Tuesday, August 13, 2013

“Goodbye Stranger – it’s been Nice.” - Supertramp

So, I had surgery on June 24.  That was the first of two surgeries I will have this year. 

The first surgery was to remove my lap band.  My surgeon also cut away a ton of scar tissue that had grown up to my abdominal wall down the entire length of my torso (this scar tissue was not a result of the lap band; it was from having my gallbladder and appendix removed in 1987, which was an open surgery) and implanted a vena cava filter, which prevents blood clots from travelling to heart or lungs. 
My surgeon could not remove the port for the band because my liver is so large it’s in the way.  Fatty liver disease is a pretty common side effect of obesity.  If you don’t have surgery, you probably wouldn’t even know you have it.  (I found out I had fatty liver disease when I had my lap band put in.)  My surgeon asked me to lose 30 pounds for the second surgery so my liver shrinks a bit and isn’t quite so in his way.

I spent one night in the hospital and was on a loathsome liquid diet for a week – 5 days before the surgery, nothing the day of the surgery, and then 1 day after the surgery.  Nothing but clear fluids, diet Jello and popsicles, and an Atkins shake 3 times a day……I lost 15 pounds that week.
Two nights before surgery, I needed to consume a bottle of Magnesium Citrate, which I assure you, is as disgusting as it sounds.  They try to disguise the hell contained in that little bottle by putting cherry flavour in it.  Nice try.  But that’s nothing compared to what happens for the next 6 hours.  I’ll spare you the details.  If you really want to know, you can ask me.
After I left the hospital, I resumed a normal diet.  Now I wait for my stomach to heal. In the meantime, I make sure I have followed all the requirements I need for my next surgery and cross my fingers my insurance company will pay for it.  Get to work on losing those 30 pounds and continue with my therapy and nutritional counseling.
Why am I doing all this?  It’s all preparation for my second surgery later this year - gastric sleeve surgery, which is one type of bariatric (weight loss) surgery wherein ¾ of the stomach is removed.  I will be left with a small banana-like “sleeve” for a stomach.  This will do a number of things:  reduce my hunger level, reduce the amount of food I’ll be able to eat at a time and change the hunger hormones in my stomach…therefore I will lose weight.  A lot of weight, FAST. 
I know it probably sounds scary and extreme.  But for me, it’s not scary and certainly not extreme….it’s necessary.  My grandfather had this surgery in the 1960’s, not for weight loss, but to remove ulcers.  They didn’t call it “sleeve surgery”, but it was effectively the same thing.  Besides, there is nothing scarier or more extreme to me than another decade being morbidly obese. I’m done. I’ve spent my entire adult life so far fighting a losing battle.  It’s time to bring out the big guns. 
Although some surgeons perform lap band to sleeve conversions in one procedure, my surgeon (Dr. DiBenedetto from Rochester General Hospital), does not feel it is safe to do both surgeries in one procedure.  The stomach gets all torn up from having the band removed and needs to heal for several months in order for the stitches from the sleeve surgery to heal properly.
So, two surgeries.  Better to be safe than sorry.
At this point, you probably have some questions.  I have to admit, I feel a little overwhelmed by all the things I have to say about obesity, weight loss surgery, the lap band, my history and all things related to these things.  It’s a complicated web.  My self –assigned task now is to untangle that web and bring some clarity to the chaos through words on a page.
It’s been difficult for me to untangle that web over the last month.  I have been heartbroken and distracted by my missing cat, Felix Rumpletumpskin. 
This little tumbleweed of trouble bumbled into my life and heart at about 4 weeks of age (almost 5 years ago) when he showed up in my backyard and wouldn’t leave.  (Although I did only give him a day.) It was September, chilly and he was just so tiny and charming.  What else could I do?  I brought him inside and after some introductions, my other two cats, Whiskey and Sugar, passively followed the new kid around as he explored each room.  The water, kitten food and litter box that had been set up just for him in his own room were appreciated, but what really got his attention was the Sleepy Pod filled with cat toys in my bedroom.  I swear, when he saw them, he dove in head first and proceeded to attack each and every toy with bluster and pluck.  Whiskey and Sugar sat there like baffled parents at the edge of the Sleepy Pod watching intently as Felix joyously kicked and threw toys up in the air and all over the floor.  Later that night, the tiny ball of fur risked the massive jump up to my bed and settled in on top of me as I lay on my side.  I couldn’t even feel his weight, he was so small. 

