Transferring from junk food addiction vs Retirement

I have reached a different understanding in how we do or fail to cope with the mental replacement of our previous junk eating. Thank you Mike Fisher (Fisher1000) and Jacki (Splendifor) for your comments in my earlier threads - you have paved a clearer path for me!

Learning to reapply our mental frustration from not "being able" to junk eat is something we all agree on. But wherein the struggle lies, I believe is akin to starting retirement. When you have worked your butt off your whole life and "suddenly" you are retired, with 24/7 time for yourself and you are no longer "needed" at work, what on earth do you do? For many individuals who have been "workaholics" or passionate about their career, too much time on their hands comes as a shock to their system, quite literally. Some put on a lot of weight, become depressed, start smoking, become moody, have affairs or age rapidly. They are at a loss at what to do with all their “new” time on their hands! But for those who have had a hobby, other occupations other than “only” their work, other mental stimulus, they embrace retirement with a new zest for life and youthfulness. At long last they are “free” to undertake what they have been longing to do but could not afford, timewise or financially. Be it travelling, renovating old properties, indulging in gardening, collecting stamps, taking up martial arts, you name it, they are a whole lot happier than most and often are the ones who are “slimmer” and more positive, with a “can do” attitude.

So, if we are intelligent enough to find a replacement occupation – that is safe and that we enjoy, I recon we are better equipped to “succeed” with our weight loss journey thanks to our surgery. What do you think?

I have acquired a pug puppy, born 5 days after my surgery. Pugsy is very much a “lapdog” and as a puppy loves being cuddled and picked up as well as being independent and running and loving long walks. In a sense, I have “transferred” my overeating to caring for my new puppy…I would be interested in your views!

Vim is SO Happy!!!

5th April 2008 Exactly 4 months out today.
I have lost 42% of my wls journey so far.
I am SO very happy at the improved me, at being FREE, feeling younger, lighter and just grateful to be ALIVE...
You know that feeling you get at times, such as "falling in love", finding the "dream" house, that "great" job...? You just know it when you see it. But know what exactly? Well, you "know" that the glove fits, that everything falls into place...
I am done with feeling blue... I am done with being MO... I am done with being old... I just "know" that the corner I have turned is a real right angle corner, not a pretend, temporary corner... A major moment in my Life. A feeling that has been in the formation these last 5 days...

Several of my Forum Friends have been immensely helpful in giving me the unexpected "final push", the break from the past. Be it from suggesting ideas, reading your threads, blogging, sense of humour, practical tips, goals, experience, walking a similar path to mine, or just being visible across the boards… My immense Thank You to you all – you have made my world go round!

I have been given the rare chance of being set free from myself. I still am great friends with myself, but through the regeneration I have left the frayed bits of my old soul behind! (The “old skin” might undergo a body lift, but only if really necessary – time will tell!). The knowledge I have gained along the way is one thing – now I am acquiring the wisdom in using it properly. I am so happy. It is my responsibility to BE happy in all sincerity.

I have lived so much sadness and torment that I have cried myself dry. I have weaned myself from a sad past. Now it is onto a “5 day pouch test”! Use my tool with skill and discipline!

Thank you so very very much my Forum Pals for just “being there”, 24/7!

Warmest wishes to you all,
Vim

Thinking in First Person…

Thinking in First Person…

I really feel guilty! I have been indulging in myself these last 9 months. The duration of a pregnancy. The outcome has been the birth of ME!

I, I, I, me, me, me!
It’s all about what I think, how I look, how I feel, what I am doing, what I will be doing, my involvement in any given situation. From having stood at the back of most photographs, here I am at the front, taking full centre view! I feel good, I feel strong, I feel like ME!

I have always been thoughtful of others, spent endless time and effort on others’ behalf, willingly, obligingly, instinctively. It has given me great pleasure to have been able to help, it has reassured me to have kept tabs on my old ladies around me (I have 11 friends aged 85 and over!). But, often my helping others has been at the detriment of my own needs, putting others first rather than being responsible for my own person.

I had reached a point where it became urgent for my health to do something about myself, for myself, hence my weight loss surgery.

The physical aspect of the surgery has been of minimal importance – my surgeon was brilliant, my recovery uneventful other than being perfectly comfortable and with instantly visible results. Such a gratifying situation to be in for a change!

My emotional side is strong – I feel empowered! Having said that, I am very busy tying knots on loose ends, now my luggage from my former life is being neatly trussed up and ready for hauling to the dump! I have beavering away on the immensely rewarding task of clearing my cupboards, both physically and emotionally and am enjoying the luxury of new found space, a clarity of vision and loftiness!

I have put myself out in front and am liking the limelight for once! For how long I don’t know, but I sure feel I deserve being there as much as anyone else – and that feeling of certainty is very exhilarating!

So, now, for a little while longer, is all about me, for me and by me! A little like a new broom that sweeps clean!

My newfound energy inspires me to dare tread where I have not been before! Long may this last!

WHAT TO EXPECT - in graphic details!

What to expect – in graphic details!

I am posting this thread on pre-op purely because it was the kind of information I was looking for in anticipation of my Laparascopic Roux en Y bypass operation ten days ago. It is intended to help you prepare for your surgery, not to offend you.

I am a self-pay patient who has organized my surgery through a medical tourism agency, Healthcare-Direct Limited. I paid a flat fee for surgery, hospitalisation, medication, return trains for both my husband and myself from London to Brugge, taxis scheduled to pick us up from the train to and from our hotel and taxis between the hotel and hospital, and our double room with breakfast for us both at the 4 star Park Hotel, conveniently located for both hospital and town. The services with the surgeon’s nutritionist, one hotel visit from the nurse after surgery and one post hospital consultation with my surgeon were included.

My husband and I travelled by Eurostar train from London, England to Brugge in Belgium.

Dr. Dillemans is amazing and the whole experience is just so reassuring and encouraging. Yes, I am eating food, pureed though, like solids for a baby of 4 months. It is so wonderful to feel normal.

Bearing in mind that indeed that I have had a major operation (considered 7/10 if you compare it with 10/10 for heart surgery), no wonder I was hurting the first 48 hours... However, every half day since the operation I have grown stronger, more comfortable, more secure and more at peace.

If one of you will be going on your own, you will quite certainly meet another patient at your hotel (worth asking at the reception desk or at Dr. Dillemans' office) and if, like me you share a room with one other person, you might strike lucky and become pals. When you arrive, tell the nurse on the ward that you are alone, that you would like to be looked after a little and they are really supportive. They prefer to speak English to French.There is a cupboard in the hospital room, but I don’t think you can lock things anywhere. I believe there is a safe at the hospital. You can email your surgeon’s office to find out. I left all my valuables (rings, money etc) at home except for my laptop (my window onto the world!). I am sure that you can leave your passport and credit cards/wallet in the hospital safe – a situation that must arise for any patient.

Dr Dillemans quite frankly has reassured me exactly and is one of the most honest and positive humane persons I have met. I have found him at no doubt the peak of his career. He has operated on his own mother and to date performed over 8000 bariatric surgeries! He is the doctor to whom all failed operations are referred for repair! How good could it get? After my surgery, there was one girl who was not very lucky because she had internal bleeding whilst in the recovery room. Her liver, it has to be said, was very enlarged, and the cause of her trouble. The Roux en Y itself was easy. I saw her walking in Bruges the afternoon after she left hospital, expecting to fly home to Ireland the following. He looked after her so very well – her own words!The nurses are a little efficient but very kind if you care to help them with English. They actually understand far better than they are able to speak. I stayed in hospital 72 hours. I was walking in under 24 hours and by 48 hours was on water and yoghurt! The 3rd day I had toast, butter, jam and yoghurt and for lunch chicken, green vegetables and mashed potato! Got back to my hotel, dying to wash my hair and as soon as I had rested about an hour, was walking in Bruges. I did however have the support of my loving husband, but I have heard other single travellers take it slowly into town with confidence. We must wear white anti-thrombosis stockings for 2 weeks, so a little boot would hide them!

The hospital bed was not comfortable. Bring your own pillow or definitely ask for an additional one. I did have backache, but then again, that is due to muscles being compacted whilst lying flat for so long. My back is fine now.

