Endurance results (this is OLD)

I am extremely surprised... I just assumed I would be dead last, but no - 17 out of 22.

(this is from TWO summers ago... for some reason I kept it as a draft and never published it.)

So Yea...

I had forgotten where I'd left this blog time-wise.

What an awful way to stop!!!  I could have died for all anyone knew.

I didn't.

But I could have, right?

No, I had the surgery and it all my worry was for nothing.

I didn't become a supermodel.  I lost a little more weight, but not much.  Really, it just did exactly what I needed it to:  removed the discomfort of the band, allowed me to lose a little more and then really just maintain.

I do 5Ks whenever I can.  Just like any distraction though, my need for them waxes and wanes.  Right now I'm very much involved in theatre stuff so I haven't had time.  I was just in "Young Frankenstein" and ended up skipping TWO races I was already signed up for.  I didn't like this, but I had to.

Next race for sure is "Run or Dye" in the middle of August.

A lot to catch up on...

I have been seeing a counselor/therapist guy since 10/13. He's very nice and I think we are doing some good. There's a lot of crap to wade in to and it's been rather haphazard at times, but there's really no map for these things. Sometimes it seems like we ought to go in one direction, sometimes another. We do what we can.

During this time [of seeing him], I resolved to put the matter of my possible sleeve surgery out of my mind. It did me no good worrying about it when it was out of my hands as to whether or not I would even get approved.

Well, about 3 or 4 weeks ago, I did get approved.

I figured if this struck me with some sort of awful dread, then it wasn't the thing to do.

Quite the opposite, I am excited.

After the ok came through, I gave myself permission to eat and to enjoy it so I gained about 8 pounds back of the initial 26 or 27lbs that I lost since rejoining WW back in April. I know this was crucial because I will need those happy food memories to take with me as this new journey begins because even after I'm back on solid food, I will never eat the same way again and this time there's nothing to undo. No chickening out. No going back.


This gain gave me a certain amount of anxiety, but I knew it would be ok since I would lose it again pretty much immediately. I started a preop liquid diet on Tuesday and have lost about 6 lbs or so just doing that.

We leave for Decatur tomorrow to sign all my preop papers and get my blood tested and such to make sure no red flags go up and then I get operated on Tuesday. I have been extremely sick since about Wednesday so I have been a little worried about that, but I think I should be fine by tomorrow.

I guess I do a certain amount of subconscious worrying and that probably lowers my immune system and makes me susceptible to sickness... I got sick before my last surgery as well. I want to just get this over with because I think if they postponed me, I'd just get sick again.

I did let my doctor's office know the second I was feeling poorly so they did advise me as to what I couldn't take. My GP gave me a shot (Rocephin... I had not yet had the pleasure of that particular thing... OWWWW) and some anti-biotics and that was about all I could do besides increase my D and B-complex intake.

So I'm not worried.... consciously at least. I have my bag packed including jammies, a book (no crocheting since my hand will be unhappy with the IV in it), a pillow pal (unicorn) to hold against my lacerated tummy, some of my own knitted socks (100% cotton since that's what they advised last time... manmade fibers can COMBUST in a surgical environment)... I will bring my laptop if I remember and will try to update from there to let all know I am still alive.

I have watched several youtube videos and I know what this entails and that it's a great deal more invasive and bloody than last time, but I also know I will not die. I know this for the simple reason that I will wake up and I will wish that I was dead. I will hurt and I will be sick, but no... I won't die. It can't be that simple. :-)

I will ask for a twilight sleep patch and non-codiene based pain meds... but still. It's going to be bad. BUT unlike most, I have been there before. I know it ends. I know I will get through it because I did before. And the horror will not be a surprise. The only thing I have to fear this time is the nausea because I remember exactly how bad it was from last time. Only this time, instead of fearing for band slippage, I get to fear for puking or sneezing or coughing or whatever and imagine my staples popping and my innards flying out.