Felix as a kitten attempting some sort of daredevil trick
From that moment on, Felix ruled the house.  He is the life blood of the household.  I always tell him it was good thing he picked me ‘cos no one else would put up with his antics:  his refusal to be picked up without causing bodily harm; his insistence on biting you hard if you dare touch him when he didn’t want it first; his love of being “spanked”; the way he doesn’t just sleep beside me…he has to force himself right into the back of my knees so his body is actually pressing into me (he’s way too heavy to sleep on me anymore, but he tries!), even on the hottest summer day; his high pitched “meow” when it’s breakfast time; the way he positions himself on the TV stand right by the treats as we get ready to walk out the door (after I moved to Rochester and he realized the dogs always get a treat when we leave, he decided he would like that too); the way he destroys anything green and leafy and the rough, carefree way he bounds down the stairs 2 at a time.
In our house, when you find yourself asking the question, “What was that?” - 99% of the time, the answer is “Felix”. 
For the last month we have not been asking that question.  It has been eerily quiet in the house.  The life blood is missing.  And my energy, thoughts and time are not occupied by my weight loss journey or preparing for surgery or even family, friends or work.  It’s all just Felix.  I have to get him back.  This cannot be the end of my relationship with this glorious character with the glossy black fur, turned up nose and velvet ears.   We search every social media site’s “lost and found” listings.  We pursue leads, no matter how far-fetched.  We read websites about how to find lost cats.  We put up posters in our neighbourhood and search at 2am for him.  We put cameras throughout the house and outside to catch a glimpse of him.  I toss and turn sleeplessly at night, worried about where he is, if he’s safe, if there’s something else I can be doing to find him.
So consumed have I been with my own grief that I have made no effort to show concern for my neighbours.  On one side, the elderly couple has clearly moved out of their home of 40 years.  People come and go while piles of trash get piled at the curb every week.  I have no idea where they went and I have not inquired.  On the other side, grandchildren and sisters and friends have gathered for more than a week, the driveway spilling over with cars.  I recognize the scene…someone has passed away.  Last night I mustered up the voice to say “goodnight” through the dining room window as I closed it before bed.  Only then I did acknowledge to the relatives of my neighbours that I knew something was wrong.  Harold, our neighbour, passed last week from ALS.
In my last post, I said I wanted to lock myself away from the rest of the world while I handle my weight loss journey and now I find myself saying the same thing about finding Felix.  Don’t bother me – can’t you see I’m busy with my grief and struggle?  But life doesn’t work like that, does it?  Because, let’s face it – we’re all grieving and struggling all the time.  Bad things happen.  That’s life.  Nothing stops even when I am grieving, even when I am struggling.
You might think the title of this post shows a resignation to having lost Felix for good, but that’s not the case.  I joined a new social network called “Next Door” which is neighbourhood-centric.  You can connect with people who live close to you and post things such as “Lost and Found”.  Thanks to this network, I have hope that Felix is still in our neighbourhood…there have been several sightings close to our house that could be him. 
Sugar, Felix and Whiskey enjoying Sunday morning sun
No, the “stranger” in the post title is not Felix, but my lap band.  Most of this post was written several weeks ago.  After 9 years with the lap band, it truly is the end of an era for me to no longer have it and even after living with it for 9 years, it is a bit of a stranger to me.  I never learned to live with it.  Good riddance.
I also now kind of think of the title as an homage to Harold.  Last night, his sister told me - in response to my wishing we had known sooner so we could have done something – that “they need me now” since they were leaving to go home (they live in another state.).  Suddenly I felt the warmth of being given a second chance….of being entrusted with a responsibility and being brought into an inner circle. 
I can be there for Harold’s widow Pat.  I can invite her for dinner and listen to her stories and look at her pictures.  I can encourage her to adopt the cat she told me she wished she had when I moved in and she saw my cats sitting in windows.  I can make the effort to know her and open myself to her so she knows me.  I can do the same for all my friends and family.  I can do that for myself.    
Goodbye Stranger, indeed.
These things are true about me:
·              I am a terrible procrastinator
·        I am only really productive when I have very little time and many things to do
·        I don’t believe that things are “meant to be”
·              I absolutely love animals more than people which is a difficult thing to say to people you love and difficult to admit
·               I have had 7 cats and 6 dogs and I adore/d each and every one
·               The cats:  Pipin, Smokey, Smudge, Whiskey, Lucky, Sugar and Felix
·               The dogs:  Prince, Angel (a Doberman), Tiny (a St. Bernard), Catie, Lizzie and Ladybug
·               I absolutely hate the word “fat” unless it is being used by Nigella Lawson to describe juicy sausages, fluffy yellow chicks or babies’ cheeks
·               I’m pretty bossy normally.  When stressed, even more so

 

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