I discreetly used my mobile with an international telephone SIM card (Sim4Travel) and called those people I wanted when it suited me. I was not disturbed by loads of phone calls!The first week is often referred to “Hell Week” and it is through the support of others on this Forum that I have had the confidence that things improve quickly. Keep repeating to yourself that “it will get better” because, however uncomfortable you may be, it DOES get better, every half day. There is no need for you to be in pain. That is why there are plenty of painkillers available! There is definitely light at the end of the tunnel! You will loose approximately 10% of your weight in the first month alone – surely that is encouraging?!

Pre-op Day -2 Monday:

I chose to arrive one day ahead of my pre-op consultation and paid for that over and above my “flat fee” as this was my choice rather than the standard procedure. This was in aid of finding our bearings and remove any “stage fright” that my husband might have (I have visited Brugge a few years ago). By unpacking quietly and familiarising myself with my hotel and room, I created my “nest”, having bought some flowers and a scented candle at the local market, just to add my own personality to the room. This brought confidence to my otherwise somewhat anxious but very supportive and calm husband. We strolled around town and noted places where my husband would feel comfortable going to, bearing in mind the language obstacle. We enjoyed a nice meal and concentrated on ourselves and our lives ahead of us.

Pre-op Day -1 Tuesday:

Having arrived one day early enabled me to have a lie-in and a leisurely breakfast and a quick skip into town, pack my hospital bag in readiness for the next day and leave relaxed for my consultation. It felt very glamorous having a long pre-ordered taxi pick us up from the hotel to the hospital. Just sign for the journey as everything had been taken care of by the medical agent. At the hospital, I spent a little while waiting for the reception to go through the administrative verification of my identity and that I had paid my surgery. Sent up to the reception desk on the consultation floor. Long wait before meeting the nutritionist who weighed and measured me and gave me a post-surgery nutrition advice sheet. Up another floor for a blood test. Down to the waiting room again. Long wait watching other more or less obese persons, all there for the same reason. Some were post-op going for a check-up and their beaming faces confirmed in yet another way that the reason I was there myself was more than worth it. Meeting with my surgeon’s assistant to go through my medical details and ask any outstanding questions, verify that I have really understood the procedure I am about to embark on.

At last, nearly two hours since arriving at the hospital I met the Surgeon! Actually the very man who would change my Life. It was as much an emotional moment as a medically reassuring one. A lot of vibes went through him and myself, with my husband sitting next to me. Those split seconds involved that I trusted him with my Life and that he returned with the promise to do his best and would look after me. The moment was over in a flash but it had been essential in the whole process and my husband witnessed it and sensed relief too. I ordered the taxi back to our hotel (part of my package deal) and then went shopping with my husband before a “last supper”. I enjoyed my meal very much but did not want to eat “for the sake of eating”. From midnight absolute “nil by mouth”. Off to bed for a final “fat person’s” sleep.

Op Day - Wednesday!

I leave “nil by mouth”ed from the hotel by the pre-booked taxi at 7:30 am! My husband stayed half awake in our room. This we had decided suited us personally though of course he had the option of accompanying me. Again the formalities of checking in and being shown to the waiting room of my ward. I had selected 2 beds to a room and luckily for me was very pleased with the woman who shared with me, 3 years younger only. We were quite compatible which made postoperative unpleasantries far more bearable. We unpacked, furnished our drawers and checked each other’s stories and waited…

If told that I was “forbidden” to eat or drink anything from waking until 11:30 I would have winced. But in this very particular case, I did it with great joy! I asked the nurses whether I needed to shave “down there” – they were surprisingly “horrified” by the thought and assured me that “these days” it was no longer necessary (I later found out that my exposed body was painted in surgical antimicrobial “paint” of a golden yellow, including my private parts, (hair and all!). Then at least I was going to be given an enema? No? not even a teeny, weeny suppository? Nope! (Well, I had not had a bowel movement since my light dinner last night!).

From the beginning, my roommate, her husband and I were chatting as if at a social gathering. 4 hours from leaving the hotel, a reliably sturdy and friendly nurse called for me, nearly “intruding” on our getting acquainted. Right, Madame, now get this gown on and be ready in 15 minutes! Aha, for a pre-surgery beauty session? No, Madame, for being wheeled downstairs! Boy did I get undressed fast (in case time was up earlier!). The gown, a hint of palest green, did up in the back with two tie strings. I managed the highest one but my “friend” volunteered to attach the one slightly lower down, my whole back and backside on display. Strangely, hormones protect you from being inhibited (or was it because we were in the same boat so to speak, I Swedish and she Danish and both heading for the same modesty?).

It felt weird being wheeled in my bed and taken down the lift when perfectly capable of walking myself (albeit my bare back showing!). I waited, calmly, no nerves, just strong in myself and confident, in the waiting room until somebody else came to take me to the antechamber of the operation room. There I was given a drip in my right hand through which painkillers and saline would keep me comfortable and hydrated. The delightful, reassuring anaesthetist and I verified all the information that was already confirmed and indulged in light small talk – in fact, I was about to disappear under full anaesthesia, with just a little whiff of oxygen to make me calm and confident. From then on, “curtains” of a kind! A part of my Life for which I have absolutely no recollection whatsoever (thank God we all say!)!

I have absolutely no sense of how I awoke from the surgery, my body, my whereabouts, myself, sound or the state of Life. All I was capable of was hearing people talking. And then it came – pain. Talk about pain! I was disoriented, in pain, did not open my eyes to look as I was so very, very tired. Then I felt a need to find a focal point, to hold something true. But before that, I felt something totally different, not anything I was expecting but which was more than so wonderfully welcome. A sound, the sound that only my husband makes. He was there, there for me when I was feeling so terribly awful. I opened my eyes, and yes, there he was in the corner of my hospital room, as I was being wheeled into it. What joy, what comfort, what security! The look on his face was all-important – I knew I was all right and well, even though “a truck had driven across my stomach”. With the comfort of my husband by my side and him holding my hand and stroking my forehead, I felt allowed to rest and recovered and hence dozed on and off. That moment was quite crucial in my recovery, knowing and sensing his relief that all was well.

My husband, who had come bearing flowers, a seldom occurrence, called the necessary family to convey the good news of my positive surgery and much later I managed, faint but clear, to say a few words to my best friend. I knew I was alive and improving!My husband stayed until about 9:30 that evening, by which time I was reassured, pain monitored and feeling stronger. An hour after he left, my roommate returned, having spent 4 ½ hours alone with her husband, waiting for her surgery. That was hard for her and frankly, I felt lucky that I had been chosen first!

The nurses tended to me very efficiently, kindly and regularly. At one stage in the night I needed a bedpan and they were most helpful. I was sore but not in unreasonable pain. I looked and counted 5 small waterproof plasters, all in a neat row under my bosom line. The pain was not related to those parts but to under my left breast. The ping-pong match started. My neighbour needed the nurse with great regularity due to an unattractive reaction with her anaesthesia. She was nauseous and retching or vomiting, none of which I thankfully experienced. But when she was “quiet” I found myself being awoken by the nurses who were taking my vitals and changing the drip etc.

Day after surgery = +1 / Thursday

At dawn I needed another bedpan and obligingly produced a copious amount of golden liquid.

Early morning both my neighbour and I pulled out of the night sleep and compared notes. We were given each a bottle of fine spray water to squirt into our parched mouths and tongues and generally hydrate our faces with. These sprays became our only source of personal hydration other than the saline drips and these squirts became our lifeline to some sense of sanity. Pain was being brilliantly controlled so much so that we managed to get out of bed and walk to bathroom. My neighbour was terribly dizzy but I was luckier. A mid-morning pee on my own, washing of my hands and body (a nurse washed my back), brushing of teeth and hair, a fresh nightie and tired, I went back to bed. More squirts and a snooze.

About 24 hours after my surgery, my husband came back during the visiting hours. Oh, how wonderful to see him again and he was very relieved to see me definitely perky and chatting better than when he left me the evening before. We chatted about where he had been during the morning and that was a fresh subject of conversation unrelated to surgery! We just spent time together, he reading his book and I dozing every now and then. It was the day it was so difficult not to drink any water at all!

