Two Sticks or a Lighter
The bastard!
He is REALLY pushing me to my limit. Its like he doesn't even care how much he hurts me!
I have his undivided attention for about 30 minutes at a time but during that time he isn't really listening to me, just giving me orders or acting like what I say doesn't matter.
And when I really feel like I can't take anymore, he bats his long lashes at me and expects me to just bend over and do whatever he asks. And because I'm weak, and never feel like I know what I'm doing anyway, I just do it.
Today he made me do things that I felt stupid doing. Things that, if you were just kind of glancing at us, would look dirty and WRONG. But I do them, and I keep coming back for more. Its almost shameful.
Somewhere in me, I know that all of this will resolve itself. I'll get stronger, more confident and not feel so pushed to my limits. I won't cry or ache. I'll walk away from him feeling powerful instead of just feeling like I was hit by a mack truck. A mack truck full of cement.
Its all just a matter of time, I suppose. In the meantime, I'll take whatever he dishes out. I'll lap it up. I'll push through.
After all, he knows what's best. He's my trainer.
I had my first fill on Friday.
After a few questions about what I was able to eat comfortably -- Pasta? Check! Rice? Check! Bread? Check! Pint of Ben & Jerry's? Double check!---I was given 3cc's of fluid and then taken into the x-ray room where she had me do a barium swallow. The P.A. thought I looked a little 'tight' as she watched the barium go down and so took out 1 cc (for those of you 'mathematically challenged', that means I now have 2 cc's in my 10 cc band). My office protocol post-fill is two days of liquids and 2 days of soft foods and then onto solid foods.
I left the office feeling pretty good and since I hadn't eaten anything yet, went to Starbucks for my Skinny, sugar-free, vanilla latte. Yum!
By early afternoon I was feeling pretty hungry so decided to have some Greek yogurt. That went down pretty well and the tummy was still growling so I had some milk. Yep. Still hungry. And noticing that all of this is going down not just well, but feels like its just rolling right through that little pouch. Now, I think we've established that my willpower is pretty non-existent, hence my lap-band surgery, so it should be no surprise to you that when Husband pulled out the pulled pork, I dove in face first.
And it too went down without a hitch.
Now, I won't bore you with too many other details but let's take a quick peek at what else made it into my gaping maw this weekend:
Tortellini in tomato cream sauce, focaccica bread, baked, dry chicken breast, a crossiant, a large white chocolate cinnamon chip scone (the latter two from an awesome French bakery in town and served to me in bed this morning).
Now, should someone with 'restriction' be able to eat these things? Quickly? Without even feeling a teeny tiny bit of tightness? I think not.
So I penned an email to the P.A. begging to get an appointment this week and feel some of this elusive restriction. PLEASE.
Urgh. This is all so frustrating. When will this band stop teasing me and start working? When will I be able to share the burden of this weight loss with Leona? Because right now, its ALL ME. And I'm just not that reliable.
Is it the magical powers of the Banded Blogging sisterhood? Or is it just the magical power of me getting my panties in a bunch and making waves with my doctor's office?
After reading through responses to Monday's post, Leona and I got more and more agitated. I pulled out my Ouiga Board and channeled that old, baggy bitch and I sent an email to appropriate persons in my doctor's office. And although my email was very professional (I kept the 'fucks' to a minimum), I was also crystal clear regarding my desire to be treated like a patient, not a bother.
And lo and behold, the 'Bariatric Coordinator' at my doctor's office called me FIRST THING Tuesday morning to apologize and assure me that I was not a cog in their surgery wheel and that I would not need to wait a month for a fill.
She listened, she cared, and most importantly, she gave me her direct line to call should I have any trouble getting an appointment in the future. It is now on speed dial and Leona is pleased that her serfs have gotten back in line.
Truthfully, I'm blowing a little hot air here. My email was as professional and straight forward as any I've ever sent --- after all you get more flies with sugar than with poop or whatever – but I TOOK CHARGE OF MY OWN HEALTHCARE.
This is new for me. And strange. I'm navigating uncharted waters. I've always put my personal health as a low priority – if on the priority list at all. I have size 18 jeans, an extra large muffin top and a lap-band to prove it.
Despite my socially unacceptable 'size', I've always been confident. Even at my heaviest weight (now), I've exuded confidence. People tell me so!
In fact, I've even been known to be called 'intimidating' and when I dig deeper with those that call me such, I find the words 'really confident' come out as explanation time and again. I even once had a boss tell me during a review that I was 'too confident'. Funny, I'd never considered that to be a bad thing. But a know-it-all 22 year old in her first job,needs to temper her confidence so as to not unsettle the shaky, middle-aged, middle-managed ground on which she walks.
