So much stuff has gone down during these past couple of months. For the most part, life has felt surreal. I can think of no other way to describe it. But, I'm working through it -- trying to keep my sense of humor and being realistic about my expectations and life in general.
On Thursday, July 19, it was exactly three months since my surgery. As of that date, I have lost 37.5 lbs. My doctor told me that he likes to see patients loose 12 lbs. a month after having the Sleeve Gastroectomy -- so I'm right on point! Because I want to continue to loose, I'm making exercise my primary focus for now. I pretty much have the eating healthy part down. I'm going to crank up the exercise and see how it impacts my weight loss!
My father passed away on June 28th. He had just turned 88 on June 12. He lived a long, happy life and didn't have any major health problems until this past February. He was put on a feeding tube because he was aspirating on everything he ate and drank. Despite all of these issues, we were shocked when he passed. I think it was a combination of dad being larger than life and us being in denial. He was the dad who could do anything. He was smart, strong and reliable.
Actually, I thought it would happen for my dad like it did for my mom. She was in the hospital and our entire family went through the process with her. For twelve hours we sat at her bedside, held her hands, massaged her feet, shared stories about her, laughed and cried. There was also the Newfoundland tradition of shaking of the holy water in all four corners of the room. Dad said that it was what you did in Newfoundland when a person was dieing because the devil lurked in the corners of the room to get their soul. I watched him do that for my mom and thought that I would some day do it for him. But it didn't turn out that way. Instead, he went quietly in his sleep.
He knew it was going to happen. He told my brother the day before that he was ready and that he would go in his sleep. I took the boys to see him that last evening -- they were supposed to be with their dad that night but he had to cancel because of work. He lit up when he saw them and asked them about their summer and if they were having fun. Before both boys left that night, they put their arms around their grandfather and gave him a big kiss and told him that they loved him. I did the same. All along, I had no idea that would be the last time.
Pop lived with my sister and her family. They went to the Jersey shore on Father's Day weekend because my brother in law's parents renewed their wedding vows. I stayed with dad because he couldn't be by himself. It was awesome! I had him all to myself until Sunday and I enjoyed every minute of it! We talked a lot. He told me more stories about his childhood in Newfoundland. I also heard some stories about his bachelor days in Brooklyn and going to Cony Island that I'd never heard previously. It was a very special weekend. I am very thankful I had the opportunity to experience it.
Since dad's passing, we've heard from so many of our cousins -- they've shared their stories about what he meant to them growing up and what a special brother he was to his sisters and wonderful uncle to his nieces and nephews. I know that he is up in heaven...with my mother, my aunts, grandparents and his best friend, Jim. I know that he is where he was ready to be and is at peace. I still miss him and that will always be the case. The pain will lesson...the hole will get smaller...but it will still be there.
In the mean time, I have to refocus my weight loss program. I have to remember that I have two little boys who are counting on me to be around and to be there for them no matter what. The great thing about having kids is that they very easily stop you from wallowing in your own sadness and kind of force you to move on. I'm so fortunate to have the friends and family that I have in my life. I had forgotten just how lucky I am.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Corporal Works of Mercy
It's now Friday morning and I am feeling like I was run over by a truck. To top it all off, I'm having hot flashes. The nurse located a fan and was able to put it in my room. She was so sweet and totally got where I was coming from in terms of the flashes! I have little pink sponges on a stick that I can dip in to water to moisten my lips. I can't have anything to drink until I have my leak test which is when they have you drink barium and they xray your stomach to see if any of it is leaking. The nurse gives me more pain and anti-nausea meds and I fall back to sleep. A short while after, they wake me to take me down for my leak test. One of my surgeons takes a look at the xray along with the radiologist and both agree that I'm not leaking. Yaaayyy! A part of me wants to hop up on the bed and scream at that top of my lungs that not only did I not check out on the operating table but that I am also not leaking!!! I am overjoyed! I can almost taste the water!
They get me back to my room and my nurse brings me one whole ounce of water. I had to sip it. That one ounce took me 5 minutes to drink. I felt so full from it! I remember the doctor telling me that my stomach was going to be very swollen and that I can only sip one ounce every 10 minutes. Later that day, they brought me some chicken broth and jello. I only had a couple of spoon fulls of each over the course of an hour. Regardless, they tasted delicious and I was able to keep them down.
