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04/02/03 Getting Started


155?!!! That’s the number in the middle of the high end of the green area in my age group on the chart on my gastric surgeon’s wall. 155! That can’t possibly be a number that relates to me in any way. I currently weigh 274 and I must say I don’t like that number one bit, but 155 seems so small, so far away, so unattainable.

Yet, driving home from my consultation, tears threatened when I realized that a part of me, a deep and quiet part of me, really wants to commit to that number as my goal. This part of me knows that if I commit to that number, then one day that number will show up when I step on a scale.

Commitment involves hope though, and hope is painful. By the time you get to be a morbidly obese 40 (or so) year-old, you are quite likely familiar with the “hope-commit-work-fail-grieve-rest-choose-hope-again” cycle. I think for now, I’ll wait until I have an insurance approval to hope some more. Meanwhile, I’ll get back on a good walking program, try to get past this bizarre eating phase I have been in the past two months, and continue lurking here. Good people here, I’ve noticed.

04/04/03 Bizarre Hideous Monsters

“Bizarre” Yea, that’s one word for it. Some other words are “frenzied,” out-of-control,” and “freaky.” I have never been a binge eater, but these past few weeks I think I am getting a small clue about how that may feel. Fast food? Oh yea! Muffin and coffee for breakfast? You bet! Boss brought in donuts – Oh goodie! MacDonalds for lunch, third time this week? Let’s go! Pasta for dinner-Yep! Snacks in between? –Whaddaya have?

OMG, can you say out of control?

Here’s what goes on in my head, “This time is “special” because I am going to have WLS at some point in the near future. Also, this time sort of “doesn’t count,” because I deserve to say goodbye to food and I’ll never be able to eat like this again, po’, po’ baby, me.”

All this adds up to me feeling like crap cause I am not being very adult with my choices. Physically I feel like crap cause of the crap I am feeding my poor body. Then, add PMS hormones along with the stress of my first tangible step in this process (the initial appointment) along with the fact that I have spent years successfully avoiding doctors and now see a LONG, LONG association with various and sundry of them, and I guess it is a recipe for a bit of depression.

Then I happened on the part of this site that discusses the “Last Supper” syndrome, a term coined by Dr. Gaye Andrews in her book, “Living a Lighter Lifestyle - A Guide to Successful Weight Loss and Maintenance Following Gastroplasty or Gastric Bypass.” Dr. Andrews’ words, that this is a grieving process, ring true for me.

I think it is so cool how hideous monsters are only hideous when you don’t know their names. Naming monsters is so powerful. Now that I have named what I feel, it doesn’t scare me so much. “Grieving process” doesn’t sound fun, but likely won’t kill me. Also, it sounds rather temporary and perhaps a necessary step toward health.

Hey check me out! I think I just saved myself $150 in therapy bills!

Course, don’t even get me started on the letter I have to write to Sandy. That’s weighing heavy on my mind too. She’s gonna be so mad at me if I die from this surgery. We have the sweetest, most gentle, and loving life. I never knew it could be this good. Yet, here I am, willing to gamble this lovely existence for the chance to achieve a 120 lb weight loss.

Swirling in my head these days: …am I really at risk if I don’t have the surgery… …BMI=41…why can’t I just get into better shape with exercise…I could lose 30 or 40 lbs on my own…I know that…isn’t that a better way to go…I hate my body like this, but Sandy’s lust for me (much like her love of me) seems to be a pretty constant thing and she’s the only lover I’ll ever want…oh, I can’t wait till I am slimmer so I can wear fun, sexy things for her eyes only…hmmm, I am pretty tall, wonder what size I’ll wear at goal…OMG, could I really get below 160…wow, who’d ever thought that…wonder if drinking adequate water and getting enough exercise will help a 40-something with the extra-skin thing…sure hope I am around to worry about skin…am I really going to do this… what the hell am I doing risking my wonderful life like this…blah, blah, blah.

My head hasn’t been so stuffed with longings and doubts since I came out. Wish I could shut my head off for a while. Perhaps I’ll try aiming the TV remote at it and pressing a new channel. Darn, we don’t have cable.

04/30/03 “Sleep test” is an oxymoron.