For whatever reason though, when it comes to my body, I've always found it hard to stick up for myself. Perhaps because, when it counts, I'm naked in a robe two sizes too small with my butt flapping in the wind and yet having to smile and make small talk with a FULLY DRESSED person who is carrying a clipboard. What is it about clipboards and the way they signal “authority figure who is smarter than me”?
George W. Bush should have donned a white coat and clipboard more often. I probably would have believed him about the whole “Weapons of Mass Destruction” thing. Maybe I would have even believed that “strategery” was a real word. Who KNOWS where our former president would be today if he had JUST carried a clipboard!?
In any case, until recently the Sherry in a doctor's office was never the same Sherry that was anywhere else. Confidence gave way to confusion. Outspokenness bowed down to mumbling. Sometimes I even just nodded in agreement when I definitely disagreed! THAT IS NOT THE SHERRY WE KNOW AND ADORE!
So, Monday's email to my doctor's office and subsequent phone call with said office is a step in the right direction for me and my health care.
Obviously my Band is helping me to become the person (physically) that I WANT to be. But what surprises me the most is how much its helping me remember who I really am.
Banded Friends, I need some advice.
I just called my doctor's office today to schedule a fill. This will be my first one as at my 4 week post-op visit I was told that my barium swallow showed my band to be offering 'perfect' restriction. I knew I was feeling hungry but figured they were the experts and I'd see what happened.
I was told to come back in a month to reevaluate and possibly get a fill. This made me nervous as I could see that my ability to 'pack it in' was growing stronger every day and I expressed as much to P.A., Brett.
Brett's last words to me as I left his office two weeks ago were “If you are able to eat 6 ounces of medium-well steak at one sitting, give me a call and we'll get you a fill.”
So since that visit, I've done eat'n them 6 oz of medium well steak TWICE. And usually with some vegetable. And I'm still hungry less than three hours later. Even a rookie Bandster knows that means its fill time.
I call today and am told the first available appointment is in FOUR WEEKS. Yeah. Um, nope. I refuse to rely on my willpower for the next four weeks. I sure as hell didn't pay $27,000 to gain back the 15 pounds I've lost. I threw a ROYAL FIT (as only I can do) and convinced the receptionist to put me in as a 'double booking' knowing I'd probably have to wait awhile.
I asked the receptionist if this was normal and she said "Well, the idea is to make your next fill appointment before you leave the office after each fill." Obviously this woman does not have a band or she would know that makes NO SENSE AT ALL. How the hell can I know if a month from now I will need a fill or not?
So, my questions are as follows:
1.Is this a normal wait time? Seems obnoxious to me.
2.Is there a way to just find a 'fill' doctor? How would I go about this?
I'm floored and pissed and feel taken advantage of. If I'd known this was going to be the case – that they are just "SO busy!” and need me to know in advance what my hunger level will be, I probably would not have chosen this practice to begin with. And you can better believe I'm going to tell them this on Friday.
Ok, rant over. Deep breaths.
Disclaimer: This post is not intended to offend or stereotype any person or persons. In fact, if anything it is showing how much more evolved and brilliant referenced persons are, compared to me.
I've recently noticed that at the forefront of my little blogosphere is the subject of body hair. Its merits, issues, disappearance and taming are frequent subjects for which Lap-Band bloggers often wax poetic. However, I rarely contribute to this subject for the following reasons:
All that said, Momma has a mustache. And although it is not offensive to my husband or friends, and passersby do not necessarily assume I've been working in the coal mines, I fear that if I do not get in for my bi-monthly waxing, I will begin to resemble my father circa 1984. See Olan Mills photo below:
So yesterday God smiled upon me and the babysitter arrived early and I was granted with an ENTIRE 30 minutes to myself before I had to be at a doctor's appointment. THIRTY WHOLE MINUTES people!
I was starting to see an Armenian shadow above my lip and knew there was a walk-in right next door to the doctor's office. Its was serendipity.
Now, maybe some of you go to those fancy, schmancy salons with Zen rock garden waterfalls and muzak streaming from the airways. You have appointments scheduled with “aestheticians” named “Andrea” (pronounced AHUN-DRAY-UH) who are beauty-makers by day and pilates instructors by night.
But as I've mentioned, my time is precious and I've found that whether the lip wax is done for $7 by a Vietnamese salon owner or by a “skin cosmetologist” for $22, it all comes out the same. The hair is gone from my upper lip and I look like a 2nd grader who just finished a glass of cherry Kool-Aid.
