But more
than that, the people I met at Accenture became a second family to me. So
many talented, amazing, very cool people…all with their own special skills and
quirks. The dynamics at work really were like those in a family.
Another first for me…..I felt right at home there and my early Accenture years
really promoted my growth as a person.
However,
I was the heaviest I had ever been. My
doctor’s office scale went to 350 pounds.
I was heavier than that. My
grandparents, both in their 80’s at the time, could easily out walk me. I could barely stand up long enough to have a
shower without my back aching, my feet giving out and breaking out into a
sweat. Things I absolutely loved doing, such as cooking or going to parties, became so unbearably hard that I really didn’t enjoy doing
them anymore. Things I had not done in years, like going to a club to dance, were unthinkable. Things I did while I was growing up - things that had contributed to who I am as a person - like horseback riding, riding a bike or roller skating, well, it seemed very unlikely I would ever do those things again. And my love life was non-existent. I was thriving in my work life - only because I sat at a desk 8 hours a day- but I was at
rock bottom in every other way, all because of my weight.
Around
this time, someone I know who had lap band surgery a year earlier, told me
about it. She started out about 100 pounds less than me but was really doing well with her lap band. I had investigated weight loss surgeries before this but had
never heard of the lap band. I was afraid of weight loss surgery.
The risks seemed enormous. I bought into the idea that surgery was “the easy
way” to lose weight and not for “someone like me”. Truth is, I was in
denial. There is no "easy way" to lose weight when you are 350 pounds and have been obese your entire life...there is only "the way" - if you are lucky. I had tried and tried so many other ways to lose weight. Weight loss surgery is exactly
for "someone like me".
I went to
my family doctor, who was extremely supportive, for a referral. Then I went to Toronto for a consultation.
A lap
band is an inflatable band that is implanted around the stomach. A port
is implanted (different surgeons place the port in different places – mine is at the bottom of the sternum). After surgery, at your first check up, a doctor or nurse
injects saline into the port which then travels to the band and tightens it
around the stomach creating a small opening for food to pass. This
process is known as a “fill”. One needs to go back for several fills to
find the “sweet spot”….the right amount of fill is different for each
person. It is a “Restrictive” type of weight loss surgery, as is Gastric
Sleeve surgery. One should only be capable of eating a small amount of
food at any one time.
Because
lap band surgery is about implanting something as opposed to cutting something,
it seemed to me to be “safer” and not like “a real surgery” since it was
reversible. The risks were lower that other types of weight loss
surgeries. I decided I had nothing to lose by trying lap band
surgery. Except of course $16,000.
The one
problem with lap band surgery was it was not covered by OHIP. I tried to
get my health insurance to cover it and they also refused, saying it was an
elective procedure. I appealed the decision and had my doctor write a
letter of support…after all, I had been denied life insurance by this very
insurance company based solely on how much I weighed. They did not
conduct a physical or base their decision on any other factor than that number.
If they could deny me coverage for a number, then surely they would see it
necessary to reduce that number using whatever means necessary. I could
provide documentation demonstrating a lifetime filled with attempts to lose
weight. I appealed a second time and still, they refused to budge. And
I didn’t have the money. So my parents
stepped up and said they would pay for it.
In short
order, my parents wrote a check. I went
for a sleep study, was found to have sleep apnea and was required by the surgeon
to get a CPAP machine for the surgery. I
tried it twice at home and never used it again - I hated it. I went for my chest x-ray and EKG and then I
had the surgery on April 1. My mom and I
stayed the night before at my aunt’s house so we could get to the clinic at
5:30am. I still remember the episode of
Law & Order we watched that night….the one where “Biscuits” and “Books”
were perps (Biscotti and Libretti were their real names…I thought that was so clever). We ate Jamoca Almond Fudge ice cream from
Baskin and Robbins and talked about how my life would change after this. We were all excited.
The
surgery was performed in a plastic surgery clinic in Toronto on Eglinton in Forest Hill where two bariatric surgeons rented space to start their
blossoming bariatric clinic. The clinic looked
like something out of a bad 80’s movie.
My mom and I arrived at the clinic at 5:30am and waited in the sitting area for 5 hours. Skinny, vain, rich, white women came and went while I sat there stuffed into a chair in the lobby. Their scale also only went up to 350
pounds. The gowns didn’t fit. The chairs and beds were all too small for obese
patients. You had to walk up two flights
of stairs to get to the operating room. By the time I laid down on the table
in the OR, I was thirsty, hot, winded, exhausted (from climbing the 2 flights of stairs), hungry from 18 hours of fasting and upset. I started to
have a panic attack as the staff started to prep me for surgery. As the anesthesiologist took me under, my last thought was, "I am going to die on this table".
The $16K
covered a “lifetime” of care. Meaning, I stayed overnight with a tiny nurse who barely spoke English - just me and her all night in this creepy little clinic 3 stories up. Maria turned out to be wonderful though. She told me stories of her son and her home back in Spain. She got me up to walk every hour or so. She took care of my wounds and made sure my oxygen was hooked up. She and I became very close that night and stayed in touch via email for years until she moved back to Spain. At 7am, they kicked me out and my mom drove me back to Welland. In a few weeks I went back to Toronto for a fill. Then another. Then another. I asked them to make sure my fill was tight (meaning, I could only eat a couple little morsels at a time). They did. That was the end of the care. I didn't hear from the clinic for 4 years after that.
