Minus 39 days
(until my gastric bypass surgery)
“Who
Is That Fat Man In The Mirror?”
Only recently have I been able to come to accept that I am one of the
legions
of morbidly obese people in the First World. Despite the
fact that
there are many people as heavy, or heavier than I—somehow I’ve never
identified
with that group until recently. My family is always reassuring me
that I
don’t look that big, but over the last two years my perceptions have
begun to
come into line with the truth. I’m huge. From the front,
it’s not
too bad, but from the side my profile rivals any last term
pregnancy.
I used to tell myself that a lot of American Natives are heavy.
After
all, eating right is expensive, and food has always been one the things
that
comes last on our list of monthly expenditures. Our eating
habits
are generally poor and that is reflected in the pandemic of diabetes
presently
decimating Natives in America. Fortunately, diabetes is not one
of my
particular ailments.
I was always a “big-boned” child but I didn’t really start to get fat
until my
later teens. I never liked cooked vegetables and have
seldom eaten
them throughout my life. I do like fresh vegetables, and where
we’ve been
able to grow our own, I’ve eaten more. But in general, I could
probably
count the times I ate vegetables between 1968 to 1976 on my fingers and
toes.
(During that period, I did eat a lot of natural salads, cooked fruits,
goats
milk products, and natural grains so maybe my previous statement is
misleading. But even to today, though I do enjoy fresh steamed
corn, new
asparagus, broccoli, cauliflower, and green beans, I probably eat
vegetables
less than three times a month.)
Even though I loved
athletics and had a fair amount of natural talent, I didn’t have the
temperament or discipline to deal with hard-ass coaches and schedules
in the
public school, especially after we moved to California from Texas
(where
talented athletes are treated like Gods.) I was a rebel who
resented
authority and fit in perfectly with the late “sixties”.
Since I
wasn’t particularly interested in exercise apart from athletics, I
didn’t
attend school and was fairly inactive most of the time. I was
also
addicted to sugary sweet desserts, peanut butter, milk products, and
other
fatty foods. At sixteen, one of my favorite meals was peanut
butter and
butter on wheat-berry bread, packed with potato chips, and covered in
Cool
Whip. I washed that down with a chocolate milkshake. By 17,
and at
only six feet tall, I ballooned up to 225 pounds. I was
still fast
on my feet but was definitely pudgy and depressed.
In keeping with the times, I began to smoke marijuana and experiment
with
hallucinogens during the last four years of the sixties. I
went out
on the road, hitchhiking all over the country, but even though I went
without
money, I didn’t lose much weight. I’ve never had portion
problems; I just
eat the wrong things at the wrong times, sometimes in excess.
By 1969, I was living in the Berkeley area and working in a Telegraph
Avenue
store during the riots. I didn’t have much money left over
after
rent, and without a car I had to walk everywhere. I ate
only once a
day and slowly began to lose weight.
In the summer of 1970, as
Richard Oakes and the All-Tribes group were occupying Alcatraz Island,
I hooked
up with two brothers from the Pit River Tribe and ultimately became
active in
the Red Power Movement. Food was a luxury. Venison and
potatoes,
squirrel and rice, garlic and beans—these were the main courses we
enjoyed. There was no money for sugar foods and no refrigeration
for milk
products. I was hitchhiking and walking literally thousands of
miles each
year, sleeping outside on the ground, and eating less and
less.
Many nights we hunkered around the fire with plates piled high with
brown rice
flavored with a little mustard. We’d take bites of garlic cloves and
shovel in
the rice with flat bread baked on rocks to moderate the garlic
burn.
Water was our drink, and jerky our snack. For sweets, we’d eat
small
amounts of crystallized honey. In less than a year, I lost
forty-five
pounds and was feeling great.
In late 1970, I contracted
Hepatitis A and my weight plummeted further to 155 pounds, the lowest
weight
I’ve ever been as an adult.
By mid-1971, we were living
in Montana, eating mostly wild meats like elk, moose, deer, bear, duck,
raccoon, squirrel, and even muskrat. My weight climbed back up
into the
180’s. We returned to California in late “71” due to the
difficulty of
finding winter employment.
In 1972, we drove east to
Ohio on an ill-fated attempt to relocate to Canada and ended up
hitchhiking
back through Montana, finally returning to California. My weight
stayed
around 180.
In 1973, I went to Chicago
to rescue my brother and to try and jump-start a music career through a
contact
with Curtis Mayfield’s company. We stayed with a friend who ate
only
fried potatoes and onions, augmented with cheese. Occasionally
he’d eat a
rice cake with peanut butter and honey, but that was it, nothing
else.
Living there, my weight went back down to about 170 pounds. I was
doing a
lot of yoga and achieved the best flexibility of my life.
When we returned to
California, we began living a low cost nomadic life. My
weight
climbed back up to the mid 180’s. Over the next two years of
living in
the mountains, foothills, and deserts of the Western U.S., my weight
stabilized
around 180 pounds. I became addicted to running and often ran up
to five
miles a day.
Since 1971, we had been
participating in regular Native ceremonial life, which involved periods
of
fasting. Going four days without solid food was common and we
made that
sacrifice regularly. In 1973, my brothers and I began
experimenting with
longer and longer fasts. Some months, we fasted every other
day. Some months we’d fast for seven to ten days, drinking only
orange
juice and water. Finally, we began to get used to going without
food for
longer periods. My longest fast was 28 days, with juices.
My older
brother was going to college when he fasted 42 days. He came home
one day
complaining that he could see colors coming out of his professor’s
mouth and
figured he needed to eat again. We broke his fast with a
pizza. One
of my brothers went 60 days. He was still working in Reno when we
caught
up to him. Right away, we could see he was dying. He’d
completely
lost the desire for food, had contracted scurvy, and was living on
shots of 151
proof rum. We forced him to eat, and fortunately, he survived
with no
visible problems. I know it sounds crazy, but at the time
it seemed
a perfect solution to poverty. We didn’t have to spend the little
money
we had on food. We got used to fasting and a lack of desire to
eat.
Perhaps the fasting became addicting, I don’t know.
Some people, particularly
doctors, have challenged my truthfulness, claiming we couldn’t have
survived
those lengths of fasts without visible effects. We know
differently. Not only did we fast those lengths of time; we
stayed active
driving, traveling, going to school, and working. We did notice
certain
disabling effects during the longer fasts, particularly in driving and
other
activities that required broad attention to the surrounding
environment.
In general, though, we functioned perfectly well. After my
brother’s
close brush with mortality, we gave up extended fasting and returned to
a
maximum of four days at any one time. However, we still often
fasted
every other day during some months to try and lose weight. It is
my
belief that though we may not have seen visibly detrimental effects
from this
fasting, we seriously disrupted our body metabolisms by this
abuse—which subsequently
contributed to our gains in weight over the next few decades and our
inability
to regulate or lose excess pounds.
I met my wife, Bernie, in
1975. Though we continued to move around a lot, by the time our
second
child was born in 1977, we were reintegrating slowing into mainstream
society,
becoming more and more sedentary. Other than short diversions to
live in
the deserts of Northern Nevada, southeastern Arizona, and along the
Salmon
River in Northern Idaho, we settled our family primarily in Sonoma and
Lake
Counties of Northern California. Our lives began to reflect the
mundane
qualities of American life, and the pounds began to attach themselves
to
me.
I resumed my teenage habits
and by the early 1980’s gained almost 55 pounds. At a weight of
245, I
decided to do something about it. During a period of
winter-enforced
unemployment (I was now a landscaper), I began to workout 2-4 hours a
day,
including running and martial arts training. I reduced my calorie
intake
to less than 800 per day, using SlimFast, eating primarily yogurt,
cottage
cheese, granola bars, and ½ sandwiches of turkey and chicken
lunchmeats.
At the age of 30, and over a period of four to six months I lost
approximately
60 to 70 pounds to attain my best weight of 180.
I stayed active throughout
the next few years, working at a physically demanding job landscaping,
but
still my weight crept higher and higher.
By the mid-90’s I was
participating regularly again in our Native ceremonial life. I
originally
gave up alcohol in my early twenties, because of similar activities and
encouragement from Native elders. The rigors and responsibilities
of the
Renewal Dance demanded that I give up marijuana and recreational drugs
permanently. I had tried to give them up in my late thirties,
after
twenty years of hiding it from my parents and then my children, but
this time I
was successful. Unfortunately, I was unable (or unwilling) to
give up my
dependence on sugar foods and desserts—my weight continued to increase
significantly.
By the time I was in my
mid-forties I was running my own business and my weight had climbed
back up
into the mid 200’s. It became more and more difficult more
me to do
the harder work demanded by my job. I went to the doctor and got
medicines to control my appetite. I tried all kinds of chemicals and
fad
diets—but I was yo-yoing without any success.
At forty-seven I was
diagnosed with Hepatitis C. I did a year of chemotherapy and
Danced again
and it became undetectable in my blood. Instead of losing weight
from the
chemotherapy, I gained another ten pounds.
Just after my forty-ninth
birthday, I was at my highest weight ever—up to that time—about 290
pounds. I was preparing to fulfill my Ceremonial pledge for my
final
Dance. I worked out every day lifting weights, doing martial arts
and
aerobic kickboxing and lost down to 271. I went to New Mexico to
fulfill
my commitment and returned to immediately gain almost forty-two
pounds.
