hannie’s spot. all hannie.

Each and every day I wake up, I have to put serious consideration into what I’m going to eat. I have to put that same consideration into anything I drink as well, because it could hold serious consequences for me. At eight years out from that weight loss surgery, I can make my own life a living hell or try to make it some of the best days ever. It’s all up to me, and sometimes, it’s not even left up to me. My body decides its going to do some reacting of its own and I have no control over it. (more…)

Maybe two days ago, I was at urgent care in Port Orchard due to pain related or not so related to all the surgeries I’ve had. We still can’t come up with conclusive results on this, but that’s how my life is. You know, we’re not really sure but we’re here and alive, and good enough. (more…)

I’ve been incredibly busy and I apologize for not writing more here. I’ll give you a really brief idea of where I am in my wls journey right now, and then address something that pretty much any wls patient can attest to.
(more…)

I know you’ve missed me. I mean, I would hang out with you every day, sometimes 2-3 times a day because I have this crazy obsession with you. I have this insatiable need to know exactly what I weigh each day, and I’m eight years out. I can’t explain it, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry that I’m back down to 235 and I know that if I work harder at it, I can be 200 or even lower than that and really defy those who told me I could not make it happen. Now, I could discredit some of that weight loss to me alone, no, I could tell you that because of numerous surgical procedures, I’m just glad to be alive and I keep a pretty straight ship on what I should and shouldn’t eat, have my prescription cocktail regularly checked to ensure I have no weight gainers in the mix, and drink lots so I’m not dehydrated. Truth be told, I need to be better about water. I should drink more, but the thing I’m saying here is that I sat down and thought about everything and I realized how grateful I really am. Why spend that time sick or sleeping because I made a bad choice?

Okay, so scale, guess what? I met this incredible person, and he showed me this video of someone trying to get a date, and intestinal problems held him back. I speak to Crohn’s, which is super bad, and I’d have to say worse off than me, but I can totally identify with anyone with digestive problems of any sort. You just don’t want to make an ass of yourself when you’re trying to woo that potential suitor.

Puking over the deck is super impressive. Puking over that deck for an hour straight and it’s dry heaving and I’m crying because it’s super painful, score ten points more. Having that “bad day” and you tell the date um, I need to be seated super close to the bathroom, and I might be in there for a while makes for a super fun one too. Yea, I’ll give you a walkie talkie and you eat and I’ll just stay in the bathroom and we’ll hold that conversation and get to know one another. No. Not a cool idea for that first date.

I think that one that well, sorta makes my parents mad at times, is when you go to a restaurant with well, whomever, and not only do you get to order the adult portion, you pray it isn’t something that’s going to make you desperately ill. And if it makes you that ill and you *thought* it was a safer choice, you want to cry even more because you’re in pain and stuck to the bathroom and how are you supposed to enjoy company with other person? Maybe we could install like video monitors at the nicer restaurants, table to bathroom stall and fake background so you don’t know I’m in the bathroom and we could see each other. My parents threw a tizzy fit because for their anniversary dinner, that’s what happened. I ordered what I thought would be okay in small portion and nope, didn’t work.

I always have a doggy bag from restaurants. People ask about that…OMG, there’s so much food left on your plate, oooh, did you not like it? Are you okay? I’m fine, thanks for asking, but my new tummy is 2 cm. No, you can’t see it but you have to take my word on it, because the scars across my abdomen don’t mean a darn thing and uh, I *look* fine because well, I LOOK fat. Very valid arguments those are. But I can’t drag actual copies of CT scans to show you how my new digestive system works, because then it gets too technical and right into TMI category, and do you or I really honestly have time to drag that story around again? Google it or something, but I’m not the Surgery channel when I want to impress you. Unless you ask and you really want to hear it, then I’ll be happy to speak to it.

If you have had WLS and you’re in the “dating pool” and your world is just a bit medically crazy, yes, your laundry list of what you’re looking for in potential date gets a little longer. For me, if I know that I’m being inpatient and I’m fixin to go under a knife yet again, I break off relationships with people. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to get so emotionally tied to someone and then have something go wrong and yet another person is left hanging and praying for me. It’s bad enough that my parents and children have had to do that a few times. Just as I made my friend make me a promise that I knew I could hold him too, he made me make a promise to him that he knew I could hold, and that was to not include him in that list ever. Said person understands me, rhyme and verse to my inner core, so I can say absolutely, you are not on that list. Those are the people you hold closest to you and say “aha, keeper!”

So yea, scale, sorry about that, I’ve been busy and really working hard on not being so scale obsessive, because it almost is yet another key to unlock the door to total self love. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m happy to even be alive so you know, I will take what I’m dealt. Believe me, there’s days where I am really hard on myself, and we are our own worst critics. No one is perfect, but sometimes, you get so caught up on your own image that you start believing you can be perfect. You can’t. When speaking to your body image and wls, perfection can’t be achieved, but if you’re happy with where you are and what you look like, life can be much better. When you love yourself first, those who love you imperfections and all with no reservations just come pouring out of the woodwork.

Scale, don’t get me wrong. I love you, I do, but I’m trying to break bad habits here. You can appreciate that, right?