That night I slept better as my neighbour was feeling somewhat better and I myself was getting stronger. I went to the loo unaided during the night and found my physical freedom quite rewarding. I did everything normally, just a little slowly and cautiously.Post-Op +2 / FridayDefinitely improved and this was the day I would be allowed water! Eureka! A whole bottle of 1.5 litres water! All mine! The first few sips were bliss and I cherished each mouthful. The day passed uneventfully but peacefully, sleeping twice during the day and gaining strength. At this stage I was able to sleep on both sides which improved confidence too. I would say that my felt recovery is at the rate of every half-day. I was sore though not in pain and I reduced my painkillers. Up and walking quite comfortably several lengths of the corridor, several times a day. What I was really wanting was fresh air! Thankfully I could open a window, narrowly, and felt sane! I was having a few problems with my bruising and a very sore back (lousy bed!) but my husband’s massage really helped. He had had quite a further look around Bruges and had a lot to chat about. Also the husband of my neighbour was a pleasant companion when mine was not around. The nurses were just as attentive as earlier but were needed less frequently. I went up to them for a change in dressings, otherwise was of little disturbance…

Post-Op +3 / Saturday

This is the day of miracles! For breakfast a cup of tea, a dry biscotte with low fat butter and jam and a yoghurt! Absolutely bliss! As I live in England, I opted for a hot cup of tea first and waited the long half-hour before enjoying every morsel of my toast with butter and jam and I managed only half my yoghurt! For the first time as far back as I can remember, I was satiated! It took me 20 minutes to eat my breakfast! I was actually full! How blissful to have been fed, stopping upon satisfaction and still feeling well at the end of it all.

My drip came out and thus restored my freedom. (A lot easier to use the lavatory and wash!). The stomach naturally produces blood, which moves around freely to help lubricate and separate organs. Upon this kind of surgery, excess blood needs to escape and we have a little bag at the site of the largest incision. The first day my bag was changed 3 times, 2nd day twice and by the end of the day it was removed altogether. By breathing in deeply, the nurse quickly pulls it out and the discomfort is non-existent. By being allowed to drink water you feel already more human and normal.

I washed myself, got dressed for going back to the hotel, put on make-up, my shoes fit, I packed my little case and all my bits scattered on my night table. Then it was time for lunch! Absolutely amazing! I had the huge difficulty of timing my drink around my solids, as it is really essential to leave a clear half-hour either side of solids. For me this proved a far greater pain in the neck than I imagined, but on my 6th day, as I am writing this, I am already starting to master a technique that suits me.

My Darling Husband came early to pick me up. What he found he was unsure of, but he recognised me loudly and clearly! He could hear me from 50 yards from the elevators, snoring! I was sleeping the sleep of my life, at long last relaxing and content. A few minutes later, having said goodbye to my new friend and all the dayshift nurses, we left, back into the big world. At reception we called for the taxi which brought us “home” to our hotel. I was aware of every bump in the road but was not uncomfortable. At the hotel I asked for the post-op menu available for room service for their guests and an internet voucher for my laptop. Back in my room, the most pressing thing for me was to wash my hair and my husband was very helpful in monitoring the shower. Thoroughly cleansed and groomed I felt so much stronger and on the definite path of recovery. I moved around lightly and painlessly our room and relaxed, reading emails and surfing.

We ventured out for about half an hour. It was cold and raining but more than anything I needed fresh air. I was absolutely fine with my husband and I felt great joy at being able to hold myself, albeit weakly, in social company. To be part of normality reinforced my recovery.

Then it came: I had to be grown-up about my circumstances. It needed doing and I knew my husband was chicken in such circumstances: I had to take my first injection by myself! This is vital as an anti-thrombosis measure (together with my gorgeous white clot preventing stockings!). No ifs or buts, just to get on with it. I told my husband I was going into the bathroom to self-inject. I left the bathroom door ajar (in case of “emergency”!) and made myself comfortable on the bathroom seat. I picked up a roll of stomach flesh (5 cm anywhere below my navel) with my left hand and “stabbed” the needle in and pushed the syringe. In fact, no problems other than I might not have gone in as deeply as I could (did I inadvertently pull out a little?). A little hushhhing sound emerges when you have finished and boy did I love to hear it. I had read how to retract the needle into the syringe and dispose of it. Easy peasy, just do it! I took a tablet to prevent stomach ulcers (especially around the “joins” of the pouch and Y segment.)

My first night in the hotel bed was perfectly comfortable, I slept on both sides. A pillow tucked under my stomach to relieve the pressure was a trick I learned during my pregnancies.

Post-Op +4 / Sunday

I took a long time grooming, ready to face the world in the form of a walk into the main shopping street across from our hotel. I really did not feel too keen to eat breakfast and “forced” it down me. The porridge was in fact quite decent – only there was too much of it! I had ordered a yoghurt too and a glass of orange juice (to use a snack later). There started my first experience of having a memory for food portions larger than my new pouch intake! I have struggled with the adjustment to smaller portions ever since!

The nurse arrived and changed my dressings, took my temperature and saw I was perky and doing well so dashed pretty soon after she arrived. She agreed that I did not really need that post-op consultation with the surgeon unless I really insisted on it (which I did not).

A little trip into town. Amazing! It was raining and my husband was on my “pouch” side to act as a buffer should it be needed. We went in an out of a couple of my favourite brand shops and invested in a really luxurious treatment shampoo and conditioner. Went and bought some chocolates for friends and was given one piece which I happily took (and quietly passed to my drooling husband who had already eaten his own!). Satisfied that I was normal from head to ankle, I giggled when I got sideways glances from those who had caught sight of my medical stockings, in contrast to the classic style I was wearing!

Back to the hotel for rest and lengthy telephone calls. A little room service supper, television, internet and my self-injection. Easy again. I was tired and happy and just went to sleep.

Post-Op +5 / Monday

My sleep had been erratic, I could not find my rhythm to my immense irritation. I was out of sync. The hotel “chicken” “soup” was so lousy that I resorted to two fruit purees instead, with crackers. Much better though I was worried about the intake of sugar and dumping but luckily had no symptoms whatsoever.

Ah, bliss, normality in another sense: my first BM (bowel movement!). Regular in consistency and normal to me. Not smelly (the MacLean has a tendency to produce discoloured and foul smelling stools, the RNY is virtually free from “smells”). I felt as though I had swallowed a construction brick which lodged itself neatly, under my chest. This can only be the air pumped in for the surgery being stuck, but it felt hard and solid. Not pleasant but on the other hand definitely not a big deal. It just felt uncomfortable there, permanently lodged it seemed.

More than anything, I needed sleep and from 9am could just not wake up until 1pm. I ordered lunch, had a leisurely shower, without getting my plasters wet, put stacks of body lotion on as I felt the effects of my skin for not drinking enough water. I did not take any painkillers as I did not need them. I realised that not only my skin and mouth but more importantly my person was not functioning at best due to lack of water intake (only 2 glasses). When I started to drink regularly and steadily, my whole being was being replenished and refreshed. Which enabled us to go out for another final walk. As my husband was starving for lunch at 3pm, we went into a small café where he enjoyed a chicken salad. I used his chocolate bar wrapper to put one of his largish chicken pieces and some egg slices and put this precious parcel in my pocket for later. I enjoyed a nice hot cup of tea whilst he wolfed down his meal. Back at the hotel when I had cleared space between drinking and eating, I nibbled on the chicken and what wondrous delight to have some “real” food, not packet stuff at the hotel.

We finished our Christmas shopping and packed at the hotel in readiness for our return to London in the morrow.

Self-injection is now a doddle, not my favourite part of the day, but just something to be done. My visit to the lavatory yielded nothing save for a few burps and fart – they were wonderful nonetheless, so much less inside me!

Still a night owl, on the telephone and on the internet whilst keeping my feet up, lying on the bed.A good, solid and restorative night was had…

Post-Op day +6 / Tuesday

Up and dandy, having regained much more mobility and self-assurance in “tricky” manoeuvres. Careful grooming, leisurely breakfast, a visit almost immediately after to the loo for my delivery of another soft, smell-free small mass… The building brick had dropped but was still there… Doing everything I would normally do any day, just a little more slowly and deliberately.