Now I began to get
scared. I was 313 pounds. I was beginning to doubt my
ability to
drum up enough self-discipline to ever get back down to a livable
weight.
I tried an all-protein diet and lost thirteen pounds only to
immediately gain
back twenty. Every time I tried to get into a routine of exercise
and
reasonable diet, something caused me to stop. My body had begun
to start
breaking down. I had to have both my knees scoped to remove
cartilage
damage. My doctor warned me that one of my Achilles tendons was
ready to
break anytime. My blood pressure went up enough that my doctor
put me on
medication. I began to suffer nausea and dry heaves every morning
and
scared my wife to death when I would almost asphyxiate myself by
breathing my
saliva as I slept. Eventually that started to happen even when I
was
awake. My weight climbed over 330.
I had to sell my business
because I was no longer able to do the work effectively. I felt
terrible,
with extreme fatigue in the afternoons and general malaise. I
passed out
from coughing one night while driving back from the city after having a
CAT
scan of my brain. The scan was scheduled because of a slight
sagging on
one side of my face and the slurring of words when I talked. The
scan
showed no evidence of stroke, but the passing out from coughing
continued.
After twenty-three years in
the same place, circumstances caused us to have to move. The
stress of
moving was tremendous. We were leaving the place where we
had
raised our children. We found a small house in town that was five
times
the monthly rent we’d been paying for more than two
decades.
Fortunately, I also found a job coordinating a language preservation
grant for
a local Tribe. I’d worked outside all my life, getting some sort
of daily
exercise even at these heavier weights. Now I was working ten to
twelve
hours in an office at a computer. My weight shot up to 360
pounds.
I could feel my body dying. I had great bouts of depression and
found it
difficult to walk and do mundane things. I suffered from partial
impotence
and was diagnosed with sleep apnea and suffered at least of two bouts
of
pneumonia, and two of severe bronchitis in those two years.
I saw a TV documentary about
a gastric bypass and began reading about it on the net. I talked
to my
doctor, and though he personally did not approve of my having the
surgery, he
consented to making a referral for me to a gastric surgeon.
I had a difficult time
finding surgeons that took my insurance in my area. The closest,
located in
Santa Rosa, wanted ten thousand dollars up front. For all the
years
before my job with the Tribe, I had never had any private
insurance. In
lean times I had periods of Medi-Cal coverage, but hadn’t had that in
more than
a decade. I found the name of my current surgeon on the Internet
and
initiated the contact for laproscopic bariatric surgery myself.
My doctor
required five thousand dollars up front.
I went to my
first
preliminary appointment in late June, knowing that my job—and my
insurance—would
be ending on August 30th. The doctor seemed to be
moderately
convinced that it might be possible to accomplish the surgery by then
so we
started the necessary series of tests required for approval by my
insurance. With my history, I needed to consult a cardiologist, a
pulmonary specialist, and have any number of scans and tests done prior
to a
mandatory psychological review and dietary counseling.
My preliminary pulmonary
tests showed that I might have a problem but subsequent tests showed
the
disease to be in a preliminary stage with minimal damage present in my
lungs. My surgeon had made it clear that he would not approve the
surgery
if I had existing problems that pointed to life threatening
conditions.
He wouldn’t take the chance of putting me on the table if I was just
going to
die in a few years of something else besides obesity related problems.
The surprise came from my
cardiologist. He was tremendously supportive and positive about
me having
the bypass and wished me success when we scheduled my next six-month
checkup. The shock came when my surgeon notified me that my
cardiologist’s report had showed some heart problems and he wanted to
take some
time to review them. By now we were into August and after another
late
notice for another test that had been missed, it was obvious the
surgery would
not occur before my job ended. My employer was going to extend my
insurance for one month past the layoff date so I was covered until
September
30th.
Near the end of August, my
surgeon’s office called me and the nurse made it a point to tell me
that they
were requiring that I keep my insurance current beyond the September 30th
date. Cobra would cost me almost $800 a month at my age and
secretly I
resolved to dump it as soon as possible after the surgery.
Fortunately,
my wife stepped in and had me put on her insurance at a cost of about
$320 a
month. I already was facing the possibility that the costs would
force me
to declare bankruptcy, but the alternative was unthinkable.
I had the final appointment
with my surgeon prior to setting a date for surgery. He informed
me he
was very concerned with the possibility I wouldn’t make it off the
table
alive. I told him that it was an issue of quality of life and
that I
would risk it. He insisted on taking more time to look at my
records, to
consult with the anesthesiologist before making a final decision.
I went
out of his office depressed and slightly angry.
It was almost six weeks
before I finally got the go-ahead and the date for the pre-op
appointments and
the surgery itself. The pre-ops would be November 3rd
and the surgery November 22nd. I was going to spend
Thanksgiving in the hospital. To be honest, I was looking for
another
doctor who could do the surgery and not charge me the $5000 up front,
but the
only one I could find was busy and wouldn’t do it laproscropicly.
I just
didn’t have the energy to keep looking. After all, I had/have a
date and
we’ re prepared to spend all our savings.
So now, we’re up to
date. We’ve been homeless since the end of August and had been
living in
our kid’s apartments. My wife is commuting to work and I’m still
producing and editing a historical documentary a few days a week.
Unemployment’s paying me pretty well, but not enough to really save
anything. According to my doc’s instructions, I have to
lose more weight.
He’s put me on more meds to open my lungs, and bring down my pulse
rate.
I’m ready. My family is prepared—kind of—for whatever might
happen.
I know they’re not really ready. No one’s family is prepared for
death.
Myself, I’m ready. For fifty-five years, I’ve eaten what I want
to.
I’m prepared to give that up. I want to run again. I want
to wear
something other than shorts and moccasins. I want to be able to
put on my
shoes, clip my toenails, and wipe my ass without feeling like I’ve run
a
marathon. I want to make love to my wife normally and not have to
take a
handful of pills every day. Yeah, it is selfish I know. But
I am a
child of the sixties—indulgent and self-centered. I’m ready to
begin
living again—not just waiting to die early. I want to be my
shadow.
Hoka Hey!
Minus 39 days.
I’m happy to have
started this journal. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m
going to get
into eating three or more times a day. For years, I haven’t been
eating
or even drinking anything all day until late afternoon. Today I
hadn’t
eaten anything other than an English muffin till the pizza at 5
PM. I
guess I’ll have to buy a watch and set timers to remind myself to eat
and drink
on time.
In another week or two I’ll
start looking for the containers, measuring cups, and foods I’m going
to need
when I get home from surgery. I’ll have to change the way I eat,
the way
I drink, the way I chew. But I won’t be alone, you’ll be right
there with
me. So I’m gonna wrap this up for tonight, get something to drink
and
take my evening meds before bed. I found some calorie free
flavored
waters that I’ve been drinking but I ran out yesterday. I hate
city tap
water. My wife is working late tonight. Later…
Minus 38 days
Minus 37 days
Today I’ve really been
depressed again. Lying around watching the tube, not doing
anything. Sometime I’ll write a little about the issues that are
causing
this depression but not today. I can’t seem to write at
all. It’s
even hard to write in this journal. I didn’t walk again.
Minus 36 days
The little house we move to
in town was OK. Small and convenient. It cost us eight
times what
our country house did. We were spoiled. When my job ended
with the
Tribe, we couldn’t afford to rent it anymore. Being homeless at
55 is
different, but it’s harder on my wife than it is on me. I was
used to
moving all the time. Leaving the place on Scotts Creek was tough
for her,
even though her health improved. All the mold in that old house
was bad.
I did most of the moving to
the house in town. Same when we had to leave there. Took me
about
ten weekends to put most of our stuff in storage and we got rid of a
lot.
I’m tired of moving stuff. It’s hard with this second me hanging
on my
back. I’m looking forward to being able to do things like that
again
without feeling like it’s too much.
Don’t know if I’ll have the
energy afterwards to walk. That’ll be three days I missed.
Guilt is
a bitch.
My wife and daughter are
leaving this evening to take my grandson for his eye operation in
Davis.
I could go but I’m just not real big on hospitals right now and I like
them to
have a chance to be together. If anything goes wrong during my
surgery,
they’ll need each other. I am worried about my grandson
though….
Time to take my meds and start moving.
Minus 35 days
The recent depression was mostly about the work I’m trying to do.
Making
a documentary is always filled with problems, but two weeks ago we had
a
computer glitch that wiped out about three full weeks work. So
instead of
being able to start the second segment with a lot of images ready to
place on
the timeline, we’re faced with having to go back and recapture and
import
everything from scratch. Until today I just haven’t been able to
face
it. I started looking for more funding—as of right now; neither
of us is
being paid!
I also have to look for a
job, which doesn’t seem to make much sense when I’ve got surgery coming
up next
month. Still I’m happy there’s unemployment or we wouldn’t be
covering our
bills right now.
Minus 34 days.
not much better to read! At least I’ve
been
drinking water again at night. The C-Pap’s been giving me
problems at
night and I haven’t been wearing it more than four or five hours.
Can’t
figure out what the problem is.