I was watching either MTV or VH-1, and they had this ad on for weight loss surgery. Of course, I perk up like the rabid dog Cujo, waiting for yet another rant to come on about how they commercialize weight loss surgery and make it sound as if it’s the perfect solution besides pills to lose weight rah rah. If you’ve ever spent any amount of time with me, watched what I ate, saw how many times I ran to the bathroom, sat with me while I’ve dry heaved and the pain rips through my lack of abdomen so sharp that tears stream down my face and I can’t hold it back no matter how hard I try, or held my hand or kept me company as I stayed up all night because I had this incredibly sharp pain that pretty much no amount of medication could quell for me to catch any sleep….then you know that I am not the perfect advocate for weight loss surgery of any sort. If you’re a surgeon who has had the presence to hold conversation with me, or to be the one who has had to place faith and miracle in a place high up in the sky and believe in it as you saved me, then you’d know as well. So it is interesting that I write about this new little thing, and actually have a “clap clap” but a few qualms about it as well.

It is a lap band surgery, and it’s called Restore Band. However, it’s not just drop by, open you up, slap a band in you and you lose the weight, and have a good day. It’s designed with people like me in mind, the busy geek crowd. And why didn’t these people have this sort of thing around say, at least eight years ago? I liken it to all the cool baby gadgets there were when my son was little, and now that he’s 21, there’s even cooler and more improved upon baby gadgets that really help parents with their little ones and why the hell didn’t they come up with that say, right around 20 years ago? But it’s cool that they have them now, absolutely.

Here’s the general idea. You go to the website, and they explain it to you, in plain English, about how insurance works when it comes to bariatric surgery of any type. Many bariatric sites won’t give you that, or they didn’t used to. You got that little “insurance surprise” when you showed up. Another thing to point out, had my original gastric bypass been billable, the surgery itself…surgery would have been around $28,000. We’re not talking hospital time, supplies and stuff, that, we’re talking surgery itself. No anesthesia thrown into that, surgery itself. That gastric bypass had it been actual billable would have cost more than the open gallbladder removal surgery which I want to say was around $16,000. That trip for the gallbladder was on an emergency basis too. I drove myself into the hospital best I could after my dear surgery sister friend begged me to get to the ER and that she would be there waiting for me. She was there waiting as I was crying horrible tears, and held my hand and allowed me to squeeze as hard as I needed to try and not focus on the pain (I about broke her hand, but she still loves me, and I thank her for this kindness because you know what, my husband couldn’t care and wouldn’t arrive even though it was an indeed emergency situation). (more…)

sure you did. sure.

I see these types of ads everywhere I go online, and sometimes, even on late night television. I don’t know, is it better than a gastric bypass? Here’s my thought on this.

If you’re a usual regular human person, optimum weight loss should be 1-3 lbs per week, so that amounts to what, 12 lbs per month if that? That’s doing it right, using portion control, eating the right things and adding exercise to the equasion. Oh how I wish I knew and embraced this before I ballooned right up to 417 and decided to go the gastric bypass route. But I know it now, and I’m passing that right along to you. Because I’m eight years out, post gastric bypass, I pretty much follow this rule because the “honeymoon” phase (commonly known as months 1-6 after gastric bypass, where you drop insane amounts of weight because one, you’re malabsorbing like crazy, two, your digestive system has been permanently rerouted and three, refers to two really because you have less real estate to pack in the food.) I do not drop the pounds like anyone in the honeymoon phase anymore. And my gastric bypass is messed up, in that if I so chose, I could get that 417 lbs right back where it came from.

Pretty much, what above ad is trying to sell you is either some sort of magic drink, potion, pills to make you drop weight, or rather, make you believe it can happen. Just ingest our little formula, sit on your butt, and watch it all just melt away….just like I saw in a recent Doctor Who episode. However, that Doctor Who episode had horrible results, scary in fact, and keep that in mind when you’re being tempted by these ads. Most pills, potions, concoctions if you will have one or more of the following. One, a herbal fat blocker that will and can make you spend much time on the toilet. Think of the same thing that would happen if you ingested way too much sugar substitute ending in “ol”. Yep, that’s right, a nice laxative effect where you may as well just live on the toilet for a bit. Not worth it, seriously.

Two, something in that formulation may also contain something that “expands” internally and gives you the idea that you’re fuller faster. Maybe. Because, if you’re already eating too much, this idea isn’t going to work because well, you’re going to eat just as much and oooh, how uncomfortable is that going to be and then, self defeating behavior is still at work. Not worth the time, trouble, money and pain if you ask me.

Three, same formulation may have some sort of “speed” to it. By that, it’s increasing your heart rate, not necessarily your metabolism but your heart rate. I don’t know, but that lovely pounding like your heart is literally going to come jumping out of your chest does not sound appealing to me in the least.

Four, again, that formulation might contain something that could cause damage to you later on down the road. Let’s use “phen-fen” as an example. Everyone called it the “wonder drug” and ooh, great idea to lose the extra weight. Now, it’s pretty much verboten because it was causing all sorts of havoc later on down the road, and, I’ll take you one further and let you know that if you’ve ever taken it, and you’re in the “testing” phase of waiting for a gastric bypass, you automatically are slated to have an EKG added to that laundry list of tests. Scary? Yes, scary.