Mid-afternoon a priest walked in to my room and asked me if I wanted to receive the Sacrament of the Sick. He was kind of matter of fact and about it. Prior to Vatican II, the sacrament was called Last Rites and it was only given to people who were at risk of dieing. Now you don't have to be seriously ill to receive the sacrament and it can be given to you an unlimited number of times. In any case, I always thought it would be a bigger deal than it was in reality. Father stepped up to my bed and quickly put his stole around his neck and blessed me with Holy oil. It was quick but nice. Receiving the sacrament did make me feel better.
As my luck would have it, I got a surprise visit from my ex-husband on his way home from work! He wanted to see how I was doing and thought he'd stop in for a quick visit. Vanilla came up to see me at the same time. I can't describe the level of weird. At one point, I had the ex sitting directly in front of me, rubbing my left foot and I had Vanilla sitting directly to my left, holding my hand. It may have been the painkillers but I was a little freaked out. It was surreal. I think the ex genuinely cared about my well being and maybe there was some guilt mixed in as well, but it was still uncomfortable. I was so glad Vanilla didn't say anything to him. He said he did not want to cause any issues for the boys or I so he let it go. That's one of the reasons why I love Vanilla so much -- he's very level-headed and sees the big picture.
The next morning my doctor came in to see me and gave me a "come to Jesus" talk. In short, he explained to me that my kidneys and liver are impacted by my weight and that I need to loose a significant amount of weight as quickly as I can. My doctor is hoping that the fat around my liver will dissipate and that it gets healthier. He wanted me out of the bed as much as possible the entire day. I could not go home yet because I was still too weak and my kidneys weren't functioning the way they needed them to in order for me to go home. I listened to my doctor and got immediately out of bed and sat in a chair.
At 10 a.m., Vanilla and my ex-husband were at my bedside again. I'm told by the folks who visited me in the hospital that I didn't look my best and that they were all very concerned about me. That could have been reason my ex-husband felt compelled to come visit me at the hospital. In all honesty, it was a very nice gesture but it would have been cooler if he would have asked to spend some extra time with the boys while I was in the hospital to reassure them I was OK. That would have been very helpful. He left after an hour or so to enjoy his Saturday afternoon.
My sister came to see me. It was so good to see her and to hear about what was going on with the kids and my family. My sister has a very comforting way about her that it is just nice to spend time with her. During our visit, the same priest that gave me Sacrament of the Sick the day before came in to my room and gave me Holy Communion. I took the host without thinking that I was on a liquid diet and couldn't have any solids at all. Thank God, my sister reminded me and I quickly scraped it off of the roof of my mouth! I doubt it would have done anything to me but I wasn't going to take any chances!!
Shortly after my sister left, a house physician came in to see me and explained that I no longer needed to be in the ICU and that I would be transferred as soon as another bed became available in the hospital. I was ready to be in a regular room. I was starting to go out of my mind in the ICU. I was feeling depressed and had zero concept of time. Saturday night was especially tough. As if she were psychic, my close girlfriend came by to see me after she finished work at 10 p.m. She works in the ER of another hospital and was able to walk right by security because she was in scrubs. My nurse let her hang out with me for a while. It was so good to have her company -- I was so glad to see her. She made me feel so normal. I missed being normal. She helped me get settled and fall asleep. At around 2 a.m., I was awoken by my nurse to check my sugars and remove my catheter. I became confused and thought she had moved me out of my room in to another area. I kept asking her to take me back to my room. Finally, she came in to my room and turned on the lights and showed me that was still in my room. I guess I was still half asleep and my head was cloudy from the meds! It was a terrible feeling.
Sunday morning, my surgeon came in to see me at 6:00 a.m. and told me he would discharge me as long as I was able to pee. Talk about relief! As soon as I peed, I called Vanilla and he was up to get me by 8:30. Before I knew it, I was in our living room getting a very happy greeting from our little Maltese, Lucy. We called my sister and her husband to let them know I was home and that they could bring the boys when ever they were ready. I couldn't wait to put my arms around them!