Take a shower, brush your teeth, and get ready for bed. Then kiss your sweetie goodbye, get in your car and drive across town to a deserted office park. Find the right suite and ring the bell. Fill out a bunch of paperwork and have a nice young (talkative like your hairdresser) man stick sensors in your hair, above your eyes, on your chin and behind your ears, on your chest, and legs, then wrap a wire around your face which holds a tickly thing under your nose, wrap two bands around your middle, tape a microphone to your neck, and tape a sensor on your finger. Then, have this same young man (now you know why he is so talkative, it takes FOREVER to get you gussied up this way) pick up all the wires connected to all these sensors like reins to a set of hack horses, and drive you into a small bedroom, only to hook all those wires into several plugs by the bed. Try not to laugh when the young man bids you good night. Okay, now sleep.

In this strange place, without your sweetie, with a mask of itchy surgical tape all over your face, and that damned nose thing tickling no matter which way you lay, sleep. Knowing these sensors are recording every move you make, sleep. Go ahead, try it. I dare you.

I am ready for the needles, the cups, the treadmill, the probes, the nasty-tasting gray stuff, and all the giant, futuristic machines. Bring em on! I know I can handle it, I’ve had a “sleep test.”


05/28/03 The Rabbit and the Hare

Well, I’ve been prodded, poked, and then some. Sometimes I am being prodded for insurance purposes, sometimes for my health. Only I seem to be able to keep it all straight.

You see my insurance approval for surgery is a horse race, a confusing horse race. Okay, a race between a horse and a greyhound. Okay, its not like any kind of race I have ever before witnessed. Judge for yourself…

I have a very nice insurance plan (my spouse works for the City of Phoenix) that allows me to use the PPO side, or HMO side of the plan at any time. So, I went to the WLS surgeon, had a consult, and asked her to submit my insurance authorization under the PPO side of my insurance (so I have a better chance of approval.)

Then, I went in search of a PCP who understands this surgery, and could offer good aftercare. Boy, did I hit the jackpot. This doctor heard three words “weight loss surgery” and put me on his treadmill of HMO approval. He doesn’t seem to understand (or really listen?) when I explain that I don’t need his referral to have this surgery because I have already had a consult with the surgeon, and asked her to submit all my paperwork PPO. Since my PCP doesn’t understand this, (okay, it is an old model insurance, and rather confusing) he is ordering all sorts of tests that would support (to the insurance company) his recommendation for this surgery. Of course he is going to recommend on the HMO side of my insurance.

This all adds up to a race. Who will submit first? My surgeon’s office, who seems to move at the rate of the decomposition of plastic? Or my ever-efficient, but test-crazy PCP’s office? If it all gets approved HMO, I save $2,300 in deductibles. However, PPO I am likelier to get approved. Meanwhile, I am having every friggin test in the book. Can you say, “AARRRRGGGGHHHH”?

Here’s the list:

• Psychological testing – Surgeon requires of all patients
  
• Sleep test – insurance approval driven, ordered by PCP
  
• Full cardiac workup (two days) – Surgeon requires due to funny heartbeat
  
• Upper GI – insurance approval driven, ordered by PCP
  
• Chest X-Ray – insurance approval driven, ordered by PCP
  
• Abdominal Ultrasound – insurance approval driven, ordered by PCP
  
• Mammogram – ordered by PCP, but WLS surgeon requires of all patients
  
• Urine test – insurance approval driven, ordered by PCP
  
• About 5 blood tests – insurance approval driven, ordered by PCP
  
• About 5 more blood tests – Surgeon requires as part of cardiac workup
  

I have been physically and psychically poked and prodded. May I please have my surgery now?


06/19/03 Sheepishly

Okay, now I feel stupid. Seems I misunderstood my PCP, Dr. Ruiz when he said he would submit everything to Cigna. Course, I can see how I'd get that message when he said, "We'll check you out, write it all up, and send it over to your insurance." What I now understand he meant by that is that he'll send everything over to Dr. Blackstone's office, who will then send everything to Cigna. Problem is, I saw Dr. Blackstone before I started seeing Dr. Ruiz, so I wonder if everything from Dr. Ruiz's office got sent to Cigna. Well, either way, Cigna turned me down, and I've appealed, and in that appeal, I've included everything but the kitchen sink.

