anxiety attack. I couldn't breathe well. I paced like a caged animal. I called E and cried piteously. I felt like I wanted to climb out of my skin.

It didn't last terribly long (thank goodness!), although I'm still processing the changes I'm now seeing, and trying to get a grasp on what made me so anxious (the best I can do at the moment is say that in posting the new pic, I feel like I did a sort of "unveiling" of myself that I'd not done before, and that, for some reason, that felt huge and scary right then).

Since then, being committed to what is, as I am, I've changed my photo everywhere I know it to be (except my site--but that's coming), so that I can't either forget, deny where I am today, or pooh-pooh the immenseness of the journey I've been on and what I've accomplished to date.

And to make it even more "real" to me, I decided to compare, side by side, a photo taken of me this month last year, and the pic I snapped yesterday. Not that it's my nature, anyway, but truly, there's just no way to hide from the truth of things.

I think it's time to step more fully into who I've become, and in every respect where it makes sense, let go of who I was. I'm not longer hiding...and although still oddly a bit uncomfortable, I know it's good to say hello to THIS me.

Anew: Tonight, I'm pissed

This isn't something I've written about with any depth, and as I begin this post, I'm not sure how deeply I'm going to go now.  But here's what started things: I was clearning, and found a Polaroid taken of my (then) BFF Erica and me on the occasion of her ring dance in the fall of '81. I was 17.

I took a snap of said Polaroid (which accounts for the crappy image) and here it is--I'm on the right.

The very first thing that hits me when I see pics of me as a teenager is that I was NOT fat. Tall? You bet. Big-boned? Absolutely. Healthy? Completely. Fat? Not even remotely.

In fact, on seeing this pic tonight, E said, "God, you were a HOTTIE." Yeah.. I was. Blonde, blue-eyed, tall, stacked, really smart, I could SING (seriously sing, I tell ya), and, as I remarked before, I was healthy.

Yet if you'd asked me back then, I'd have told you that the message I'd been given for about as long as I could remember was that I was fat and had to lose weight. Not just a few pounds, either, but a SIGNIFICANT amount of weight. That message came from my mother, and from my teachers at the exclusive prep school I attended. At the time of this photo, my mother had me doing Nutrisystem; 30 years later, I can still conjure the smell of the powdered scrambled egg yech I had to eat every morning.

I don't honestly know what any of them were thinking. Ok, that's not true. My mother was probably thinking that I was imperfect and reflecting less well on her than I could. But my teachers? I still don't get that one. But it sure pisses me off that none of them could see the truth of me, and that I believed their lies. I know my friend Leslie would tell a very similar story (same teachers, even!), and I guarantee there are countless women (and men) in the world today who were told similar things (maybe you, even?).

Not too very long ago, a good friend and his wife (and I believe a teacher or two) were convinced that their pre-teen daughter was fat. And they were trying to get her to lose weight without making her self-conscious. I had a near violent reaction (projection, I'm sure, but it prompted me to open my yap--something I wish someone had done for me when I was young). "Just leave her alone," I said. "Let her grow into herself."  That's pretty much what they ended up doing (not because I said something), and she has, and continues to, grow into herself--not fat.

I know that parents mean well. I believe doctors do, too. They do the best they can with what they have, and they really often create more problems than they try to prevent--at least as it applies to overweight kids. 

So from this pissed-off place, I beg you to leave your kids alone. They're people...not shrubs to prune and shape into some effed-up image of perfection. Teach them good eating habits. Find them activities they love and yearn to do. Be active with them. Then let them run and play and be who they are. And let their bodies grow naturally. If there's a genuine problem, you'll know soon enough. But please, don't create one where one simply doesn't exist.

On behalf of "fat" kids everywhere...thank you for reading this. :)

Anew: Slowing it all down

Back when I started this whole escapade, I wrote a post about how I felt certain that there were more things afoot that had people gain back lost weight than simply not making appropriate life changes.

