Reporting in from the other side....

So, I survived my surgery :) Definitely not the easiest thing I've ever done, but I'm glad that part is behind me.


I checked into the hospital at 5am on 9/18 and discovered I was the first surgery of the day. During check-in, IV placement, introductions and vitals I found myself running the gamut of emotions. No, let's be honest - I was terrified and practically in tears. What was I about to do to myself? Why was I electively (though really, at 315lbs can it really be considered elective rather than a necessity) going to be put under anesthesia for 8+ hours, having most of my stomach cut out and my intestines rerouted? What kind of passion would I be in? What if I didn't wake up?

That last one was the scariest. The idea that I was choosing to go under and may never see Ray or my babies again made me want to get up and walk out. The thing is, I knew if I did that I'd be guaranteeing that one day, much too soon, I'd be doing that anyway. At least if I survived this internal slice and dice, I'd be extending the amount of time with those babies as long as possible. Not only world I be extending it, but I'd be making the quality of that time so much better.

These thoughts weren't quite so coherent Thursday morning, but I didn't get much time to dwell. Shortly after 7am, Kristen (my nurse) and Dr. Srikanth came in and sounded it was just about time. Then the anesthesiologist came in, slipped me a mickey and I was being wheeled to surgery. I remember being told they were putting an oxygen mask on my, that was just oxygen and then I remember waking up with my right arm hurting like I'd been stabbed.

That arm still hurts actually, but I guess having it squeezed continuously by the blood pressure cuff for 9 hours will do that. Yep ... 9 hours of surgery. Won't go into details mostly because a lot of it is still fuzzy for me, but there were adhesions, scar tissue, hernia and a really big liver to contend with. All I can say is thank god I was in such wonderful hands.

The first night was rough, especially with nurses coming in every time I got into a good sleep and wanting me to do things like drink or walk. The next morning wasn't much better but by the afternoon I was told I'd get to go home. The idea of leaving the IV and nurses was scary, but the thought of being comfy, in my own chair without people waking me up or bothering me was heavenly. The only catch was that I'd need to go to St. Francis the next morning for an xray, since my bowels were being lazy.

We got home about 7pm and I happily passed out in my chair for the most part. There were some rough patches, but the pain meds and constant sipping helped. Now, 48hrs after surgery I'm feeling a bit more human.

I've managed to drink close to 40oz of water, a few ounces of broth and a few sips of vitamin water. It's been 3hrs since my last dose of pain meds and I'm not ready to climb the walls in pain. I even managed a bit of time downstairs in the Livingston. Unfortunately the recliner is still the most comfortable spot for me.

I've got a long road ahead of me ... several weeks of liquids and soft foods before I'm eating normally again. Days of slowly working up to being able to walk any sort of distance. Months of learning how my new insides work, what they like and what they don't.

And lots and lots of pounds to lose along the way.

On Support - or lack thereof

I'm not sure if my situation is unique or not, but even though surgery is only 15 days away I've told very few people about it. My husband knows, obviously, and so do my IL's but that's it. I've told my parents I'm having surgery to remove my galbladder and correct a hernia. I don't have any friends I hang out with in person, so no one to tell there. Also haven't said a word about any sort of surgery on Social Media to the friends I keep up with that way.

On the one hand, I'm perfectly fine with this decision. My mother and I have a tenuous relationship (at best), so I really don't feel comfortable divulging all of the details to her. She tends to be a 'know-it-all' and this is one time (outside of parenting) that I don't want her opinions or advice. Obviously if I tell her, I can't tell my dad - plus I really don't want to worry him unnecessarily. I haven't shared on social media because I feel like if I do, I"ll be under a microscope. There are so many misconceptions about WLS that I'm afraid if I'm a slow loser or even never get 'skinny' (which I likely won't - not with 160lbs to lose) there'd be unfair judgments. On the other hand, if I'm seen as losing weight the 'old fashioned way', I feel like the expectations will be less if that makes sense. I think if anyone asks outright, I'd probably tell the truth (privately) but don't yet feel comfortable having that public.

On the other hand - my support is currently limited to my husband, my MIL (to some degree) and online strangers on the WLS forums I've been lurking on for years. I feel kind of isolated and also sad that I'm not really able to share what's going on with other people in my life. This is a huge step in my life and I'd like more people involved, so-to-speak.

I don't know - maybe my feelings on the whole issue will change between now and surgery or after surgery. Right now I'm going with what I feel comfortable with, which is maintaining mostly radio silence outside of WLS communities and my blog which it would take a miracle for people to find (I think at least LOL).