actrish
Well, here is my deal: I am a 34 y/o mommy of a spunky toddler named Padraig. My husband and I have been married for three years and live in Kentucky on our miniature donkey farm. We moved here when I found out I was preggo and decided this was where we wanted to raise our kids. We have a website: CumberlandMiniatures.com in which you can see some of our critters.
I have always been small. I am only 4ft 11inches and most of my life never had a weight problem. I can tell you the moment that it began: after highschool when I lost the love of my life. I was never the same. Suddenly the weight came on and I did everything I could to try and control it. From not eating to taking Ipecac syrup, laxatives and excessive exercising: I was the poster child for eating disorders.
Finally, in 1999 I had ballooned up to 287lbs. I couldn't tie my shoes. I was dating a nice guy who loved me no matter what, and I just couldn't love him back cause I hated myself so much.
I decided to have Gastric Bypass RNY surgery. Back then it wasn't talked about much and it certainly was considered a shameful means to an end. So quietly, without even my parents knowing (HUGE regret) I went under the knife and proceeded to lose over 150lbs. I got down to a size zero and started my life all over.
In 2000 I met a guy who promptly moved me up to Boston where I could go to grad school and live with him. The only thing is: he was involved with a woman for the past 20 years who was terminally ill and he had committed to a hospital. He still sends her flowers and visits. I didn't know that, but you better believe when I found out I was pretty devastated. So, the start of 2001---Valentine's Day when he sent her two dozen roses, I moved to Vegas.
Incidentally, this guy still has all my stuff and refuses to give it back.
Vegas was what I affectionately call: "My Whore Days." I was a dating machine! Mind you, I didn't SLEEP with every guy I went out with, but I did go out on a lot of dates. I had never really dated before, so it was kinda fun there for a while. UWell, when ya date *that* much, you are bound to run into a stalker. Yup. I did. And although it wasn't the police officer I thought it would be (who hung out at my house all hours of the night...but that's another story...) he did annoy me for a week or two. I figured he would go away if I moved to California, so I took a job as a production assistant and spent most of my time on the train back and forth from San Bernadino to LA. Life was exciting in LA and I got to meet several celebrities like Nick Cage, Bernie Koppell and even Roseanne! But you can take the girl out of the South, but you can't take the South outta the girl. Man, I missed my family back home in Florida somethin' awful.
During 911 I was moving into my new house on a horse ranch. I started having seizures. I would wake up on the floor with my face stuck in a puddle of slobber. I thought: "OMG, I must be an alcoholic!" I had been drinking occassionally and was really stressed out about the events going on in NY (I had lived there, had friends and gone to school in NYC during my college years back in the early 90's) So I stopped drinking any alcohol. But the seizures continued. The biggest one was Christmas Eve 2001 when I passed out after cooking Christmas dinner for all my friends. Strangely enough: three out of six of them were violently ill the next day.
I continued to work myself into a hole, not paying attention to the signs my body was telling me and overdoing my limit by leaps and bounds. At this point I was 111lbs and working at Disneyland and making that long commute back to my house every two or three days. Most of the time I would just work as many hours as I could so I wouldn't have to. After about a week of solid shifts I finally took the train home, walked in to my house and collapsed on the bed---fully dressed with my shoes on. It was at this moment when Mr. Stalker decided to set a paint bucket of hot coals next to my bed and leave. Somewhere between installing "Starr" software on my computer and lurking around the woods of my house, he called 911 and left the phone off the hook.
The paramedics show up and all I can remember hearing is: "Stay with us..." I apparently had such a toxic level of carbon monoxide in my blood that I was fifteen times the level of "safe." They put me in a hyperbaric chamber with an armed guard next to my bed. I was on suicide watch. Meanwhile, Mr. Stalker had been busy gutting my cat and writing obscene messages on the walls of my house with her blood.
After eight days in the hospital with no way to pay for it, I was released. My parents begged me to come straight from the hospital to the airport. But I insisted that I go and get my beloved tabby cat who was still at the house. Meanwhile, the police had gone through the place doing an investigation. Instead of a botched suicide attempt they found blocks of rat poison in my furnace and the broiler of my stove. Thus, the seizures. Everytime I would turn the furnace on it would pump through the vents of my house and I would ingest it. The Christmas Eve dinner I served my friends was laced with arsenic from the poison being in the broiler of the stove. The police did not find Mr. Stalker, but assured me that he would eventually be picked up because there were several warrants for his arrest.