Waiting...waiting...waiting...

Meanwhile, guess I should get busy writing the "If I die from this" letters to my loved ones. I know my sis understands entirely why I am doing this (we're kinda alike in a few ways) but my beloved would probably be mad at me for eternity if this doesn't go well. Can't say I'd blame her. She wants to be a police officer, and is currently in training for that. If she gets killed on the job, I'm going to be tres pissed for a long, long time.

At least my eating is back to normal. Seems that talking to people about this surgery, and my obesity, helps me to keep me on an even keel. Whoda thunkit?

07/08/03 What? No kitchen sink?

Well, it looks like they didn't need the kitchen sink. I received a call from Cigna today informing me that they have approved my surgery and will be sending a letter to that effect within three days. Can you say happy dance? I am silly with happiness and full-fledged hope. I said I'd hope again after I got insurance approval, and here I go.

Things to get busy on now:

• Hydration: start using my little countdown watch and work up to getting in 1 gallon of water a day.
  
• Walking: don't know how, but gotta get it in my day.
  
• Eating better
  
• More disciplined with vitamins.
  
• Breathing exercises (ask doc about this)
  
• Support: get to August's support meeting for Dr. Blackstone, perhaps start seeing psychologist?
  

Happy dance, happy dance, happy dance.

08/08/03 Flippin Epiphanies

So, after pestering poor Diane at Dr. Blackstone's office, I finally got my date: November 10th, at 10:00 am. Yay! Pretty happy bout that. It is a while to wait, but I am okay with that. In fact, think I had a bit of an epiphany. I was having a difficult time getting motivated to walk and hydrate properly, and really stressing about it. I mean, I have been waiting for insurance approval, and then waiting to get a surgery date, promising myself I’d get my butt moving as soon as these things were completed (promising myself, while hoping the capricious Motivation Fairy would pay a visit soon.) Finally gave myself a few minutes of quiet time two weekends ago and that’s when I had my little epiphany—yes, I know epiphanies, by their nature, aren’t usually little. Loose vocabulary usage aside, what I realized is this: this tectonic life-change can begin on the day of my surgery, or it can begin any day prior to that. Basically, up till the date of surgery, the journey begins when I say it begins.

Considering that I’m not one to wait around for things to happen, and considering that I’ll have a much better surgical experience and recovery if I do some specific things in these 100 days or so prior. I decided that my life-change starts now (two weeks ago.)

After identifying my five “pillars” of successful weight management after WLS, (Pouch Rules, hydration, supplements, support & exercise), I decided I would begin my journey with the last four of these, and add the Pouch Rules after surgery. I’ve been taking the vitamins Dr. Blackstone’s nutritionist told us about (www.bariatricadvantage.com), so that part was whupped. I added walking 14 miles a week, wearing that damned watch that buzzes my arm every five minutes and sipping water at each buzz, making it to the support group, and of course, spending my free time in the bathroom. The last one has not much to do with WLS success, but is more of a side effect of drinking that much water.

Well, it has now been two weeks since I started this journey. At first it was just a leap of faith, but is finally starting to feel like I am on my way. I certainly am feeling good from the walking and water; am having fewer aches and pains, better outlook on things, etc. Best of all though, I am no longer waiting for something to happen to me. I have taken charge of the one thing in my life over which I actually have control, my own actions.

Pretty cool.

09/01/03 Mad at Hell

Yay! August is over! Yay! My state-mates in AZ will confirm that August being over is reason enough to celebrate, but I'm happy for another reason too. August's passing puts me one more month closer to my surgery date. It was the toughest month I'll have to wait too. Phoenix in August, especially for a person who has obesity, is downright yucky. September begins to cool off around the 15th, and October through April, you won't find a nicer climate, but you gotta make it through July and August. In July, every venture outdoors is marked by convection-oven asphalt, surfaces hot enough to leave scars, and brain-baking auto interiors. In August, just add humidity to all that. No wonder most of us go into survival mode and don't come out till mid-September.

So, I made it through August, and am looking forward to coming out of survival mode. Having lived here over 30 years has changed my natural winter/summer circadian cycle. I get Spring fever in September. The other day, I told Sandy I seem to have a reverse of the disorder SAD (seasonal affective disorder). I get down in the summer, and feel better all winter. I think I’ll call mine MAD. It's not an acronym, summer in Phoenix just pisses me off.

