August 19th, 2019
It’s about a month until the one year anniversary of my lap-band removal. I wanted to begin writing about the year’s journey, what I expected versus reality, and the daily struggle. It’s cathartic, and who knows? Someone facing the same situation might read this and feel less alone.
A year ago this week I received confirmation that my lap-band had to be removed after nine years. My new surgeon said he’d never seen a lap-band eroded into a patient’s stomach the way mine was. I thought, “Great, I’ve always gotta be a damn snowflake.”
I talk about the surgery in this blog posting: They found what in my stomach?!
Basically, the surgeon couldn’t remove my lap-band the way it’s traditionally removed laparoscopically. Instead of simply removing the band and port through one small incision, I would need multiple incisions, including an incision in my stomach to remove the band from it’s dangerous position. My stomach was scraped and irrigated, the band disintegrating from being exposed to gastric acid for years.
Prior to and after surgery many friends asked if I was having a revision from lap-band to gastric sleeve. Fortunately most of these questions came across on social media, because each time I was asked I would burst into tears. I remember trying to answer the same questions when asked by my family, sometimes excusing myself to weep in the bathroom or finding an excuse to hang up the phone quickly or putting them on mute so they couldn’t hear me tear up or sobbing on the drive home after explaining that no, I will never be able to have another weight loss surgery.
Any further surgical procedures are high risk and no surgeon would touch my stomach (in a bariatric situation) with a ten foot pole and our medical insurance covers ONE bariatric procedure in a lifetime.
Plus, the elephant in the room: I didn’t need gastric sleeve. I was no longer overweight and my BMI, blood pressure, heart health, etc. wouldn’t qualify me for any kind of weight loss surgery.
I hated the revision question. I wanted to scream at anyone asking (even those I love dearly) “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FUCKING TERRIFIED I AM? DO YOU THINK I WANT TO GAIN IT ALL BACK? DO YOU THINK THIS WAS MY IDEA?! DO YOU HAVE NO FAITH IN ME?!”
I certainly didn’t have any faith in my own ability to keep the weight off and I was incredibly scared every minute of every day that I’d end up with the same or far worse health problems than I faced 9 years ago. Every minute of every day the denial of revision surgery rolled through my brain like a hurricane destroying any confidence that I could remain healthy. Any time someone asked I felt the fear. I felt the hot acid of anger, frustration, and confusion well up in my chest and drip down into my stomach, burning the stupid contraption that caused the whole mess.
This past weekend I told my husband I was completely convinced last year that by this time I’d have gained back at least 70 pounds. He seemed dumbfounded and asked why in the world I would believe that. The doctors told me my lap-band hadn’t been doing it’s job for maybe five years, that I was keeping the weight off and staying healthy on my own.
My fear wasn’t rational at all, but I didn’t know anyone else who’d experienced my situation so far into lap-band treatment. I had no one to tell me what to expect and I thought that no matter what anyone says, trauma to your stomach can certainly cause metabolic challenges for years to come. In addition my surgeon said I was malnourished and had been for a long time. To me that statement translated to “You kept the weight off because your body wasn’t processing any food.” My fears were fairly irrational based on my own assumptions, and yet powerful enough to throw me back into the suicidal pit I thought I’d dug myself out of long ago.
I was in some extremely dangerous territory, mentally, on multiple occasions during the past 18 months. Constant thoughts of self harm and suicide as a result of extreme work stress, the loss of my identity as a lap-band success story, the chronic pain conditions I deal with daily, self imposed isolation, guilt, frustration, self loathing, and the fear of gaining the weight back. It all felt like too much to bear.
In December the situation was bad enough for my husband to find and call a therapist for me. Somehow he found the perfect therapist, not knowing she’d also had bariatric surgery recently and had a complicated relationship with food. My therapist and I worked diligently to manage my problematic cognitions and re-route my neural pathways. We met every week, I journaled, I talked non-stop. We had a breakthrough with an EMDR session earlier this year. I may never be fixed, but I’m now in control of my fears.
To date, I’m the same weight I was going into the hospital last year. I’m a good 10 pounds away from where I’m most comfortable, but I’m still over 100 pounds less than I was ten years ago.