Having faith in our judicial system and a strong belief in Karma, I borrowed my neighbor's car so I could drive out to an orange grove and bury the remains of my cat. I will spare you the details of what I had come home to find. On the way back, distraugt and grieving something ran out into the road in front of my (borrowed) car. I swerved to miss it. Thinking the flash I had seen was a pot bellied pig, I pulled the car over and frantically began searching for it. Little did I know what it was was in fact, a curly tailed dog hiding under my car. This had to be the UGLIEST dog I have ever seen. And the fattest. Naturally I considered this an act of God, scooped this ugly thing up, put her in my car and drove to drop the car off.
What can I say...I know what it feels like to be fat and ugly.
I had to stay in the house for three looooong days trying to get out of California. LAX was having bomb threats every-other-week, so it kept me from hopping a flight home to Florida. In that three days I watched this short, stumpy, pot-bellied dog have a litter of 8 puppies. Each one, dead. She neatly arranged them in rows, groomed them and tried to breathe for them, but seven out of eight were stillborn. The one survivor I took back to the hospital where a nurse let me give it to a needy Mexican family. Their daughter had been paralized in a car wreck the week before and was not responding. Apparently, the girl's boyfriend told her if he couldn't have her, nobody could and drove off the side of a cliff. Sad. Well, I show up with this puppy, freshly pulled off it's mama's teetwhen this girl saw the dog she began to blink wildly. Her parent say that was the first time she had responded since the accident and they had plans to use the dog for her recovery.
I had to hitchhike from LAX airport to John Wayne Intl. It is only by the grace of God that I lived to tell you this story today. Knowing what I know now, in all the mistakes that come with youth, I would never advocate hitchhiking. But I did it in a frantic effort to get back home. With my ugly dog by my side.
In the years that followed, I did finally get home to Florida, just in time for Spring Break. I spent the week of down in Orlando auditioning for Universal Studios and transferring to Disney World with my best friend, Mark. Unfortunately, our friendship deteriorated--probably due to the fact that both of us had had WLS and were struggling to find out who we were.
I lived in Orlando for a while until this freaky thing happened: I had been staying at the Wilderness Campgound with my brother and his kids and just hopping the steamboat back and forth to go to work everyday for about a week when I needed a change of clothes. I asked my brother to drive me over to my apt so I could grab some stuff. On the way there there is a guy walking down the sidewalk. Yep. you guessed it. It's Mr. Stalker. Let me paint a picture for you: Here is my very identifiable pepto-bismol pink 4x4 was parked in the parking space slot corresponding to the number of my apartment. Luckily, I wasn't there and it was daylight, so I guess he decided not to break in. Who knows. At any rate, my brother (a police officer--who knew?) phoned in a call and tried to get him picked up. This creeped me out so bad that I in turn, moved out of that apartment and to an undisclosed location far, far away.
I began teaching drama at a local performing arts school and auditioned for a role in the musical "Gypsy" at Florida's second largest theatre. I landed the part of stripper "Tessie Tura" as well as several other roles that needed to be filled by someone who could learn the lines quickly. Imagine that: ME a STRIPPER! Burlesque, that is.
I won a local "Tony" award and established a secure income of teaching at the theatre. It was my dream job and I loved it. The only reason that I left was because I became pregnant and met my future husband Scott. And I left on May 9th---almost 8 months pregnant! The truth is, I knew all thos years of being Mickey was not going to be enough. I wanted those 2,000 kids I saw a day to be MINE! I knew it when I hit 28-- the age when my mom had me. Little did I know that Scott wanted eight kids!