But I can feel fall coming now, and oh, I can’t wait! The angle of the sun has shifted and softened just a bit. It is still hot out there (very), but it won’t be for much longer now. Once the sun shifts off Tombstone-high-noon, this old desert just can’t hold on to its heat any longer. Like waiting for a bandit to leave the dusty town square, I peek from shuttered windows. He may leave soon, or he may leave late, but that old bandit eventually does leave. Each of thirty years we’ve repeated this ritual, and I haven’t lost yet.

As I wait, I’m starting to think about household projects like reworking the front flowerbeds (I am thinking Pansies this year and Sandy wants some Jasmine for the fragrance). I want to wash the windows but know that’s foolish until monsoon is done to the last little bluster. I really gotta get those porch eves painted and I want to rearrange the back patio furniture. Oh my, I am beginning to feel alive again. The reasons for delirious happiness just continue to mount: this was my last fat summer (I can’t even get my mind around this one), I get to see my sister-soul-mate very soon and spend lots of time with her (okay, some of the time I’ll be incoherent from drugs, but I still plan to make the most of our visit), I am five weeks from graduating with my degree in Graphic Design, my doc said I am no longer anemic and cleared me for surgery, and my sweetie is happier than I’ve ever seen her. Yep, good stuff is just piling up around here. Really, we trip over it all the time.

I know from reading the message boards that depression and hard-times very often follow this surgery and that those people who are the most successful (those who use the surgery as a life-pivot point from which to change their entire approach to their overall health) are the ones who fight the biggest battles. For an obese person to change their relationship with food, to learn to listen to the body they’ve ignored for so long, to learn to love exercise and embrace nutrition and a more active lifestyle, takes pain and work. My plan is to approach this pain head on, with courage. I won’t dodge the pain, so for right now, as I get ready for S day, I gather Zen and don’t dodge the good stuff either.

10/01/03 Quoting Browning

As anyone who cared to read would see, I use this section of this wonderful Website as an emotional journal of my WLS process. I imagine I will want to look back some day and remember this time. My reason for keeping this journal on-line is that I also imagine someone may benefit from it in one way or another. While I can’t ignore the events of this past weekend, neither do I wish to record the emotions about them here because they aren’t part of this process. So I’ll just say that my mom died last week and Sandy and I spent the weekend on a whirlwind trip to Alabama for a memorial with my brother and sister. I’ll be processing this for a long time, but am okay and moving forward. God, I can’t even describe how good it was to see Lee and Angus, and spend time with them. Even though our reason for being together was sad, and we were in my mom’s house and garden (a powerful place on this earth), it was good. The one thing I know for sure is that I am going to try harder than ever to stay close to those two. We’re all very close in spirit, but sometimes go far too long between conversations. Gonna quit that.

On the WLS front, today is the first day of the month before my surgery. I am so pleased to be taking this step toward health. Every time (which is often) I find myself worrying about my physical health, I think, “Just wait a year.” As many of my WLS buddies report doing, I am now getting the occasional stomach butterfly. It isn’t fear yet, it is a mixture of excitement, apprehension, and hope. As expected however, the events of this past week have suppressed the butterflies just a bit. These events have also made me dog-tired. In addition to the exhaustion that comes from traveling hard over a weekend, my drug of choice, when under emotional stress, is sleep. Oh boy do I want to imbibe! I swear I could go to sleep at my desk. Not helping this is that the damned heat hasn’t left yet. I’m sorry, but 107 degrees on October 1st is sick and wrong.

On the bright side, work is less stressful this time of year and I am almost done with my portfolio. My exit interview is next Tuesday, after which I’ll be a degreed Graphic Designer. Oh boy! I don’t know yet what I’ll do with my degree, but I do know I am looking forward to being home in the evenings again. The past 18 months have flown by, but I so miss the routine of being home when Sandy gets home. To me, one of the most essential elements of a marriage is the chatter. The subjects may be insignificant, but the connection is fundamental. I tell her about the funny bumper sticker I saw and she tells me about something one of the cats did, or the plume of smoke she saw from the top of the parking garage. Browning was speaking to me when she wrote, “…to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candle-light…”

Well, I had better take quoting Browning as a huge hint that I am too tired to keep sloppy sentiment out of my writing, so I’ll get back to doing whatever it is they pay me for around here.