I also watch ZERO network TV now and so therefore will not expose myself to the same amount of foodbased advertising as before. The huge difference this time should be: the lapband did NOTHING to affect my hunger. I was ravenous the whole time and could not eat so it was like exotic psychological torture. After THIS procedure... I shouldn't even think about food again for a long long time....

Even now, I never really knew the goodness of protein before. I've been drinking Myoplex protein drinks as part of my liquid diet and it really hasn't been bad at all. Bouts of mind hunger and that's really been it.

So.

I have been reading "The Feeling Good Handbook" as part of my therapy and so I even used it to think about what would suck if I did die and even that doesn't worry me now.

I love my husband and my big furry cat family, I love my house, I love my friends and extended family. I would hate the idea of making them sad. I would hate the idea that I died before I could even buy some new clothes, that I'd never see Doug or the kitties or my other family members... I would miss being crafty, but other than not getting to see the last "Twilight" movie, I really can't think of a single thing I would consider unfinished business.

It would suck to die, but I'm not scared... like I said, I really really really doubt I'll get out of it that easy.

:-)

Wish me luck.

I need your help...

I haven't written in awhile because pretty much everything for the last 3 months would come out self-pittying drival.

I've thought many time of changing this blog's title to "Exercising is BULLSHIT" because that's pretty much how I feel... maybe 90% of the time.

At the gym, I can look forward to any combination of: nausea, dread, embarrassment, shame, feeling clumsy, self conscious, and stupid. Every now and then I will take a class and feel good!! Have the AHA, I know what I'm doing! moment. But most of the time I feel exactly like I'm back in [elementary/middle/high school] gym, standing in front of the others doing something stupid... In class, I have this irrational fear that the name calling will start at any minute. Logically, I know these women don't even know I'm there. Everyone is just there trying to make the most of their own hour and they don't care what I'm doing, but it scares me to death.

I stand there like an idiot and I get tears pricking at my eyes. The constant negative internal monologue pipes up with all SORTS of awesome things like how stupid I am because I can't "get" what everyone is doing and how I deserve to be fat because this exercise shit is easy for everyone else BUT me and these feelings are punishment for being fat. If I could just control myself, I wouldn't have to go there and feel stupid every day.

It's exhausting.

I'm considering going back on anti-depressants again. They don't solve anything, but induce a certain degree of numbness that at least help the day pass and keep the mantra of self-hatred a little quieter. I stopped taking them because I wanted to "feel." I really don't think I want that anymore. I wanted to "feel" the good feelings and I don't even seem to feel those much anymore so I think I'll re-examine my options.

I've lost about 20 lbs since I started all this back in April, but I don't consider that much of a win. I wouldn't say I have body dysmorphic disorder in so many words. I just have this talent for seeing every bit of fat I still have. Even if my waist or my calves or whatever have trimmed just a tad, my eye immediately falls to the love handles, the ass dimples, the rolls. I see only the bad.

Even better, before when I've lost weight and gained twice that back, I'll dig up a picture from the time when I was losing - A picture I'll REMEMBER seeing/taking. A picture where I told myself how fat I looked... and this time, ONLY THIS TIME, after the effort has been wasted, I will look at the picture and marvel at how good I looked... when I could NEVER see it before.

On January 14, 2009, I had lapband surgery... and I wish I could go back and undo things. I've been miserable. I was ill-prepared. My new doctors refer to how my surgery was initiated as me being a "heartbeat with insurance." I walked in to the office, told them I wanted to surgery, they checked my insurance and scheduled it. I had only met my surgeon one time before he cut me.

Waking up afterwards and having to suddenly transition to something I was totally unprepared for... the first two weeks after surgery were like torture. The suggested recovery time is two weeks and it's true: one week for your body, the whole time for your mind. If I had gone back to work after just a week, the first time someone brought in a take out hamburger for lunch, I would have gone postal. I would see a bowl of cereal on TV and start crying.

