hannie’s spot. all hannie.

you gotta know May 2, 2010

This morning, I wanted a nice leisurely day filled with nothing but a crepe (I’ve never had one. I’d like to have one in this lifetime.) and to fix things around that needed to be fixed. In fact, I figured out a quicker cheaper way to fix things. I’m proud of that. I’m proud that I fixed a lawnmower yesterday with the most MacGvyer-ish of tool sets. I did that because no matter where I’ve been in this lifetime, I’ve been a survivor. You make shit work because you have to. There is no choice in the matter.

So I’m in Fred Meyer and I am talking to one of my friends about “instant gratification”. Everyone wants it here, now, right now, instant solution, easy fix or ELSE. It does not work that way. Life is not planned to work in that sort of an idea, because if it was, we’d have no war, no suicide, no people trying to kill people, any of that. There would be no reason for any conflict whatsoever. We’d get bored quick and wonder why we even exist at one point, I’d think. But, just my opinion.

Maybe five minutes later, I feel it hit. The wave of “OMG I am going to have an accident and OMG not here in this store where I pretty much literally know everyone.” I try to fight it. I do. However, I emerge from it less than victorious, although I did make it to the bathroom. I should have cried. But no, I cleaned up best I could and carried on and had to take a moment to laugh. Anyone going into that bathroom for a couple hours is going to vomit from the stench. I apologize, I do.

But when you smell that stench, please remember that I used to weigh over 400 lbs. I made a decision to have a surgery that I thought would change my life and make me healthier. Oh it changed my life. But unfortunately my friend, your sniffers just got a good dose of no, it didn’t make me healthier. Think twice before making food your new best friend. Think twice about having an entire box of hoho’s because your latest asshole boyfriend said something mean. Take good care of YOU and do not allow you to destroy yourself over stuff that you had no control over whatsoever but you had control over YOUR REACTION to it.

Okay, so as you know, we now have two doctors that deem me inoperable. Doctor two whom you will know as Surgeon two who literally saved my life a few years back looked at my assessment from Doctor one and asked me why I was even visiting. My abdominal wall is literally coming apart and there ain’t a damn thing anyone can do about except watch it come apart. That and watch me make it through days of pain, accidents in stores and at home and friend’s houses, days where I don’t want to move, days where I’m lucky if I can put anything down my throat because I’m that nauseated…Crap, I’m the luckiest girl you know. I’m still here, regardless of all that yet I will never step foot in a bariatric support group meeting again. I too was happy and king of the world at year two. However, my crown got obliterated at about year five and my story should be heard, not for how negative it is, but as a lesson to you. You hear me, and for the love of whatever deity you like this week, do not BECOME me. Insist that your doctors run tests, ask questions a million times over, know what all your options truly are, and DO NOT become me. Be that weight loss success and personal success you were always meant to be. Do it for you. Not for your surgeon (although they like the praise, honestly, they’re just wanting YOU to fly and succeed), not for your family, not for some guy/girl, not because Carnie Wilson did it, do it for YOU. Somewhere on down the line, you forgot about yourself. Find yourself again, right now, and start by loving you again. You can do it. Believe me, we just heard my delightful story of the day and hey, I still love me after that.

Sometime soon, I have this wild urge to fax or send all my OR time to a couple surgeons I love and admire in San Antonio Texas. I know that they will give me the same diagnosis as the last guys. But I want them to take a good read, because I want them to see and learn exactly how much hell I’ve been through and teach every one of their patients that success is all up to them. Oh yea, they do that already, I mean, tell them that success is all up to them. Both of them, respectfully, know my case and of me and have known me for years, although I have never been either of their patients. I am honored to have the privilege of even SAYING that. Most bariatric patients just know their own surgeon and call it a day. I know a whole slew of surgeons on a personal basis and not necessarily because they have ever spent time with me in an OR suite.

I’ve taken my shower now, I feel tons better. Okay, pain still sucks, I’d like a nap, but dog gone it, I’m going to have that crepe. It sucks that I look like I’m carrying twins and I’m 9 months pregnant and it all hurts, but hey, that’s everyday. When it’s everyday it just sorta becomes old news.