“So miss hannie,” you’re asking, “since you’ve just said that pills are NOT the answer, and you’re not exactly up there rah rahing the gastric bypass what would YOU recommend?” Here we go.

First part takes a bit of mental thought on your part, and it takes quite a bit of honesty, accountability and responsibility. Sit down and think about why you’re eating and what you’re eating. One of my biggest downfalls was “emotional eating”. I ate if I was happy, I ate if I was sad, I ate if I thought I was having a PMS moment, I ate if I was angry. Did you see anywhere where I said I ate because I was truly hungry and hadn’t eaten a thing previous? No. You didn’t. For me, this realization came after I had my surgery, and I identified it and fought like all get out to make it less destructive in my life. In fact, I still fight it to this day, and I speak to it most any time when asked because I think it’s pretty high up there on WHY people gain the weight that they do.

What are you eating? I have sat in many a weight loss surgery support group meeting where pre and post op patients both were stating they were eating sugar, carbs, pizza, ice cream….all crap that tastes great, costs less, but can and will cost more to you because they can and will sabotage just what you’re doing in an effort to lose weight. I’ll be completely honest with you and say yes, now and again I do have the aforementioned. But you know what happens to me when I do? I pay for it, and pay for it in a bad way. I get absolutely barely moving or coherent sick for about 1-3 hours. I’ve just efficiently wasted 1-3 hours in which I could have been doing something constructive and beneficial because I thought I could eat things that just well, are not good for me. No time for that, nope, no time. There’s so much I need to do and accomplish, and a nice episode of dumping is not on my agenda for any time or any day (well, unless I’m on a bad date and need a quick way out the door, but that doesn’t happen so YAY, good for me.) Revamp that diet to get the baddies out of sight and out of mind, and add more proteins and vegetables and maybe some fruits as well. If you’re feeling the need for breads and pastas and rice, know that anything white is not going to be good. Yes, they *do* taste better than the alternative, but there’s much more alternatives out there for you to choose from. Work at it until you find an alternative you like. If all else fails, go get into the spice cabinet and give that a whirl until you find a good combination that you like that makes the alternative taste palatable.

Portion control….and this is another big key to the picture. Ever stepped foot into a mexican restaurant? No, I am not talking Taco Bell or Taco Time. I am talking REAL mexican sit down and have that meal restaurant. They use HUGE plates that take up a ton of space on the table. For me, I can take said plate and make at least 3-4 meals out of it, and this can be said for a few restaurants. (However, drop here for all weight loss surgery patients. Those stupid cards they hand you that say “yes, I had weight loss surgery and give me smaller portions” to use at restaurants don’t always work and many places won’t honor them and don’t care…then, in flashing said card, you get a litany of questions and opinion. Don’t bother. Either ask for a “to-go” box and split that meal up before you take a bite, or, if you’re in a region that has a Shari’s restaurant, know you can order from the kids menu without that ten miles of questioning but you get to pay a dollar more. A dollar more for a portion that I know will work for me, and no spanish inquisition? +10 to Shari’s restaurants, and I wish that more restaurant chains would either honor or do this.)

Start reading labels and doing research a bit, and see what an actual “portion” is considered for whatever you’re eating, and start doing that. Actual portion, not what you’re guestimating is your portion. This comes down to the old adage of “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach”. Completely true.

Exercise is going to be my last biggie here. Yes, we all dread it, hate it, despise it, but it’s the only way that weight is going to come off and like coming off. Find a chart that shows a comparison of calories burned during different activities, and if you’re really inclined mathematically, do the math between your calories consumed to whichever activity you like the best and see where you are. Yes, this does require math, and yes, it’s not even one of my better subjects, but it gives you a clear idea of where you can improve and drop more weight. Do not rely on a pill alone to make it happen. And here’s a couple more that you should not rely on. Alcoholic beverages swished down with said pill and just plopping on your butt watching sports on the tv all day is not going to do it, and smearing your body with preparation H then wrapping in saran wrap is not going to do it either. No, I have not done these personally, but I have been party to watching this being done. Said person was still not losing weight in either instance, and the second one was rather horrid smelling. We wanted to kick him out of the house and make him sleep in a tent in fact. Yuk. Trust me when I say it is a bad bad smell.

These ads are horrid. Don’t rely on them to make your weight loss dream come true.

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Or at least it will come about 2 am or so.  I will really bring a point to this blog entry, I will, but for all of you who are/were “old skool RNY patients” (you DO NOT qualify unless your RNY was 2002 or earlier, the rest of you can sit down and learn a most valuable lesson here), how many of you remember the promises of GERD gone forever, no more acid reflux, it will be a thing of your past never to return?  Raise your hand up good and high, because many of us were told this, even back in “we don’t really have any supporting research but we’ll tell you this because truly, this surgery is a way to salvation to end all of your weight and health problems.”  You think I lie?  I can post this entry on many post-op lists and most every single one of them can post back and say, “Yes, Johanna, we were told this too.  We were sold this bag of goods.”  Worse yet, they will read my story and I can bet good money that nine of ten who do will not only identify with what I’m saying here, but they will say, “Oh man, I thought this only happened to me, and you’re saying it happened to you too and there’s more out there like you?”  Yes, I am.  And I’m telling you this story because the further out you get, the more you’re going to discover that laundry list of health issues were gone forever miraculously will come back and straight up bite you in the butt.  It’s not fun, it’s not pretty, in fact, in some cases it’s worse than before you made the decision to have surgery, but it can and will happen.  Don’t say for a moment that I didn’t warn you, not once.  It’s your call in the end, truly it is, but be warned now of what can happen later on down the road.