As I stare down a current loss of nearly 100lbs, I realize that I've slowed my loss. It's been delightful in some ways, all the changes I've experienced, and really freaky in others. For instance, my innards are still playing a sort of WTF song as they wonder what I've done to myself, and work to catch up. Another? Ok -- seeing bones peeking out of me that I've never seen and didn't know people had is delightful, till the first (or 30th) time I've banged them because, in some ways, I'm unaware of how my body fits in the world, and I move the wrong way, or too fast, or SOMETHING that causes a bump or bang to a newly exposed bit o'me.  

There's a lot of change, and it's all really showed up superfast...and I'm finding it a bit difficult to keep up with it all. And I have 50-ish more pounds to go.

Add to that that I'm thinking I'm probably going to have to have some plastic surgery. I made peace with that possibility before I decided to go on this journey. But I swear, seeing some of the changes in my body where once there were only imaginings--that's hard.

So I've slowed things down. I've eaten less protein than I "should." I'm not walking as much as I "should." All in an attempt to let me catch my breath, and get with the program.

I'm not there yet. But I just wanted to share that I'm really trying to get there, and that I'm absolutely no where near wanting to reverse and head back where I came from.

Anew: 13 MORE??

So here's a mind eff of huge magnitude.

D says to me, "I think our scale is off. I'm sure of it, actually."

Since there's no way to calibrate it, we got a new one. On it, I weight 13 lbs more than I did on the old one. THIRFREAKINTEEN!

I freaked up one side of the street and right down the other. I did. I ordered him to go to work (he works in a hospital) and hop on a scale to see which one was right (or even most right). He called today to say the new scale is spot on.

Seriously dude? SERIOUSLY?

He tried to soothe me by saying that I probably had lost as much weight as I'd believed I had; that, in truth, I would have always weighed 13 lbs more on the new scale. I was having none of it, and just gave him some serious stink eye.

'Cause even if that's true, it changes EVERYTHING. I now can no longer say that I weigh less than at any other time in my adult life. I now can't say that I only have X lbs left to lose. I now can't FEEL what I've been feeling recently specifically with regard to the loss. I've believed, from day one, that that scale was telling me the truth, and was, somehow, my ally in this journey of mine. Now, I feel deceived.

I get that, in the grand scheme of things, 13 lbs is just a drop in the bucket to what I've accomplished and will continue to accomplish. But right now? It's got me up at 230am writing about it.

As always, thanks for listening :)

Anew: Lessons learned from old pjs

Remember back when I posted about ditching 100+ items of clothing that no longer fit?

I didn't ditch my pjs. I reasoned that pjs that were extra roomy could only be pjs that were extra comfy.

But then tonight, I put on a pair of old, big, comfy pjs, clipped my Blackberry to the waist band of my bottoms, took two steps, and the pjs literally fell off my ass. I guess the combo--pjs that were too big, plus the couple of ounces of weight of the Blackberry and holster--were just too much.

And the lesson? Don't hang on to stuff you've outgrown. ANY stuff you've outgrown. There's a reason it's been outgrown, and holding on to it only postpones the inevitable...that of getting the new stuff you so richly deserve, and that fits you perfectly!

Anew: Buh-bye Doc

So I got news that my surgeon, Alex Gandsas (handsome, ain't he?) is leaving Baltimore for somewhere in NJ. Good for folks in NJ, and not so good for me and those of us here who think he's the bomb, and wish he were going to be continuing our care.

Not sure why he's going (I haven't asked him), but other people I've talked with suspect that where he is now isn't treating him like the rockstar he is...and the new place has promised to. Heck, if that's the case, I'd go, too.