I wasn't able to lay in our bed because I was too uncomfortable. Instead, I parked myself on our wing back chair and ottoman. My sister, her husband and the boys came through the door. There were many hugs and kisses! My little guy is looking at me and tells me that he is happy to see me but that I seem different. I explain to him that I still have to get better and that it is probably going to take a couple of more days. He seems relieved. My older guy is so sweet -- he tells me that I looked better than he expected and that he will help me to get better. They give me a beautiful orchid. My older guy explains to me that we won't water the plant, instead we will put three ice cubes on the top of the dirt. He showed me exactly how it is done!
My girlfriend is a nurse and she stops by to see me that evening. I ask her if she can give me my blood thinner shot in the morning. I explain to her that I have to take it once a day for 14 days. She kindly offers to give it to me each morning. She helped me get settled on my couch so that i could try and get some sleep. I am very blessed to have such good friends I can't even begin to tell you how heartwarming it was for me. Between my family and friends who were praying for me and being so supportive -- it was unbelievable.
I only slept for a couple of hours that night. After my girlfriend came by and gave me my shot, I fell back asleep on the chair for a couple of hours. I was actually feeling better than I did the day before. I was also able to walk the stairs without being short of breath. Vanilla took wonderful care of me -- he was amazing.
My brother-in-law called me to see how I was feeling. He seemed surprised and told me that I sounded so much better than I did when he and my sister dropped off the boys. He jokingly told me that he and my sister were afraid they were going to get stuck raising the boys! I laughed hard and told him that I had turned the corner on my recovery when he wasn't looking! I joked that I thought I was going to make it.
With every day that has passed, I felt a little stronger and able to walk further without being out of breath. Finally, I was able to lay in my own bed at night and actually get a good night's sleep. I felt like a new person!
I feel empowered! I still feel like I can do anything!
They get me back to my room and my nurse brings me one whole ounce of water. I had to sip it. That one ounce took me 5 minutes to drink. I felt so full from it! I remember the doctor telling me that my stomach was going to be very swollen and that I can only sip one ounce every 10 minutes. Later that day, they brought me some chicken broth and jello. I only had a couple of spoon fulls of each over the course of an hour. Regardless, they tasted delicious and I was able to keep them down.
Mid-afternoon a priest walked in to my room and asked me if I wanted to receive the Sacrament of the Sick. He was kind of matter of fact and about it. Prior to Vatican II, the sacrament was called Last Rites and it was only given to people who were at risk of dieing. Now you don't have to be seriously ill to receive the sacrament and it can be given to you an unlimited number of times. In any case, I always thought it would be a bigger deal than it was in reality. Father stepped up to my bed and quickly put his stole around his neck and blessed me with Holy oil. It was quick but nice. Receiving the sacrament did make me feel better.
As my luck would have it, I got a surprise visit from my ex-husband on his way home from work! He wanted to see how I was doing and thought he'd stop in for a quick visit. Vanilla came up to see me at the same time. I can't describe the level of weird. At one point, I had the ex sitting directly in front of me, rubbing my left foot and I had Vanilla sitting directly to my left, holding my hand. It may have been the painkillers but I was a little freaked out. It was surreal. I think the ex genuinely cared about my well being and maybe there was some guilt mixed in as well, but it was still uncomfortable. I was so glad Vanilla didn't say anything to him. He said he did not want to cause any issues for the boys or I so he let it go. That's one of the reasons why I love Vanilla so much -- he's very level-headed and sees the big picture.
The next morning my doctor came in to see me and gave me a "come to Jesus" talk. In short, he explained to me that my kidneys and liver are impacted by my weight and that I need to loose a significant amount of weight as quickly as I can. My doctor is hoping that the fat around my liver will dissipate and that it gets healthier. He wanted me out of the bed as much as possible the entire day. I could not go home yet because I was still too weak and my kidneys weren't functioning the way they needed them to in order for me to go home. I listened to my doctor and got immediately out of bed and sat in a chair.
At 10 a.m., Vanilla and my ex-husband were at my bedside again. I'm told by the folks who visited me in the hospital that I didn't look my best and that they were all very concerned about me. That could have been reason my ex-husband felt compelled to come visit me at the hospital. In all honesty, it was a very nice gesture but it would have been cooler if he would have asked to spend some extra time with the boys while I was in the hospital to reassure them I was OK. That would have been very helpful. He left after an hour or so to enjoy his Saturday afternoon.