Walked two point seven today. Felt real good again. Think
I’ll bump
it up to three plus miles soon. Took care of business but forgot
to eat
all day. Been playing a lot of Texas Hold-em on the Net.
Just can’t
seem to write for any of the projects. Hope that changes soon!
Minus 33 days.
Took my truck to the dealer
to have the recalled ball-joints replaced. I was going to walk
but ended
up reading a magazine instead.
About ten PM I remembered that I hadn’t eaten or drunk much. I
had a
Snickers Bar and a bag of Cheetos around noon. Then I had a cup
of coffee
around six PM. I was going to eat, honest—but I was in a great
poker game
online and…the time just kinda slipped away. Tomorrow I promise
to eat,
drink and walk!
Minus 32 days.
I couldn’t get the rep
on the phone again so I called the General Manager’s Office. His
Sec asks
what it’s about. “I have a question about policy”, I
say. She
says he’ll call me back. A few minutes later I get a call from my
wife. “Are you trying to get me fired?”
I get a little
carried away sometimes. My problem is that I just don’t recognize
a chain
of command. As far as I’m concerned, if there’s a problem you
just go
right to the Big Dog… the Head Cheese… the place where all bucks
stop!
Unfortunately, most department heads don’t like that. If it’s me
fighting
the battle, I don’t care—but my wife just hates that kind of
stress. I
promised her I wouldn’t do it again and got the letter they
needed. Now
my doctor’s office has to wait until the new paperwork gets processed
so they
can apply for the surgery under the new numbers. Hopefully that
won’t
affect the date.
Remember last night when I
said I’d walk, eat, and drink today? I lied. I didn’t mean
to,
honest. It’s just that I went back to working on the documentary
and
skipped my walk. After that I picked my wife up and after
getting
gas, took her to her physical therapy session. Sat in the truck
for
another hour and ½. By the time we got back to Ukiah it was
almost seven
PM. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink so we stopped at
a
restaurant and ate. I had a sandwich, a few fries and a salad.
I told my wife I was a
little worried about how I was going to break the habit of not eating
or
drinking all day for so many years. Guess we’ll have to buy a lot
of
little containers and I’ll have to carry them with me wherever I
go. Only
a week and a few days to go until my pre-op appointments.
Minus 31 days.
And I walked three
and ½ miles after that. Started out feeling pretty poorly, but
finished
strong. I hope to be walking four miles by next weekend.
I got a good idea for a
stage performance using some of my stories, poetry and music
today.
Hopefully, I’ll actually work on it instead of having it stand in line
with all
my other dormant projects! Not too long ago I outlined a
screenplay that
I think would be great—then I found out that I knew nothing at all
about
writing screen plays! After reading a screenplay competition
critic’s
reviews of those submitted to a certain competition, my enthusiasm was
dampened
significantly. Before I could start the thing I’d need to spend
quite a
few hours looking at other successful projects and studying the basics
of
screenplay creation. I need a few clones. Actually I
imagine that
this will end up just another half-finished project. Lack of
discipline
and too many interests make a poor partnership for success. I
just don’t
have the energy to master the many disciplines I aspire too. The
old
“Jack of all trades…” adage is my anthem.
Minus 30 days
I played some poker and won
big only to have my computer freeze up mid-play all my winnings
disappear. Good thing I don’t use real money. Still, it
always
pisses me off when technology fails and I wish for my old life free of
such
“conveniences”.
The sole on my shoe has been
flopping when I walk lately. Reminds me of the circus clowns I
saw as a
kid. My son says I need to get new shoes but I just can see that
with so
many other expenses coming up. Basil’s web journal reminded me of
all the
things I have to get together before the surgery. My pre-ops are
next
week. I need to start keeping a list of questions for my
doctor.
I’m living about three hours from the hospital and my doctor.
What
happens post-op if I have an emergency? I can’t quite figure out
why I
haven’t already asked these important questions. I guess the
reality that
it’s all really gonna happen is finally hitting home. I haven’t
been
over-eating at all lately, but neither have I been eating that
well. We
had tri-tip sandwiches tonight.
Minus 29 days
a walk, a little over three miles. All
my back
pain is gone now when I walk. I don’t know if I’m losing any
weight, but
I definitely feel better and should be a lot stronger for the
surgery.
It’s been more than two years since I got this much exercise.
I read through the GBS manual that my doctor gave me again. I
need to
find the protein powder I’m going to use. After I finish writing
today,
I’m going to start that list of questions for my doctor.
I realized we’re going to
have to move back to my son’s after the surgery. I’ll have to
negotiate
the outside stairs, but I’ll need the real bed and my lazyboy
chair.
Plus, my son may be able to take me to the gym every day, especially
when it’s
raining.
My daughter is getting
serious about having the surgery herself. She’s only 28, but her
weight
is already a serious problem for her. I feel a lot of guilt
about
not having lived a better lifestyle so my kids might have developed
better
eating habits. Most of my daughter’s problems have to do with
portion
size, and eating the wrong thing.
I’m a little worried about
the fact that I’m eating so little now that the new post GBS diet won’t
be that
much of a change, but then I remembered that my body won’t absorb as
much
either. Also the total absence of sugar and reduced carbs
should
make for some success. I hope I’m not one of the percentage of
people who
don’t lose more than 40 percent of their excess body weight. Just
roll
the dice, baby.
Minus 28 days.
Minus 27 days.
Minus 26, 25, 24, 23 days.
Minus 22 days.
Minus 21 days.
Minus 20 days.
Minus 19 days
My pre-op appointment went
well. My nurse, Linda, made every effort to answer any questions
I had,
plus giving me the best description of what to expect I’d been given so
far. I’m paraphrasing her, with a little embellishment of my own
of
course—but basically she said they were going to stab me deep a couple
of times
and rearrange my insides. If I think about it like that, I
realize how
serious it us and I’m ready for all the complications, pain, and
discomfort
that comes with it. That’s OK with me. I appreciate the
honesty. They can talk about laproscopic surgery as being the
least
invasive all they want, but the truth is they stab you deep and
rearrange your
insides. It’s just neater than a knife blade and they sew you up!
On the down side, she
couldn’t find my most recent blood panels, so when I went to the
hospital
afterward for my pre-op appointment they had to stick me again in both
arms. There was also a mix-up with whether or not I could get the
lab
work without registering for an out-patient service. Fortunately,
for me,
they went out of their way to make it simple for me and just took the
blood and
sent me on my way. It seems like a pretty good hospital. I
finished
all my appointments in three hours and was on my way for the long drive
home. I’m supposed to be taking my vitamins already—so I’ll pick
‘em up
tomorrow.
Minus 18 days.
Later my wife and I had
dinner at the show—two hot dogs, popcorn, and lemonade. It’s been
a
really long time since we’ve been to the show on Friday, even if it was
only a
matinee. We enjoyed the show and the previews too and decided we
should
go more often. Nothing like the big screen! I haven’t been
as
depressed as I was. I guess things are accelerating fast enough
toward
the surgery now that I’m getting more philosophical.
Minus 17 days.
My publisher’s husband, who
is a doctor, offered to buy my post surgery supplements at
wholesale.
That should save me at least one hundred dollars a month.
He also
offered to teach me a method of teaching my body to obey commands to
help with
the habit and behavior modifications and management I’ll need to
master.
When that happens I’ll write about it. I picked up my wife from
work at
about 9:30 PM and we drove back to Mendocino County.
Haven’t walked in
well over a week now. I’m wondering if I’ll actually start again
before
the surgery. With all the rain, it ain’t easy.
Minus 16 days.
The whey protein powder
seems to be easy to find but I can see I’ll have to reduce the amount
of fluid
I mix with it to keep my fluid intake in line with 80-90 grams of
protein and
less than 48 ozs of fluid. That’s going to make the drinks a lot
thicker—and probably a lot less tasty as well. Somehow I don’t
think I’m
going to care much about that at the beginning.
I hope.
Minus 15 days.
Minus 14 days.
Minus 13 days.
Minus 12 days.
Minus 11 days.
Minus 10 days.
We rushed home when my wife
got off and had a great dinner with all the family. It was very
nice. I didn’t overeat and the food was great! These kinds
of meals
I’ll miss.
Minus 9 days.
Minus 8 to 4 Days
My daughter took her kids to
see the new Harry Potter movie and I stayed home to watch my grandson,
Hvshi. My wife was working. He threw up the entire time and
wasn’t
feeling good but as soon as his mom and brother and sister came home he
perked
right up. Kids!
Minus 3 Days.
We’re setting up to scan
digital transparencies of Grace Hudson’s paintings of Pomo people for
use in
our documentary. The Sun House in Ukiah is graciously helping
us. The paintings should really make a difference in the
quality of
the documentary. On the down side, our camera has been
malfunctioning and
a full day of shooting left us with only a few usable clips. As
of today,
I’m forgetting about all that until I’m recovered enough to get back in
the
saddle.
I’m wondering whether to go
out and buy some books for the hospital. I just don’t know if
I’ll be up
to reading them. Other than that, I’m just focusing on
appreciating the
world and all that’s in it. My wife is getting a cold, but so far
I’m
well. I hope hers doesn’t get too bad--hanging out in the
hospital isn’t
fun if you’re a sick visitor. And since she’s taking her vacation
to be
there, she’ll only have work to come back to! She’s a wonderful
person.