Maybe three or four years ago, I received a rather disturbing email from a surgery sister of mine.  Truly she is, she had her same surgery (promixal open-RNY) done a year before me with the same exact surgeon.  She was the one who sat and held my hand while I cried out of pain and fear during a few surgeries that were life saving ones, in fact, she was the one who begged me to come to the ER which very well DID save my life.  My husband should have been the one making those judgment calls, he should have been the one holding my hand, wiping my tears, and at the very least, attempting to make me feel somewhat better about the diagnosis handed me, and the emergency trips to the OR to save my life.  But he was too busy not answering his phone, deciding that everyone and anyone was much more important than me and my life, and again, let this be a driving lesson in, if you’re going to make a life altering decision as wls….you make darn sure that your relationships are those in which they truly are for better or for worse, and every member of your support team is there with you through the good and the bad, no questions asked.  Because it’s a decision that you simply cannot do, and do with even a hint of success on your own, you need that support there.  Don’t settle for “half ass” support, and DO NOT settle for those who will be there for you when it’s convienient for them.  This simply does not work.  Friends and family who are only partially there for you will never lead you to success and don’t even waste your time trying to change them, because it’s not worth your time and trouble, and you should never have to change true friends and family.  You should be loving them, just as they love you, irregardless of life’s little imperfections, and again, through the good as well as the bad.  Any different, lose them like yesterday.  They’re simply not worth your time.

Let’s get back to that email shall we?  My friend described this awful horrible thing that would occur while she was sleeping.  She would awaken from a deep sleep choking and gagging on a large amount of stomach acid, and it hurt and was painful and it scared her, as well it should.  Because, as you recall, any RNY basically takes the stomach right out of the equasion to a point.  There’s a second section where the stomach is attached to the configuration, but it’s further on down the road than say, your normal average human with a regular digestive system.  (Currently, at Madigan with this surgery, they remove the stomach.  I don’t know if this is a new trend, but I’m thinking it should be taken into consideration once I tell you this gem of a story)

Back to this gagging and choking on stomach acid thing.  So she’s describing it, and the feeling of it burning and choking not only your esophagus but your nose as well, and it’s just horrid.  What is it?  What’s causing it?  And how can it be solved or taken care of or what is it that you can really do about this?  Guess what?  She has no health insurance, so she cannot afford the money involved to see the doctor and have the necessary tests ran to figure out this great medical mystery.  But a few days later after I received this email, I had the same exact thing happen, or pretty much.  I was asleep, and I woke up gagging and choking, and it was a horrible burning sensation…that tasted pretty much like vomit.  And it was going up and coming out my nose, and I was spitting it up and coughing and it burned so so bad.  So I run for my Pepsid Complete, and one tablet, chewed chewed chewed seemed to do the trick.  I had an opportunity to go to the doctor, but she was unfamiliar with the workings of a RNY, and seemed to think that prilosec would do the trick.  News flash, give me all the prilosec you want in the world, but it doesn’t help a thing.  It still happens, it still occurs, and why I am telling you this story is that it gets worse, progressively worse, and I feel as if there is not a thing I can do about it.

Last night, I finally am asleep.  I’ve dealt with surgery pain for a good month now, and I’m finally warm and fairly comfortable, and I’m sleeping well.  I will add that I was sitting up in the recliner, which perhaps was the one thing that saved me from what could have been an even worse episode.  I wake up, and I am choking and it’s burning and painful as can be, not only from the stomach acid flying everywhere, but from the surgical site that’s healing.  Literally, I can’t move because I am doubled over in pain, and oh man, what am I going to do?  I rush to the kitchen despite the pain because I know there is some Pepsid complete out there.  Chew chew chew the first one.  Nothing happens.  I’m still choking and feeling the burning but now it’s just mixed with some nasty tasting berry chalk crap.  Time for tablet two.  I don’t care anymore, this has to stop somehow.  Chew chew chew.  Nope, no relief and it’s perhaps gotten worse.  Oh, someone has to have some Tums around here somewhere.  I come across a bottle of tropical Tums extra strength, and I grab a few of those and start chewing away.  After about four or five of those, life starts to return to normal again, but oh what a nasty feeling and even scarier, I’ve just inhaled enough stomach preparations that should have killed it off the first time around, but didn’t.  Just how much worse is this, or does this, have the ability to get or be?  I don’t know, but I’m sure going to bring it up to my surgeon.  I’ve made it my life’s mission to teach him and teach him well about wls patients, and what he’ll encounter along the way once he leaves the Navy and jumps into bariatric practice.  (Let’s not sell ourselves short or lie about it, bariatric surgery is where its at these days as far as qualified surgeons go.  If I was a surgeon, I would sure contemplate it just for the large amounts of mad cash I could be making as a result of being in that field.  However, as a patient, and a pretty knowledgeable one at that, I’d think twice about what my practice would comprise of and how I could better help my potential patients succeed, not only from the aspect of “slice and dice”, but aftercare and support and knowledge that would pretty much ensure success all the way around, and should any of those patients need psychological help, and trust me, they do….I’d make darn sure that I had on board specific psychiatrists and therapists who deal closely with weight issues, and start writing out referrrals left and right.  Oh you bet I would.  Last but not least, I’d tell the rah rah crowd of 1-2 year post ops to count their blessings and use the time that they have problematic and symptomatic free to get a good diet and exercise and vitamin/mineral/supplement plan on board…and that everything that someone further out presents in a support group should NOT be so summarily dismissed, that it should be at least given some consideration, because you know what, that could be YOU later on down the road.  I don’t know, maybe I should start going to medical school now.)  I could have a heck of a program, I would think.  But in the meanwhile because seriously, I’m about done with hospitals, I try to teach, educate, share my story with others so that you can learn and know what life may hold for you should you decide on weight loss surgery.  It’s not an instant fix, it’s not a bed of roses, not by a long shot.