My sister came to see me. It was so good to see her and to hear about what was going on with the kids and my family. My sister has a very comforting way about her that it is just nice to spend time with her. During our visit, the same priest that gave me Sacrament of the Sick the day before came in to my room and gave me Holy Communion. I took the host without thinking that I was on a liquid diet and couldn't have any solids at all. Thank God, my sister reminded me and I quickly scraped it off of the roof of my mouth! I doubt it would have done anything to me but I wasn't going to take any chances!!
Shortly after my sister left, a house physician came in to see me and explained that I no longer needed to be in the ICU and that I would be transferred as soon as another bed became available in the hospital. I was ready to be in a regular room. I was starting to go out of my mind in the ICU. I was feeling depressed and had zero concept of time. Saturday night was especially tough. As if she were psychic, my close girlfriend came by to see me after she finished work at 10 p.m. She works in the ER of another hospital and was able to walk right by security because she was in scrubs. My nurse let her hang out with me for a while. It was so good to have her company -- I was so glad to see her. She made me feel so normal. I missed being normal. She helped me get settled and fall asleep. At around 2 a.m., I was awoken by my nurse to check my sugars and remove my catheter. I became confused and thought she had moved me out of my room in to another area. I kept asking her to take me back to my room. Finally, she came in to my room and turned on the lights and showed me that was still in my room. I guess I was still half asleep and my head was cloudy from the meds! It was a terrible feeling.
Sunday morning, my surgeon came in to see me at 6:00 a.m. and told me he would discharge me as long as I was able to pee. Talk about relief! As soon as I peed, I called Vanilla and he was up to get me by 8:30. Before I knew it, I was in our living room getting a very happy greeting from our little Maltese, Lucy. We called my sister and her husband to let them know I was home and that they could bring the boys when ever they were ready. I couldn't wait to put my arms around them!
I wasn't able to lay in our bed because I was too uncomfortable. Instead, I parked myself on our wing back chair and ottoman. My sister, her husband and the boys came through the door. There were many hugs and kisses! My little guy is looking at me and tells me that he is happy to see me but that I seem different. I explain to him that I still have to get better and that it is probably going to take a couple of more days. He seems relieved. My older guy is so sweet -- he tells me that I looked better than he expected and that he will help me to get better. They give me a beautiful orchid. My older guy explains to me that we won't water the plant, instead we will put three ice cubes on the top of the dirt. He showed me exactly how it is done!
My girlfriend is a nurse and she stops by to see me that evening. I ask her if she can give me my blood thinner shot in the morning. I explain to her that I have to take it once a day for 14 days. She kindly offers to give it to me each morning. She helped me get settled on my couch so that i could try and get some sleep. I am very blessed to have such good friends I can't even begin to tell you how heartwarming it was for me. Between my family and friends who were praying for me and being so supportive -- it was unbelievable.
I only slept for a couple of hours that night. After my girlfriend came by and gave me my shot, I fell back asleep on the chair for a couple of hours. I was actually feeling better than I did the day before. I was also able to walk the stairs without being short of breath. Vanilla took wonderful care of me -- he was amazing.
My brother-in-law called me to see how I was feeling. He seemed surprised and told me that I sounded so much better than I did when he and my sister dropped off the boys. He jokingly told me that he and my sister were afraid they were going to get stuck raising the boys! I laughed hard and told him that I had turned the corner on my recovery when he wasn't looking! I joked that I thought I was going to make it.
With every day that has passed, I felt a little stronger and able to walk further without being out of breath. Finally, I was able to lay in my own bed at night and actually get a good night's sleep. I felt like a new person!
I feel empowered! I still feel like I can do anything!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
The First Cut Is The Deepest
April 19, 2012: It is 4:00 a.m. the morning of surgery and I can't sleep. I decide to log on to the computer and send a couple of emails for work. Later today, my sister is taking the boys to stay with her until I am home from the hospital. I double-check their bag to be sure I've packed everything they'll need. By 6:45 a.m. I'm ready to go. I wake the boys and they get dressed for school.