Do I struggle? Of course.
My weight has been up and down, my ED has come back to do battle with my relationship to food, and I can’t hear or see anything about someone else’s weight loss journey, look at before and after pics, or hear what someone else weighs without being triggered. Often a trip to the doctor’s office will fill me with anxiety because I know they’ll weigh me. The numbers haunt me and the scale still terrorizes me (sometimes).
But, here’s what I’ve learned about maintaining my weight and health:
I can do it.
I have already done it.
I am doing it.
I will continue to do it one moment at a time.
And it’s ok that I ate a Twix Ice Cream bar today. I’m not going to gain 100 pounds overnight. It’s not a failure that I didn’t eat well today (serious calorie deficit from skipping meals today), I’ll try again tomorrow.
I can do this.
August 21st, 2019
Yesterday and today have put me in setback mode. Migraine and an interstitial cystitis flare. Ugh.
I’ve experienced migraine since I was 17. Had my first aura at school, completely lost the sight in my right eye during my marketing class. I was terrified and had no idea what was happening. By the time my Dad got me home I was in so much pain he had to carry me into the house. My parents knew it was my first migraine, my Dad suffered with them for years and my Grandpa on his side had neurologic trouble while my Grandma also suffered migraine.
I usually experience both predrome and postdrome symptoms. This one was my second experience with uncontrollable right hand and arm tremors. I’ve worked with my doctor, we don’t feel I’m a stroke risk but have increased my preventive meds. Sadly they make my already often hypotensive blood pressure tank so I get dizzy and have nearly passed out multiple times when I stand up ( nearly passed out walking into the movie theater Monday). I took my migraine relief meds, which make my interstitial cystitis flare, but my migraine was gone. Sadly my interstitial cystitis (IC) really kicked in hard- it feels like the worst UTI of your life and nothing stops the pain. IC is like a freight train at full speed racing around your urinary tract.
I ended up taking a ton of ibuprofen, which I’m 100% not suppose to do, but because no one will prescribe pain meds for me (even though I haven’t had a script since October 2018) I’m stuck. My bariatric surgeon basically said I shouldn’t take ibuprofen or any NSAID for the rest of my life since they might cause ulcers which is dangerous considering the invasive nature of my lap-band removal. Fun stuff, either be in horrible pain or slowly murder my digestive system.
Unfortunately all I felt like eating was pumpkin bread (lots) and I didn’t eat much better today- potstickers and popcorn. So I’ve been guilting myself, dreading the number on the scale. Can’t seem to get that number to say what I want nor can I ignore it or stop checking it. I didn’t check today though!
Just a casualty of any bariatric surgery. You’re taught to check the scale every single day. It’s a hard habit to break.
Going to bed with heartburn, which means my stomach isn’t too happy with me right now. I have an appointment with my urologist next week for a referral back to my physical therapist. I have abdominal adhesions from so many surgeries on my abdomen (lap-band placement, tummy tuck, lap-band removal) which puts pressure on my bladder and irritates it making life a nightmare with the IC pain.
I’m still here though. Trying not to beat myself up for taking a day off work and staying in bed for 2 days this week. It’s hard not to feel like you’re missing life, but I know rest and stress reduction is the highest priority.
I’m fortunate to work from home. When I worked in an office I’d get the old “you look fine to me” run-around from at least 2 of my bosses. No longer the case, but I still worry. I look fine. I look healthy, but I’m good at hiding the pain from most people. Same goes for depression, good at making sure most people don’t see it.
I’m learning that chronic pain, invisible illness, and depression aren’t weakness. I deal with them every day. It’s ok to ask for help. It’s ok to be human. And it’s ok to take the time you need!
Hopefully I don’t have too many holes in my stomach!
August 23rd, 2019
Today was filled with 3 slices of pizza, spinach artichoke dip, pumpkin pie filling, and ice cream. We’re celebrating. Our kid turned 24 today!
Birthdays, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are the worst food months for me, August through December, and when I say worst I don’t mean binging, I mean trigger foods. Sugar, dairy, bread- the holy triumvirate of migraine and weight gain fuel. Joe makes this incredible millionaire shortbread at Christmas- I dream of it all year!