10/10/03 Freak Out Vista

(written at Mark & Mark’s house)

Wow, fewer than 30 days now. Wow. When they say the waiting time flies, they aren’t kidding. Just about the time I get used to thinking “in two months,” it is time to think “next month.” Before I know it, it will be “two weeks.” Yikes!

Good stuff I am doing:

• Drinking 100 ounces of water a day. Not only drinking it, but have made a habit of sipping it all day.
  
  
• Taking my supplements daily.
  
• Not drinking soda.
  
• Not eating fast food.
  
• Walking. Just started, but hey, I am doing it.
  
• Attempting to learn the difference between head hunger and true hunger.
  
• Going to support meetings, and have personal commitment to continue doing so for at least 12 months post-op.
  
• Keeping my emotional journal.
  

Bad stuff I am doing:

• Still eating too much fat.
  
• Still eating refined sugar.
  
• Still eating too much.
  
• Not developing habit of not drinking while I eat.
  
• Eating while reading or watching TV (not conscious eating)
  
• Not meditating.
  
  

Interesting to see this list in black and white. Can’t help but see that all but one thing on the “bad” list has to do with food itself. I guess I am just waiting for the surgery to tackle that big, scary part.

Decided to decaffeinate over the next several weeks. WHAAAAA!!!! Coffee, strong, black coffee, is one of my favorite things in the world. I so enjoy the taste, aroma, ritual and social aspects of it that I’ll put it back in my life as soon as doc says it is okay. I can get by on a half cup a day, but I ain’t giving that up. I ain’t!

Also gonna get off refined sugar within two weeks of surgery. Just can’t see going through sugar withdrawals while trying to heal from major surgery. That, along with the breathing exercises, walking, supplements and water, should put me in the best possible condition for surgery.

Okay, some feelings: excited, not scared exactly, but sort of dreading all the “different-ness” of the hospital experience. To say I am a big chicken is an understatement. No one who knows me really believes it because I come across as Ms. Large & In Charge, but really, I am such a chicken that I almost didn’t take my car in to the car wash today because I wasn’t sure how to get a hand wash instead of a machine wash. I just had my back window replaced (due to vandalism), and the installer said I shouldn’t run it through a machine wash for several days. I really wanted to get the car cleaned as a little graduation present to myself to purge it of all school papers, supplies and projects. I came so close to not pulling in to the car wash cause I didn’t know if they offered that service. What the hell was I afraid of? In the back of my mind somewhere was the worry that upon driving into their parking lot my little car would be immediately transferred onto a vehicle conveyer and jammed into the machine before I could blurt out, “Can you clean the car without putting it through the machine?” Jeez, I annoy even myself. At any rate, that’s my big worry about the hospital. I know there’ll be strange machines, and strange people, but that’s not what worries me most. Strange bathrooms worry me. Weird bedclothes, unusual textile surfaces, light (or dark) wood grain doors and frames, brushed stainless, and industrial art are anxious-making. Now that I think about it, most of the stuff that tells me I am in a REALLY different place are the visual things. Different noises I am okay with, unusual smells even I can handle, but hospitals are so visually different than the real world. I find myself wondering the weirdest things. Who, exactly, do you think makes the aesthetic decisions about hospital patient rooms? Committees? The hospital administrator’s wife? Why do they use Formica, specifically the speckled (or not speckled) kind? Yep, these are the weird places my poor mind goes when I freak out. I am so glad I'll have my sister there. She so gets me.

Oh, this weird little rant gives me an idea. I think I’ll bring some stuff from home to make my room look more familiar to me. Wonder if they'll notice if I bring one or two of the cats. Yea, okay, probably. I'll think of something though.

Still, I really do wonder who picks out the art in hospitals. Hotels too, for that matter.

10/26/03 "Two Weeks" Yikes!

Nothing new to report, I just couldn't help myself.