So, yesterday, I walk in to “Lee's Nails” and am greeted sweetly by a gorgeous young Vietnamese woman who offers me a diet coke. Love that! Your fancy salons only offer crappy herbal tea. She asks what I need done today. I tell her “Just a lip wax!”
As I sign-in, gorgeous woman comes over to the table and says “Eye-bow wah too?”. Now, I don't have much time and frankly, just had the eyes done 2 weeks ago so I say “No thanks.” And then, well, she narrowed her perfectly groomed eyebrows at me and I knew what was coming.
See, EVERY time I go into one of my neighborhood salons to get 'just a lip wax' or 'just a pedicure' or 'just a happy-ending' I am told I need an “eye-bow wah”. EVERY SINGLE TIME.
Sometimes, I've just had the brows done three days ago. Sometimes 4 weeks. A few times I've gone a whole season without domesticating the eye caterpillars. So you see, I never really know. Are my eyebrows offending them? Are they so untamed I need Sigfried and Roy to come in and work their Vegas magic? Or are they just trying to get more money out of me? I just don't know!
But this time, I KNEW my eyebrows were FINE. I had them coifed less than 2 weeks ago at another salon and I was determined to get out of this place with JUST my lip wax.
I'm taken into the 'waxing room' by another beautiful woman who coaxes me onto the table, looks me up and down and says “Eye-bow wah today?”
Me: No thanks. Just had them done.
Lady Holding Hot Wax: Oh. But eye-bow only take few more min.
Me: No, just the lip today. I really don't have the time.
Lady Dipping Stick Into Hot Wax: You NEE eye-bow wah!
Me: I'll come in tomorrow (lie) when I have more time and get the eyebrows done.
Lady Twirling Strings Of Hot Wax Around Stick About to Come At My Face: Ok. You come in. Tomorrow. Eye-bow too thick.
Me: Ok, sounds good. See you tomorrow then!
Cut to me, 10 minutes later, walking out of the salon looking like a 2nd grader who both drank the cherry Kool-Aid and put it in her eyebrow region. How do they do it?!
But this entire transaction got me to thinking about my weight loss...
No. Actually it didn't. I just wanted to tell this story and ask if anyone else has this happen to them.
Am I the only one who gets pushed into an eyebrow wax every time she enters a salon?! I really think these ladies are in the wrong business. They should be selling cars. Or life insurance. “Ok, go ahead and get the cheap, 10 cents a month plan, but you may die tomorrow and your family may have to pull apart the two-ply toilet paper to make it last longer and your husband will have to hock your wedding ring to pay the mortgage.”
“Also...you REALLY need an eyebrow wax.”
Lap-Band News – Ate nothing but crap yesterday (which went down so smoothly!) but not in very large quantities. I would like to say its due to restriction but I honestly think I am subsisting on willpower right now.
So I need advice, if I only lose a pound this week and stay at losing about a pound a week but am definitely eating more than a cup of food three times per day, should I get a fill? Should I wait until my willpower runs out to get a fill? I feel kind of like I'm dieting. The only thing keeping me from eating more is me.
Keep in mind I'm only 6 weeks post-op. I'm afraid the P.A. Is going to look at my weight loss and say I don't need a fill since he stressed the ZERO in his '0 – 2 pound a week' expectation, but again, I think it is willpower helping me lose the weight, not the band.
I'm eating quite a bit more than I should be able to at this point and can't help but wonder if I had a cc or two in my band if I'd be losing more rapidly. What would you do?
A conversation with my husband:
Me: Ruby has really become attached to her stuffed animals lately
H: Yeah. I love how she gets anthropomorphic with them.
Me: Ana-what? What the hell does that mean?
H: It means, treating them like they are human or with human-like qualities.
Me: Uh-huh.
H: What? It was the first word that came to my head.
Me: Dork. THAT was the first word that came to MY head.
In other news: I got stuck today for the first time. It was very unpleasant. Does that mean I have been 'initiated'? When do you all come over and start circling all my fat bits with a black magic marker? For the record, I would probably walk away from that initiation process looking African-American.
But back to this 'stuck' business. Why was I able to eat 6 ounces of medium well flank steak last night but got stuck on a piece of well toasted 'bagel thin' today? Also, why can I eat like the apocolypse is coming most days but according to the barium swallow I did at my doctor's office, have 'perfect restriction'? As usual, I'm confused.
p.s. I have no fluid in my band yet.