I have to be at the hospital by 7:30 a.m and it is time for me to leave. I give both boys a kiss and a huge hug. I reassure them that I will be home in a couple of days and that everything would be ok. I ask them to be nice to each other and to be good listeners while they were at their Aunt's house.
Vanilla and I arrive at the hospital exactly on time. I have never had surgery and had no idea of what to expect. There wasn't a person I encountered at the hospital who wasn't friendly, helpful and professional. As soon as I sign in, I'm escorted to the area where they prepare you for surgery. Vanilla is directed to stay behind until I am prepped and then he will be able to wait with me.
And so it begins.
They walk me back to a huge green tiled room with beds and privacy curtains around each. The room looks familiar to me. I remember the green tiled walls from the time in Kindergarten when I ate an entire bottle of baby aspirin and had to have my stomach pumped in the hospital's ER. I wonder if this room used to be part of the old ER. A nurse has me confirm my name and date of birth. Next, she put an ID bracelet on each of my wrists. She also added another bracelet to my left wrist containing a series of tiny stickers with the same ID number on each. Then she has me remove all of my clothing, change in to a hospital gown, and get in to the bed. In this moment, I'm so happy that I had a pedicure. The nurse even complements how cute my toes look.
The nurse preparing me is precise and quick -- like she's done this thousands of times. She is completing forms, check lists and adding them to my huge chart. The anesthesiologist comes in and has me confirm my name and date of birth. He removes one of the tiny stickers from the bracelet on my left wrist and places it on my paperwork. He checks my IV line, asks me a series of questions and advises me that my surgeon will be by to see me shortly.
Finally, Vanilla is allowed to come back to wait with me. He is calm and reassuring as he holds my hand. The nurse takes my overnight bag and places an ID bracelet around it. She also tags my CPAP machine before passing it a colleague who will check it out to be sure it operates correctly. Both my bag and CPAP will follow me to my room after my procedure. Just like a five star hotel!
My surgeon arrives at my bedside with a reassuring, confident smile. He introduces me to the nurse anesthetist who will be working with him on my case and tells me they've worked together for the past 20 years. It makes me feel better. He tells me he'll see me after the procedure and to relax. Apparently, before they operate on you, the surgeon has to mark the area of your body being operated on with a black Sharpie marker. My doctor marks a star in the area right below my diaphragm and it signaled to the rest of the team that we were ready to get started.
Vanilla gives me a kiss and tells me he'll see me when I'm in recovery. The nurse puts my hair under a surgical cap and has them wheel me to the area just outside the operating room called Holding and Prep. It was a dimly lit room with monitors. I was placed directly in front of the operating room door. I could see a brightly lit, white room with huge lights coming down from the ceiling. It reminded me of something from a movie. It felt surreal.
An OR nurse introduces herself and lets me know that she would be working with doctor during my procedure. She also tells me that she had the exact same procedure performed by the same doctor seven months before. She told me she had lost 62 lbs.and was feeling so much better. She even started running -- something she never did previously. She has no idea how comforting her words were to me or what a positive feeling she left with me. It was perfect.
Before I know it, the big doors to the operating room open and I'm wheeled in. The people in the room work quickly and methodically. I remember the anesthesiologist having me slide down so that my lower shoulders were against some type of back rest which made me tilt my head back. That was all she wrote.
The next thing I remember is being told to take a deep breath. The procedure was over and I was in recovery. I was so relieved that I didn't check-out on the table! I had made it! The nurses took me up to my room in the ICU. By 4:15, my nurse helped me out of bed and I was sitting up in a chair.
I have to be at the hospital by 7:30 a.m and it is time for me to leave. I give both boys a kiss and a huge hug. I reassure them that I will be home in a couple of days and that everything would be ok. I ask them to be nice to each other and to be good listeners while they were at their Aunt's house.
Vanilla and I arrive at the hospital exactly on time. I have never had surgery and had no idea of what to expect. There wasn't a person I encountered at the hospital who wasn't friendly, helpful and professional. As soon as I sign in, I'm escorted to the area where they prepare you for surgery. Vanilla is directed to stay behind until I am prepped and then he will be able to wait with me.
And so it begins.