11/02/03 Dogged fear, dogged-er courage

Well, it sure became "next week" fast. I just can’t believe Judy goes in the day after tomorrow. My unofficial countdown has been to Judy’s date because we got news of our surgery dates within just hours of one another. I knew that when Judy went in, it would get very real for me and my waiting would essentially be over. So, Judy goes in on Tuesday and I follow her less than a week later. Wow.

Course things got a little "real" this week anyway because this was my week for pre-op stuff. Dr. Blackstone’s program is comprehensive and holistic. At the pre-op class we listened to a nutritionist, psychologist and yoga teacher. I understand the post-op training is even more intense. This whole-person approach, along with the fellowship of other people going through the same life-change, will be key to my success in this journey.

During the pre-op class, I learned a great deal. I just loved Dr. Galper (the psychologist.) She has battled weight issues in her life and you could tell she spoke from experience as well as education. I took many notes during her lecture, and will put the principles to good practice. The premise, rejecting the dieter’s mindset in favor of being a "weight manager," is something I can really get my mind around. This concept will serve me for years. One thing she said really got to me. We were talking about identifying our eating patterns and learning substitute behaviors when Dr. Galper said the thing I’ve heard so many times about how people eat to avoid dealing with their emotions. I’ve tried to see how this concept could apply to me but never was able to before. I mean, I can’t eat when I am upset or angry, or even giddy so I never understood how this concept applied to me. Dr. Galper cleared that right up when she said the other side of the coin is eating to create emotions. Oh shit. That’s me. I eat when I am bored, when I deserve a treat, to feel happy, etc. It is not that I can’t feel happy, engaged, or treated in other ways, but that food is such an easy trigger for these emotions. Ah ha! Now that I have a handle, I can begin to think about what, other than eat, I can do to create these emotions on the scale and frequency I seem to crave. Dr. Galper calls it, "Developing an expansive repertoire of emotional responses." I like that. She also urged us, once we’ve identified some of our eating patterns, to build systems and tools that work for us. I love systems, so will be very good at this part.

Also this week I had my pre-op appointment with Dr. Blackstone. At the risk of sounding cliché, I was so impressed by her. Everyone talks about how personable she is and how she elicits confidence and I see what they mean. Leaving my pre-op appointment, I felt calm and ready. I also took away a valuable tool. I conveyed my concern to Dr. Blackstone that I am good at beginnings and feel I will have no trouble being 100% compliant the first year, but that I am not so good on a maintenance basis. I know this about myself, make allowances for it and work hard on my follow-through, but I know it will always be one of my challenges. Dr. Blackstone said the key to long-term weight maintenance is simple: weigh yourself every day and if you gain more than three pounds, do something different for the next several days than you have done the past several days. I think I can do that. She also said that exercise is the number one indicator of weight loss success. She said to find something I absolutely love to do and do it. I love walking, running and hiking, so I think I’ll start there and see where it takes me.

So, emotions: excited and happy but with fleeting moments of keen sadness. For instance, I was driving down a beautiful street in downtown Phoenix the other day. The weather was October-perfect and I had the windows open on my little white Honda Civic named Pearl. A classic rock-n-roll song was playing on the radio, and I had just dropped Sandy at work and kissed her goodbye. I was looking forward to a good day at work and generally feeling on top of the world. Then I thought, "It feels so good to be alive. What if this is the last time I’ll drive this street? What if this is the last time I’ll hear this song?" God, talk about heavy! That thought hit me like a bowling ball. I felt it for a minute and didn’t like it one bit, except that it sharpened my appreciation of the day and the drive. It passed and I drove on to work happily. That thought came back though, and has dogged me just a bit as I get ready for surgery and complete all the happy little tasks in preparation for my sister’s visit. As my day gets closer though, two things have happened. I feel calmer and surer each day that things will go perfectly for me in this. At the same time, I feel that if the worst should happen, that I am ready for that too. It is strange, but I am so at peace, so rich in love and so happy that I can say the only thing I could wish for is more time to enjoy this incredible life and that’s what I am gambling for. Okay, so it doesn’t make sense. It does to me and this is my journal.