The taxi picked us up for the hour-long car ride in foul rain from Brugge in Belgium to Lille in France. We arrived with such advance that we had about 3 hours to kill before catching our train to London. That was dicey! The station was freezing cold, you could see your breath. It was like hanging around a small area, walking it backwards and forwards for a very long time. My feet were getting numb from cold. Luckily I had a feather coat (some chick, eh?), which kept me very warm indeed, hat and scarf. There was no heated waiting room to be found. The station did however have 7 feet tall vertical heaters, which we huddled around. At last time to board the train, rushing around with our luggage in the shortest time to get into our coach. Luckily I had my husband to deal with all the bags but one. The journey was relaxing and lasted only one and a half hours. Upon arrival in London we took a black London cab (very spacious and known by all tourists) for the hour journey home. The dogs were thrilled to see us and under strict orders not to jump, and so refrained with great effort from giving me their traditional welcome. The children (23, 21 and 19) cautiously turned up, one by one, worried about the state of their mother. They could not believe their eyes when I sailed in, thrilled to be home and feeling genuinely like a million dollars. (We could in fact have been away on a week’s holiday and come back just slightly tired – nobody would have known I had had major surgery a few days before!). I did pop into my neighbour’s for an hour and a half with my husband for a cup of tea (she ate the Belgian chocolates that I brought her!) and her daughter was not even aware of my having had the operation and noticed nothing different at all about me, other than I was looking pretty well…

Time to pop into the other next door neighbour my Belgian chocolates for her (she is 91 years old!) but I refrained from her offer for tea. I sat with her for about half an hour then went home, unpacked, put on a laundry and relaxed. I felt a distinct need for “real food” and was delighted at my grinding/blending work, transforming my chicken breast into what looked like couscous (finest breadcrumbs). I added a little gravy to that, ground some vegetables and made some mashed potatoes. Enough leftovers were available for a second meal, for Wednesday.

Read my post, went online for a bit, gave myself my injection and took myself off to bed… My own bed, this time right next to my husband as opposed to the twin beds with bedding that separated us… I was able to sleep on both sides and resume my habits… I slept ‘til 3 am when I enjoyed a pee (the water drinking proved that everything was working well), and then until 9 am…

Post-Op +7 / Wednesday

This was my first morning at home with my husband, the children each in their direction for work or college. Porridge for breakfast (followed by an almost immediate visit to the loo – I was not successful and started to feel a little constipated). Tea and water to keep hydrated. Not as easy…

I had a lot of administrative catching up but took time to have a sleep. That was quite necessary and the brick had now shifted!

The scales that I had ordered from the internet whilst in Belgium arrived! How exciting! It is one of those into which you put your height, sex and level of exercise. It calculates your body fat, basal metabolic rate, water content and muscle percentage. The result was impressive: I had lost 8 pounds in one week exactly, my body fat had decreased by 3.5% and I could see that I needed to increase my water intake to be optimally well. Now time to get muscles as I obviously am lagging far behind… I created a chart and entered details for all the 5 members of our family. Once a week log only!

I was tired but elated and feeling very much my much younger self, the pre-fat one, the one that I have always felt on the inside. Morale was really strong and a friend said I looked “empowered”, which I certainly agree I felt!

A quiet time at home, cosy evening, I enjoyed the leftover chicken/vegetable/mash from last night, self-injected and off to bed…I had an absolutely ghastly night. I was still stuck with that brick and for about 5 hours in the middle of the night was in agony, wondering whether it was going to go up or down. In the end, without cold sweats or palpitations (I just could not warm up and was shivering with cold), I had to retch and heave. I felt better having done that. Just before doing so, I was aware that my saliva was collecting in my mouth at the sides, in readiness of lubrication. From past experience I knew I was going to be sick and with these warning signals, took myself off to the bathroom downstairs and got there in time. 3 hours later a little of the yoghurt came back up (I had been “hungry” at midnight). In a flash of memory, I remembered that it might help to take a painkiller! I had not had any for a few days! That did the trick and thereafter I slept soundly. But it had been hell. I do not think it was “dumping” but instead the release of a locked air bubble right in the middle of my chest, where the “brick” had been. When I awoke Thursday morning, all pain and discomfort had totally vanished!

Post-Op +8 / Thursday

I was so very tired and groggy from last lousy night. I could just arouse myself and I knew I had to make a move because I had a few commitments out of the house. Another chance at beauty! I used my hair treatment bought in Brugge and felt the benefit. I loved the time under the shower. Still unsuccessful on the loo, though I had had porridge for breakfast.

Washed and dressed in readiness for the visit of my 87 year-old friend who came for coffee whilst I drank tea with her in the morning. She came to verify for herself how I looked and was delighted.

My husband, children and I drove into London to finish Christmas shopping. I am thankfully an organised shopper and knew exactly where we were heading and within an hour I had ticked off the last people on my list. Then my husband and I went to a posh jeweller to order wedding bands, new for our 25th wedding anniversary coming up soon. I took a ring from my old days as size guide though! It felt like a new volume in our marital lives, not just another chapter. A slimming, healthier me, an ever-loving husband, complicity (about the operation) and a peaceful horizon that we can see, having had a tumultuous ride due to circumstances in our happy lives together. Off to stay with an 84 year-old friend (yes, I do collect “little old ladies”!) where I was greeted with praise for my visible facial weight loss and a healthy bowl of nutritious, home cooked broth! Ah, real friends, who take you as you are and even allow you to go to sleep in their sofa! She pampered me and later my husband brought me home (for that “nasty” self-injection, which by now I can do blindfold!). Off to bed for a full, undisturbed night’s sleep, with happy dreams….

Post-Op +9 / Friday

As you can see from the previous days, eating and appetite have not become a habit. I feel content and do not “need” to eat. Not that I am “full” or anything, just not hungry. What worries me more is not really drinking as I should… My pals on the Forum have all written everywhere to sip, sip and sip that water and their words of experience resonate in my head. So I am making a concerted effort to do so. The effort pays off as I feel less light-headed and more “alive” and less tired. I have a doctor’s appointment to verify my stitches and take my plasters off. As I was self-pay and my doctor is national health, I was dreading the possible lecture, but thankfully my regular practitioner was not there on Fridays. Instead, I met the magically delightful, young lady doctor with whom I had an instant bond. I was her first “live” case of RNY bypass – she had only come across the situation in medical school text books! Having read Dr. Dillemans’ (my surgeon) letter to his colleague, she was ready to ask me all sorts of questions and put me on the scales – I had lost another two pounds since Wednesday! Yippee! She asked me to make an appointment to see her in one month (for her interest rather than my need). Luckily she is within walking distance and now I have an extra incentive to be diligent about my eating and sipping! Meeting this particular doctor (mind you, only 15 minutes!) is already making a lot of difference to me. Not all doctors who are government funded like to have self-pay patients: if you can afford to go privately, then surely you could afford a private doctor, so don’t waste my precious time and limited resources. This doctor’s view is however in line with mine. As I inherited a little after my Mother’s death this summer, I had the chance of a lifetime to afford something like my WLS. I feel that by going privately I was getting what I wanted exactly for myself whilst not burdening the national resources for this kind of money. I was so focused on everything leading up to and the actual surgery that I have underestimated the post-operative maintenance care impact. Of course I have researched and considered, but now, when faced with the real-Life situation, I was ill-prepared it seems.

Should anything “go wrong” from now on, I now know I have a doctor whom I can trust and who is supportive of my action (and who openly voiced her admiration for my “guts to go ahead with your decision”. My advice to anybody about to have this surgery is make sure you have a doctor who supports you entirely in your decision. If you were to have gallstones, kidney stones or whatever else wrong, it is far less stressful with an understanding and sympathetic doctor when you are already suffering.Elated, and with my prescription for a month’s worth of anti-ulcer tablets, I went and did a grocery shop with my husband at our local supermarket, much better aware of what kind of foods suit my new life. I took the time to show him where they are on the shelves and found alternatives should anything be out of stock. I have now a basket in our refrigerator marked “Mamma’s: don’t touch or at least please ask first!”. There are there soya yoghurts (the family has loads of other choices elsewhere in the fridge, smooth vs “with bits” orange juice (they can have the juice “with bits” but I shouldn’t), organic humous, organic cottage cheese, organic eggs, fruit purees… They understand the limitation of my choices (for the moment), and somehow, this involves the “children” in my recovery process…

Tonight I ate a piece of chicken. I took pea size bites and, according to my husband, chewed each morsel about 16 times, grinding it to a paste before swallowing. All very scientific!