I did lose weight. About 60lbs. But it was pure misery. It is medically induced bulimia. It never worked the way I was promised. I was told I would feel fuller quicker. My entire life I feel like I've been ruled by my hunger... this idea was a dream come true. No, I never felt full. I was never able to eat and feel any sort of satisfaction. It was more like dread. To feel ravenously hungry, manage maybe 3 bites and -no matter how much I pulverized the food- feel intense sensations of discomfort. If I was lucky it was just sort of like choking, if not... well, the first time I experienced food getting stuck/rubbing on its way down, it felt like an ice cream headache in my stomach.

Imagine being out to dinner with your family and having to fake a smile and pretend like you are listening to the conversation all the while considering how much longer you can pretend to eat before you run to the bathroom to throw up. And like bulimia, imagine doing all this while you think about your friends/family talking about you after you've left because they know what's happened.

It just goes to show: be careful what you wish for. I always wished for a "clockwork orange diet" - something that would give me no choice. Eat properly or experience some sort of horrible sensation. That's exactly what this was: it took away my free will.

At one point, my stomach became irritated and the band pinched it shut completely. I couldn't even drink water. I ended up in the ER with a doctor who didn't know a clue about bands. I had to walk them through taking fluid out. I was brought a selection of needles and told to pick the one I thought looked like "the one." He poked me a dozen times before he thought to get an ultrasound machine to help guide his efforts. He finally managed to drain out about half my fluid. I felt so relieved to be able to eat without getting sick... that I went out and gained 20lbs in a month.

Oh, and that scenario happened after one of the other things no one warns you about: my surgeon abandoned me. No one warns you beforehand that your surgeon is probably motivated by cash. The cash is in the surgery NOT the aftercare. Your surgeon may very well do as mine did and follow the cash far away from you. What happens then? No one else will touch you without a fat "new patient fee" - anywhere from $500 to $3,000 depending on your situation.

Slap a sticker on me: I'm damaged goods.

I even learned that I've damaged my esophagus due to the food backing up (they warned me in the ER: the esophagus is not your STOMACH. There should be no DIGESTION going on there!!)

I was also starting to fall prey to another thing no one warns you about: "Soft Calorie Syndrome." You don't eat what you should, you eat things that go down easy: soups, ice cream, squishy soft burritos. High calorie things. The thing I craved the most after all this time was SALAD. I couldn't even eat SALAD because the consistency was all wrong. A piece of tomato down the wrong way could make me sick and irritated for a week!

So yes, you can tell that mentally I'm not in a really good place right now, BUT:

This summer I found a new place in DFW that would actually help me without costing an arm and a leg. They drained most of the fluid out and gave me relief again (after the scary weight gain, I had gone to a cash only place called Fill Centers USA and had gotten cinched back up... Fill Centers has also just gone out out business! Yet another reinforcement to the idea that having this thing inside me is a liability!) but this time I was already armed with the diet and exercise program I was following and have lost instead of gained.

Everyone at the new place was kind and welcoming. They answered my questions. I participated in an educational class about my options (band removal and revision to "sleeve" seems best for me... more extreme than the band, less extreme than bypass) and feel like I walked out of my first visit more informed and prepared than I ever was before. I have been visiting my GP about efforts and turning in my Weight Watchers progress graphs to them on a monthly basis. I did have a phone consult psych eval... and did ok - I know you'd never believe it from reading all this. I don't think this is going to solve all my problems. I just think that my weight has caused so many of my problems that removing it could very well make a whole lot of things better. I've never been anywhere near a healthy weight, I want to get there and judge for myself what the view from the top is like.

I know the recovery will be hell, but I also know that I've been there before and I got through it.

My new choice is as follows: leave the band in and hope they will stay in business for any length of time so I can get my aftercare, take the band out and rely purely on my own willpower to continue my weight loss efforts (I am extremely skeptical: I've never managed to keep up with my weight loss efforts before, why would this time be any different? Worse than never losing weight is having been there several times and sliding all the way back again), take the band out and convert to the "sleeve."