Minus 2 days.
Poor woman. That’s the story of
her
life. So they’re sick and I’m eating my last meal… . I had
watched
the movie “Chocolat” and craved some real cocoa. I made two cups
and
savored them. Tomorrow is the dreaded “bowel cleansing
regimen”. Oh, I forgot. I walked yesterday. It
was nice
but I only went about a mile and I was exhausted. I’ve lost all
the
strength I gained.
Minus 1 day.
Day 1
An hour later the Dr
arrived to ask if I had any questions. He was smiling, positive
and
confident. The anesthesia specialist arrived next. He was
wonderful—humble, soft spoken but self-assured, compassionate and
competent. I was especially grateful for his warm assurances to
my wife
that they would take good care of me. The rest of the surgical
team
introduced themselves and told us the expected duration of the surgery.
Next came the IV and the
initial shots and pills to get things underway. I wasn’t nervous,
just
ready to go. By 7:45 AM they wheeled me toward the OR. I
don’t even
remember going in the door, I was out that fast. I didn’t wake up
at all
in the immediate recovery room that I remember but I do remember waking
up in
Intensive Care. My doctor assured me that everything had gone
perfectly
and I drifted in and out of consciousness for the next five or six
hours.
My wife went to get something to eat. They weren’t able to find a
fold-out chair for her but provided her with blankets and pillows in
the ICU
waiting room. She was still feeling pretty poorly and went to bed
early. I began to wake up around 9 PM. My throat was really
sore
from the breathing tube in place during the surgery. Fortunately
it was gone
by the time I woke up. The catheter was really
uncomfortable as
well. This was my first time suffering that intimate
imposition.
Hope it’s my last!
I still wasn’t allowed any
water to drink but was give a sponge on a stick to swab my cotton mouth
away. Occasionally the catheter would begin stinging terribly and
I knew
I was urinating. I was pressing my pain button about every
fifteen
minutes. During one hour I pressed it about every eight
minutes.
Finally the ache in my stomach went away and I managed to find a
position where
the catheter didn’t sting.
Around 10 PM I felt
good enough to start reading one of the two new books I’d purchased on
Saturday. I never get to buy books so I was really looking
forward to
it. I didn’t have my glasses but the print was just large enough
at arms
length that I could make it out. Getting older is a bitch!
I read
until midnight and then fired up the old C-pap machine and
crashed. Oh, I
forgot, I also got a breathing machine I was supposed to use
every 30 minutes.
Actually, it was just a tube that lifts a plastic disc to measured
lines in
another tube. It’s supposed to help get the lungs functioning to
avoid
pneumonia—something that I do need. I’m prone to pneumonia.
It’ll
probably be the bug that eventually takes me out. I began to use
it
faithfully.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Day 2
Around three AM I really
started to sleep well, but by seven I was awake again. My sore
throat and
the stinging of the catheter were my main complaints. The pain
medication
seemed to take care of the incision pain, knocking it down to just a
soft dull
ache. I was given a few ice chips to suck on and that helped my
throat
some. Around 8 o’clock my day nurse arrived and I began to
concentrate on
the real process of recovery, breathing into the lung tube every 30
minutes,
limiting my pain medication, keeping an eye on my heart rate, blood
pressure,
and oxygenation. Around 9 AM she got me out of bed to sit in a
chair for
two hours. I wanted to walk but had too many wires tethering me
plus the
damn catheter. It was driving me crazy! My nurse began the
process
of finding out if we could remove it, especially since I’d been on my
feet
already. It took three more hours but by then I was making real
progress
on the breathing tube, increasing my lung function substantially.
About
Noon she got the permission to remove it. Now that was
painful!
Since my Doctor was off
today, another Doctor was supposed to come and check on me to give me
permission to leave the ICU and go downstairs to the regular recovery
stations
where I could begin the Stage One Diet and Walking. He finally
made it
around 1;30 PM and by 2:30 we were saying our goodbyes in the
ICU. I was
very impressed by the professionalism, attentiveness, and compassion of
everyone working there. I vowed to send them all a card, and a
couple of
them a present. At 6:15 PM I was in the wheel chair heading
downstairs.
By 2:45 we were led into
room 111 downstairs. It was a fairly good sized room with 2
beds—both
empty. We unloaded our stuff and the wheelchair attendant helped
me into
bed and hooked up my oxygen and my pain med IV tubes. A few
minutes later
another attendant came in to set up the overhead rack on my bed that
gives me a
little trapeze swing to grab onto to shift around in the bed. We
joked
about what it was costing to put it up and what I would be charged
compared to
what he was getting paid. Another guy wheeled in a recliner
“sleeping”
chair for my wife and we settled down to watch the 14 channels on
TV. No nurse yet. We waited. And waited…and
waited. An hour later a woman came in an introduced herself as my
nurse,
but left immediately saying she would return in a moment. Another
girl
came in saying she too would be helping, but also left right
away. We
waited another forty-five minutes. Almost two hours later we were
still
waiting for them. I decided it was time to walk. I visited
the
bathroom for my first urination since the catheter removal and like
they say in
the movie “Wyatt Earp”, Hell Followed After! I’ve never had
the
clap, but that is how it must feel.
When the late duty nurse and
attendant came in I got my first care in the regular post operative
treatment
unit. Around six I had my first meal of strained beef broth
along
with a cup of oral pain suppressor. They want to wean me
off the
pain button. I have to say, despite not being a previous
fan of
soup of any kind—it was good. The pain medicine was
icky-icky.
I tried to eat all that they brought me and within an hour I felt
bloated and
gaseous. Fortunately some of the gas was released into the ether
and I
wasn’t too uncomfortable. But I decided I didn’t want the oral
pain
medicine anymore.
By now I was having very
little pain at all from the surgery. Most of the discomfort was
centered
around one or two of the “poking places”. I used my pain button
sparingly
throughout the night.
Day 3
A few hours later I was
having my first breakfast of four ounces apple juice to be mixed with
four
ounces of water. Let’s see, eight ounces at one ounce per fifteen
minutes
comes out to—two hours for breakfast. By the fourth ounce I was
feeling
bloated. I kind of forced myself to drink it all and really began
to feel
pretty bad. It wasn’t that it was painful, although there was a
kind of
stomach flu ache to it, but the bloated full feeling was worse. I went
for
another walk, doubling my distance.
Around ten, my doctor came
in to see my progress. He’d seen me walking in the halls and was
happy
with my progress. My wounds were healing up nicely with no sign
of
infection. He passed me onto the stage two diet and I told him
about my
after dinner symptoms. He told me if I felt full to stop—I didn’t
have to
eat it all. That was a relief. However now I was
confused.
How am I supposed to get all the hydration and nutrition demanded by
even the
stage two diet if I’m not consuming the recommended amounts?
Obviously,
at the moment my doctor wasn’t concerned so I decided I shouldn’t be
either.
We’d hoped he might let me
go home today, but I had a slight temperature so he said we’d
reevaluate the
situation tomorrow and I probably could go home then. I was OK
with
that. My pain was practically gone and I was up walking again and
feeling
pretty chipper.
Lunch came and I had my
first stage-two dinner of strained cream soup and light yogurt. I
have to
admit it was pretty tasty. Two hours later I got my first
four-ounce
protein drink—chocolate, no less. It was very thick and almost
too
chocolaty for my taste. Also it seemed to take forever to
drink.
My wife’s condition
worsened. We had no choice but to take her to the emergency
room. I
walked her down there—becoming a familiar face in the halls now.
After a
couple of hours she came back feeling better—nice to be near the
facilities! It clouded up outside and began to rain.
My doc and I had decided to
see how I handled Vicodin. I asked them to crush it for me and
they
watched me in disbelief as I downed the dry powder and sipped a little
water. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the syrup they’d given me the
day
before which took almost fifteen minutes to finish.
I walked again.
The nighttime halls empty. This was getting pretty monotonous, I
couldn’t
wait to walk outside again.
Day 4
I had no pain at all last
night and used no pain medication at all. I think I’ll be going
home
today. They brought my wife a wonderful breakfast of scrambled
eggs and
salsa, bacon, sausage and english muffins. As I nibbled on my
cream of
wheat, I drooled watching her eat and realized one of the big myths I
had built
in my mind about the gastric bypass surgery.
Somehow I had expected all
my cravings to disappear. I knew that I wasn’t going to get
hungry very
often—I didn’t get hungry much before the surgery. But, for
whatever
reason, I hadn’t expected to have the same cravings! I still
craved
peanut butter at night—the same way I did before the surgery. In
fact, I
craved all kinds of things now. But the difference is, no matter
how much
I want them and how available they are, I physically can’t eat
them.
Whoa! Big reality check! I’m only five days into post
surgery, but
I realize why people even much further along get depressed. I
realized
that most of my reasons for eating have been psychological not
physical.
They tell you that of course, you read it in all the literature about
obesity,
you even recognize it in your eating habits—but it doesn’t become a
tangible
reality until you have to eat. Then the differences between
eating for
sustenance and eating psychologically become profoundly
recognizable.
Suddenly, doubts begin. I squash them like a bug!