Self-injection, tablet, off to sleep…

Post-Op +10 / Saturday

A normal day, a fresh start, breakfast and a successful trip to the loo (smooth, consistent, non-smelly, appropriate content). So, it feels as though I am starting to get my stomach and bowels into a routine. My back aches less, also thanks in part to my husband giving me little massages every now and then, including my feet (to aid circulation). I feel I have recovered enough solidity to venture out for a decent walk tomorrow in the park with my husband and the two dogs (he will take their leads as they get very excited to be near rabbits and deer and pull like crazy!).

The “10 day out” feels like a landmark. I can now eat, sleep, be awake, and conduct my day in a normal, comfortable fashion, to about 85% of my original strength and ability. Strong enough to do housework, laundry, ironing, go up and down the stairs and carry a moderate amount of loads. From previous experience, I am giving myself 6 weeks off driving but if need be, am perfectly ready.

XOXOXO XOXO XO XOXOXO

So, here my Friends, endeth my overly long chronicle! I rate improvement on a half-daily basis, all in all pain subsides very quickly from memory and there is no need to have any pain when you think of all the medication available. I am recovering well and progressively. What I find difficult is timing myself not to drink 30 minutes either side of a meal. No doubt I’ll find my rhythm soon! I feel better for eating my main meal in the middle of the day rather than in the evening. No food too close to bedtime. Take time to make time. Rest, even half an hour can make all the difference. Use all the good creams you can find and really coat your face and body in them – you’ll be grateful later. Importantly, when all the focus is on you the fabulous, brave patient, remember to praise your supporting team to others! You wouldn’t be nearly as strong and successful without them!

Best and warmest wishes for your own journey. It is magical, sometimes painful and this time I’ll write “When there is no pain, there is no loss!!!”. We are all here to support you, encourage you, and listen to any concerns you may have, however trivial you may think they are, because in this situation, there is never an unnecessary question!

Good luck and happy Life.Cheers!Update at 9 weeks out! As a matter of update...At 9 weeks post-op, I have lost 32 pounds, my BMI is 34.7 (down from 39.9) and I have dropped 2 dress sizes!

I am 98% of the time feeling absolutely GREAT! I sleep like a baby, stopped snoring and my energy levels are increasing regularly.

I can eat but do not tolerate very well my previous staple diet of PASTA! I do not dump but experience CRAMPING - once so severely that I had to leave the restaurant. I find it VERY difficult to drink and FORCE myself to do so. I try to remember the pyramid of food intake, concentrate on proteins, have started vitamins, sip water when I can and make sure I have a 20 minute snooze if I have a heavy workload or evening engagement.

I feel the cold, "hungry" in the evenings and prone to snacking but recognise it as a bad habit and am learning to do without, to resist.

Emotionally I feel stronger and stronger, more "EMPOWERED" by my new life. I often forget that I have actually had major surgery so well I feel! By now I can live a relatively "normal" life, to the point of not necessarily referring to my surgery. I can just about get away with spending the week-end with friends who don't know and "eating" like them!

This surgery has really changed my life for the better. I would do it again if necessary!

What is paramount in assisting in a good recovery is strong moral support. My husband has been fabulous, encouraging every day. My children are relieved that I "survived" the surgery and are protective over my pouch.

This Forum has been paramount in my recovery: expert advice, support, fun, recommendations and insight, from people who truly understand - available 24/7! Far superior support than only the knowledge of professionals. On this Forum, all the Members have actually lived the worries, fears, relief, tears, happiness, excitement, anguish, loss (of weight), jubilation, sad times, low days... First hand knowledge of over 5000 Members!

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR OVERWHELMING AND FABULOUS SUPPORT TTF MEMBERS, Bear and Gym Rats!See you around!Cheers!VimUPDATE AT 10 WEEKS OUT

Hello my TT Friends, I am thrilled to have received a few PMs since posting my story. Rather than answering the questions individually, I hope that they might be of use to even more of you, hence the update of my thread. You will know whom you are when you read on!

Nausea

When I was expecting my first child, 24 years ago, I was recommended a couple of drops of TINCTURE OF ORANGE on a sugar lump to kill off the nausea of morning sickness. You can find the stuff from old-fashioned chemists and take the drops in water instead of using sugar. This has been absolutely a blessing for me ever since. Really useful to combat morning, car or travel-sickness, or anxiety attacks. Alternatively, you can try BACH’s RESCUE REMEDY, available also from pharmacies or health food stores.

A lot of the nausea lingers on because of the “fear” of being sick. When pregnant, I was recommended by the same family doctor to carry a small, coloured plastic bag (so as to “hide” the contents!), to be kept instantly accessible (pocket, handbag, glove compartment…) in case I felt about to be sick. The mere idea of having somewhere into which I could be sick if caught out was immensely reassuring and as a result calmed me down considerably. For the last quarter of a century, I always have a small coloured bag in a pocket – very useful subsequently for toddlers’ wet underpants, dogs’ mess when out walking, picking mushrooms, flowers, as a spare bag for when my shopping bag handles break… A small pack of wet wipes is equally useful.

Also, sipping water in between deep slow breaths helped me…

“The 6 Questions”

My oldest child is dyslexic. To help him concentrate and keep things manageable for him in any situation, I ask him to always rely on “The 6 Questions” whenever he feels stuck: “Who, What, Why, Where, When and How”. If you are having issues with people close to you in accepting your intended surgery, try to draw up a list with as many questions for each word, e.g. “Whom does my surgery involve?, Who will look after my kids during my stay in hospital. Whom can I count on for support? Who will be against my surgery? Who will pay? Who will perform the surgery?”. “What does the procedure involve?”. “What are the likely side-effects?”

Write out a chart with the six questions in six columns at the top. On the left, going down, address each topic: family, surgery, hospital stay, work, finances, food… the list is as long as you wish! But, for each topic, you only need to deal with the same old 6 questions, which you can ask over and over again in different angles!I use the above format in my all areas of my life. My kids have used it countless times during school examinations when they felt “petrified” and unable to answer the exam papers.

Emotional Strength

I have been “battered and bruised” many times in my life that, as a true Cancerian, I have created a protective shell around me. The bottom line is that, even those who love and support you, may let you down – involuntarily albeit, e.g. through the death of a loved one… Therefore, as a survival tactic, I have long ago decided to “go it alone”. That way I can only have myself to blame, or better still, praise. I count myself blessed and fortunate to have found (and lost) wonderful companions along my road of life – my beloved husband has been walking on my path with me for 25 years so far (and I on his path!), with a sprinkling of children and dogs in tow…

I do not consider myself to be “selfish”, just looking out for myself is a responsibility I owe to my parents in that I am capable of looking after myself first and thereby strong enough to look after others.

If you are without support or understanding from those you love or share a life with, start with supporting yourself. You have come this far and are pretty sure you want this surgery. If you had to have the operation to save your life - or not do it and risk death, which would you rather have?! Do it for YOURSELF! The rest will fall into place. It IS difficult, but well worth it, sooner or later. Persevere! Do you remember dating somebody your family disapproved of? Often it is a question of social standing, (parents feel threatened by weaklings – nobody is against you marrying a prince/ss are they?!), poor finances (can’t afford you what you “deserve”), spongers (who will “use” you because they can’t be bothered/lazy) or in very rare cases because parents & friends can actually see you about to be abused and genuinely want to protect you from a truly damaging influence (drugs, gambling, physical abuse….). Jealousy plays a huge part too.

Further tips…

I am very glad I took every “reasonable” precaution pre and post-operatively. I have used HIBISCRUB, an anti-microbial body wash (including hairwash) for 5 days before and 5 days after my surgery, to minimise any risk of infection from having a vulnerable immune system in public places and from MRSA which is a real worry in UK hospitals…

Mobile and Internet communication…

In addition to bringing my regular cell phone, I have a separate “unlocked” mobile (cell phone) for my travels outside the UK. I use a SIM card valid anywhere in the world (rather than paying the considerable fee for use of my home cell phone abroad). I use “SIM4travel” which is an “international pay as you go SIM card” which, once activated, I can (or my husband or whoever entitled in the family) top up using the internet. I used it in my hospital room (with the approval of my roommate) or quietly down the end of the corridor, to keep in touch with my family.