Scott tried and tried to get rid of me. He told me all the classic lines men tell women to make themselves seem unattainable. He was broke. He was unemployed. He lived in a travel trailer he affectionately called: "The Cracker Box". I kept on coming back. Finally, we began "internet dating" while I was killing myself at Disney. I didn't have time to date in real life anyway, and besides that, I could never seem to pin him down in person. He was always off travelling somewhere. Hmmm. Then one day we planned a date. Unfortunately, it was a day that a hurricane struck the gulf, but never the less, he showed up at my door. With his house on wheels. I would commute an hour South and he an hour West to Tampa everday. I found out why he travelled so much. It's called Money. Pretty soon we shacked up together in my apartment and spent the weekends running from hurricanes.
Well, I don't have to tell you what it is you do when you are alone in the dark for extended periods of time...
And in the midst of all that I asked Scott what he thought about being "safe". His answer to me was: "I think we should let God handle it."
And He did. He handled it, alright. Halloween night we got all dolled up in our Rhett and Scarlett costumes (complete with Bro in law as Doc Holiday) and painted the town. Next thing ya know: I'm late.
November 2004 I had planned on auditioning for "Little Shop of Horrors" at the theatre. Only, the night I was scheduled to audition I took my first ever pregnancy test. Er, tests. I missed the stick the first time and peed on my hand, mostly, so I had to go back to Wal-mart and get another. This time I was smart and got a two pack. When the second didn't show anything I took the third. Late for my audition, I left it on the bathroom sink in the travel trailer we were now living in together, and went to my audition.
I can honestly say: I didn't care if I got the part or not. I just *knew* I was pregnant. Up there on stage dancing I could only think about baby names. If I got the part I was sure I was gonna name the baby "Audrey". Thank God I wasn't cast because it would have been a horrible way for a boy to go through life.
So, Scott and I had our son Padraig in 2005. We named him Paddy because I'm the Tricia, my mom is PAtricia, and my grandfather is Patrick...so it just made sense to go with the Celtic form of all of our names combined.
That about catches us up!____________________________________________________________________________
After my RNY (99) with the Hackshop known as BTC, I maintained my weight loss for almost six years, until I became pregnant. After I delivered my son, which was a horrible ordeal, I began to gain weight and have been struggling to get insurance approval to have a revision.
My husband gradually became non-supportive...I like to say more like LIMITED in his support of my decision to have surgery again. Really hurts, but I get it. His mother had a radical stomach stapling in 1977 and he blames her early death on complications due to that "butchering" as he calls it. During these times I have stopped asking him to go with me to frequent Dr. appointments because of the eyerolling, huffing and puffing, and general attitude. So, I am doing this on my own.
Regardless, I have made this decision and because I have been on the other side, feel that without revision surgery I will crawl back into the hole I fought so hard to get out of back in 1999.
I hired the folks at ObesityLaw.com to fight for my cause. It has been three months now and still no word. Hurry up and wait. Anthem seems to think a little thing like an exclusion is gonna stop me. *In bad foreign villian accent* HA! I LAUGH IN YOUR FACE ANTHEM!!!
I have begun researching Mexico as another option. It is gonna happen. It just depends on if it's gonna happen on the sunny shores of Mexico or the sunny...uh...suburban hospital.
Like sand through the hourglass.....
June 3, 2006*** Still no word from anyone on the legal team on what the status is of my appeal. I should be getting a letter in the mail I'm told, with all the details. Kelley seems to think that the wording in my policy, although an exclusion is there, doesn't apply to my case because we are FIXING A PREVIOUS MEDICAL CONDITION: CORRECTIVE SURGERY.
June 28, 2006*** Happy FREAKIN birthday.
Well, today is my birthday. Unfortunately, the worst bday I think I have ever had in my life. I decided to officially begin my WLS blog on this date to prove a point. Who to, exactly, I am not sure...but I am hoping that looking back on this after a year will change the way I feel about things.
I was in the truck with my husband and my brother in law today, going to do meanial tasks like shopping and the post office, when a beautiful, leggy blonde walked across the parking lot. Well, not only did my husband stop traffic and almost get rear-ended in watching her cross, but he did the chicken neck thing *AS* he whipped into the parking spot right next to her. We were STILL MOVING as my little brother in law *JUMPED* out of the truck and struck a pose next to it, staring at her---trying to get her attention. I have never felt so awkwardly ugly in all my life. I waddled out of the truck and into the post office---the whole time my thighs rubbing together while I'm walking. I look over my shoulder and there they are still at it. With tears in my eyes I reach for the glass door and try not to catch a glimpse of my 234lb body.