His partner will be taking over my care. And I like her well enough, and I trust her. She's just not the guy, yanno? No, you couldn't possibly, cause you're not me! He's the guy who said "yes" to my request for the surgery, the guy who said the magic thing that got me to believe that this could be the right path for me--before he ever met me, the guy who has always treated me super-well, even as other people have told me what a prick he is.The guy who did a VSG through one hole (not mine, but heck... that's impressive!). The guy who tweeted a bypass. He's THAT guy.

I don't like docs much. Those I do I really do. He's one of those. And I'll miss him. And I wish he were going to be around to see me when I'm done.

Btw...71 as of today. :)

Anew: Back from Minneapolis

I shipped most of the protein (I know you're wondering!), and what I took with me, no one even bothered with. Guess I just don't fit the profile of someone trying to smuggle blow through security.

Minneapolis was flat out wonderful in every possible context of that word. I spent time with new friends and old friends (including one I'd not seen in more than 20 years!), did very good work, and fell in love with a pair of cities I never expected to love.

I didn't lose any weight, but I gained none, either--a very good outcome considering how many times I ate in restaurants. The good news is that since returning home, I've lost five pounds. Gotta love that!

While I was away, I really only had one culinary adventure (without E). TJ, who is eating raw, had brought with her some dehydrated veggies. If you've ever eaten dehydrated veggies, you know that they aren't moist in the least (hence the DEhydrated part of the show), and they take a bit of work to actually eat. However, they caused me no difficulty, which is why, I suppose, I thought I could eat Terra Chips (now forever to be called Terror Chips).

I've eaten Terra Chips many times over the years, since about 1997 when Cheryl introduce me to them during one of my visits. I've never had a problem with them. But THIS time, in addition to bringing them back up, I had some odd allergic reaction. Let's just say that my face looked like it was covered in red war paint.

An hour later, I was fine, and on my way to an evening event.

But no more Terror Chips. And still no eggs. And bread doesn't work as well as I would like--even toasted, which is supposed to be easier than untoasted. Certainly nothing I can't live without, but still.

Somewhere along the way I said I was going to get a bike in September. Not gonna happen. BUT, I'm sitting in on a yoga class in a few days, with an eye toward starting classes. D wants to take them with me, so I think it would be fun. I need to get stronger.

Anew: Catching up

I've been missing. Only because I'm about to head to Minneapolis for about 10 days of work, and there's much to be done before I go. Included in that is how to get my protein powder past airport security without their thinking I'm smuggling blow to Minneapolis. I mean, it smells like chocolate, and it tastes like whey protein, but you never know about those TSA folks. And I have to find nice, silk-lined presentation boxes for crystal awards I'm giving at a ceremony. Why? Because the company we bought the awards from said they came with preso boxes, but they didn't bother to tell us that the preso boxes were thin...more like shirt boxes, or that they would fall apart when picked up. Can't give an award to someone in a box that's falling apart as it's being handled. Don't ever use Awarding You for your award needs. Really. I mean it. They genuinely aren't about taking care of people, and their tag line, "Our quality is crystal clear" is a buncha hooey.

So, to catch up... when last you saw me (about two weeks ago), I was annoyed about not having lost more weight, and was trying to remind myself about ease and enjoying the ride.

It ended up being a simple thing (surprisingly) to get back into ease, and to trust that my body is doing exactly what it is supposed to be doing, as I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.

And then I went for a visit with my lovely nutritionist, and found out that at this point, post op, the average loss is 19-21% of the excess weight . I've lost 33%. Yeah. Blew my mind, that. So I'm shutting up about weight loss. Again--I'm going to just trust that my body is doing what it's supposed to be doing. Nuff said.

I've had no new culinary adventures, although I think I'm about to, thanks to this fabulous blog. I had no idea I could use my beloved protein powder to make cakes and ice cream...and may have to try some of that to see what it's like.

Eating isn't any easier. And what works today may not work tomorrow (quite literally). But I know that this is all part of the process and it will get easier.