I brought my laptop to the Hotel Acacia in Brugge/Bruges and got a free voucher each day from the reception for my connection – a brilliant way thereafter to use SKYPE or any other VOIP system to speak for free with the family and friends at home, and for my husband to work or surf the web, to kill time when I was in hospital….Weighing scales…I have invested £35 ($50) in a really great set of scales (Salter brand). It weighs in pounds, stones and kilos. It is programmable for up to 10 persons, based on age, height and fitness level. It measures weight, body fat (%), total body water (%), calories the body actually needs to perform and muscle mass (%). These scales have proven quite brilliant for me to keep an eye on my water intake, see my fat diminish and generally the pounds fall off! I weigh once a week, on surgery day or on key dates. My family is keen too to maintain their figure!

To be continued!

Best for now!

Cheers!

Vim
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Eating a peach...

Eating a peach...

Take a peach. Sun ripened, room temperature and just ripe, not overly ripe… Have you ever felt your lips reaching the velvety skin of a peach, them pursing as you sink your teeth into the flesh? Have you ever peeled off the velvety, dry, soft skin on top with your teeth, and felt your teeth meet the flesh of the fruit? Your tongue coming to the aid to catch the sweet aromatic juices as your teeth sink into the firm, soft flesh? You take a first bite, your mouth bursts with flavour, sweetness, slinkiness of the glossy morsel as your nose inhales the memory of peacefulness and warmth that has brought this fruit to ripeness. Ah, the excitement of that first morsel, the excitement of novelty, of a new experience. And how about further morsels, once the excitement subdues? A reflective mood and enjoyment replaces the initial reaction, and as you continue you reach the woody, rough solid stone. The tip of your tongue feels the holes and grooves, meets the filaments that tickle your tongue. With all flesh gone, you might use your incisors to carefully lift those filaments, trying to prize them away intact. The stone remains alive and part of the fruit as long as it is wet. Once you discard it, you detach yourself from that complicit moment of sheer enjoyment of what was that very peach…

A stone per pound

A fun thread came on yesterday, with a table of the equivalent of your loss by a different measure

According to it, I have lost the equivalent of an elephant's heart, have still a 5000 BTU air conditioner to lose until I reach my goal of a 2 month old horse.

However, as I feel stronger and different about my weight loss surgery than I do compared with any other dieting I have ever done, I know that my RNY will work! I am DETERMINED for it to WORK! I SHALL SUCCEED!

For every pound I loose, I place a stone in my garden, thus building very gradually a flower bed - my reward upon reaching my goal is to plant a flowering bush (rhododendron, camelia, hydrangea, magnolia...) for me to tend and which will give me great pleasure and be a secret reminder that out of planting these stones I have blossomed... For any weight put on, a stone per pound comes away - now who would want to spoil my garden?

Vim’s Retreat

I had put my home in order, food in the refrigerator and backups in the freezer, done all the laundry and ironing, watered and trimmed the plants, delegated instructions, packed my belongings and managed a late night Skype call with my TT Friends…

My husband drove me to the airport, with a last minute exchange of practicalities and responsibilities before our final embrace…

Through immigration and security controls at Heathrow airport, everybody watching everybody, guarding passports and hand luggage with the new care that the treat of terrorism has taught us…

The golden expensive liquids from the tax free, super made-up beauticians who appear all fake with bitchy smiles for whom kicking off their shoes and snuggling into something comfortable and not doing a job they did not like on a week-end would be more appealing…

Boutiques groaning under luxury wares whom nobody can afford or would want to purchase at the airport now that better discounts can be found elsewhere….

Long corridors to my departure gate… uneventful flight.

My nephew at arrivals with my brother awaiting me by the car with balloons and the biggest grin to welcome me and genuinely impressed with my transformation. Home to a family gathering, lots of wows, thoughtful foods and family warmth, late night talking and only a little sleep.

My bus ride on my own to the retreat was calming and a gentle transition from the boisterous family get together.

The convent’s comfort is modern though it is centuries old and just as traditional in its form. A sister welcomed me and verified my booking, my dietary requirements and confirmed the reason for my stay. A novice took me to my room at 09:45 and she looked after my needs during my 10-day stay, a little like her own transition from the common world before taking her final vows. My room was about 14 feet by 12: under a simple cross, a comfortable bed with a warm duvet/comforter, two good pillows, bedside table, lamp, medium-sized simple table, solid, comfortable chair, a hand-woven blue cotton rug on the polished floorboards. A small wardrobe with a few shelves. The medium window was framed by simple embroidered curtains. On the table was a little vase with freshly picked branches and moss, a jug of water, and hand-blown glass, a basket of convent-baked cracker bread (Ryvita type), all of which were changed daily, a bowl of sand and the Bible. The overall impression was white, light and airy. The window looked onto the cloisters’ courtyard. The sand, I later found out, was intended to be handled, helps one to think as it sieves through one’s fingers. Indeed that proved true!

Within moments I had unpacked my few belongings, laid out my notebook, pencils and fountain pens and set myself up in the en-suite shower/wc room. I would be collected from my room at 11 am for prayers and lunch. So, here I was again, with an hour to go and “nothing” to do. I lay on the bed, to rest as a means of catching up from my previous lack of sleep.

My novice led me in silence to the chapel and assigned me a seat. Five other non-convent individuals were seated randomly. The sisters were seated at the front. One got up, read from the Bible and sat down. A good quarter of an hour or so later another sister got up, read something else and another two more did the same. Throughout the hour, having taken in the décor of the chapel and spent time wondering what our meal would be like, I was very stimulated when the prayer session came to an end.

Lunch was a very sociable occasion with good conversation and getting to know each other. The five other women were about my age or older, one an over-stressed professional, one a widow, another an annual retreater and the other two first-timers. I had been to the same convent retreat three years ago but only for 4 days then.

The meals were typically Swedish in composition and served at 11 am and 5 pm with simple snacks in between. Porridge for breakfast, cold herring variants and potatoes in different form for lunch, fish or meat with vegetables for supper. The nuns had very kindly contemplated my gastric bypass condition and adapted the same foods for me. All went most beautifully down! I was fed on time, delicious homemade, fresh food with prime ingredients – bliss!

After lunch each went back into our rooms for four hours in total silence. The first 3 days were difficult without sounds. Mornings were taken up with waking at 6am, breakfast, prayer, quiet time, prayer, lunch. At some stage every afternoon a nun came to our room for 15-30 minutes to either talk, pray or sit in companionable silence. Communal evening prayer before our meal and back into our rooms for the night at 8pm. Electricity out at 10pm.

I was told of the timetable on the day of arrival but had no clock or visible time for the duration of my stay. A bell rang to wake us up and a warning bell a few minutes before lights out. Initially sitting in a neutral room with “nothing” to do was an anti-climax but quite quickly one learns to appreciate small things. Looking out of the window and appreciating the shapes of clouds, studying the branches and the buds maturing, listening out for birdsong, watching the squirrels’ behaviour, anticipate when the rain would come.Early to bed and early to rise. I did get quite enough sleep. It was deep and restful. I had a regulated life for 10 days, no responsibilities, was fed and looked after. What more could a girl want?!In my free time I sat and thought, superficially at first, then with more and more precision and debated within me the pros and cons of my self-arguments. The topics covered anything in my life, be it easy or sad. I forced myself to think and to be honest with my responses. A heavy period of introspection. It was demanding, tiring, disturbing, uplifting, freeing and still now most liberating.

I valued my time of simplicity. The sisters who visited me in the afternoons were very discreet, we spoke a lot or a little about the soul. The second week, having “calmed down” I spent some of my time helping the nunnery: scrubbing floors, teaching computer skills, mending and used my language skills to write to their counterparts in other countries across the globe.

I was immensely busy in my solitude. I went inside to places where normally I would avoid and met face on with uncomfortable truths, came to know my enemies.After 24 hours without internet, telephone, a clock or other domestic gadgets, I slipped quite comfortable into the world of comfort in simplicity – something that I have always tried to keep true to at least one week in summer each year.