Friday, June 30th 2006:
******EXTREME VENTILATION*****
Well, another day of feuding. It began when I actually bothered to talk about what was on *MY* mind: the fact that I had been researching the DS and they could probably use my "good" stomach to do it. The reply from hubby THIS time was: "Oh yeah, that's just what they told my mom: "hey, let's use this good piece of intestine" and it ended up killing her." I argued that that is NOT what he told me did her in and his answer was that she had a potassium deficiency and that caused her heart problem and killed her.
That's like buying a plane ticket and the plane crashing--- and it being your fault for buying the stinkin ticket!
I am so eager for my surgery, and I know it's one of the things that flies out of my mouth without me even thinking about it, but I want so badly to feel better.
I want to be able to walk without my feet swelling up and hurting me.
I want to feel pretty enough to wear make-up again.
I want to put on a pair of pants and not have them cut into my waist.
!@##$@ I am so tired of this crap. I cannot even TALK about anything that's important to me without somebody saying something negative. I mean, it's freakin' everything. I suggested we build my son a shipwreck swingset for his first bday (which is pirate themed) and even though his daddy built a deck on the back of the house, he can't build him a swingset. He laughed at my idea. So, of course, I say something positive, about him (Scott, my husband) being Mcgyver and he can do anything and he smarted off: "Yeah, ok. Why don't we just turn the silo out there into an amusement park with like, a Space Mountain ride in it....." And of course, brother in law found that amusing and laughed.
I had to get up from the table because I didn't want them to see the tears in my eyes. I felt so put down.
Wednesday, Glenn (previously mentioned brother in law who is really starting to get on my nerves) sat me down on the couch and tried to talk me out of surgery. WTH is this? A conspiracy?!
Dammit. This is MY life and I was this way (a RNYer) before my husband even met me!!!
I got it: I am gonna waddle right in there and tell him that cigarettes caused my mom a heart attack when she was 42 and he needs to stop smoking.
*pfft*
************Update**************
Well, about two weeks after the above post, my husband and I were coming home from our weekend cabin and had a very long discussion about my surgery. It was a wonderful talk, despite the tears. Uh, MINE of course. He really tried to be sensitive, but in the midst of saying: "It's true I wish you weren't heavy" I found myself really trying not to be offended at that. That was all I could hear ringing in my head the whole time.
He said he supports me and will make an effort to try harder.
I really hope I am not being hypersensitive. This relationship feels so conditional. I am so unhappy.
July 25, 2006: Baby Got Pox***
It has been a wild few weeks! My baby boy got chicken pox right before his first bday party and we had to postpone it. Then we had it and only a handful of people came. Still, it was a good time. He is already smarter than me and about half as tall!
I have had a lot of stuff on my mind lately: my weight first and foremost. My marriage being difficult. My youngun being secluded with no kids to play with. The fact that my cousin lives less than 30 mi away with her kids and won't make an effort to come visit unless I go there. She didn't even come to the bday party for Paddy after all we have done for her kids and her family. My life seems so one-sided in so many ways. She didn't bother to call for my bday, which really hurt my feelings, and the only thing she emails me about is her weight loss on Weight Watchers. I'm jealous.
ANYWAY, I'm oversensitive, I know. Think I will have m'self a Alka Seltzer cocktail and hit the sheets.
August 1, 2006: Lord Almighty, I feel my temperature risin***
I had a consultation with Dr. Maguire on Friday. We drove 5 hours to Dayton. Yes, my husband went with me.
What a nice office staff. He seems to be a nice guy too. Made me a little nervous cause he kind of just disappeared after he ordered my Upper GI and I thought he was coming back to talk to me again. He said it was rare because of the curvature of my stomach---er something like that. So, I head to the front desk and the secretary asks me about my next appt. Kim, the assistant said to call her on Tues and we would see if I needed to make another appt.
If I need to make one? Why wouldn't I make one? Huh?
Well...