My worst fear is hurting those who love me. My sister just lost our mom, with whom she was close, and she is doing okay, but I am not sure she’d be okay if she lost me. I know for a fact that losing me would put an irreparable hole in Sandy’s heart, the same as it would me should I lose her. A friend once told me that the price of love is so very high. We all have to pay it sooner or later, but I’d like it to be later please. Occasionally I wish I believed in a god the way Christians do but to do so in time of crises or fear certainly seems a bit convenient at the least, doesn’t it? Well, I guess that’s the definition of courage, feeling the fear and acting anyway. That’s what I do when the fear of hurting my loved ones hits, I just keep on putting one foot in front of the other. Who knew life would take such courage?

Well, that brings me back to Judy. She’s finding it necessary to summon extra courage this week as she got hit with a family crises this weekend, right before her surgery date. I was happy to see she didn’t change her surgery date, but I know she thought about it. Here’s to you, Judy—hang in there!



11/07/03 My sis arrives today! My sis arrives today!

The last few days I've been so busy getting ready and so excited about her visit that I haven't had a chance to get nervous about surgery! I didn't expect that benefit!

She gets here at 1:20 today and I took the afternoon off work. We're gonna do lunch! Goodness I've missed her.

So, today is Friday and surgery is Monday. I feel ready. I want to do some walking and more deep breathing this weekend, but I am ready. With sis here, I probably won't update again before the big S day, unless it is just a note on Monday morning before I head over to the hospital.

Here we go!

*** Post Op ***
This part is less an emotional journal, than a chronological ordering of events so that others may benefit from my experience.

12/05/03 What a ride
My pre-op weekend was pretty wonderful with my sister here. I've missed her so much. We spent a lot of time just catching up on being in the same room with one another.

Sunday I drank the wonderful bowel prep stuff. It tasted rather like sour ginger ale. About an hour after that I began running to the bathroom at 15 minute intervals. I hadn't eaten anything all day so it wasn't terrible.

On Monday I woke up with some serious jitters. "What the hell am I doing!" and "Am I really gonna do this," kept popping up in my mind. I guess these thoughts are normal at the zero hour. Knowing that this was the right thing however, I just went on autopilot and did what Sandy and sis expected me to do. I kept putting one foot in front of the other and before I knew it, I was at the hospital.

I must take this opportunity to sing the praises of Scottsdale Shea Hospital. From the person at the front desk, through admitting, and finally to the nursing staff upstairs, these people got their stuff together. I never wondered what was next, where to go, when I'd be seen or by whom. Their service is entirely seamless. Oh, but the funniest thing happened on the way up to the surgical floor. The sweet volunteer was leading the way and Sandy, sis and I were giggling about something (that's mostly what we do when we get together) and the volunteer said to me, "You're having surgery today? My, you're so gay!" I said, "Why yes, yes I am!" Sandy didn't hear it, but I thought I'd bust a gut trying not to laugh. I am sure the volunteer took Sandy as a man, and never even got the irony in her comment. Now that's funny.

So, once on the second floor, it was a short wait till they took me back into pre-op. Silly me didn't expect pre-op to be a room full of other people in beds waiting and being prepped for surgery. What did I expect, I have no idea, just not that. Oh well. A nice nurse handed me a bag with a gown in it and directed me to a bathroom. She told me to put all my clothes and shoes in the bag. For some reason, I was perfectly calm then. No looking back, nothing but optimism. Go figure.

After I got out of the bathroom, I stood there feeling silly till a nurse rounded me up and put me in a bed. She closed a curtain around the bed and began fiddling with stuff above my head. Then another nurse came in and put in the IV. She tried to install it in my hand, but that just wouldn't work so she used the crook of my left elbow. Each time she gave me a shot of numbing stuff (Litocane?) and I don't know how much the IV would have hurt but that stuff burned like the dickens. I'd say that was the worst part of pre-op. After that, they let Sandy and sis in and they hung out with me, alternately laughing, making me laugh, and looking worried. Sis made me nervous by rummaging through drawers each time the nurses would leave. Then someone came and gave me a breathing treatment which mostly consists of smoking a large plastic pipe. Little did I know I'd get very used to the breathing treatment over the next three days. They administer it early and often. Shortly after that, the anesthesioligist came by for a chat. Nothing too exciting to report about that. Then Dr. Blackstone and Melissa came in and chatted with me a bit. They asked if I have any questions, and I thought, well, I'd be sorta stupid if I still had any questions at this late date. Course sis thought of two or three pertinent and important ones. She's kinda bright that way. The Docs left us to chat a few more minutes and before I knew it the anesthesioligist was back and put something into my IV line. I hugged Sandy and sis and realized I was being wheeled away. Yea, got a bit choked up right at the end. The last thing I remember was looking at a light above the operating table and thinking that they should paint the casing because the chipped paint just doesn't inspire confidence. It's the property manager in me, can't help myself.