Prior to surgery, one of the questions everyone on the medical and psych sides of things ask is about whether you'll be ready for the changes that will come after surgery. Back then, I said I didn't know. I felt certain that wasn't the answer THEY wanted, but it was the truth. I mean, I thought I would be, but how can anyone know that about something she's never done before? I really had to get here first, and find out what the reality of it would be. And now, knowing what I know, and experiencing what I'm experiencing, I can absolutely say that it's all doable. And I would do it all again.

Diving into the unknown isn't always as scary as it seems. Just sayin'.

Anew: Enjoying the ride

Ease--remember? That's what this year, and my life, are about now.

And it wasn't until I read this morning's Note From the Universe, that I realized that there's something about this journey I have blocked. The Note read:

One of the trickiest things about life is that, at times, it happens so slowly.

Yet... if... it... happened... any... faster... you'd... already... have... everything... you... ever... wanted... without... learning... to... enjoy... the... ride.

I've been annoyed that I'm not losing more weight. I've been annoyed a lot more than I've actually been delighted. I haven't, really, been enjoying the ride--even as I've taken the time to notice what's happening (as I mentioned in my last post).

Still, I've been in a hurry. I've been impatient. I've not been especially grateful. In fact, I'm a bit resentful, and in a WTF kinda place. This bit of things--basically stalled with the weight loss--shouldn't be happening (in my mind, at least). I didn't have 80% of my stomach hacked off to not lose weight--I was doing that just fine all by myself.

I keep being pulled back to this video with Abraham (click on the video you'll see when the page opens), and this morning, the Note, plus another viewing of the video got me to realize that I'm still paddling upstream with this. I'm still working hard. I'm still struggling. And I need to find a way to stop it, and to just go with the flow and trust that my body will do what it needs to do to be healthy.

Anew: Oh, God... please let me...

CAUTION: Not for the easily squicked! --------- I threw up for the first time. I asked God to let me do it and he did. Four times. No more egg whites—at least for awhile.

But this reminds me of a post I didn’t write, about my experience with orange roughy.

It was just after I got into the soft food stage two weeks ago. Soft fish…baked or broiled and not overly cooked…is an item on the list of things available to me during this stage. So I decided to go there with orange roughy—a fish I have always really loved.

I ended up hunched over the kitchen sink, clutching the edge like my life depended on it, wishing I could throw up, and not being able to. It was horrible.

See, if you think about it, you can feel yourself chew, and you can feel yourself swallow, but beyond that, you can’t really feel anything. You can’t feel the food moving in your esophagus, or moving into your stomach. And neither can I. But I can sure feel it when the food does NOT move into my stomach and backs up in my esophagus. May you never feel that.

It feels like a weight in the center of my chest. A very unpleasant weight. And on that night, the night I now refer to as the “death by orange roughy” night, I wished more than anything that the almost non-existent gag reflex I’d been happy with all my life were a little more present, so I could bring that crap up and get it outta me. 40 minutes later, it was better, and I resolved to not try that again.

The thing that’s so strange about this for me is that it seems that nothing is constant for me except liquid. What food went down easily yesterday, won’t necessarily go down easily tomorrow. And that, unfortunately, makes all of this a bit of a crap shoot for me. I can’t count on tolerating anything well.

And I’m supposed to transition to solid food this weekend. At this point, I literally can’t imagine it.

Anew: Culinary adventures with E (egg white omelet)

In truth, E wasn't around for this one, but I reported in to him as soon as I'd tasted the concoction.

My IM said: I just had another culinary adventure, and it's going to gross you out. I made an egg white omelet with some low-fat cheddar...(dramatic pause)...in the microwave.

He: I was with you right up till the microwave.

Yeah. Got it. And truthfully, if even a day ago, someone had suggested to me that I cook eggs in the microwave, I'd have turned up my nose at the idea. So if you're sitting there doing the same thing right now, I feel ya. I mean, eggs in the microwave--it sounds like they'd be all rubbery and just, well, ick.