They walk me back to a huge green tiled room with beds and privacy curtains around each. The room looks familiar to me. I remember the green tiled walls from the time in Kindergarten when I ate an entire bottle of baby aspirin and had to have my stomach pumped in the hospital's ER. I wonder if this room used to be part of the old ER. A nurse has me confirm my name and date of birth. Next, she put an ID bracelet on each of my wrists. She also added another bracelet to my left wrist containing a series of tiny stickers with the same ID number on each. Then she has me remove all of my clothing, change in to a hospital gown, and get in to the bed. In this moment, I'm so happy that I had a pedicure. The nurse even complements how cute my toes look.
The nurse preparing me is precise and quick -- like she's done this thousands of times. She is completing forms, check lists and adding them to my huge chart. The anesthesiologist comes in and has me confirm my name and date of birth. He removes one of the tiny stickers from the bracelet on my left wrist and places it on my paperwork. He checks my IV line, asks me a series of questions and advises me that my surgeon will be by to see me shortly.
Finally, Vanilla is allowed to come back to wait with me. He is calm and reassuring as he holds my hand. The nurse takes my overnight bag and places an ID bracelet around it. She also tags my CPAP machine before passing it a colleague who will check it out to be sure it operates correctly. Both my bag and CPAP will follow me to my room after my procedure. Just like a five star hotel!
My surgeon arrives at my bedside with a reassuring, confident smile. He introduces me to the nurse anesthetist who will be working with him on my case and tells me they've worked together for the past 20 years. It makes me feel better. He tells me he'll see me after the procedure and to relax. Apparently, before they operate on you, the surgeon has to mark the area of your body being operated on with a black Sharpie marker. My doctor marks a star in the area right below my diaphragm and it signaled to the rest of the team that we were ready to get started.
Vanilla gives me a kiss and tells me he'll see me when I'm in recovery. The nurse puts my hair under a surgical cap and has them wheel me to the area just outside the operating room called Holding and Prep. It was a dimly lit room with monitors. I was placed directly in front of the operating room door. I could see a brightly lit, white room with huge lights coming down from the ceiling. It reminded me of something from a movie. It felt surreal.
An OR nurse introduces herself and lets me know that she would be working with doctor during my procedure. She also tells me that she had the exact same procedure performed by the same doctor seven months before. She told me she had lost 62 lbs.and was feeling so much better. She even started running -- something she never did previously. She has no idea how comforting her words were to me or what a positive feeling she left with me. It was perfect.
Before I know it, the big doors to the operating room open and I'm wheeled in. The people in the room work quickly and methodically. I remember the anesthesiologist having me slide down so that my lower shoulders were against some type of back rest which made me tilt my head back. That was all she wrote.
The next thing I remember is being told to take a deep breath. The procedure was over and I was in recovery. I was so relieved that I didn't check-out on the table! I had made it! The nurses took me up to my room in the ICU. By 4:15, my nurse helped me out of bed and I was sitting up in a chair.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Make Sure There's a DJ
I have been a worry wort for as long as I can remember. I am a gal who prepares for disaster -- it's my "thing". Actually, preparing for the worst is a technique I use to calm myself when I'm nervous about a situation. Having major surgery is one of those situations.
It is the night before my procedure and I decide to write a letter to Vanilla, each of the boys, and to my sister telling each of them how much I loved them and how much happiness they brought to my life. Does this sound dramatic to you? Well, it was dramatic. Very. These letters were the type of letters written in those Lifetime movies where the the woman has the terminal illness and she writes letters saying goodbye to her family and friends. I want to stress that I did not seriously think I was going to check-out mid-operation but what if I did and I hadn't prepared for the possibility? It would be so messed up. So, I played it safe and drafted a couple of letters.
Along with my sister and Vanilla's letters, I included specific directions regarding my funeral. I have expressed these wishes to my friends and family for a couple of years. But I thought it would be best to put it in writing so that everyone is crystal-clear in understanding my wishes. Plus, it may ultimately stem from my control issues (which I openly admit to having).
For starters, I want an open casket viewing. I want to be wearing a cute dress that makes me look thin, make up and my hair straightened. I want people to have that "she looks so good" conversation that you sometimes hear at wakes. If photographs of me are to be displayed during my viewing, please select photos of me from the 80s. That was my best decade. I was cute, young and thin.