The staff seemed to be in
limbo around here. Even some of the nurses didn’t seem to know
quite what
was going on. We’d go many hours without anyone checking up on
us.
In their defense, they have only one staff attendant and three nurses
per
sixteen beds—and a lot of those patients are in worse shape than me,
that’s for
sure. I guess they bring in contract nurses for some
shifts. It
doesn’t seem to me like these nurses get much help or direction from
the
regular staff, but perhaps I’m mistaken. Anyway, though my nurse
last
night seemed generally competent, she knew nothing about my surgery or
what was
going on. This morning we’ve hardly seen anyone at all.
The nutritionist came to see
me. I think she answered most of my questions, except for the
logistics
of how much I’m supposed to eat or drink as opposed to how much time
that’s
supposed to take. She gave us some ideas for protein drinks, but
when my
wife went to the store she recommended—the store wasn’t there
anymore.
Once again, I think the disconnect between theory and practice has been
breached.
My doctor came in and gave
me instructions for emptying the drain bulb attached to my belly and
for
changing the dressing. I’m supposed to call in a few days to get
an
appointment for next week’s end to have the drain removed and a general
checkup. My fever is gone—so I’m going home pretty soon. He
gave me
a script of Vicodin but I doubt that I’ll use it. I haven’t been
in any
real pain since the second day. I’m supposed to watch for
redness, chest
pain, pain in my shoulders, etc. Also I’m supposed to stop a few
times on
the way home. That’s to keep any leg clotting from happening on
the long
drive. He’s seems pleased with my progress and told me that I can
walk as
much as I want as long as I stop when I get tired. He said I
really can’t
hurt the surgery at all with exercise.
My wife went and got some
things we need and the nurses gathered up everything they could to help
us—mostly plastic measuring cups and the like. I watched the
Longhorns
beat the Aggies on TV while we were waiting.
At about 1:30 PM we said our
goodbyes (we’d been getting the names of all the staff members in each
of the
various care units to send them thank you cards) and the orderly
brought my
wheel chair. The rain is pouring today. It was refreshing
to get up
and walk to the truck. I’m ready to go home. Unfortunately
for me,
I had to sit for an hour at the drug store to get the Vicodin script
filled
(the one I never used). That was pretty unpleasant. After
that
though, the ride home flew by, and by 6:30 PM I was home.
I emptied my drain bag and
drank a very gucky three ounces of protein powder mixed with sugar free
fruit
flavored water. I vowed that was the last time for that
particular recipe
and went to bed.
It’s clearing up outside.
Day 5
Breakfast. The word
seems more real now. Neither does it evoke quite the same quality
image
it used to. Cream of wheat cools off pretty fast in one-ounce
containers. Cold cream of wheat without butter and milk seems
very much
like the breakfast Neo ate with the crew in the movie Matrix, after he
was
brought out into the real world. Somehow the adventure has lost
its
shine, now its just work. And don’t let anyone tell you its not
work to
take forty-five minutes to eat three ounces of cold cream of wheat!
Not much happening of
interest right now. Lots of time eating and drinking. In
the
afternoon my wife and I went to WalMart. With the weather cooling
off my
preferred attire of shorts and t-shirt is no longer functional. I
bought
a pair of 2X sweats and a 3X zip-up hooded sweatshirt.
We went to two or three
different stores and by the time we got home I was pretty beat.
My drain
is slowing down a lot. I started out draining fifty milliliters
each
emptying. Now I’m down between twenty or thirty a day.
I’m still not drinking
anywhere the amount of liquid and protein I’m supposed to.
Hopefully,
I’ll figure it out. My wife changed my dressing. I’ll
update the
journal tomorrow. I need to get back to writing again. I
can see
the recoup time from this is short. Only five days and I’m up and
active—to a point! My disability is sure not to last long.
I
haven’t stepped on a scale yet but I can’t have lost much weight.
I can
see why people who eat normally drop it so fast at first—you’re
virtually not
eating at all for three or four weeks. Oh—just got a craving for
golden
pepperocines (can’t spell it without looking at the jar). Must be
time to
sleep.
Day 6
I’ve been working on the
journal for awhile and I’ve caught up. I need to go for another
walk
before my next eating session. Looks like I’m only going to eat
twice a
day and my liquid and protein intake is a quarter what they say it
should
be. Oh well. I only drained ten ml last night and almost
nothing
today. I think its drying up. Hope that’s normal.
We’re going to take a
drive by the theatre soon to see when the new King Kong is playing that
my wife
wants to see. On Monday I call for my next appointment, pick up
my check
and start paying December bills. Oh fun. Life in this
society is
depressing enough without cream of wheat. Still, I am enjoying my
strained cream of chicken and mushroom soup in the late afternoons, and
my
yogurt. That’s yet to come today, so all’s well. I’m gonna
take my
first real shower tonight.
Okisheh (later).
Day 7
I walked about two and ½
miles yesterday. I felt pretty drained each time on the way home
but no
pain or real discomfort at all.
I’m still struggling to
discover how to get the right amount of protein, fluid, food, exercise,
and
sleep while still having time to live a life. I can tell it won’t
be
easy. Here’s the scoop.
The paperwork says I’m
supposed to get a minimum of forty-eight ounces of fluid in a
day. But I
can only take in a maximum of four ounces per hour. Do the
math. That’s twelve hours of drinking time to get hydrated.
Now the
meals, three a day, at forty-five to sixty minutes per. We’re up
to
fifteen hours. Before and after each meal I’m supposed to have a
hiatus
of thirty minutes. Add three hours. Now we’re up to
eighteen hours
to achieve meal and protein requirements and hydration. But we
also have
to exercise—optimally three times a day minimum. I want to
allocate an
hour each time, but for our purposes we’ll say ½ hour per walk.
That’s
one and ½ hour for exercise. Our total time is now nineteen and
½
hours—which leaves us four and ½ hours to sleep and bathe and do all
the other
things that cannot be done while we are eating drinking and
exercising.
To be absolutely fair, perhaps we should add back on the one and ½
hours of
time before and after meals that we should not be hydrating or taking
in extra
protein. Now we have four and ½ hours to sleep and three
hours to
do all those other things. I don’t know about you but I
need more
than six hours sleep—which means I probably won’t eat, drink, or
exercise up to
the standards set by the medical profession for my post surgery
recovery and
maintenance.
My daughter says she thinks
it’s Frankenstein Science—medical techniques pushing the limits before
nutritional science is ready. She wanted to have the surgery—now
she’s
having doubts.
Went to town and stopped by
to check my weight at the doctors. I am now at 333.4.
That’s
probably fifteen to seventeen pounds lost in seven days. Not
bad.
On the other had I don’t feel much different than I did when I was
young and
fasting. I don’t feel hungry—but I think about food twenty-four
seven.
I did find a new protein
powder that will help me reach all my protein requirements in about
four
hours. That’s a lot more efficient than my other one and it
tastes better
too. The most difficult part of all this is getting enough
hydration.
My drain is really no longer
functional. I have my first post-op appointment on Friday to get
it
removed. It’s a pain in the butt. So is the rain
outside. I
walked about three miles today—even with the rain. It let up just
enough
for me to walk.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Day 8
I woke up this morning
really feeling dehydrated. I live to drink. An ounce every
fifteen
minutes is pretty hard for me—just as I thought it might be. I
find
myself watching the clock a lot, waiting for the next fifteen minute
period to
begin.
My drain has been leaking
some but all my incisions are healing nicely. It’s draining
about
ten to fifteen milliliters per day. I can’t wait till it’s out.
I haven’t gotten sick, which
is a real blessing. My calves and lower legs felt a little
strained and
sore tonight, probably from all the walking.
I got a job offer
today. And my agent called to tell me she needs all my books
finished and
ready to go in order to shop them. I’m a long way from
that. Guess
it’s time to bite the bullet—either I’m going to try to make it as a
writer, or
not.
Day 9
morning. It’s cold, but not
raining. This is my wife’s first day back at work since my
surgery.
No transport available for me. I needed to walk into
downtown to go
to the bank, get the museum photo shoot scheduled, and go to the post
office. It was about a three and ½ mile walk.
By the time I got to the
museum I was pretty weak and I’m sure my voice sounded like I was
strung out on
something. I went through the exhibit and wrote down the numbers
of the
paintings I need to scan for the documentary. After that I walked
to the
post office. On the way back I really needed to sit down for a
few
minutes. I was pretty beat by the time I got to my daughter’s.
Right here I should mention
I’ve gone back to drinking coffee again. And also experimenting
with
protein shake recipes. In my book it says getting adequate
protein is the
number one priority, so I’m drinking two twelve ounce protein shakes a
day. That’ll make sure I get at least sixty to ninety grams of
protein.
Here’s my morning fixer
upper. I take my twelve ounces of coffee, mix in some light
coffee
creamer and two dippers of protein powder. Then I add two
teaspoons of no
sugar-added chocolate Nestles Quik. It’s not bad. I start
drinking
it right after breakfast and usually finish it by lunch. Presto,
forty
grams protein.