But I was in Wegmans, and they had this $2 contraption to make omelets in the microwave, and being on this food journey, I thought that I might explore what it would be to create one that way--especially since I'm a total nimnull when it comes to making omelets stovetop. I also bought a container of egg whites, and 2% cheese.  

Back at home, I poured the egg whites in both sides of the contraption, and nuked it for 90 seconds. Then I added a bit of cheese to each side and nuked it for 60 seconds. Then I closed the contraption and nuked it for 30 seconds more. Viola...instant (actually three-minute) omelet.

OMGosh ...it's so GOOD! If you like fried eggs (which I do), it would remind you of eating fried egg whites with cheese. No added fats/oils, low carb, low fat, low sodium, HIGH protein. Perfect.

E, although still skeptical about the microwave thing, was delighted I'd found yet something else to love.

And if you're curious about the contraption, and want one for yourself, it's the Miraclewear Easy Omelet Maker by Progressive International. If you don't have a Wegmans nearby, Amazon has it.

Anew: On radicalness and struggle

Two weeks yesterday. It’s hard to believe that I felt so crappy, or was so miserable just a short time ago when today I can joyfully say that my energy is back, and so is my mental clarity. And I've lost 29lbs--what's not to love about that, or about what I've done?

I’ve been thinking a lot about struggle—this being the year of ease for me and all that.

One of the reasons I decided to have the surgery was that I was tired of struggling—with weight, with diabetes, with sciatica, with headaches, with, well, probably more than I even knew I was struggling with because it was my life and my daily reality.

The easy way out? Absolutely. Did I mention that the day after surgery I was off seven of eight of my prescription meds? Or that I used to take three Aleve each day for sciatica, and haven't taken anything for it since surgery? It's a miraculous easy way out.

But even as some of my friends keep questioning the radical nature of my having the surgery, I can’t help questioning the radical nature that kept me stuck for so many years, struggling in my body.

"Struggle is part of my DNA." I will never forget the day Jessica said that to me, and I knew in a nanosecond that It was my truth, too. It's what started the year of ease, and I've learned, and continue to learn, so very much.

We all make choices. And some people chose to lose gobs of weight over long periods of time following incredibly strict diets. For me, that particular tact didn’t work, nor did Jenny Craig, Weigh Watchers, E-diets, or Atkins, and I finally just decided that no one was going to pin any awards on my chest for fighting the good, but never-ending fight.

So I chose easy and quick, and 29lbs surely attests to that in one context, but this continues to not be without it’s slight struggles, too. I’m at the stage where I can eat “soft” foods, but finding out what my new little tummy can handle is no walk in the park, trust me. That scrambled egg I was so looking forward to on Sunday? Feh. It sat like a lump in the middle of my stomach for an hour.  An EGG.  Tuna salad is easier—but only a little. Cottage cheese is the best, to date, although liquids still rule in the ease category. I’ve not thrown anything up (yay!), and the strangest thing (to me) so far is that I burp a bit after I eat. I was never very gassy, and I hope this goes away and soon.

On the whole, this is the most remarkable thing I’ve ever done for myself. (I'm qualifying it..."for myself" because I posted this thought to Facebook yesterday and Chris reminded me that I've done some pretty big things)

Anew: Who knew?

Never occurred to me that four days after coming home from the hospital, I should be back in chore rotation here at home. Obviously D had other ideas, cause the dishes needed doing--I had no cups in which to make tea or broth, and the trash can was overflowing, and he sat and played a web-based game w/o saying a word to me while I did said dishes and emptied said trash. Guess he figures that if I'm well enough to lay on my back a table and get a facial, I'm well enough to do chores. Who knew one had anything to do with the other?

Note to self: You'll feel like crap for having written this when you feel better--as if writing it (or feeling the pissed offness and resentment) somehow makes you an ungrateful bitch, but it doesn't change the reality of what you just experienced.