It’s been hard this last time around to recover after the latest episode of choking on stomach acid.  I’m still in some pain, I have to question eating and drinking decisions, and I’ve had to decline some invitations to hang out with friends this weekend, which really disappoints me.  But the thing is, the pain, the having to be really picky and choosy on what I decide to eat in fear of waking up again at 2 am like I did last night, it scares me and I don’t want friends to have to be fearful for me as well, or watching what I’m eating and wondering if it’s a good choice or not.  Oh what the hell, they do anyways and regardless, because they’re the best people in my life, they truly are.  My family is the same way in that respect, in that they yes, sit through good and bad, and they question as to what will work well for me digestive wise and what won’t.  I’m lucky to have that sort of support and love now, I am.  Too bad I couldn’t have married like that, but you know, crap happens.  Once you have surgery, totally true, you find out who’s truly with you on the trainride and who’s not.

In the end, don’t say I didn’t tell you, or I didn’t warn you of this.  I write so that you know the truth, and you know how it really is.  You simply cannot glean this from either a 30 second commercial, or an hour with a support group.  This is years and years of knowledge, and I tell you because you need to know it’s not an easy decision, and it is by no means or no stretch of the imagination, an easy ride.  There’s days, such like today, that I really question if I can stand back up and even have or maintain any semblance of social situations, or fun with friends.  I get days like this, I do.  But it’s okay because it’s those same friends who always come right out and say, “Johanna, oh yes you can, and yes you will,” and I bounce back and go on.  And that’s how you should be as well.

Well, surgery went pretty well.  It was originally slated for at least 8 hours, but cut down to 2-3 because of the use of a stapler instead of sutures.  Now, there are some who would argue and say, oh but a staple line is so gross, and sutures look so much more pretty and such, but I’d rather take a staple line and a few hours shaved off that surgery.  When you’ve had as much surgery as I have, it’s not about cosmetic anymore.  And that’s something that gets me about weight loss surgery.  You’re lucky enough to have that surgery, and in some cases, make it through said surgery, but you’d be surprised how 2-3 years later, it’s not good enough.  I’ve seen women (mostly women, I don’t think that men are as vain about things, and I’ve never heard this complaint come from a male weight loss surgery patient, but if you fall under that category and you’d like to add to this thought, please go ahead.) talk about how they “need” that breast lift or breast job, or they need a tummy tuck, or they need a leg or arm lift because oh yes, they lost the weight, but look at that sagging skin and it’s just so horrible and oh they deserve this.  You deserve to lose weight, that you do.  And if you have, congrats to you and know that we’re all proud.  But to go and make the assumption that you’re “carte blanche” for that free plastic surgery because you lost weight, no, I’m here to say that isn’t always the case and you should never assume that if you do decide that weight loss surgery is the route to go.  Another popular rumor I’m going to dispel right here right now is that by giving yourself up to plastic surgery you’re going to be helpful and donate all your extra skin to burn centers and isn’t that great?  Actually, you’re not donating a thing.  Most burn centers will not take excess skin from a wls patient.  They need skin that has elasticity to it, and, once tipping the scales at (insert enormous weight here) to (insert semi-normal weight here) yes, produces lots of excess skin on your part, but that skin has long ago lost any sort of elasticity to it.  Go ahead and call it useless, because that’s what it is.  So it’s not useful to any burn centers or anything of the like, because well, it wouldn’t help anyone else.  This information I gleaned from one of the biggest and best burn centers in San Antonio, no wait, one of the best in the country, so, know that I speak the truth here.