This scared the crap outta me cause I thought maybe he wouldn't take on my case, so I worried myself sick about it all weekend. I finally starting calling the office at 8:30 and after leaving a message and not hearing back I phone Kim. She saw the films and said there was alot of barium, but she didn't really know what she was looking at. Doc Maguire was in surgery all day and probably wouldn't be back into the office today, so I don't have any answers yet.
When I was weighed in my weight was a whopping 240lbs. Up from the 225 it was last check. And my BP is elevated t' boot. Great.
Meanwhile, predictably the Ky. Dept of Insurance sent me a letter saying that Anthem still isn't gonna pay and that I could request an external appeal. My attorney figured as much, so we are gonna let this situation run it's course until we find out if Doc Maguire will convert my RNY to a DS and start the process all over again.
August 2, 2006: I'll Be Your Freakazoid***
HA! Dr. Maguire's office called yesterday whilst I was at the almighty Post Office griping about a box they have destroyed and lost the contents of, when Kim very hesitently asked me to wrap up so she could talk to me. I told her to go ahead, and she was like: "Uh, no....why don't you finish up there and I will call you back." Naturally, this scared the bejeezus outta me. So I practically ran outta the PO and got into my car to wait.
As you can imagine, that was the longest wait of my entire life.
I stared at that phone for ten minutes. Then I didn't stare at it cause I remembered that old addage: "A watched phone never rings." Well, thats total crap cause it didn't ring then either.
Finally, I turned on the radio, neurotically scanning stations and playing with air conditioning vents until she called back.
*****************RE-ENACTMENT*************
"Are you driving?" she said.
"No, I'm pulled over. What is it?" I asked nervously.
"Well, Dr. Maguire looked at the pictures of your pouch and is MORTIFIED." she said.
"OMG, what's wrong" I freaked.
"It's HUGE!" she yelled.
I guess I was supposed to be utterly shocked, but I knew the thing was, so I asked her if that was all that was wrong cause she was really scaring me LOL.
She said that he said: "OMG" and practically ran outta the room and down to the Rad Lab to talk to the Radiologist and see the films themselves. She was calling me when he left the room to tell me his reaction.
She said that HE said it was the biggest pouch he has ever seen.
Hot damn. I get the award for biggest pouch this man has ever seen in his 30something year history of bariatric surgery.
"I would like to thank all the little people...."
Wait. No, I don't want to thank them. I want to sit on them! I used to be one of those little people before this happened, dammit!!!
I guess I should have given Kim the ole "Price is Right" kinda scream (envisioning her holding the phone away from her ear waiting my reaction) when I heard, but I kinda figured as much. The good news is that everything else looks ok. :)
August 16, 2006: I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell***
Ok. Update: I have a dealine of Aug 19th to get all of my paperwork in to Anthem for External Review. Dr. Maguire's office is scrambling to make it happen for me so that I can submit my request for Dr. Maguire to do the surgery instead of Geller, and the surgery will not be a RNY revision but a conversion to DS. My attorney's office (ObesityLaw.com) has advised me to have them make the request because even if they deny it, we can use the info from Dr. Maguire's office to *GOD FOBID* start all over again if we have to. I have been sitting here trying to fax Anthem's rep with the fax maching unplugged.
*DOH!*
August 28, 2006: Denial aint just a river in Egypt***
My attorney recommended sending in a pre-cert for Dr. Maguire to Anthem, even though I am already appealing my current case with them through external review. Of course, Anthem denied Maguire's request. Kelley (ObesityLaw.com) seems to think it's transferrable even if they approve Geller's request. I will letcha know what happens. We have until Sept 12th to hear back.
(Side note: RIP Crocodile Hunter...We will miss you. I will have some sushi for you.)
September 5, 2006: I"M APPROVED! HOT DAMN!
THROW ANOTHAH SHRIMP ON TH' BARBIE!***
I got a phone call whilst on vacation in Florida from Nasty Cheryl @ Dr. Geller's office saying that the appeal had been overturned and I was approved! Needless to say, I had a complete and total nervous breakdown in the middle of the condo parking lot--crying and laughing, jumping up and down! She sat there very matter-of-factly and didn't say congrats or anything. Very "Uh-huh."
One more reason why I will NOT be having surgery at Dr. Geller's office. Dr. G, if you are reading this; I really like you but this woman's office etiquette and general attitude SUCK!
