rouquinne
Leap of faith
Apr 12, 2010
Five days out from surgery, and although I try to keep focused on the bigger picture of longterm gains, I admit it's not very easy at times. My stomach feels like a helium balloon, so bloated with air, that I'm in almost constant discomfort. The pain is minimal really (thankfully), but this sense of never being quite...comfortable is getting old. I keep telling myself that the end result will all be worth it, and it actually helps most times. However, in the middle of the night when I'm prowling through my quiet apartment, it becomes decidedly more difficutl to believe.
I had prayed for months for a "sign" from God to show me that having surgery was the best thing for me to do. I was so afraid and so ambivalent about the idea that I wanted some Divine reassurance. As I lay in the hospital bed, the night following my surgery, it hit me: although I had never gotten a specific "sign' from God about the RNY, maybe this, like so many scary things in life, required a leap of faith. Maybe no sign was okay, as long as I have faith.
I still believe that and try to cling to that during the tougher moments. But I have to admit, sometimes I just have to think, "what the heck did I DO?"
0 comments
I had prayed for months for a "sign" from God to show me that having surgery was the best thing for me to do. I was so afraid and so ambivalent about the idea that I wanted some Divine reassurance. As I lay in the hospital bed, the night following my surgery, it hit me: although I had never gotten a specific "sign' from God about the RNY, maybe this, like so many scary things in life, required a leap of faith. Maybe no sign was okay, as long as I have faith.
I still believe that and try to cling to that during the tougher moments. But I have to admit, sometimes I just have to think, "what the heck did I DO?"
Farewells and Birthday Gifts
Dec 17, 2009
I can't help but wonder and chuckle at the irony. Yesterday, 3 days before my 42nd birthday, I finally worked up the courage to attend the WLS consult I'd been postponing. So long I've been thinking of this, wishing and praying for deliverance from this prison. And now...now I'm so filled with fear and sadness. I can't make sense of it.
With a sense of anxiety and my mind a whirling tornado of emotion, I entered the doctor's office with my boyfriend, a truly supportive presence and a wise voice of reason during my emotional maelstroms.
There was waiting....lots of waiting, spent sneaking surreptious glances at other patients both pre and post-op. It seemed as we sat together holding hands, that the beat of my frightened heart was like a bass drum booming in the quiet. Between crossword puzzles and catching up on old People magazines, I kept my ear attuned to stolen snatches of conversation between other patients. There was just...so...much to hear, to absorb, to process, both in the waiting area and the office, and my head filled up with absurd thoughts. "Oh, they have a suggestion box. Maybe I should suggest they have a breakfast bar, since I was too damned keyed up to EAT!"..."Am I as big as she is? He? THEM?"..."Oh my God, what if I DO this, make this major change to my body and I can't DO it? Am I the only one so fraught with fear and self doubt? I must be the sole surgery candidate who's ever felt a sense of massive...grief...at the thought of no longer stuffing myself with chicken parmigana, or chocolate chip cookies?" , "Am I the ONLY one who wants to CRY for the part of me and my life that I'll be losing?"
The meeting with the social worker was the easy part (definitely helps, I think, that I am prone to self-reflection--often to the point of overthinking!). Then the weigh-in. "Oh please God, don't let me be over 300 pounds. I'll just DIE if I am!" Phew, saved by 5 pounds! And really, I suddenly thought, what does it MATTER? I'm HERE because I'm obese, morbidly so, and NEED this. Then the nutritionist, a strikingly lovely woman who just happened to be slender and lithe as a willow branch. I knew on sight that I hated her.
"So, what are your problem areas?" "I hate everything that is good for me!" I reply with more than a touch of "five-year-old-having-a-SO -THERE-moment". My boyfriend, next to me with his bundle of ever-present books and newspapers, sat hunched over studiously taking notes and asking questions. A good thing too, since my brain had basically become non-functional to the point where I was reduced to monosyllabic grunts and hums.
Then....more waiting....which surely must be purposeful so that it allows potential patients to really have TIME to...process. It is, after all, a huge change. And although it seems that most of the people I've met wax rhapsodic about the wonderful life they have gained from WLS, I can't help but dwell on what I seem to be...losing. IF I do this....IF....I will MISS both parts of ME and parts of my life that will have to change. Is it okay to be existing in these dualities? I will miss pigging out or feeling the warm, jellied roundness of my big belly. I will MISS the...protection of my fat, despite the fact that I also want so much to be liberated from this self-imposed slavery. I feel so torn, and instead of being able to blithely look ahead to the future, as a possibly healthier (and thinner) person, I feel trapped in grief, saddened by my sense of loss. I feel like I must be betraying myself with these feelings. My focus remains on what I'll potentially be losing. Not the weight so much, but the...LIFE, the familiarity of being fat, the normalcy of being obese...Does this even make any sense?
Finally, I saw the surgeon, a beacon of intelligence crowned by thick auburn hair. We talked (once again, accompanied by my boyfriend) and despite her knowledge, compassion and thoroughness, I remained...ambivalent.
