On May 24th, at about 11am I had one of the 5 best naps I've ever had. I was put under to have gastric sleeve surgery. This was a decision that was not made lightly and was made with the intention of reducing my weight primarily to prevent further degradation of my joints in my lower body, prevent the development of hypertension and or diabetes, and coming in dead last, to feel better about my body image. If you know me, being fluffy hasn't ever really bothered me. I was surrounded by women with soft curves and generous bodies. Their hugs and strong bodies that did amazing things made me not afraid of being a bigger person and taking up space. Also, I love food. I love the sensory experience it provides and it is delicious. I wanted to be healthier but my version of health didn't necessarily mean a significantly smaller body size. In fact, the journey to being approved for this procedure was made more difficult because aside from my fabulous fluffiness, I am very healthy! I have blood pressure that is textbook normal. My A1c is superb. My lung function is better than most, thankful for all of those years as a competitive swimmer and soccer player.
I began having some mobility challenges this last year and so began a cycle of having a lot of pain with required mobility and not really being able to exercise or move my body and because of that, my weight crept up. My mental health was suffering and after lots of soul-searching, I made the decision to begin the process. I saw dieticians, psychiatrists, counselors, and all sorts of specialists, and finally had my consult with a surgeon. After that, it was back and forth with the insurance. As we oscillated between the procedure being covered and not covered I also oscillated between wanting to do the surgery and not. I was honest with myself and a few close friends who helped me discern the way through. Finally, in mid-April, I went for my final consult and we scheduled surgery.
In order to prep my body for surgery I had to go on a completely liquid diet from May 11th until the day of surgery. Y'all, that is not for the faint of heart or non-committed. I've never felt more brain fog, exhaustion, or emotions in my life. This is required so that your liver can shrink making it easier for the surgeon to reach your stomach. I made it. The day before surgery a dear friend drove and picked me up and we stayed overnight near the hospital. I wanted to bathe in the queso she was eating, I sipped on my water with lime.
The morning of she prayed with me, anointed me, and generally held my hand as I stood firm in one of the most difficult life decisions I've ever made. She gave me a hug as they rolled me out of the room and I could feel her presence with me as I anxiously waited in the pre-op area. When my doctor came around for a pre-op consult I told him, one goal, going in alive, and coming out the same way. And before I knew it, I was sleeping. I woke up in recovery and although I was very tired and my BP was doing wonky stuff, I was doing ok. The next thing I knew I was in the post-surgical recovery room I had been in that morning and the Vicar and Corrie were standing over me and it was glorious to wake up. Soon I was up and walking. I was discharged home around 5pm that day.
Recovery was rough those first few days. I stayed medicated and soon realized, well let us be honest, the Vicar realized I was not doing well and made me go to the ER on Memorial Day. I was in fact, very sick. A raging kidney infection/UTI and severely dehydrated. But some IV antibiotics and fluids and your girl was back in the saddle. Around 5 days post op I started to feel like myself again. I still had some incisional pain but I was up and around. In those early days, I was humbled. Having to ask the Vicar, and at one point, our oldest PK to help me to the bathroom, it was hard but as I always hoped, they did so with love, and respect, and were glad to help. Y'all, maybe we are doing this parenting thing right after all.
As I start to close in on 2 weeks post-op, I am learning how to refeed myself. I'm still fatigued but I'm doing more each day and I'm learning how to trust my body again. One of the most amazing things post-op, I have not had one iota of pain in my joints. And honestly, if nothing else happens, that in itself would be worth it. I am losing weight. I can see it on my face. I can see it in my body. However, I'm focused on how I feel.
As I sit and write this I am so grateful for my family, framily, friends, colleagues, and God for bringing me through this. This was a major surgery. I am grateful for phone calls, and texts, for the Vicar taking time from work, for my kids being gentle, and for those near and far praying for and looking out for me. I'm grateful for Corrie standing in as my responsible person so the Vicar could go to end-of-school things for the PKs. I'm grateful for Denise coming and watching the kids so the Vicar could be there to bring me home. I'm thankful for Cara making sure I had meds when I got home. Y'all, it was humbling to see people care about me in this way.
I'm proud of myself for making this choice. The recovery is just getting started but I chose to do something that really, is primarily for me. So as I continue on this journey I hope to share bits and pieces of it here. If you've gone through this, are contemplating this, or love someone who has gone through this, I'm here. I'm transparent. This was never "the easy way out". Believe me, this is the best and one of the hardest things I've done in my life.
A great big thank you again to everyone. Love y'all. Now to go drink some damn water, that's your reminder to do so too!
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