Then she says that even though I have been approved there is a long process of stuff yet to do: nutritional counseling, bloodwork, blahblahblah....
By this point I have tuned her out and am thinking: "Gosh, I gotta get off this phone and call Maguire's office!"
So I hang up.
And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the difference in a professional office full of good people who give a rat's behind about their patients: I call Maguire's office, and Vicki, another sweetheart who has been hustling to help me by getting letters to Anthem on a deadline, putting up with my constant phone calls to and from and just busting her arse to help me anyway she can, says: "CONGRATS! WE ARE SO HAPPY FOR YOU! I will tell everybody..even Jenifer!" LOL Sorry Jen! For those of you reading this and not getting what you want from your potential surgeons' office a word of advice: DON'T SETTLE. Shop around until you find the people, credentials and comfort you deserve. I know that we neglect to take care of ourselves and tend to want to hurry up and just do it, but when it comes to this, you can't settle. I tried to overlook the fact that Cheryl never sent in my paperwork and basically drug her feet on everything having to do with my case (and probably everyone else's) and it almost cost me my chance at happiness.
Because there is not a whole lot of info on appeals, I am going to post the details of my appeal right off the paperwork:
1. Is the requested surgery (revision of RNY in 1999) being performed for reasons other than for weight loss and it's associated comorbidities?
Yes. The requested surgery is recommended to ersult in an improvement of her swallowing, dysphagia and heartburn, currently treated as reflux esophagitis with antacid medications. These symptoms are not caused by obesity, but by a complication of her previous surgery.
2. Is the revision medically necessary at this time for this patient?
Yes. The patient's current condition is a condition not directly related to obesity, which results in reflux and pain. The proposed surgery is therefore not merely bariatric, instead it directly treats an anatomic conditionunrelated to obesity, namely pouch dilation resulting in dysphagia and GERD. Even if the patient were thin, the pouch should be revised, according to her symptoms and findings.
3. Is the revision for a reason other than weight loss and is a covered benefit or is it excluded persuant to item 29 on page M-61 of her policy?
The requested procedure is NOT excluded under item 29. The procedure requested is directed to correct a condition caused by prior surgical complications. The correction does not involve bariatric surgery as described in item 29 on page M-61.
Neener! Neener! Gotcha Anthem!
BTW, the lady who did my review is the top ****. Listen to her credentials:
"I am board certified in Surgery. I have special training in laproscopic bariatric surgery, radioguided surgery, and minimally invasive breast biopsy, laproscopic techniques for vagotomy and anti-reflux gastric procedures, and laproscopic techniques of cholecystectomy and appendectomy. Currently, I am in full-time private practice. I am also the Co-Chairman of my hospital's Cancer Committee. My expertise is in general abdominal, thoracic, breast and thyroid surgery, with specialty in the treatment of morbid obesity. I have been in clinical practice for 16 years. I am a fellow of the American College of Surgeons and a member of the American Society of Bariatric Surgeons."
BAD ASS, HUH?!
I am sure that in my next policy all this language will be nice and cleaned up so that this doesn't happen again.
Sept 15th, 2006: Shake your groove thang!***
After much aggrevation with Anthem STILL saying that I haven't been approved this week, I got a phone call from the wonderful Jennifer @ Dr. Maguire's office this morning, who called Anthem for me finally got them to give her the authorization numbers so we could definitively schedule surgery. *WHEW* She has been on the phone with them all morning making sure I have met my deductible and everything is in order. And *drumroll please* I am scheduled for surgery at 7:15am on October 5th!
Sunday, Sept 24, 2006: "OMIGOSH! I ate a ricecake, I'm so naughty!"
Well, the countdown is still on and I am getting more nervous everyday. This weekend my family and I went to the local Apple Festival to get my mind off the fact that time has stood still. Ok, I admit: it was nice to get out for a change. I was in a pretty good mood, too.
DESPITE the fact that I want to kill someone for this !@#$! diet that I have to be on Pre-op, I mean.