Three years ago I would just smoke 3 or 4 cigarettes, maybe an extra, and burn off at least 200 calories and suppress most of my appetite. Wouldn’t put on a pound. Since I quit smoking the stuff I ate today will probably leave me with 2 extra pounds tomorrow.
I was looking through old pictures last night and ran across a few that were disturbing. The before pics, the after pics, the before I quit smoking, and after- my skin looks so much better, but of course Botox and hydration help.
What I found most alarming about these pictures is the very loud voice in my head telling me I look exactly the same in 2019 as 2009. For example this pic taken in 2009 and in June of this year.
I know there’s a 100 pound difference, but my brain doesn’t see it. In my eyes I look more tan and my hair is red. The end. I see the same size person in both pictures. I know that’s not possible, but I can’t unsee it. Body dysmorphic disorder, it’s a real bitch. I wish I was exaggerating to add flavor, but I’m not. I really see no difference in these pics other than my skin and hair color.
Somedays I won’t even think about my body or the letters/numbers on the tags in my clothes. Other days I struggle to leave the house because I’m convinced I’m too fat to leave. I’m working on it. I’m working on accepting and loving whatever me wakes up in the morning.
I gave birth to and raised a pretty great human. I’ve built a career I didn’t even think I wanted and I never graduated college. I’ve been part of a successful marriage for 25 years and worked through some challenges that break most marriages a up. I survived the suicide of my best friend. I powered through and overcame some scary and painful health situations. And yet, at the end of the day I still have to actively remind myself to celebrate my accomplishments, to let go of the numbers on the scale, in my head, on the measuring tape, in my jeans.
We’re all constantly bombarded by mixed messages. Sometimes you just have to sit quietly and listen to yourself, other times you just need to hear that you’re beautiful and perfect the way you are- but dammit if it isn’t practically impossible for me to say that to myself and really mean it.
Still working on it. Every day.
September 15th, 2019
Yes, I’m aware I’m super late here. I wanted to add more entries, but life had other plans like an anniversary trip and a week long migraine. Although I hope others get something out of my writing, it’s really for me.
September 11th, the year anniversary of my lap-band removal, came and went. I was mid-migraine and sleeping most of the day, but still had time to reflect with gratitude. Gotta admit it’s easier to complain about what’s missing than express gratitude for growth and that’s simply because I’m still working on turning that negative stream of consciousness into positive, powerful and focused manifestation. I’m not totally there yet.
I gained 10 lbs while on vacation and 12 days later it’s very slowly coming off. I expected it, but still had a near panic attack when I got on the scale. Instead of absorbing that number and rolling it over in my head 90 times a minute I shrugged and simply thought “I can do this.” I walked away from the scale determined to do a water fast from September 11th until the 21st to commemorate not being able to eat or drink for those 10 days in the hospital last year. My migraine shut that idea down after 18 hours. Ketosis = ok my head hurts so much worse pass me a cucumber and ranch dressing (my go to snack this summer). My body wasn’t prepared and that’s ok- not a failure just me listening and acting on what my body needed at the time.
Speaking of my body, compliments go a long way, chiefly from my husband. I’ve been absolutely living on something he said to me three days ago and realizing I’ve felt better about myself than I have for a week- maybe months. It’s not validation, simply a reminder that he loves everything about me (although probably not the constant shopping- can’t blame him there.) Remember to compliment and say something encouraging to those you love when you think of it. Often I think to compliment someone in my life or a stranger and don’t do so because I’m afraid of offending them or sounding crazy, like “you have gorgeously placed clavicles”- I mean really, who says that? Compliments like that run through my head and just stay there never being vocalized for fear of the recipient looking at me like I’m going to make a lampshade out of them and slowly backing away.
So, if you receive encouragement or a compliment from me that’s not your run-of-the-mill “you’re pretty” and sounds more like “your eyes are sparkly like the waves on lake Coeur d’Alene- you must be filled with light today” just know I really thought about that.
The Real Geniffer 
Thank you; my band was removed 2 weeks ago; you have encouraged me