The appointments finally ended. But the feelings remain, my mind and heart swerving and careening like a carnival roller coaster. And I can't really wrap my head around all this. I feel like I'm giving up everything that's familiar and real to me, unable to see the brightness of a new future since I'm blocked by the darkness off loss. I'm feeling decidedly overwhelmed, like my brain is in total overload.
And yet....somehow, I made another appointment for next month. Maybe I'm not as off-track as I feel. Maybe it's okay that right now I feel great loss instead of joy. Maybe it's okay that I'm frightened to DO it and frightened NOT to. Maybe it's okay to just accept these conflicting feelings as part of the process. Maybe it's okay to feel like a total mess and a future babe-in-the-making all at the same time. Maybe change deserves to be mourned, even when I know in the depths of my heart that this change can only be for the better. Maybe it's okay to take the time to say good-bye to my old life, my old me, before I have room to greet the new me called Possibility.
Maybe, as my birthday rolls around, I am giving myself a gift--a farewell present, a swan song to the me who really is not me any longer. Happy birthday to me!
0 comments
With a sense of anxiety and my mind a whirling tornado of emotion, I entered the doctor's office with my boyfriend, a truly supportive presence and a wise voice of reason during my emotional maelstroms.
There was waiting....lots of waiting, spent sneaking surreptious glances at other patients both pre and post-op. It seemed as we sat together holding hands, that the beat of my frightened heart was like a bass drum booming in the quiet. Between crossword puzzles and catching up on old People magazines, I kept my ear attuned to stolen snatches of conversation between other patients. There was just...so...much to hear, to absorb, to process, both in the waiting area and the office, and my head filled up with absurd thoughts. "Oh, they have a suggestion box. Maybe I should suggest they have a breakfast bar, since I was too damned keyed up to EAT!"..."Am I as big as she is? He? THEM?"..."Oh my God, what if I DO this, make this major change to my body and I can't DO it? Am I the only one so fraught with fear and self doubt? I must be the sole surgery candidate who's ever felt a sense of massive...grief...at the thought of no longer stuffing myself with chicken parmigana, or chocolate chip cookies?" , "Am I the ONLY one who wants to CRY for the part of me and my life that I'll be losing?"
The meeting with the social worker was the easy part (definitely helps, I think, that I am prone to self-reflection--often to the point of overthinking!). Then the weigh-in. "Oh please God, don't let me be over 300 pounds. I'll just DIE if I am!" Phew, saved by 5 pounds! And really, I suddenly thought, what does it MATTER? I'm HERE because I'm obese, morbidly so, and NEED this. Then the nutritionist, a strikingly lovely woman who just happened to be slender and lithe as a willow branch. I knew on sight that I hated her.
"So, what are your problem areas?" "I hate everything that is good for me!" I reply with more than a touch of "five-year-old-having-a-SO -THERE-moment". My boyfriend, next to me with his bundle of ever-present books and newspapers, sat hunched over studiously taking notes and asking questions. A good thing too, since my brain had basically become non-functional to the point where I was reduced to monosyllabic grunts and hums.
Then....more waiting....which surely must be purposeful so that it allows potential patients to really have TIME to...process. It is, after all, a huge change. And although it seems that most of the people I've met wax rhapsodic about the wonderful life they have gained from WLS, I can't help but dwell on what I seem to be...losing. IF I do this....IF....I will MISS both parts of ME and parts of my life that will have to change. Is it okay to be existing in these dualities? I will miss pigging out or feeling the warm, jellied roundness of my big belly. I will MISS the...protection of my fat, despite the fact that I also want so much to be liberated from this self-imposed slavery. I feel so torn, and instead of being able to blithely look ahead to the future, as a possibly healthier (and thinner) person, I feel trapped in grief, saddened by my sense of loss. I feel like I must be betraying myself with these feelings. My focus remains on what I'll potentially be losing. Not the weight so much, but the...LIFE, the familiarity of being fat, the normalcy of being obese...Does this even make any sense?
Finally, I saw the surgeon, a beacon of intelligence crowned by thick auburn hair. We talked (once again, accompanied by my boyfriend) and despite her knowledge, compassion and thoroughness, I remained...ambivalent.
The appointments finally ended. But the feelings remain, my mind and heart swerving and careening like a carnival roller coaster. And I can't really wrap my head around all this. I feel like I'm giving up everything that's familiar and real to me, unable to see the brightness of a new future since I'm blocked by the darkness off loss. I'm feeling decidedly overwhelmed, like my brain is in total overload.
And yet....somehow, I made another appointment for next month. Maybe I'm not as off-track as I feel. Maybe it's okay that right now I feel great loss instead of joy. Maybe it's okay that I'm frightened to DO it and frightened NOT to. Maybe it's okay to just accept these conflicting feelings as part of the process. Maybe it's okay to feel like a total mess and a future babe-in-the-making all at the same time. Maybe change deserves to be mourned, even when I know in the depths of my heart that this change can only be for the better. Maybe it's okay to take the time to say good-bye to my old life, my old me, before I have room to greet the new me called Possibility.
Maybe, as my birthday rolls around, I am giving myself a gift--a farewell present, a swan song to the me who really is not me any longer. Happy birthday to me!