The proposal for the sleeve is currently being reviewed by my insurance. I no longer qualify with my BMI, but there might be a loophole: I lost less than 50% of the weight projected for me by my original surgeon. As it stands, I might have about a 50/50 shot. I was not turned down outright - they requested more information regarding my original surgery weight. If they were going to turn me down, they probably would have done it already... and yet they still could.

So the possible outcomes are so many and so varied, I am literally paralyzed right now. I feel like I couldn't even begin to choose what actually might be best for me. They could call me tomorrow and say "ok, let's do this thing" and I would just freeze. I don't know what's right for me. I wrote down everything I could think of today and thought maybe if I put it out here, someone will think of these items in some way that hasn't occured to me yet and maybe that will give me the puzzle piece I need in order to make the right decision.

(found this today: http://www.gastricsleeve.us/gastric-sleeve-vs-gastric-band.html - it's a side by side comparison of the sleeve and the band)

Here goes:

1. Do nothing – leave the band as is (4 ccs):

a. Band slips or erodes which could lead to minor corrective surgery or major surgery because a septic condition develops.

b. My stomach plays roulette with me. I get occasionally sick from internal swelling I cannot predict or control. Band squeezes my stomach shut for no reason and I end up in the emergency room again faced with doctors who don’t know how to help me.

c. I put up with the minor discomfort. I do not really lose any more weight, but I do not gain it either. Bready things like bagels still make me occasionally sick. Eating steak is still hard.

d. With the 4ccs still in my band, I am hugely successful at my dieting and exercising; I lose ALL my weight and never gain it back again. I am healthy and happy.

e. I stop dieting/exercising just like I always do. I start gaining the weight back slowly, 20lbs at a time. End up at 400+ lbs within 2 years.

f. I lose all my weight, but realize this does not make me happy either. I find something else to be depressed about.

2. JUST remove the band.

a. I gain back a huge amount of weight in a short time – at least 125lbs or more in a year. I end up back where I started: unhealthy, feeling horrible and putting major stress on my joints again. Probably make contact with another doctor about ANOTHER surgery.

b. I gain back all my weight, but slower – maybe more like 2 or 3 years… but I still do it.

c. I continue doing my diet and exercise. I may not lose, but I do not gain.

d. I die during surgery.

e. Without the band, I am hugely successful at my dieting and exercising; I lose ALL my weight and never gain it back again. I am healthy and happy.

f. I lose all my weight, but realize this does not make me happy either. I find something else to be depressed about.

3. Remove the band and are converted to the gastric sleeve.

a. I die during surgery.

b. My new stomach develops leaks, which require additional surgery.

c. I experience some other side effect, which damages my body and/or requires additional surgery.

d. I go through the surgery, heal, but am miserable. I am still sick and/or uncomfortable, but unlike the band: now there is no way out. I have irreversibly altered myself and must suffer the consequences for the rest of my life. I am vitamin starved and sickly. My hair falls out.

e. This procedure is exactly what I want: I heal and do fantastically. I am no longer ruled by my hunger. I eat to live instead of living to eat. For this reason, I am hugely successful at my dieting and exercising; I lose ALL my weight and never gain it back again. I am healthy and happy.

f. This procedure is exactly what I want… but only for awhile. Old habits take over and I stretch out my new stomach. I gain everything back only this time my new small-turned-big stomach is now thin like an overstretched balloon.

g. I lose all my weight, but realize this does not make me happy either. I find something else to be depressed about.

....

Well, what do you think?

'Get busy livin' or get Kraken...'

On Friday I was offered what I thought I wanted: knee surgery.

I said "no."

It would be 6 mos to a year of living in physical therapy (which I've already had a taste of and determined to be - at least for me - crap.) I could only work my upper body at the gym -- which just wouldn't work as my favorite class has ultimately become RPM and 6 mos to a year without RPM is just not happening.

I told him the PT he prescribed didn't do jack for my knees (2 hrs a day, 3 days a week), but the little girl I see ONCE a week for half an hour at the gym is actually helping. He said ok, deemed that progress and set me another appt for 6 weeks. He said the offer would still stand later if I changed my mind.