Anew: Such love

D spent considerable time this morning rubbing all the betadine off my belly. That stuff is nasty--sticky, not easy to get off, and seems to be everywhere. Yep; yep, he loves me.

Anew: Day one

At this moment in time, I am deeply sorry that I've had this surgery.

Anew: We're back! (and other stuff)

Canada was great fun. Saw the Falls, missed spending time with Kevin Costner at the casino, met some truly fabulous people, got and shared information and ideas, spent time with an old friend, annnnnd...I learned a lot about myself, including that Dawn and I can spend nine hours in a car together and not at all want to kill each other, and...that I have some trust issues that need to be dealt with (not related to Dawn, which I wanted to make clear since I mentioned this in the same sentence with her). Two days after my return, and 2.5 hours in session with my fab therapist, I have a better way of looking at the thing that has had me spinning a little bit, and an idea for looking at any of the places where the trust thing rears up. 

And my therapist has cleared me for my surgery. I'm delighted to know that, in his considered opinion, I'm aware, informed, realistic in my view of what this surgery will and will not do for me, and that I'm mentally competent to make the decision to have the surgery.  Yay!

So, now, what's left is a meeting with the nutritionist (Tuesday), a cardiac eval (Wed--Dawn's coming with), another set of labs (sometime in the next couple of weeks), and my pre-op physical and final consult with my surgeon (July 7). I realize that I feel a bit like I'm counting down to a new me...and a new life. And I've realized that as I get closer, I'm more consciously aware that I'm looking forward to the changes and all the newness, and not in the least sad about what's being said goodbye to and left behind.  Well, except, maybe, for the realization that I won't be able to eat as much dim sum, anymore. That gave me a second of pause yesterday. True dat! But then I got over myself, smiled, and focused again on the newness of my life and my reality, after surgery.

One thing I don't want to do is focus so much on what's coming up that I am less present for what's happening now. Now is wonderful, too. And I want to savor all of who and what I am, and what I'm doing and experiencing, right up to the moment when I head in to surgery and close this door as the new one opens.

For many, many years, I've struggled with goodbyes. I've written a lot about what it's been like for me when D goes on trips, and how for days in advance, I'm just beside myself with sadness....that then disappears as soon as he's actually gone.

And what I've learned through those moments is that things are always harder for the person staying behind than for the person leaving. The person staying behind has only the same day-to-day reality to look forward to, while the one leaving has new experiences on the horizon that the one staying behind will not be able to share. And at some point, the one leaving shifts his or her energy away from the present to solely focus on the leaving--the planning, the packing, etc., while the one staying usually watches.

I've been in both places, and being in the place of the one going is absolutely the easier of the two--at least for me. And now I'm preparing to go...to a place next to no one who loves me has ever been. So all I can do, metaphorically speaking, is invite them to be with me as I prepare, ride along with me to the airport, be waiting for me when I return, and be infinitely patient with me as I tell my travel story over and over for as long as I feel I need to tell it.

I have no idea who and what I'll be this time next year. Heck... I don't even know who and what I'll be by Christmas. My hope is that my body and my aliveness will change, but that who I am at my core will remain the same, or be somehow smarter and wiser. I don't foresee any negatives, but we never know, do we, what we'll discover on a journey.

I told my therapist last night that with all that I've survived and all that I've thrived in spite of, I knew I'd be ok with this major life shift, too. I just really want to be sure to deeply live every moment of it...now, as I prepare, during, and once my new life begins.

Anew: Anxiety...a strange thing for me

Tomorrow, I’m doing the radiology portion of the show. That means:

• Abdominal ultrasound
• Chest x-ray
• Barium swallow

I decided not to make a fuss about the barium swallow, as gastly as it sounds. Better to rule things out, right? :)

And I’m not wigged out about any of it.

But what did wig me out was when I made the appointment for the cardiac evaluation. There was the anxiety again—the one that’s happened exactly three times in my life. The first was the day I had LASIK. The second was at the sleep study, and the third was after making this appointment.