I spent most of the day
working on my novel. I found that for some reason I only have
about one
hundred and eighty pages in the desktop. Where the rest is, I’m
not
sure. It is my oldest project and I have a sneaking suspicion
that the
rest of it is either sitting in my file cabinet in storage or in a
project box,
also in storage—in hard copy only. That means I’m going to have
to type the
rest in before I can finish. Whoopee! To make my day even
better, I
found that the format it’s saved in doesn’t fit the writing program I’m
working
with. That means going through it page by page and moving it all
around
manually. Oh joy.
I reformatted about a third
of the book and was so fatigued I practically crawled into the truck
when my
wife came to get me. Tomorrow I’ve got more projects but it
started
pouring again tonight.
Important Reminder.
Remember to schedule your surgery when the weather is good! Too
late…
My credit card bill came and
I found out I had overdrafted my account by about five hundred dollars
just
before the surgery.
Second Important
Reminder. Don’t go hogwild spending just before your
surgery. You
might just survive…
I took another hot shower
tonight—it felt great.
Day 10
I woke up to find my drain
had started working again during the night. It must have been the
hot
water. I hope this doesn’t delay me getting it taken out on
Friday.
It’s pouring outside.
I guess I was glad. My shoulder bone and collar
hurt all day. No walking
today. I
went to my daughter’s and got another third of my book
reformatted. Also
took care of a few odds and ends of business on the computer. It
still
seems really buggy.
I skipped lunch today. To be honest I’ve only been eating two of
my three
scheduled meals the last week. I’m trying to get enough protein
and
drinking my protein drinks seem to take all day.
Third Important Reminder. I don’t care how you do
it—develop a
schedule, eating and drinking, and stay on it. Today I forgot to
drink
for about five hours. Bad mistake…
My shoulder and collarbone are killing me. It’s a good thing I’ve
got my
post-op appointment tomorrow. It’ll be interesting to see what
the doctor
thinks of my progress. Of course I’m praying he’ll pass me on to
the
Stage Three diet. Another week of nothing but Cream O Wheat,
jello,
creamed soup and yogurt is gonna drive me nuts. I did buy some
sugar-free
chocolate pudding and some sugar-free popsicles. They were both
excellent! I also had terrible cravings for tacos, peanut butter,
salad
and other delectables.
Eight hours driving tomorrow. Just can’t wait…
Day 11
My nurse took out my drain tube. That felt weird! A foot
and one
half of tube being withdrawn—icky. It was good to get it out
though.
I bought some of the bariatric vitamins, multi and calcium. They
told me
not to worry about the shoulder pain and make sure I’m not overdoing it
with
exercise. I can’t move on to the stage three diet until next
Friday—God, another week of Cream Of Wheat!
Four hours driving back and I was exhausted.
Day 12
In the late afternoon my
daughter started complaining of a stomach ache and by late evening she
had to
go to the hospital. By midnight she was in surgery for
appendicitis.
Four hours later she’s out with almost the same scars I have from the
gastric
bypass. They haven’t said when she can come home from the
hospital… .
Day 13
Day 14
Day 15
I got the transparencies
today from the museum. Had to leave a $2500 deposit. Also
got a
disc of black and white photos. I just hope the format works.
We went to see Harry Potter
And The Goblet of Fire—it wasn’t bad, but the smell of hot dogs and
popcorn was
tempting. I didn’t give in.
My daughter gets out of the
hospital tomorrow.
Day 16
I haven’t been able to write
much but I have been reformatting my novel. I have to find the
last
sections in my storage shed to input for my agent. She wants only
finished products.
Walked four and one half
miles but I’m still feeling tired. Looking forward to Friday’s
diet
change. Went shopping to pick up some of the new food.
Day 17
I went to Indian
Health today to get my weight and blood pressure. My pressure was
great
but my weight was the same as the week before. I hope it was the
scale!
Important note—use only one scale to weigh on, that way you can be sure
of your
progress.
I started my next stage diet
this evening, a meal early. Had some mashed potatoes for
dinner. It was great. I’m still feeling dragged out but I
managed
to walk about two miles today.
My nephew called and I found
out that my brother really doesn’t want to move from his stable
situation. That means my wife and I have to find a place by
ourselves. We really can’t afford it, I don’t know what we’ll do.
Day 18
Eggbeaters for breakfast, cottage cheese and
yogurt
for lunch, mashed potatoes and fish for dinner. Yum!
I walked a lot again today but my energy level is still low.
Nothing else
going on.
Day 19
I walked three and one half miles today but went really slow. No
energy
at all. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m lacking something but I
have been
taking my vitamins so…
Tonight I’m going over to my publisher’s to use their scanner to scan
the
transparencies from the museum.
Day 19
I was really worn out when I got up today, but I still managed to walk
about a
mile and one half. Kicked back most of the day, researching and
writing
for another chapter in one of my books. Watched the pitiful
Raiders lose
again. They’ve got a long way to go to get it together again.
Went back to a basic stage three diet today—don’t want any
complications.
Monday, December 12th,
2005
Day 20
I’m eating according to the diet but wishing I could stretch out.
We went
to the movies again and I resisted the temptation to eat a hot dog
without the
bun. Just drank water. The Chronicles Of Narnia is a good
kid’s
movie.
I called about a studio cottage closer to my wife’s work. About
six
hundred a month but it includes utilities and cable. That’s
probably the
best we’ll do in this area. We’ll look at it tomorrow.
I’m having some needle pain
bursts in my left chest and stomach—I have no idea why. They come
and go.
My next doctor’s appointment is Thursday.
By the way, if this seems pretty boring for you, think what it’s like
for me!
Day 21
We looked at the studio
cottage. Can’t believe how small it is but beggars can’t be…well,
you
know. There is a dock on the lake with a picnic table next to
it—that
should be nice in the spring. We don’t swim in ClearLake though,
it’s
just not clean enough for our tastes.
Tomorrow I’ll fill out the
application. Fortunately I know the owner of the Realty Company
pretty
well. Phil’s one of the funniest and sharpest guys you’ll ever
meet. When I met him he just moved from Southern California,
where he was
landscaping—mostly mowing lawns. His parents live up here.
That was
about twenty years ago. Now he’s a big time realty guy.
He’ll be
able to help me wave the credit report, cut through a little of the red
tape. After not getting the place in Scotts Valley, that’ll be
nice.
Actually, it was meant to be
that we not get the place in Scotts Valley—without my brother living
with us we
couldn’t have made our rent payments. Our Medicine is still
strong.
We get what we need.
Wednesday, December 14th,
2005
Day 22
I turned in our rental
application today. We’re not going to move in until the first of
the year
though. I’ll give them a deposit on Friday.
I put it all on the line and
cheated today. Ate some pizza, no crust.
No problems at all. Otherwise I
followed the
stage three diet to the letter. Off to the doctor tomorrow.
Hoping
to get on to stage four soon.
I was really tired today and didn’t walk at all—again.
Day 23
The receptionist said she hardly recognized me. I laughed.
I guess
she wasn’t kidding but I see only a minor change in my body so far.
My surgical nurse, Linda, is the one that checks me out. My
weight is
318. Only six pounds down from the last time—thirteen days
ago. I’m
disappointed but she seems to think everything’s on schedule. My
incisions are basically healed with only a little scabbing left on the
surface. She’s happy with my diet, especially my protein
intake.
The cheating, especially the pizza and the olive raised her eyebrows
though. She went to talk to my surgeon and he sent back word that
I’m
still walking too much and that I should not move forward with my diet
until
next Thursday. He also agreed with Linda that the needle pains
I’ve been
having in my lung are just a slight pleurisy and nothing to worry
about.
Linda gave me my schedule and directions for the next period and sent
me on my
way.
Stage four diet begins next Thursday. Two weeks after that I’m
back to a
normal diet with some restrictions. In three weeks I’ve got my
next
appointment with Linda. Then I’m supposed to keep a diet log for
a
meeting with the nutritionist two weeks after that. That’ll be my
last
doctor’s appointment for awhile.
Found out my disability ends January first. Then its back to
unemployment
until I find a job, which is going to have to happen pretty soon with
the
medical bills I’m expecting.
I drove home, ate another very small bit of pizza stuffing, in
defiance—and
went to bed. Linda keeps saying how I'm their star patient—mostly
because
I walk so much—but I’ve always been a rebel. I have a hard time
following
any kind of rules. Maybe everybody does. Tomorrow is
going to
come early—4:30 A.M.
Day 24
I got to the TV station around 8 A.M. Worked all day on the
documentary
and FINISHED! Yes! Of course there’s still weeks of pick
ups,
additions, and of course, the credits—but it’s mostly done. I’ve
got to
start helping with an Indigenous Language Conference setup so I’m
really glad
to get this done.
Now I have to start getting
permissions—both for the documentary and for my book.
I forgot to eat and drink
all day—that happens a lot when I’m working. I really need to
figure out
how to get my diet in line with my work. Otherwise I’m going to
have
problems.
I went to give the Realtor
the deposit for the new house today. Next week I’ll go talk to
the
Landlord about moving in a few days before the first. I’m still
not
supposed to life anything heavy. My doctor did say I could go to
the gym
and do some light lifting after Xmas though.
We got the main bill for the
surgery today. It doesn’t take them long. Sixty three
thousand
dollars and some change all together. Our part is only a little
over
nineteen hundred. Not too bad I think. I’m still going to
have
trouble paying it though, unless I can find another above average
paying job.