I need another year to make up my mind (I'm making another decision right now that will make even my knees take a backseat, but I'll talk about that when I'm ready.)

A year seems to be the magic number.

If I can change myself, it will be realizable in a year.

There's too much happening right now. I've got follow ups with 4 or 5 other differents kinds of doctors right now. Someone I deal with through work actually asked what was going on with me and it's hard to explain: I've always had aches and pains and things that could be construde as problems, but once I turned 30 - I don't know - they just seemed more real... like real adults should get things like aches and pains looked at.

I went to a chiropractor for the first time - also on Friday.

My pelvis is out of whack - which very well could assume part of the blame for the way my knees are.

The visit was some scary stuff: this little skinny guy dangled me off a table and then rammed my legs up in to my body. Because I didn't have any idea what was about to happen, when it did and I heard all my bones (inside my head? outside? no idea) crack, I screamed. He jumped back sort of surprised, he thought I knew what was about to happen. Nope. I don't even think if I'd been given a play-by-play of what was about to happen to me... I don't think even then I could have prepared myself for that.

So he did that to both my legs and then he ran this wand thing down my spine and poked me in the back several times. Each time the spot was incredibly tender and he'd ask me how long those places had been bothering me as well. I didn't have a clue. I had to try and explain that I live in constant agony because of my knees. When one part of the body is shouting so loudly, the other hurty bits don't really get heard.

So he popped a bit in my back as well, but I think he thought that was enough trauma for a noob and let me go.

I see him again on Wednesday.

Doug came to the gym with me on Friday. He's had a check up and knows now that he has high cholesterol and so seems to also be acknowledging a change is necessary in how he does things in his life as well.

We took Combat.

It made his head hurt.

I'm going to show him RPM and (hopefully) Pump and then if he doesn't like those either, I guess he won't join after all (he had said that he wanted to, but not if all the classes do is make his head hurt.)

I hope he'll join... I hadn't even entertained the idea of being able to do this with him, but now that he's hinted it's a possibility, I'm totally elated.

I now have 36 stickers. The goal is in sight!

:-)

:-(

What a horrible, crappy day.

The doctor 'handling' my knee situation is a prick.

I had a 4:40 appt. I didn't even get called back 'til 6:40. I said "the natives are getting restless" to one of his minions. He said it was because the doctor spent "so much time" with each of his patients.

Bull.

I wait longer... and longer.

Finally, he comes in. Doesn't even say 'hi.' Pokes my knees, makes me scream and tells me he wants me to get an MRI- yet he mentions when it's tendons it probably won't show up on an MRI. The entire interaction took three minutes. OHHHHH the QUALITY TIME!!!!

I should have just walked out. I was literally getting up to walk out when they called my name. He's already told me there's nothing to be done for my problem besides what I'm already doing. Not like he's going to see my MRI, go "gee, that's BAD" and sign me up for an operation where I'm given baboon tendons or something.

So I was late for Pump class. Nothing like coming in late to class that requires a lot of equipment set up to draw lots and lots of attention to yourself. Fantastic.

It's bed time.

I'm on a roll so far -- what new and wonderful ways can TOMORROW suck?

because I COULD

The hole in the bottom of my left foot is finally healed enough to where I can walk on it without a pronounced limp.

Get a giant, disgusting blister (or 3), DON'T clip the skin off the top if you ever want to walk on your foot again: Lesson Learned.

I really had a fantastic time at the event on Friday. I did - as I probably already mentioned - 9 miles in about 3 hours 15 - give or take. It was still at least 100 when we started, but it really didn't bother me. There were vats of ice water and we all got free bandanas. I'd dip mine every time I went around and squeeze it over my head, tie it - still soaking wet - around my neck, and it'd be dry by the time I got 'round again.

I thought I would get bored, but the shortened route didn't feel that much shorter than the way I usually walk (1 mi vs 1.5 mi).

I put the audiobook of Stephen King's "The Long Walk" on my iPod and just went for it... my entertainment felt quite appropriate (or not appropriate at all if you consider the distance walked in THAT little tale.)