The “assumption” that you’re a prime candidate for plastic surgery only comes with well, a hefty price tag and/or lots of medical documentation stating that the surgery itself would help you in the long run.  My tummy tuck was documented as being medically necessary only after pages and pages of painful skin rash in the “apron” area, and the excess weight of that skin causing pain and damage to my back.  In all, almost 10 lbs was removed from me when said tummy tuck was done, and afterwards I ended up with a staph infection that got me another week in the hospital and darn near killed me.  Again, I’m not your norm, I just happen to be at the losing end of most surgeries medically.  Realistically though, these are all things you should look at and be aware of when considering such surgery.  I would say that, and pain control, and recovery time and how *you* need to be proactive in your approach to recovery.  The last part is super important, because it’s the difference between that surgery time being a success or not. 

Right now, I’m on a nice host of painkillers, I hurt like all get out, and I don’t sleep so well.  This is so because my body, now with nice new abdominal wall created by mesh, is producing scar tissue that is highly painful and in all the wrong places to be (against new wall, and potentially could be a hazard to the RNY that I still have).  I’m expected to rub down these areas daily, even twice daily, no matter how much it hurts, so that the scar tissue doesn’t become large lumps of permanent yuk that hurts me.  This is what I mean by proactive.  Surgeons do their job, and you’re expected to hold up your end of the deal, and it’s really for your health and well being more than anything else.  I’m also expected to wear abdominal binders 24 hours a day for a few months, and I’m also on a full lift restriction, and this is all to ensure that I heal correctly, and that I’m not going to be back in the operating theater come this time next year.  I’m really truly sick of hospitals and I’ve spent way too much time in them, so you bet I am going to do everything possible to make sure that I’m not there again next year for more surgery.

Back to that plastic surgery thought though.  Oh, I would be totally remiss if I didn’t say I’d like a magic airbrush of some sort to get rid of the dog ears (lumps on either hip left over from tummy tuck in 2003) or that I’d like an arm lift to get rid of the bat wings, or leg lifts to get rid of the sharpei thighs, and yes, even a breast lift to bring the boobs back to this hemisphere.  I think the first thing that people should realize is that hey, even with a 100 or so lb loss, you’re not going to be perfect and you shouldn’t expect it.  Sure, we’d like it to happen, and be wafer thin like Paris Hilton or something, but realistically, it’s not going to happen.  In my case, asking for all the aforementioned plastic surgeries is like one, asking for a major miracle and two, asking for a death sentence.  I say major miracle in that, I have tons of excess skin all over the place.  I say death sentence, in that those same large amounts of hanging skin, well, in order for it to be removed, there would be major scars involved, from armpit to elbow, and then from crotch to knee and we’re talking both arms, both legs.  That’s a large amount of real estate and a major opportunity for infection to set in and break skin down and well, make me worse than before if not dead.  (I also have an allergic reaction to a long list of antibiotics too which doesn’t help matters any).  Sure, the extra hanging skin doesn’t make me look like poster girl for anything, but my thought is, if you can’t appreciate me for the battles I’ve been through and look past the aforementioned to see I’m actually a pretty interesting person, then you’re not really worth my time.  If we all took more time to appreciate one another for who we are, as opposed to what we look like, I think the world would be a much nicer place in which to live in.

So how has life been post surgery?  Extremely painful.  It hurts to cough, it hurts when I get nauseated and want to throw up but can’t.  It’s nice to see my toes again without having to work at it, but the idea that my parts are all back where they should be after a year of being all over the place?  Mighty painful.  I wanted to do more for my favorite political candidates and such, and I honestly feel as if I have let down not only my party, but my people I dearly love and endorse.  When you live with pain and nausea as an everyday ongoing issue, it’s harder to get motivated to do much of anything, and that disappoints me.  I get frustrated because I honestly haven’t had time to take care of me, because my parents are very demanding of me and my time and don’t think twice about the ramifications involved…in that I’m not getting the sleep I need, I’m not getting the silence I need.  I still have weekly checkups with the surgeon, and he hasn’t cleared me to do too much.  I can’t say that I blame him really, because he honestly worked miracles to put me back together and make me look like a somewhat normal human again.  That’s the greatest gift right there, if I could put it into words, the idea that I can and will lead a somewhat normal life again, which is what I had asked for in the first place, or the idea I was sold on in having the original surgery.  The idea that I knew my life was spiraling out of control, and most importantly my health, and the thought that because of my size, my weight, I didn’t have many options left open to me anymore so I thought that surgery would help me, surgery would solve the problems.  If anything, that surgery has given me more problems than anything else, but looking at the positive side of it, I did gain weight, but lost it back all over again when people said I couldn’t.  I’ve done and accomplished so much, and with so much other surgeries, and it’s been a long and rough road at times, but I did it.  And if I could, would I make the same decisions again?  That changes from time to time, because I lost so much, not only weight, which is good of course, but emotionally I lost…time I lost…*sigh*   More importantly though, I still have the friends and family who stood by me no matter what, and that’s perhaps what I’m most grateful for.  And for all those I can help out or give support to, just as I have been given over the years, oh you bet I’m there for that.  Sure, there are some who would argue and say that I’m not a good source of information and support because well, my original gastric bypass failed, and well, I had surgery so long ago, whatever would I know now?  (And, as the years go by, this is something that any wls patient will encounter…those who are either pre-op or fresh post-op who discount and discredit everything you have to say and every experience you learned from.  My thought on this, don’t let those people dissuade you from helping or supporting others.  Even my surgeon will keep telling me repeatedly to keep speaking out, keep telling my story until I’m blue in the face because somewhere along the line, I’m going to make that difference to someone, and I’m going to be able to give back every drop of love and support I’ve received along the way.) 