I have returned enriched, empowered, strengthened and with joy in my heart. 10 days is as long as I can take at the moment to lock myself away by choice. As a chid I was sent to my room to think about the naughty behaviour I had done so the retreat aspect was familiar.I was brought up as a Protestant with a Catholic convent schooling but have transferred my allegiance to the Quakers (Religious Society of Friends). From my Quaker Meetings I am used to the silent worship but I often miss ecclesiastical music, hence I am to be found in both the Meeting Rooms and the Anglican Church.Leaving the convent retreat and facing the world again was difficult – the outside world is noisy, rushed, false and out of touch with the inner self. Just sitting quietly for a few minutes per day is rewarding and refreshing.

We've been gatecrashed!!!

Yeah, seriously, you wouldn't have believed it possible!

I mean, there are 5 of us in the house, not to count the cat and the three dogs!

Right under our noses and nobody batted an eyelid nor said anything, at all! Come on, I mean, how about our privacy! In our own home! That really takes the biscuit - it sucks!

Oh, did I mention it is a mouse?!

Sadly, cat's 12th birthday today - she has aged! And no credit to the Jack Russell - lousy terrier! The labrador is too kind to meddle, the pug puppy is too tired to participate, my husband and son are asleep and my 19 year old daughter is the one who is managing to fall asleep in the very bedroom it was found! I'm sitting on my high stool in the kitchen, writing this from a safe height!Firing? Nah, I'll find a way!

Voyage into your conscience...

Voyage into your conscience

This Forum has given me in just four months so much support and friendship and practical advice. Now I am seeking a different level of understanding in my own voyage into my own conscience and wonder whether any of you have taken a similar journey…

We Forum Members post considerably about surgery procedures, wow! moments, nutrition, our feelings about work and play, our marriages, children, bereavements, personal stories that may have been easy to write and some much less so.

I feel we imply that we have all reached our Morbid Obesity through years of built-up luggage, some pretty ugly, all stemming from valid hurts and misunderstandings at the various stages of our life. The common point we share is that these low points have been ill-dealt with and unsolved, stacking a number of similar situations along the way. The rest is bad habit, lack of education, lack of resources, lack of support and above all a broken spirit where that particular subject is concerned.

We all have in us the material for turning our lives into a book or a movie, with quite a few added chapters after our gastric bypass surgery! A lot depends on how any given situation is presented!

What strikes me is how nearly all of us on here are givers or carers, though many of us come here as takers. I for one have come on this Forum to soak up your experience and wisdom, your sense of humour, thus enabling me to put my own life into perspective. By hearing your accounts, you have given me a perimeter of sorts, thereby creating my own new sets of values based on what appears “normal”.

What my thread is really about is going beyond all your posts and delving into the inner-self, our conscience, which, for many of us, is a terribly difficult act. The very proof is the fact that we are here because of morbid obesity. We are able to look out for everybody else but ourselves… And yet, one day something set us in motion, sufficiently to really change our lives, with the intention for the better and for our health. I would like to provoke us into thinking hard and deep. I absolutely do not want to pry or even expect your answers. We have all written on here what we have been prepared to share publicly in the private and highly specialised environment of these brilliant pages. I would like you to go beyond what you have given to others and reach your inner depth, where you yourselves hardly ever go unless pushed.

It is not my meaning to belittle the entries on this Forum and I can only apologise if I come across as arrogant and superior. I am just as vulnerable as you all are. I only would like to go beyond the social aspect. You may already have found an answer, you may have been fortunate years ago to have moved on or you may be scared of even going there for fear of no longer being strong and in control of your new life post surgery.

I would like to go beyond the social coping skills and new-found life of the post op long timers.It is only fair that I share my version…I am 50 years old and have had so far an eventful, though not extraordinary life. One aspect of course is how I define my own life.

I have two much older brothers and my Father so longed for a daughter and was over the moon when I was born. However, my Mother was not in the least pleased – she had accepted to have another child for his sake as she had her own marital agenda. When I was 8 I declared her a witch: we had agreed to dislike each other. My beloved Father and I had an intense meeting of our souls and he poured his love and affection into me at every opportunity – very much Daddy’s little princess. And then he died on my 12th birthday and my happy childhood, as I knew it, was shattered for ever more. My widowed Mother and I forged a loyal and courteous bond, protected by a traditional upbringing and moral convention. From an early age I had a key around my neck and she and I were independent from each other, she travelling frequently whilst I went to school and lived on my own at our home. She left a weekly food allowance and the maid’s wages and her hotel name. Surprisingly, it worked well and I was basically a decent, respectful kid who valued immensely my time home alone. The view onto the lake and mountains from our home was magnificent and ever changing and sustained me in my moments of woe. As a teenager I was passionate about classical music and opera in particular though I never played an instrument nor sang.

I understood many, many years later that the reprehensible behaviour from our trusted neighbour abroad was actually sexual abuse from the age of 5 and which led to rape when I was 15. I fell in love at the age of 17 and for 7 years I had an interesting relationship with a warm and kind lost soul. The young man and I broke off our engagement when it became clear that his sexual personality was that of Jekyll and Hyde and that he was not prepared to seek professional help after he too had raped me. I was broken-hearted by this betrayal because underneath a medical condition lay a wonderful individual. We remained friends until he died many years later.

My passion for chocolates and sweets arose from the age of 5, which explains the timing. I grew up in a culture where vanity kept you within an acceptable weight band and it was only with the birth of my first child that I put on 15 pounds, which I never managed to lose. That started my slippery slope of weight gain.

After my Father’s death, my Mother went alone to Taiwan for 4 months, leaving me in the caring hands of the parents of my class friend. That is how, at 13 years, I had a nervous breakdown, which, from when I was 15, transformed itself into clinical depression and which I struggled with for 30 years.

Over the years I have worked through the various topics of hurt and shame in my life and have come to terms with what I cannot change and tried hard – often succeeding – at repairing and moving on. Basically, I am at peace with myself and content with what I have achieved.

I am immensely grateful to my wonderful marriage of 25 years, 3 beautiful, kind and loving children, 3 dogs and a now secure roof over our heads. We have all of us together weathered many, many storms, anxieties, disagreements, financial worries and differences of opinion, but ultimately, we only have each other and our loyalty to each other, through thick and thin, is of paramount importance to us and what keeps us strong.

My 89-year old Mother died last year as a result of a fall. She realised she would likely get a brain clot from her hitting the back of her head and did not want to burden anyone with a potential long drawn out end of life. So, she took a considerably increased cocktail of her usual medication and opted for the great sleep, in her own terms and conditions. Immensely brave of her and I admire her guts to take control of her destiny. I was privileged in being able to be by her bedside night and day the last week of her life, even though she was in a coma. The week she spent dying became for me a process of death, out of life, just as the process of coming into this world through birth. Very powerful, strengthening and reassuring.

My brothers and I dealt with our Mother’s demise with great dignity, closeness, efficiency and respect. One lives in Sweden, the other in China and I in the UK. We have always been geographically apart, sometimes not seeing each other for 2 years or more, but always very close and available for each other. It was my younger brother who desired me to have my GBS because he wanted to protect me from myself and safeguard me for my and our families. He was a true inspiration and support.

Having dealt with the practicalities surrounding my Mother’s death, being physically involved with organising and taking up my time, and that inherent to my surgery in addition to working and living my life, I have been able to hide behind a timetable and being busy, glossing over the deeper meaning of life through social activity and preoccupations.

But, a little voice, from very deep within, reminded me to be true to myself. Hence this thread!

I owe it to my self, my husband’s and children’s, my parents’ moral, physical and emotional investment in me to develop and thrive. So, now that I have dealt with the physical aspect of my life, I owe it to myself and to them to grow. They trust me, they need me, they love me. And I am starting to trust myself, for perhaps the first time.

This is more than improved self-confidence. The surgery helped with that aspect: weight loss equals slimmer figure equals greater attractiveness hence feeling better and a wonderful upward spiral. What I mean is something that goes beyond the social self-confidence, more like a moral responsibility. The true individual beneath the veneer, stripped of all social niceties… Growing when you are already grown-up. Pushing one’s own boundaries. Moral courage.