Next, I want the super-high Catholic funeral Mass. I want the priest to use plenty of the holy incense (enough to choke a horse or bother the asthmatics in attendance). I want lots of singing. My sister can choose the songs sung at my Mass. I want to be buried at Our Lady of Grace Cemetery in Langhorne. I'm not particular about the section but I would prefer to be in an area that does not flood on rainy days.
Finally, I want a DJ and an open bar (with top-shelf liquor) at my luncheon. I want my friends and family to celebrate my life. I do not want it to be a sad occasion. I want it to be an awesome party on me! I even have a list of specific songs that I'd like played by the DJ. They include: "Life During Wartime", "Burning Down the House", "Planet Clare", "Dance this Mess Around", "Incident on 52nd Street", "Thundercrack", "Pretty Flamingo", "Into the Mystic", "Tuepelo Honey", "A House Is Not a Home", "Never Too Much", "You Dropped a Bomb on Me", "Fire and Desire", "Superfreak", "Give It To Me Baby", "Out on a Limb", "Dear Lover", "Square Biz", "Forget Me Nots", "Reasons", "Shake Your Body Down To the Ground", "Gin and Juice", "Diamond Dogs", "Changes" (by David Bowie not Tupac), "Everybody, Everybody", "Get Up Early In The Morning", "My Mistake", "I Believe In You and Me", "Zoom", and "This Old Heart of Mine". The remainder of the songs I will leave to my friends and family in attendance to request from the DJ.
Before I left for the hospital, I placed the letters and the funeral directions in a large manila envelope and sealed it. I marked it to be opened if I passed away. I then put the envelope in the bottom of the overnight bag I was taking to the hospital with me so that no one could open it without me dieing first. Like I said earlier, a girl can never be too safe or prepared.
It is the night before my procedure and I decide to write a letter to Vanilla, each of the boys, and to my sister telling each of them how much I loved them and how much happiness they brought to my life. Does this sound dramatic to you? Well, it was dramatic. Very. These letters were the type of letters written in those Lifetime movies where the the woman has the terminal illness and she writes letters saying goodbye to her family and friends. I want to stress that I did not seriously think I was going to check-out mid-operation but what if I did and I hadn't prepared for the possibility? It would be so messed up. So, I played it safe and drafted a couple of letters.
Along with my sister and Vanilla's letters, I included specific directions regarding my funeral. I have expressed these wishes to my friends and family for a couple of years. But I thought it would be best to put it in writing so that everyone is crystal-clear in understanding my wishes. Plus, it may ultimately stem from my control issues (which I openly admit to having).
For starters, I want an open casket viewing. I want to be wearing a cute dress that makes me look thin, make up and my hair straightened. I want people to have that "she looks so good" conversation that you sometimes hear at wakes. If photographs of me are to be displayed during my viewing, please select photos of me from the 80s. That was my best decade. I was cute, young and thin.
Next, I want the super-high Catholic funeral Mass. I want the priest to use plenty of the holy incense (enough to choke a horse or bother the asthmatics in attendance). I want lots of singing. My sister can choose the songs sung at my Mass. I want to be buried at Our Lady of Grace Cemetery in Langhorne. I'm not particular about the section but I would prefer to be in an area that does not flood on rainy days.
Finally, I want a DJ and an open bar (with top-shelf liquor) at my luncheon. I want my friends and family to celebrate my life. I do not want it to be a sad occasion. I want it to be an awesome party on me! I even have a list of specific songs that I'd like played by the DJ. They include: "Life During Wartime", "Burning Down the House", "Planet Clare", "Dance this Mess Around", "Incident on 52nd Street", "Thundercrack", "Pretty Flamingo", "Into the Mystic", "Tuepelo Honey", "A House Is Not a Home", "Never Too Much", "You Dropped a Bomb on Me", "Fire and Desire", "Superfreak", "Give It To Me Baby", "Out on a Limb", "Dear Lover", "Square Biz", "Forget Me Nots", "Reasons", "Shake Your Body Down To the Ground", "Gin and Juice", "Diamond Dogs", "Changes" (by David Bowie not Tupac), "Everybody, Everybody", "Get Up Early In The Morning", "My Mistake", "I Believe In You and Me", "Zoom", and "This Old Heart of Mine". The remainder of the songs I will leave to my friends and family in attendance to request from the DJ.