Last but not least, my regular doctor does say that my bloodwork is looking pretty good but that my iron, even after the infusion, could use a little help.  So, back to the drawing board and keep swallowing the vitamins and supplements.  Because just like Barack Obama himself, yes we can!

This post is written to a particular someone, but mainly written to the collective world because I think it needs to be said.  I’m a little tired of the “detractor” crowd and those who don’t believe, or those who’d rather turn their head and act like they don’t know me.  Let’s take a moment, and let’s analyze, from perspective, or rather, what I see from particular person mentioned before.

Particular person writes, just as I do.  However, particular person has to write under two different missives, which I would find incredibly hard to do, but I have had to do before in my lifetime.  How, you ask?  I had to write for a college newspaper, knowing horrible secrets that I would have much rather exposed but knowing had I exposed them, an entire pillar of Kitsap County would crumble and crumble hard.  And it was something told me in passing, something I couldn’t discuss on the record, or get proper verification on because no one would dare go on the record about it.  I was told that in no uncertain terms would it ever come to light ever, that if it did, it would be the end of any and all career I ever thought or dreamed of having in Kitsap County would be.  Blam. Gone.  Powerful people would silence me for a long long time.  I tell you what, write with that sitting under you.  It’s not a nice place to be, not now, not ever.

What was my breaking point in leaving the Olympic College journalism program?  What finally drove me over the edge, when I had been doing everything within my being possible to please every bit of the faculty, staff, and administration?  I walked when I had a “conversation” with a member of administration, who, upon finding out I had become editor of the college paper, decided that I was too much of a liability to the campus and the community at large.  I didn’t ask for the conversation but it was had nonetheless.  I was told that I was going to write to only happy and positive things that happened on campus, that I was going to honor every request that came across my desk from every department on campus or that the ASOC was going to pull our paper’s funding and that our paychecks would be cut as well.  I thought about what she said for one second.  Then, without a second thought, I told her that you know, I wasn’t part of the publicity machine for Olympic College publicity department and she had a department that was being paid as such.  So use them for that purpose.  Have the ASOC pull our funding, in fact, please, pull my paycheck which was perhaps one of the lowest of any student worker on campus while you’re at it.  Now that I’ve told you my opinion, I’m going to go have a emergency staff meeting to announce our conversation we just had, what my response was to your demands, and what their options are.  Pretty much, I can guarentee you’ll have no staff left standing when I’m done with this.   Have a great day.  (Funny thing, I did this, and hm, I was right too.)

I hated the idea that I was being told to write straight news, yet, on the other hand, I was being told to hold incredible secrets and be “hush-hush”, and then the end breaking point was being told to write “happy happy” only.  Journalism is never “happy happy” only.  I wish that I could pull open any major paper and have it be filled with “human interest” stories that had great happy endings.  Even now, you’re losing much of the paper crowd in favor of the electronic “paper-free” era and I’m incredibly guilty of taking advantage of that early on in the game.  And even with saying that, if you’re geek enough, your word can stretch far and wide in so many ways imagineable, it’s incredible.  (No, I’m not dropping word on this, but I have helped some who I believe in get their word further faster.  You bet.  My favorite phrase, or one of them….”when you get, give.  when you learn, teach.  pass it along.” by the great Maya Angelou herself.)  And sometimes, journalism takes on a slant, intentional or not, but it takes a slant.  Example, me, incredi-democrat.  I make it very clear.  Fox News, deathly-Republican, doesn’t even have to say it.  Kitsap Sun, still trying to decide.  But there is that running under-current of something, isn’t there?  You really have to breathe life into journalism these days to get it to sell sometimes….you do.  You have to have a sense of creativity, vision, and all that while holding true to a stylebook (and yes, for the love of Buddha, I OWN ONE.  I just choose not to act like I know what it is or what it’s used for.  I have that right, yes I do.  Sure, I could have walked back and gotten my little piece of paper that said I had an awesome grasp of journalism but you know what, I chose to live life and have a couple kids and a messed up marriage and well, life life and meet some incredible people and live some outrageous experiences along the way.  We all have choices.  Do I think the paper would have made the difference in what I write today, or how I view life, or anything?  Thinking about it all, hm, yes I do.  I think that it would have restricted me in what I could and couldn’t have said personally and professionally.  I’m not sure I could have been as willing and able to give that up.  Wait.  I take that back.  I have children.  When the difference comes between making a dollar to ensure that your children have a roof over their head, food in their tummies and a warm blanket and clothing to cover them, you’d do about anything, including going against your own moral set….if the price was right.  Sorry, but my children are very important like that.