Of course I’m sure there will be other bills
to
follow. Maybe it’s time for another credit card.
Bankruptcy
is probably looming ahead. This would be our second. The
first was
due to medical bills too. Glad we don’t live in Kubla Khan’s
time.
The third bankruptcy meant execution!
I didn’t walk again today. That’s three days in a row. The
longest
time since my surgery. I’m definitely beat. Sleep is more
important
than food tonight.
Day 25
2 months, 11 days out
Day 90
I thought that the entire
journal was lost until a competent computer recovery professional
donned his
protective gear and braved the evil non-spinning plates of the laptop
hard
drive to rescue it.
Needless to say, I apologize for the gap in
record
keeping, and have no excuse for not continuing in the old fashioned
way, with
pen or pencil, except for the malaise and uncertainty that accompanies
such
catastrophes.
I have returned today, to
the fray—so to speak, and intend to attempt to update you regarding the
mysteries, physical and philosophical, that accompany my adventure into
post
gastric surgery recovery.
I'm sure the first question I need to answer
is the
end all/be all of gastric surgery dialog. How much weight have I lost?
As of yesterday, at the end
of the third month post surgery, I've lost a total of fifty-eight
pounds. I
weigh 287, one hundred and seven pounds to go.
I completed all my regular doctor evaluations
and am
presently in that period where I am on my own until my six month
evaluation.
Other than a fairly significant backache, I went through my post
surgery
evaluation period without any problems. I faithfully took my vitamins
and
consumed two protein drinks per day, avoiding the hair loss and other
problems
that accompany protein deficiency. I did not attend the dietary
consultation
which I was supposed to before my last evaluation, and still haven't.
For the
first two months I didn't have any trouble with dumping syndrome or
vomiting
from overeating and was walking fairly regularly, except for a period
when I
caught a head cold that found a home in my lungs for a couple weeks.
Physically I feel pretty
good. I've been working out on a total gym at least four days a week
and my
back pain has been reduced significantly. I stopped almost all of my
medication
at the end of month two, except for my blood pressure meds and
including the
C-Pap. I can sleep on my stomach again, which is great, and the noise
and
discomfort of the C-Pap mask just got to be too much of a hassle. Now,
at the
end of the third month, my blood pressure is holding below 150 over 85,
but
another problem has forced my doctor into discontinuing medication. For
some
reason my pulse is unnaturally low. At the time of my surgery, my
doctor
insisted that I get it down to about sixty. A few weeks ago I clocked
in at
forty-nine, and yesterday I was down to forty-four. The EKG didn't show
anything
that I know of, but my doctor discontinued my blood pressure meds and
is
waiting for me to have my heart checkup at the end of the first week in
March.
Another issue I'm sure my
readers are interested in is what I am eating. The truth? Not much. As
soon as
I started eating real food I began to have problems keeping it down. I
can eat
and drink foods like low fat cottage cheese, non-fat yogurt, almonds,
non-spicy
low fat refried beans, eggs, cheese, olives, bread sticks and crackers,
non-fat
cream cheese, sugar free popsicles, sugar free drinks, coffee and tea
with
Splenda, those mini-muffins, low fat peanut butter and corn flakes with
one
percent milk. Meats come back up right away, as do some spicy foods,
but as yet
I haven't come to a conclusion about whether I just can't eat them or
if I'm
still eating to much, too quickly. I've slowed down in my eating a lot
but I'm
no where near the forty-five minute meal advisories. My bite site may
still be
part of the problem too. If I'm not paying attention or I get too
hungry (I'm
still missing most of my daily meals), I have a terrible habit of
eating too
much, too fast. The result is a feeling like my food is back up beyond
my
stomach into my esophagus. When that happens I will invariably have to
throw it
all back up within a few minutes.
There are two experiences I
have had since being able to try and eat whatever I wanted that have
been my
worst. The runner-up worst was being at a barbecue and running to hurl
four or
five times in two hours. The
take-the-cake worst was when I went to a
meeting and
was offered, along with everyone else, an orange. I only ate three
sections but
I totally forgot that I ever had the surgery and just ate them like I
always
had. Within five minutes I was reminded that my life had changed
forever, and
for the next six hours I threw up about every fifteen minutes.
It seems unbelievable that one could forget
that
they had this surgery, but I guess fifty-five years of habits can
supersede
three months of memory, especially when the body is healed.
This brings me to what I
consider to be the most serious issue one can face by having this
surgery.
Maybe a year from now I'll have a different perception, but besides not
being
physically able to eat more than a handful of foods right now, the
depressing
reality of just how big a part food and eating played in all aspects of
my life
is hard to take. I realize now that almost every pleasurable reward or
action
in my life was based on eating or looking forward to eating. I
developed an
addiction to eating, and became convinced that, aside from sex, the
ceremony
and practice of eating was the most pleasurable experience life had to
offer.
That conviction lingers even today, when the reality of experiencing
food in
that way has been, for all intent and purpose, eliminated from my
lifestyle.
When you realize that
something important has been lost, it's natural to examine why that
something
was so important in the first place. I've come to understand that, in
my
family, eating had never been completely taken for granted—and that the
reality
of being able to eat whenever and whatever one wanted was still
considered
evidence of wealth. Food was the great equalizer. No matter how bad
things
were, food was a remedy. If you were being punished you might be denied
food,
and if rewarded, a sweet something was sure to follow. When you went to
the
doctor or the dentist, won the little league game, got an A, passed a
test,
survived church, or did something good—food or drink was the reward.
When you
traveled cross country or just went for a Sunday drive, the
cheeseburger, fries
and chocolate shake was what made it worthwhile. If you went to a
Powwow, or
meeting—fry bread or Indin Tacos was part of the reward. At weddings or
funerals, it was the food or drink that added to the event, increasing
the joy
or evidencing respect.
Perhaps this is all very
obvious and I'm belaboring a point that everyone is familiar with, but
I assure
you that the view from this side is significantly different than the
one I was
on three months ago.
It's like being an ex-smoker who must not
only deal
with breaking the narcotic addiction of nicotine, but must also find a
replacement for the ceremony of smoking—taking it out, lighting up, the
first
puffs, the visible smoke, etc.—and the additional emotional support
that all
this provides the smoker in hard times or stress. The gastric bypass
patient
must find substitutions for all the times that food and eating has been
used to
accentuate or bolster emotional support. In my case, this isn't easy
after more
than fifty years of the habitual use of food for psychological
stabilization.
I must confess that my eating habits were a
significant contributor to my problems, somewhat akin to a dog chasing
his
tale. To put it simply, I was a glutton. Just as the first moments of
orgasm
are the most acute (for a man), so it is with the taste buds. I took
big bites
to increase the sensations of taste. I chewed quickly so I get on to
the next
big burst of flavor. I devoured extra large portions of those foods I
appreciated the most. I limited my eating choices to only those types
of foods.
Each of those habits is interfering today with my ability to developing
eating
habits in line with my present dietary needs and physical limitations.
In short, I am a “recovering”
glutton. What remains to be seen is whether my addiction and habits are
like
the alcoholic's, namely that I will always—deep down—be a glutton, or
whether I
can develop new habits and come to find a new appreciation for the role
of food
in my life. At present, I am looking down the long dark tunnel of
psychological
recovery, wondering from moment to moment how I am ever going to
appreciate
life fully without food as a major part of it.
For those who claim that
food can still be as it was, I have these comments. Yes, it is
possible. For
those who still cook meals, who have the time to buy in small amounts
and
prepare tiny portions it is still possible that food could be a large
component
of life. On the other hand, who has time for five forty-five minute
meals per
day, not counting preparation? Additionally, if one goes out to eat,
the costs
versus average portion size versus what a gastric bypass patient can
eat are
not proportional. If one buys canned food or boxed food at the store,
one must
consume the entire can over a period of days, eating pretty much the
same meals
over and over again to avoid the leftover portions spoiling. I've
rediscovered
deli food since my surgery because I can buy tiny portions, eights of a
pound,
so that there isn't a leftover. Perhaps in the next year I'll discover
more
ways to rediscover the joys of eating. Thankfully, hunger is not a part
of this
formula. I wish that it were possible to just drink my way to health
with
supplements and protein drinks. That would be the simple solution and
one that
I would be quite happy with. Regretfully, no one I've spoken to seems
to think
this is possible.
All this whining needs
qualifying. I reread the first few pages of this journal and realize
how much
better I feel right now than I did then. I have to say, despite my
current
mental problems—I'm still glad I did it. Years from now, when they have
discovered a pill to make one thin, maybe I'll have regrets. But not
now, not
today.
And so, dear reader, I have
brought you up to date with my present mental and physical state and we
shall
embark from this point into uncharted waters again—together.
5 months out
5 ½ months out
6 months out
7 months out
My weight loss has
slowed down to ½ pound a week lately. That’s a little depressing
but it’s
still going down. On the other hand my eating has come into
balance. All of a sudden I’m able to eat almost a regular small
portion
without problem and drink eight to twelve ounces of liquid at a
time. I
had a whole small cheeseburger the other day! With a few fries
too!
I can eat Thai food with impunity. Cheese enchiladas with
jalapenos—no
problemo.