Let me know if you feel up to seriously thinking outside your tank. I am not asking what. All I am asking is that you go there – or at least try.

Vim

Knowing what I can eat when I go out...

Though I am generally quite a confident girl, I have tested my pouch in the safety of my home and when going out, with the support and knowledge of my nearest friends. Once I was so bad that we had to leave the restaurant and I only felt well once I reached home. They had been "in on it" from the beginning, with the understanding that we "would see how it goes". So, when, having to pay our bill quickly and dash, nobody was let down.

I have tested a variety of foods at nearly 14 weeks out and know for a fact that as much as I cannot eat pasta, I CAN eat soup and/or ice cream/sorbet. So, I play safe with those specific foods, if I choose not to tell my fellow diners.Testing and learning the response from your pouch takes time. Results vary from week to week. Over a six week period I have tried toast, each time to the same bad result. Bottom line, I just don't touch the stuff. Knowledge is power: now that I KNOW that toast is no good for me, I just make sure I avoid it altogether. I feel empowered by my knowledge, and thus grow in self-confidence. But it has taken weeks to reach this stage, in the safety of my on home, with plenty time to experiment.

Testing my pouch - ALARMING results!

Testing my pouch – ALARMING results!

Yes, it is EXCEEDINGLY difficult to undo 45 years of bad eating habits. It is more a question of the “mind” rather than what the body craves I think. A strong-willed person “wouldn’t even go there”, i.e. even consider eating the “wrong” foods post-surgery. I am VERY aware of that. HOWEVER, with the support of my husband and our 3 children (19, 21 and 23) I have been experimenting with textures, foods and quantities, in the safety of my home to better understand my surgery. In one instance, I was “frightened” by what I discovered, (you’ll find out below!) because, in a way, it feels as though my surgery doesn’t even “protect” me from myself! Yes, the RNY is a tool, not the solution!

I had my RNY surgery performed in Belgium where Dr. Dillemans uses a slightly different technique to the US.

My limb is 130 cm, the surgery type is “Capella” and the pouch is slightly larger than in the US, resulting with virtually no vomiting or diarrhoea.

I am feeling really great and often forget that I had my surgery nearly 14 weeks ago. I have lost 38 pounds and experience no “side-effects” which is on the track recommended by my surgeon.

As a result, I have decided to test my pouch by experimenting in the safety of my home, especially as I have a clear diary for a couple of weeks!

I am testing foods, textures, quantities, portions, mixing and matching and noting my weight, how my head feels, my mood and obviously my pouch’s response!

Pre-surgery I have always been prone to bloating due to wheat, resulting in water retention (e.g. very swollen ankles and fingers). I could nearly drink the recommended daily intake, would spend the following 24/36 peeing 7-9 times in the morning (and nothing in the afternoon) once I kick-started the “drinking”. Within 12 hours of the “drinking” regimen in action, I would stop being bloated (but still retaining water, though less).

Pre-surgery, for my optimum well-being, I would cut right down on milk, yoghurt and cheese, avoid wheat (bread, biscuits) and chose a corn or rice pasta instead.

For years I have been a pasta fanatic, in every shape, size, flavour and sauce!

NOW, post-surgery:

Toast: I can just about manage half a slice (with or without a scraping of butter). Doesn’t slide down very well.

Biscotte: it sort of “melts in the mouth”, same goes for dry crackers (Ritz crackers too).

Eggs: very well tolerated, in order of preference: scrambled, omelette, soft boiled

Risotto “al dente”: absolutely no more than 2 mouthfuls! Too heavy in consistency – great sadness ensues!

Pasta (wheat or otherwise): too “gluey”, just lumps together, stodgy and heavy. Avoided like the plague!

Chicken: needs to be finely ground (like couscous) and drenched in gravy. However, a tiny tapas style chicken kebab, small morsels well chewed, go down a treat!

Fish: poached with considerable sauce or smoked salmon to allow it to “slip down”. Being careful not to “stack” the fish: important to select different foods with each mouthful e.g. fish / tomato / potato puree / fish etc.

Milk: because of lifelong allergies (milk is quite mucous forming, hence the “blocked nose” first thing in the morning) I have avoided milk.

However, now I mix a scoop full of protein fibre (equivalent to my necessary total daily requirement) in with a glass of milk which I blend to a milkshake consistency. It is far more palatable and lets itself be drunk quite easily.

Tea: I used to die for my cup of tea (strong, half a drop of milk and one teaspoon of sugar). Now it holds no appeal nor flavour for me. I drink perhaps half a cup on waking and the half a teaspoon of sugar (tried all types) is neither here nor there! Can barely drink it! Wet and bland!

Coffee: I am only interested in the first 2-3 mouthfuls, more a question of wishing to enjoy the flavour of coffee. I am indifferent in drinking or needing it.

Fizzy drinks, incl. Champagne: I have given them all up, knowing from pre-surgery that sparkling water just swells my stomach! (half a glass of Champagne brut is ok).

Red/white wine: I have been allergic to wine for the last 20 years, so I rarely touch the stuff alas. White wine is preferable, but I easily take it or leave it, so not really a post-op issue for me.

Cottage Cheese: grand food! Very versatile and useful with savoury or fruit.

Baked potatoes: fluffy flesh with lots of unsalted real butter or cottage cheese or tomato sauce. Not the skin though.

Smoothies: for a happier pouch, a more liquid diet has benefited from smoothies, and I also got my “5 portions of fruit a day” rolled into one. However, even though they are organic and have no added sugars or artificial anything, I believe the natural sucrose is rather high, so I have cut right back (advice given by Sheree!– thanks again!).

Soups: any variety, consistency – brilliant

Yoghurt: I get bored with the same smooth, blandness of the various organic brands… Useful to have at all times.

Preferred foods: Shepherd’s Pie, Cottage Pie, Cumberland Pie, Fish pie, scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, poached salmon, prawns, avocados, soups, smoothies, yoghurt and ice-cream/sorbet. All these I can eat as a “full meal”, feel content and satiated and are my secure choices at all times, hence ideal when I go out or entertain at home (ideal for when I eat with those whom I have not told about my surgery).

Foods that are ok to eat in very small quantities: chopped spinach, finely chopped leeks, oven baked tomatoes (avoid skin), soft boiled onions, one teaspoonful of honey.

I have tested foods that I considered could cause concern, for say after a couple of mouthfuls and have abandoned them for a while:

Toast, broccoli, cauliflower, mange-tout, baked beans, lettuce/salads, gherkins/pickles

Uncomfortable to eat: rice, toast, spicy food (Indian, Lebanese food), sausages (chorizo etc), thin ham slices, oysters

Now to the VERY ALARMING bit!!!: I am staggered that I have no side-effects AT ALL from eating 5 (yes, FIVE) biscuits/cookies (with fruit and nut, chocolate chip, ginger etc).

Half a tub of say Ben & Jerry’s ice cream(Phish food) or even HALF A POUND OF CHOCOLATE IN ONE DAY!

Here I am, 12 weeks out of surgery capable of eating half a pound of chocolate with no diarrhoea, no vomiting, no bloating, no nausea. I used to easily eat one pound of chocolate per day pre-surgery. This chocolate test is definitely a one-off. I had to try to understand my pouch. The surgery is supposed to have removed the “craving” pangs. Thankfully, yes, thankfully, I have little interest in the flavour of the chocolate I have eaten in this experiment. I would probably have enjoyed much more the Shepherd’s Pie.

My bottom line with the Chocolate Test is that it really is a question of mind over matter. My cravings for sweet things seems indeed to have disappeared and it is my brain that needs reeducating. Which proves that the tool is only as good as in the way in which you are prepared to use it. I am very alarmed, shocked and dismayed at how easy it was for me to eat this chocolate and feel no side-effects.

“Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil”. End result? Just stay totally clear of the wrong foods, WE DON’T NEED THEM as they do us no good! It is essential to learn to say NO!!!

I now really look forward to my “detox” over the next 48 hours, drinking water, drinking water and drinking water to eliminate this source of horror!

Learning to make intelligent choices is a question of education: reading of labels, learning about food values and food associations. Becoming more food technical as a means of finding the preferred fuel!

Adieu chocolate!!!

Vim