So we stop at a gas station to grab some drinks and I jump out of the car and waddle in to the building with my son's sippee cup. It was badly in need of a rinsing before getting him some milk, so I headed toward the bathroom and shut the door. While I was in there I decided I had better take care of some "bidness." Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. So very politely I sort of sing: "Justaminute!" and finish up. As I emerge from the bathroom, there are two anorexically thin girls, one a woman and one a young girl standing looking somewhat impatiently. They were not next to the door, like most people wait, but about ten feet away in the middle of one of the aisles. When they heard the door open, they came around the aisle and saw me. Both of them looked at each other then let out a huge laugh. The younger, probably daughter (?) covered her mouth as the older, very leathery woman said : "God, there should be a seperate bathroom just for FAT people."
Daughter: "Yeah, I'm not goin' in there."
I was definetly in earshot. I had walked to the beverage cooler about two feet away and opened the door. I looked over my shoulder and saw the young one staring right at me through the foggy glass. I hung my head down for a second thinking that maybe, if I didn't move, I would just vaporize.
I proceeded up to the counter and said hello to the clerk, who smiled at me with all three teeth she had in her mouth and asked me how I was doing. (She looked like Katrina in Shallow Hal--the magical fruit?) I replied that I was fine and asked the clerk the same. I wondered if she had heard what they said. She was definetly trying to make conversation and probably wondering if I was gonna whip out a gun and go postal from the look on my face.
So about that time here comes Karen Carpenter from the bathroom with alleged daughter in tow. I figured this was my opportunity to set things straight since I didn't do any damage in the bathroom before she went in there, so I turned sharply and asked: ''Did everything came up ok?"
Well, CRAP! (Literally!) If I could only have those smelly foul odorous noxious vapors ASSociated with the DS NOW.
October 3, 2006: "Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin...."
I am SO excited. Can't sleep. I head out to Dayton for my pickline tomorrow AM and am on the table at 7:15 Thursday mo'nin. Yaaay!
Let me tell you what happened to me yesterday: I met a new friend. Yaaay! She is a lady who makes these really cool figurines out of the dirt here where I live. Yeah, dirt! I think that is so awesome. Anyway, this wasn't the first time I met this nice lady. I saw her that horrid day at the Apple Festival mentioned above. I called her up since I had bought some stuff there (and ironically about a year before that in a store I came across) and asked her if she could do a special order for me. We ended up visiting for four hours! We have a lot in common and I really hope our friendship grows because we both could use some support up here in the country!
I don't wanna get all boo-hoo about surgery, and I refuse to be scared, so I will cut this short and just say what I need to to my my family, husband and son: I love you with all my heart. And if it's God's time to take me, that's ok. I will miss you, but I know that daddy will take good care of you.
You are truly the best thing I have ever done, Paddy.
And Scott, thank you for loving me. I know it hasn't been easy.
My family: your love and support has meant everything to me all my life.
I love all of you.
Trish
OCTOBER 5, 2006 The DAY OF RECKONING*********
Well, I get to Dayton's hospital at 3:30 AM and get my picline put in. Scarey but they taped my arm down to the table to put it in.
I was first under the knife. It went great and I came out of surgery and into recovery farting. I was making jokes and laughing, eating ice chips (SCREW those nasty swabs, man!) within two hours. Recovery couldn't believe it.
I had almost no pain, and was eating and drinkin like a fish. They would fill up my TWO 900/ML water jugs with ice and leave four bottle of water on the nightstand so I wouldn't have to keep bugging the nurses. I put out 3500 units in my Foley. So much, it fell off the bed and burst on the floor! LOL Sorry housekeeping! I only had one problem: my potassium level was very low, so I had to stay an extra day in the hospital so they could run an IV.
I stayed for Dayton a week in an apartment by myself with home health nurses checking on me three times a week. Lookin' good! I have already lost 15lbs.
P.S. Don'tcha just wanna beat the ever lovin' !@#! out of those sinny pukes with a twinkie on America's Next Top Model?
UPDATE: Dec. 2006 Santa aint the only thing stuck up in the chimney! MERRY CHRISTMAS! I am doing well. Home visiting in Florida and feeling great. I have lost 40lbs. Life is much better, my marriage is getting better, and I am being a better mommy. I am going to reach my goal of under 200lbs for 2007! YAAAY!