I don’t get it. Any of it. I’m NOT an anxious person. And although I’m not a fan of going to the doctor or dentist, I go…and don’t wig out or get anxious.

LASIK I can understand. I mean, there I was, sitting by myself in a heated massage chair, and it suddenly hit me that in just a few short minutes, my cornea were going to be CUT, and if things didn’t go well, I could be BLIND. A little anxiety then makes sense to me.

But the sleep study? Making the appointment to see a cardiologist? Places where I absolutely know no harm will come to me? I’m pondering why I’d become anxious over those.

Do you struggle with anxiety occasionally? If so, do you know where it comes from in yourself?

Anew: I'm so tired

People who know me know that I have a whole lot of energy. It's what I'm used to, and I love that about myself.

But since the weekend, I’ve been exhausted. Not because of a lack of sleep, or doing tiring work or play, either. But I canceled my trip to New York today because of it, so it’s significant (sorry, E!). I don’t feel ill, so I’m also not concerned. I’m just drained. When the thought of sitting on the sofa and being thirsty wins over the thought of getting up and get a glass of water, that’s drained.

Anew: There's more to consider than just food

Something my surgeon and I discussed has been rumbling around in my head. I admit, the rumblings have given me a little pause, where there really was none before. Like everything else, it’s probably utterly normal, but for me, ALL of this is foreign, and I struggle to find normalcy in the different and unexpected.

He brought up the fact that oodles of people lose a ton of weight, and gain it back five-ish years later. He said it’s because they fail to make the life changes that they need to make in order to keep the weight off.

And I, with my far too little educated brain, thought, “Is it that, or is it that they have problems adapting to the new body and all that comes with having it?

And that’s what’s been rumbling.

I can imagine (although I really don’t want to dwell on it) that It could be very uncomfortable to be fairly quickly thrust into a new physical form. And I can imagine that it’s just too hard for some people.

And what if those people, maybe without deep thought and awareness, just sabotage themselves…working their way back to how things used to be because, well, the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t, right?

So, what if I can’t handle it?

What if it’s not the joy I think it is to have a new body?

What if I end up white hot and can’t deal with that?

What if it somehow changes me in ways I can’t predict, and don’t actually like?

What if those who love me, don’t, anymore. A crazy thought, maybe… I mean, what possible reason could anyone who loves me have for not loving me as much skinny as fat?

But…
What…
If…?

I’ve actually reinvented myself many times. None of that was scary. None of it gave me pause. And if the past is a strong predictor of the future, then I have no reason to worry about this reinvention. None at all.

J told me to stop “what iffing” about negative things, and only “what if” the positives. Certainly, there are a lot of those, and I do delight in thinking of them.

What will I do when the entire world opens to me in a new way and I can do things that maybe I’ve never known I was missing?

What if sex is amazingly better (not that there’s anything wrong with it now, mind you!)?

What if through this particular change, I’m finally fully me?

What if I achieve the “Holy Shit Factor” as shared at SOBCon a couple of weeks ago by the fabulous Kali Evans-Raoul: What if what I look like, sound like and behave like who I say I am?

What if I can finally delight someone with wearing lingerie that’s NOT for fat girls, and find that I actually LOVE it?

What if I find out that I actually like sweating because I’m doing it while engaging in activities that I really adore and do well?

What if my allergies go away, and I find I not only can go, but actually like...CAMPING?

What if the world really is my oyster?

These are the things I’m thinking about today.

Anew: The journey begins...

I’ve been missing for nearly two months, doing some travel, and making a really huge decision.

The decision has actually been a long time coming. I’ve been thinking about this thing, reading about it, talking with people who know about it…all of that for years, and not coming to any decision. Well—actually, the decision was that I shouldn’t need the thing I was thinking about—I should have been able to manage without it.