And this, my dear used to be acquantance, almost friend is where I’m going to slap a reality check on you just as you have slapped one upon me.   I know where mine is and I thank you for it.  However, I’m going to lay a heavy dose of it upon you, and I hope you see and understand where I’m coming from, and know that I give it to you not under the pretense of hate, because that’s not where I come from.  I come to you from one writer to another, and I see where you are and know where you can go.  Some of us need a helpful nudge.  I hope that I’m nudging you by what I’m writing here.  I hope that what I’m writing also helps me to some respect as well, to be a better writer than I’ve been in the past few months, because that’s essentially what I see coming from you.  I see “Johanna, you can and should be writing much better, but you can’t and aren’t, so I draw the line in the sand here.  You need to see and know that you can and will produce better.”  Okay, so I’ve seen.  What I ask of you is that in the future, if you see this, you write me personally and you word it to me personally, instead of just bowing out of the picture gracefully.  I don’t do gracefully well.  If you could ask Mr Gray, he’d tell you himself that I don’t take the “sugar and roses” approach and each time he took my copy covered in red and threw it across the room and said “unacceptable” and walked off in a room full of people, he did so with great reason.  He knew I didn’t do “sweetness and light” very well.

So here’s my story.  I had a boyfriend, and he was in the Bainbridge class of hm, 1986, I want to say.  His family was rather prominent in Bainbridge circles, and his mother thought I was just the most horrid vile creature alive because I had a child when I was 18.  She flat out told me I was welfare trash and I was going to amount to nothing because you know, I grew up in South Kitsap county, and that’s where all that welfare trash lives anyways.  No kidding, downtown Winslow, she sure said this to me.  Anyways, one day, we were going through boyfriend’s high school yearbook for his senior year. (edit: I read person’s “about me” page and realized that we *both* could make the Kitsap Sun’s “Code 911″ portion of the paper had I left it.  Thank HEAVENS you make the distinction of saying “I was raised on Bainbridge Island, didn’t grow up there.  Seriously, it makes you a better all-around person, suffice it to say.  Are we still on for the “Code 911″ moment?  I’ll take the candlestick in the study with Colonel Mustard.) Rows upon rows of well coiffed sprayed down monkey suited boys and prom-dressed beauty queens until you get to the end.  You get to the end of the senior class and there’s this guy with absolutely big hair and more makeup then I would wear in say, hm, five years.  Out of the entire yearbook, he would have been the only one I would have spent any time even wanting to talk to.  Bainbridge Island always had its reputation of putting out snobbish elitist types, and this yearbook surely spoke to that, but the boy at the end screamed “screw that”.  And guess what?  Unfortunately, that boy is long ago passed away, and I cry because it was his own demons that killed him in the end.  I look across the harbor right now at Bainbridge and I think about him, and I think, you know, Bainbridge should not be remembered for its snobbery or its uppity-ness, it should be thought of for its unique-ness or the diversity of the culture you can find there if you really look.

Oh, now ex-boyfriend’s mom.  Funny thing.  When I came home post Katrina, and she saw me on the front of the Kitsap Sun along with the same baby that she hm, chastized me for having so long ago, she called my ex-boyfriend crying and bawling about how “happy” she was we all evacuated safely.  Ex-boyfriend reminds her of the “white welfare trash” comment she made to me and told her about how he had personally volunteered to fly the kids and me home himself because he knew I was in bad shape financially, but emotionally and physically as well and knew he needed to do what he could to save the kids and me.  He says she cried more.  And he said that he told her something about judging yourself before judging others.

Oh yes, now I could go and say, well well, snobs of Bainbridge Island, yes, they all are.  But I’ve seen and met different.  Even you could say the same thing and you’ve been (again, edit, see before…please forgive me) there.  Dang, I should shut up and get to the real point here, right?  Just as you have caught me on the “writing strangely” thing and I am sincerely working to correct that, I’m going to challenge you.  Are you truly sincerely happy doing what you’re doing right now?  We know where you are and where you’d like to go.  Is it time to take the plunge and make the jump yet, or are we still just holding the line and waiting until it’s just the right time?  And are we taking the plunge because we’re taking ourselves back and our moral set, or because it’s “just the right thing to do”?  I know, I have a ton of important questions, but I ask partially out of I’d love to know and partially out of perhaps your answers will help me on a couple of important decisions I’m going to have to make real quick here.   You tell me.

Last but not least, some depeche mode to chew on.  And a good one, at that.

I would tell you about the things
They put me through
The pain I’ve been subjected to
But the lord himself would blush
The countless feasts laid at my feet
Forbidden fruits for me to eat
But I think your pulse would start to rush

Now I’m not looking for absolution
Forgiveness for the things I do
But before you come to any conclusions
Try walking in my shoes
Try walking in my shoes

You’ll stumble in my footsteps
Keep the same appointments I kept
If you try walking in my shoes
If you try walking in my shoes

Morality would frown upon
Decency look down upon
The scapegoat fate’s made of me
But I promise you, my judge and jurors
My intentions couldn’t have been purer
My case is easy to see

I’m not looking for a clearer conscience
Peace of mind after what I’ve been through
And before we talk of repentance
Try walking in my shoes
Try walking in my shoes

                                                                        -30-

Surgery is officially September 29th.  Pre-op is on the 17th of September.  Am I scared?  Oh you bet.  But if I can get through a couple months worth of looking up and out at Sinclair Inlet every morning, working hard to learn to walk again, and eat again and even think halfway coherently again, then I can do anything.