And there began the happiest couple of years of my
life so far. For the first time, I felt free from my food addiction. When you
mess with the stomach surgically, you change hormones that control hunger. I
lost 100 pounds that first year, seemingly without trying. (I still had another 100 to lose
but I was thrilled anyway.) I ate what I
wanted, when I wanted. I only ate things I really loved to eat...I no longer ate just for the sake of eating something. My back didn't hurt anymore. I was seeing someone special. I was happy. Work was still good and I started looking into buying a house and moving out of my parents' house. I did not expect the bubble to burst or think about why I was obese my whole life or worry about changing anything about myself. I had the band to save me. I was convinced and relieved that never again would I weigh 350 pounds and be miserable because of my obesity.
Sure, I got sick a lot when I ate. I accepted that as part of having the band. It was often like having an eating disorder....I ate and ran to the washroom to be sick because something had gotten stuck in my band, if I ate the wrong thing or too fast or too big a bite. In restaurants I always had to know where an available washroom was and I always had to be seated so I could easily get out, just in case. Also, if I was in a stressful situation, I couldn't eat. If I was eating with someone who ate really fast, I couldn't eat. My body and the band would have a physical reaction to those situations and anything I ate would get stuck and I'd need to be sick to feel better. It took me a half hour or more to eat even just a bit of food. And I ate a lot of unhealthy food instead of healthy food because the band did not object to chips or ice cream like it did chicken breast or raw vegetables. Or sometimes, there was no reason, I just could not eat. Life with the band was...interesting, to say the least.
But, I did not over eat. The band physically did not allow me to. I never felt full and I never felt hungry. It was fantastic. Four years later, I still hadn't learned to acknowledge the band as a "tool". I depended heavily on it so I never did lose more than that 100 pounds. It could only do so much and the rest was up to me.
In late 2008, I got a cold. Suddenly I could not swallow anything without getting sick. I couldn't drink water without getting sick. My band suddenly felt so tight, nothing would pass. I desperately needed a de-fill. I had not been to the clinic in 4 years. One of the surgeons was arrested and charged with sexual assault for assaulting his patients. When he was released on bail, he fled to Mexico. His medical license was revoked in Canada. The other surgeon aligned himself with a large lap band manufacturing company (not the brand he had implanted in me) and suddenly had a fancy new clinic, support staff, a website...things they did not have when they operated on me.
When I showed up at the new clinic, none of the support staff knew who I was and I didn't know them either. They had absolutely no records on me at all. They told me that usually a nurse does all the de-fills but the surgeon happened to be in the clinic and wanted to see me. The nurse did the de-fill and the surgeon lectured me about having the band way too tight. I felt like a child being scolded, not like a woman who had paid this professional $16K for a lifetime of care. I reminded him that he himself is the one who filled me. He asked why I didn't participate in the support services they now offer. I told him I was never notified of any support services. And on and on it went. We argued, and I called the surgeon a hack.
Needless to say, I never wanted to go back to the clinic again - and I never did. I just simply tried to exist with my band. The only way to explain what happened with my band is to say that one day it worked and the next day it didn't. I was convinced it must have slipped or corroded or that something was horribly wrong inside my body....my stomach, my liver...something was not getting along with my band. I no longer felt like I had any restriction (even though I did have as much fill as the clinic was willing to give me).
It was the perfect storm. In my previous post I mentioned 2007 and how that a lesson of loss for me. It's true - really, I have never, to this day, emotionally recovered from that. I was depressed, unrestricted to eat whatever I wanted and hadn't changed one single thing about myself. It was a recipe for me to end up exactly back to where I was when I thought I had hit rock bottom in 2004.
And so I have. My grandfather, now in his 90's can still easily out walk me. I can barely stand up long enough to have a shower without my back aching, my feet giving out and breaking out into a sweat. Things I absolutely love doing, such as cooking and going to parties, are so unbearably hard that I don't enjoy them. Things I have not done in years, like going to a dance club, are kind of unthinkable. Things I did while I was growing up - things that are important to me - like horseback riding, riding a bike or roller skating, are so far away from my reality, it hurts. My marriage is in trouble. I've got a decent job but sometimes I need to travel and socialize with clients at parties and restaurants, and I just can't do it. My cat is missing and I can't walk around my neighbourhood to look for him.
I weighed 374 pounds the last time my surgeon weighed me. It feels like every single part of my life is being destroyed by my obesity.....a destructive, vicious circle. Here I am, at rock bottom - again. It kills me that I have given another decade to obesity. As if my youth will last forever. As if I have all the time in the world. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm angry about it! I know I did it to myself.
This time is a bit different though. This time I have a team behind me, cheering me on, pushing me, guiding me, helping me, supporting me. And I am so much smarter than I was a decade ago. This time I'm using heavy duty tools. The gastric sleeve, my talk therapy, my nutritional counseling, my surgeon and his staff and my will to actually be who I am...these things are like a lighthouse in the fog to me right now. Yeah, being 374 pounds is hard work. Getting through the day is hard. Holding up my head after humiliating events is hard. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel from here is hard. But I know it's there. It's up to me to reach out and grab it.
- Cool, crisp air, burning wood and apples remind me of home (we've never had a wood burning fireplace or stove...doesn't matter)
- The smell of the ocean reminds me of home (I have never lived by the ocean, doesn't matter)
- The smell of horses reminds me of home (never lived on a farm....doesn't matter!
- Obsession by Calvin Klein is the only perfume I wear
- Oscar Dela Renta used to be my perfume until I had thyroid surgery in 1991 and I got sick from anesthesia and now the two are forever linked
- Patchouli is my aunt Rosie
- Clinique Aromatics Elixir is my aunt Joanie even though she hasn't worn it for years
- Yves Saint Laurent Opium is my best friend from UofW, Adrienne
- Chanel No 5 is Marilyn Monroe
- Chanel No 17 is my grandmother
- Estee lauder is my other Grandmother
- Old Spice is my grandfather
- My parents aren't perfume/cologne wearing kinda people