And by January, having lived with diabetes for 17 months, sciatica for a year, and a bum knee for some time longer, I decided. Well, I at least decided to go at the beginning of Feb to actually hear someone do a seminar about the thing I’d been thinking about. A doctor.

And he said, “The thing about this is, it turns the clock back and gives you a second chance.”

Of all the reading, conversations, from everything I’d seen, that made more of an impression on me than anything.

So in March, sitting with my beloved Endocrinologist, I took a really deep breath and said, “What would you think about my having bariatric surgery?”

Two months later, with some labs, a botched sleep study (how DO they expect people to sleep without creating an environment that’s conducive to sleep?), and a visit with the handsome Argentinean surgeon already done, I’m scheduled for surgery on July 13…two days after my 46th bday.

I’ve decided to have a sleeve gastrectomy. I hadn’t heard of it until my friend R had gastric bypass last fall, and mentioned it in a conversation. I didn’t look into it because she said that very few insurance companies would pay for it as it’s still considered a “new” procedure.

But as luck would have it, there are something like only eight docs in the US who are board certified to do this procedure, and one of them is at the hospital where my husband works. I’m thinking he probably suggested to them that if they wanted him at their hospital, they had to figure out a way to have the employee heath coverage cover the procedure. And they do.

So, sleeve gastrectomy turned out to be my third option (a reference to my fav quotation from a friend's father: Whenever there are two options, always choose the third). Whoever would have imagined.

For those of you who don’t know what it is, there are currently three types of bariatric surgery:

1. The Lap-band – a minimally invasive procedure where they put a “band” around the the top of the upper part of your stomach. It helps you control your food intake and lose weight. Results with it vary.

2. Gastric Bypass (also called Roux-En-Y) – an aggressive, invasive procedure where a small pouch is created at the top of your stomach, and then the rest of the stomach is bypassed…by connecting the “smaller stomach (the pouch) directly to the middle portion of the small intestine.

3. Sleeve Gastrectomy – a middle-of-the road procedure—more aggressive and invasive than the Lap-band, and less aggressive and invasive than Roux-En-Y, where they remove 4/5 of your stomach. In doing so they create a “sleeve” of the stomach. None of the plumbing is rearranged.

In general, people who have the sleeve gastrectomy lose only 5% less weight than someone with the Roux-En-Y, they don’t have the same food restrictions that Roux-En-Y people have, and they don’t suffer from malabsorption.

Those reasons led me to choose the sleeve.

Between now and the week before surgery, I have to have:

1. A psych evaluation
2. An abdominal ultrasound
3. A chest xray
4. A barium swallow (although I’m going to ask that they let me skip this. This test is to diagnose GERD—acid reflux disease, and I have NO problems with that, ever)
5. More labs
6. A pre-op checkup

Oh, and I have to make a request of the department of anesthesia to let me wear my earrings during surgery. They "require" them out, but I have sixteen in my left ear that really don't come out. Plus, they're surgical stainless...how bad can they be?

So the journey begins.

I want to go on record as saying that I’m not so sure about blogging this. Almost all my friends asked me if I planned to—which I find very interesting. But I have to say that this makes me feel incredibly vulnerable.

My reasons for wanting to? I think it could help me, and I think it could help others. And if it does either or both of those things, then it’s worth doing.

My reasons for NOT wanting to? I feel amazingly vulnerable. And I’m afraid to look stupid if I fail.

I mean, it’s worse, isn’t it, to fail in front of people. Failure is easier to swallow when you fail in private.

My new gal pal, J said to me this morning, “There’s no shame in it. Look at Oprah. Look at Kirsty Alley.” Oh. Yeah. Huh. Hmmmm….

Musta struck a chord, ‘cause here I am.

And I’ve chosen to write it here, instead of in a blog devoted to this topic, because this is the blog about my life, and what else is this about, if not that?

So, we’ll see what happens. With blogging this. With me. With whatever comes.