Before I left for the hospital, I placed the letters and the funeral directions in a large manila envelope and sealed it. I marked it to be opened if I passed away. I then put the envelope in the bottom of the overnight bag I was taking to the hospital with me so that no one could open it without me dieing first. Like I said earlier, a girl can never be too safe or prepared.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Big Girl Down
I wasn't always overweight. Growing up, I never cared about food or eating. Actually, until my early thirties, I was average weight. I can remember being 125 lbs and thinking that I was fat because I wasn't 105 lbs. Looking back, I can safely say that I did not have a realistic body image. I wasn't at all fat -- I was average. I wasn't super model thin, but I wasn't chunky. I was average and I didn't realize it or embrace it. Then, life happened: A bad marriage, two pregnancies, divorce and a return to the work force. Through it all there was one constant -- food. Regardless of whether I was stressed or celebrating an accomplishment or milestone, food was always in the mix.
Fast forward 18 years to a cold morning this past January. After chain-smoking five cigarettes during my drive to work, I find myself waddling across the parking lot and in to the building. As I enter, I am very short of breath and feel my heart beating almost out of my chest. I get in to the elevator and the doors close. It is just me in the elevator because the majority of my colleagues take the stairs up to the second floor where our work space is located. I'm huffing and puffing, trying to catch my breath. It is in this ridiculous moment that it suddenly becomes very clear to me that something terrible and serious is going to happen to me in the very near future if I don't make a change now. I think about the conversations I've had over the past few months with my family and a couple of my friends because they were worried that I was going to have a heart attack or stroke because of my weight and poor breathing. I think about how much it would devastate my sons. Boys need their mother and I promised my guys that I'd be around until they were tired of me. Then there was my fiance, Vanilla. Before I met him, he lost 106 lbs. on his own by exercising and reducing his calorie intake. Vanilla loves me no matter what and could care less about the size of my waist because he understands the struggle. Yes, if something happened to me, it would not be a good thing.
For a couple of years I had been considering having a bariatric procedure performed in order to help me loose weight. I've known a couple of people who had the Gastric Bypass and were able to loose well over 100 lbs each. Both looked like completely different people and have been able to maintain their weight loss. My sister has a friend who had the Gastric Sleeve performed in September and recommended that I give her a call. I did and it turns out she has lost on average 15 lbs. a month and only regretted not having the procedure sooner.
As if through some type of Divine intervention, the very next night I was paging through a community newspaper and saw that a bariatric group was having an informational seminar about weight loss surgeries the following week. I attended and received lots of information about bariatric procedures. I saw the doctor the next week for a consultation. The doctor scheduled my surgery for April 19th. Before my surgery could be performed, I would have to obtain a series of clearances from other specialists. The doctor and I decided the best fit for me was the Gastric Sleeve because of the amount of weight I needed to loose. The doctor advised me that I needed to loose 150 lbs. and that I was on the verge of becoming super obese. Talk about delusional! I was shocked! I did not realize that I had gotten that out of control.
You're probably wondering how this could happen. It's easy. All you have to do is not weigh yourself. Not take any photographs of yourself. Promise yourself that you'll start a new diet next week. Repeat these steps tens of hundreds of times and you too will be morbidly obese!
Up until the week of my surgery, I was seeing specialists and having tests performed for clearances and to determine if I had any additional medical conditions that needed to be treated prior to my procedure. Through this process, I learned that I had Sleep Apnea, Type II Diabetes and a Stomach Ulcer. I had no idea that I had any of these conditions! It was an alarming reality check confirming for me that having the surgery was the right step for me to take.
Up until the week of my surgery, I was seeing specialists and having tests performed for clearances and to determine if I had any additional medical conditions that needed to be treated prior to my procedure. Through this process, I learned that I had Sleep Apnea, Type II Diabetes and a Stomach Ulcer. I had no idea that I had any of these conditions! It was an alarming reality check confirming for me that having the surgery was the right step for me to take.
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