My knees were screaming agony pretty much from the get-go. I limped the last 2 miles. I got some Excedrin from Doug about half way through, but if it did anything, I couldn't tell.

I just got in to creating rituals: grabbing a cup of something (at first it was water, then Gatorade and then something else "sport drinky," but I couldn't even guess) at the aid station, dipping my bandana, stopping for a stretch at a bench 1/2 way through the loop, passing my car & waving at Doug near the start/finish.

I had my camelback with me (there were supposed to be places where you could fill up, but I didn't see where), but I wanted to conserve it so I would drink cups of stuff from the aid station and I can now add to my list of life experiences: the sensual pleasure of drinking cold water when you are truly thirsty. My camelback stays pretty cold, but it still tastes like plastic. Bleck. No... no, that first cupful of cold, clear water was... magnificent. The roulette of tastes afterwards - not so much - especially getting a mouthful of lime sports drink when you are ready for another cup of tasty water.

Everyone was really nice. It made me slightly nervous. I'm rather guarded these days because it seems like every time I try to insinuate myself in to some sort of pre-established social situation, I end up screwing up somehow - violating some kind of rule I'm unaware of - and making myself unwelcome.

It was in this frame of mind, I first viewed the other people in the event.

I scooted myself to the very back of the starting group because I knew they would all take off running and I didn't want to be in the way. Sure enough, the whole pack took off and even the other 2 or 3 walkers zoomed off in front of me and I was a speck. As the runners started to lap me, they would say "good job." My suspicious tendencies told me I was being made fun of. 'Good job, fatty, way NOT to hustle it.' It took me a little while to realize they were being sincere. I started congratulating people back. It felt nice.

There were even some ladies parked at a mini aid station on the other side of the route who actually took time to learn peoples' names and they would go "hey look - it's Liz - YAY Liz!"

Even though my knees were held together with rusty nails by that point, I still jogged the finish line just like I did with April when we walked in Irving.

I got a cap for finishing. So my swag came down to a tech shirt, a cap and a bandana. Not bad!

The race was timed - I had a little tag zip-tied to my shoe lace. It was after I finished, I truly learned another fact that my previous try at the endurance walk (2 hrs) started to teach me: feet in motion usually try to stay in motion. I stopped so a guy could come over and clip the tag off my laces and it was all I could do not to fall on his head since my legs didn't like going from all that movement to NO movement. The poor people thought I was going to pass out, but it was just my traitor legs.

(I was pleasantly surprised to learn I was 17/22 in the Womens' 3 hr... don't get me wrong - I don't care about time. I will never place or win a sporting competition of any kind. I know that. But the fact that I wasn't dead last when that's been my usual place my entire LIFE - Liz the bumbling, clumsy, fat one, last running laps, last picked for any sort of team... just reaffirms to me that I'm not making a fool of myself.)

There was food, but I didn't bother. I limped back to the car and directed Doug to whisk me to the nearest Walgreens where I bought a giant box of instant icepacks (I forgot to chill mine before the walk!!) and blister bandaids.

I went home, showered, crawled in to bed, applied ice to my affected areas... and all, but hibernated for the whole weekend.

That's about the shape of it.

:-)

The reactions to my tale of accomplishment have been split roughly in to two groups: "that's awesome!" and "why in the world would you want to do something like that???!!!" It reminds me of the tattoo sticker I used to see around "The only difference between tattooed people and non-tattooed people is: tattooed people don't care if you're not tattooed." Insert walkers/runners in to that scenario and you kinda get the picture. There's a jerk at my work that was really stupid about it: going on and on about how hot it was (ha! sort of like how my HUSBAND did) and how he didn't understand why I'd want to do something like that... I really wanted to let him have it, but of course, I have natural non-confrontational tendencies... which lead to a frustrating lack of ever SPEAKING MY MIND (sigh.)

The answer is: I did it because I COULD. I could do something that you people either CAN'T or WON'T.