12/08/03 The first three days
I became aware I was looking at the top of an armoire. I heard, more than felt, people doing things around and (I think) to me. I thought, “Oh, that’s an armoire, I must be back in my room.” That’s pretty good deductive reasoning for someone coming out of anesthesia if you ask me. Must have dozed off cause next thing I remember is chatting a bit with Sandy and sis. Don’t remember what we said, but they seemed relieved to see me alive. I thought it was strange they were so relieved because I knew the chances of dieing in surgery were pretty minimal but the chances of dieing due to complications after surgery were higher. Oh well, I was just glad they were glad cause I knew I’d be fine. I didn’t have any pain at that time. I fell back asleep again and the next thing I knew I was being asked to get up and walk. I had expected this so it wasn’t a surprise. With a bunch of help containing drains, catheter, IV line and pole, and a gown that wasn’t secured over my naked butt, I made it onto my feet with almost no pain and began shuffling toward the door. I think I did one or two circles around the nurses’ station before being overcome with exhaustion so I spied my door and lurched thataway. Sis and Sandy managed to get me back in bed and somebody plugged my IV back into the power plug. Ah, sweet sleep again. Next time I woke up it was around 6:00 pm. Did another jaunty shuffle around the nurses’ station, this time making it three times around. Didn’t like the feeling of the catheter much. It didn’t hurt, in fact, I couldn’t even feel it at the “insertion” point, but the tube between my legs was awkward and just plain weird. Had some pain in the middle of my torso so I hit the morphine button. It lessened but didn’t completely kill the pain, just dulled it a bit. Now, you’d think that someone recovering from major surgery would get to go to bed early, but you’d be wrong. Until 11:00 pm the nurses kept reminding me to get up and walk. Heck, I don’t stay up till 11:00 pm normally! I did okay though, by the end of the first day I’d walked around the nurses’ station about a dozen times. Okay, shuffled.

Finally they let me sleep for a while, interrupted only by vitals each two hours, blood-thinner shot every 4 hours, nausea shot every 4 hours, respiratory therapy at 3:45 am, and someone sprucing up the room at about 4:30 am. Sandy slept in the recliner by my bed and sis slept on the fold-out sofa. They were such troopers. I know they both probably got about 10 minutes sleep, but I never heard a word from them about it. By the time the nurse started urging me to walk again at 5:30 am, I was exhausted from trying to sleep. Sandy and sis were right there getting me up and about. I don’t know what I would have done without them.

So, back to the Blackstone-500 around the nurses’ station. I ran into Carol, one of my date-mates in the hall. She looked about like I felt. I did six rounds before heading back to my room, pretty proud of me. Someone had told me that Dr. B. would take your bed away if she found you in it during the day so I didn’t dare crawl back in bed. I sat up in the recliner and found it was actually easier to get in and out of with all those tubes and such. For the next several hours I’d chat with sis (Sandy had a police applicant thing to do) and then she’d get me gussied up in my gown and we’d head out for our rounds. I don’t remember how many we did that morning, but by the end of the day I’d logged 24 times.

About 10:00 am they came to get me for the leak test. The nice man wheeled me down several corridors and through some elevators. I felt so distant from my surroundings. I guess not being in charge of where you are going will do that. Anyway, the leak test stuff tasted about as bad as you’ve heard. It took all my will to not yak it back up. Imagine the yellow cough syrup cooked all day to distill the nastiness.

They give you your body back in phases. Since I passed my leak test, I got to get rid of the catheter. Don’t exactly understand the connection, but who am I to question getting that tube outta me. Removing it was a bit embarrassing but not painful. The nurse then explained that I’d need to learn how to pee again. Okey dokey. She said that your bladder gets lazy when you have a cath in and that they put a little hat in the toilet I used so they could measure my output. So much for getting my body bac

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