Of course, I still have to
observe the rules. Be relaxed, eat slow, small bites, chew well,
don’t
drink too much—small sips only, pay attention to how much I’ve eaten
and stop
when full. I’ve learned to determine that I am full and stop
before I get
sick. Most of the time I’m sick because I’m nervous, or don’t
really pay
attention to what I’m doing. I have had more dumping because I’ve
tried
to experiment with old time foods like donut holes, or shakes, or too
much
meat, etc. If I have dumping, about the only recourse is to lay
down
until it passes—which it will within thirty minutes to an hour.
I haven’t gotten back to using the Total Gym again but it reminds me
its there
for me every time I pass it standing against the wall. I’ve
started
pushing my two year old grandson on his bike up and down the road—that
gives me
a little exercise. Most of my psyche problems are behind me I
think, now
that I can eat again.
7 months, 4 days out
7 months, 19 days out
Sunday, July 16
7 months, 25 days
8 months, 21 days
9 months, 13 days out
Anyway, I’m back into my old
habits of eating only a small cup of fruit, a granola bar and maybe
some yogurt
for lunch. But I may begin to go to the gym at lunch to workout,
so I’ll
have to eat at break. I’m pretty hungry by dinner, but my
portions are
still holding at small, and my choice of foods is still good. I
have
started drinking my protein drinks again—did I mention that last
time?
The doctor asked me to stop them at about six months out, which I
did.
Then I started losing my hair. It’s possible that I also reduced
my calcium
supplement as well—I can’t remember—but the combination reduced my
available
hair for braiding by two thirds. So now I’m taking my calcium
every day
and trying to get at least 80 grams of protein. Haven’t seen any
results
yet—but I’m not going to worry about it. What’s gone is gone.
I finished another
book and it’s gone to my agent. Time to begin work on another
half-finished product. At least I’ve gotten two finished this
year.
If I could finish the third by xmas, I’d be happy—but that’s a stretch.
Haven’t had to throw up in a
good while and even had a small—gulp—hot fudge Sunday with no
dumping!
I’m still being careful though and don’t plan on pushing my sugar
intake up
significantly in the future. I’m still drinking mostly Crystal
Light, 0 calories
drinks. Mixing the powder with water. Almost no milk
allowed,
virtually no bread—basic post gastric bypass staples only.
Cottage
cheese, mixed fruit in Splenda water, a few grapes and strawberries
when I can
get ‘em, soft dried fruit, sunflower seeds, peanuts, or almonds in
small
amounts, a few olives, pickles and peppers for flavor, yogurt, granola
bars,
coffee in copious amounts, all kinds of shrimp, Thai beef with string
beans,
half a bagel with lowfat cream cheese, sugar free Popsicles, steamed
rice in
small quantities, and cheese enchiladas with no lettuce.
Occasionally—evening popcorn, shrimp and avocado salad without any
lettuce,
Hebrew National hotdogs on half a bun with pickle relish and mustard,
small
baked potatoes, sardines in mustard, black bean soup, stomping chili
beans,
cantaloupe and watermelon in season, applesauce, cornflakes or shredded
wheat
with frozen blueberries. Splenda, and small amounts of
milk, even a
small hamburger or slice of pizza. That should give you a
good idea
of the BlueWolf gastric bypass diet. I’m still fat but parts of
me are
skinny. My legs are tight and hard. I have boney hips and
my ribs
stick out on my side when I sleep. My stomach is hanging but not
too bad
yet. I have a little fat near my armpits beside my pectorals and
a little
still on my hips. Most of it is in my center torso area.
My
next goal is 220, my second—200, and my dream—185. I’m able to
wear a
relaxed fit size 36 blue jeans now. I took my size 46 and size 50
jeans
to the storage shed today. I hope those days will never
return—but I know
its up to me. My wife, who is only about fifty pounds overweight
is
having gastro problems, maybe sleep apnea, back and neck troubles,
etc.
Probably most of it is due to her weight.
We had a laugh today when
she said she really wanted to lose the weight. Then, as I was
about to
say maybe she didn’t really want to lose it—she said the same
thing. What
I realized right then was that she really does want to lose weight,
just as I
wanted to lose weight. The problem is that we have become
accustomed to
wanting things we can’t have, and have become accustomed to reconciling
ourselves to not having what we want. So it is, as I was long
aware, not
a matter of wanting to be thin. It is a question of what you are
willing
to do to be thin. In my case, the surgery was my last resort,
because the
results I had been getting with every other type of weight loss
management
program had not been sufficient to motivate me to continue “doing”
whatever I
was doing. It became a wanting, without a real plan for
getting.
Now, when I see anyone grossly obese—not like my wife, she’s just
plump—but
like I was, I wonder why they haven’t had the surgery. Then I
imagine how
it would have been for me if it had turned out that I couldn’t afford
it, or
had health problems that prevented it, or was too fearful to accept any
consequence. Now, I’m just grateful for my doctor, his staff, the
hospital
staff, my family, and the results. For me, so far, it was the
best decision
of my rapidly evaporating life. I hope I feel that way in five
years! Hasta la vista, baby.
10 months, 15 days out
If you’re thinking of the surgery—don’t
hesitate. Get it done. Just be sure you trust your doctor
and are
willing to deal with complications or death. sounds harsh I know,
but
maybe cause I came through it so easily, it seems like a no brainer to
me. Nothing good comes from a risk free endeavor. Next
time.
1 Year, 13 days out
Year appointment went well—6
hours driving for a 30 minute appointment. All is well.
Weight, 220
on their scale—214 on mine. The Doc doesn’t want me to lose
anymore
weight. He warned me not to let down my guard. If I started
overeating
or eating badly I could gain it bacl. He put the fear back in
me.
It’s not over yet—not by a long shot. I bought more vitamins and
drove
home. I’ve watched some of my old tendencies come creeping
back.
I’m not chewing as well and eating more at a serving. Drinking 6
oz’s in
a gulp. He told me to make sure I eat solid foods and to fill up
at
dinner—soft foods and not being full will result in being hungry
again—and
eating again. I can testify to that. When I eat soft foods,
I’m
ready to eat again in an hour. I’ll just have to make sure I’m
full, and
eat more steak I guess. The easy days are over. It’s time
to get
down to business.
1 year, 2 months, 6 days out
Got to be careful. I want to live
forever. Yeah right. How ‘bout another day? I’m
grateful for
it all. A Dios.
Tuesday, February 27th, 2007
1 year, 3 months, 4 days out
I haven't been sick more than a
couple of times in the last month, I seem to have my portion size under
control. My wife went through a depressed period cause she
couldn't swallow or eat normally after her surgery. I remembered
how that felt. She's getting better now. I'm holding around
about 204 right now, Probably need to exercise again to break
that plateau. Unfortunately I haven't been getting any exercise
and my back is hurting again. Life is getting in the way...at
least I'm not gaining. Getting ready to make consultation
appointments for my daughters. Not much to report--sugar still
makes me deathly ill and I've been able to eat a little chicken and
pasta. Oh, I purchased some of the lemonade type protein drink
from my Doctor's website (sierrabariatrics.com) and have to say that I
am drinking it and it is OK. I add a little lemon and lime
juice. Its been a nice change from my regular protein drink and
the powder dissolves better. I wish they'd try lime, peach, and
other flavors, then I might be a convert. Not quite as much
protein per drink, but at my stage it's enough.
Friday, December 28th, 2007
2 years, 1 month, 6 days out
So, here I am, with maybe my last entry for you. It’s been almost 10 months since my last entry and I AM LOVING IT!! Life has all the same ups & downs, depressions and exhilarations but I am a shadow of myself. I am, the shadow of a fat man! 199 pounds, 205 on the Dr’s scale at my last appointment until 2009. I am officially a thin person again. I haven’t exercised for six months and though I plan to start again for the new year, I haven’t gained any weight back and, to tell you the truth, my diet ain’t that good. I know the honeymoon won’t last, but as of this moment I’m eating anything I want—and loving it! Caution—if I overdo sugar, I feel like dying! And I still have occasional throwing up from overeating something too greasy or heavy. Tips: If you get leg cramps or charlie horses, go immediately to the bath or shower and stand in hot water. That’ll relieve them right away. If your heart races, and you feel clammy or sweaty and weak (like falling-down weak), eat something fast! I suggest sunflower kernels, Splenda fruit cocktail and an oatmeal cookie! For those who are younger, my body is not something you’d want to look at—it’s wrinkled like a prune and I definitely look my age—but hey, I’m almost fifty eight. I still am totally content with my decision to have the surgery—and even if I got cancer and died next year, knock on wood, I’m happy to have had this last year as a shadow and not a Mack truck. I still run into people I’ve known for twenty years that don’t recognize me and it’s still wonderful. So dear reader, as we approach the end of our journey you have my commitment—check back every so often to see if anything’s changed. If it hasn’t, and you don’t find an addition to this journal, know that I am happy to have had the gastric bypass and moving on with my life. Feel free to email me with questions. Google me, if you need to, and search for your shadow—with the right doctor, you’ll have no regrets.
Dr. Jeffrey Jenkins, Sierra Bariatrics, in Auburn, Calif. (and his staff) IS the best. Good luck to you all, and may harmony and balance lead you to contentment. james