The New Journey: What is it? How'd you get on it? What are you traveling in? Is there beer in the trunk?

  So what exactly is this new journey all about? Well, let me repeat the last few sentences from my last blog entry, "It took me going to my son's birthday party at the roller rink for the light to turn on for me. That was my 'AH-HA!' moment. I thought I'd get up on skates (because in the 80's I'd been taking competition skating lessons) and it would be like the old days. Instead, I found I could barely hold myself UP on skates. That truly told me the condition my body was in".

    Ok, so yeah, maybe my expectations were a LITTLE unrealistic but, c'mon, I was down from 260# to 222#- that's something, yeah? And I felt like I could do it. I was so, so, so very wrong. I watched my sister-in-law (who was far more fit than me at that point) skate around a smidge unbalanced but for the most part doing really well. I watched my husband (very physically fit) roll around a little unbalanced but doing very well too. Then there was me...it reminded me of the first time I got up on wakeboard: like sliding in plastic shoes across ice- no traction, no control. I began to wonder, "How the HELL did I ever control these things back then?" That's when it began to set in, "Because, dumb ass, you were 12, you were fit as fit could be! You rode your bike everywhere, when you didn't ride, you walked or skateboarded. You roller skated almost everyday." So says I to myself, "Then you mean I have to get strength and endurance training? I actually have to get in SHAPE before I can do this?" So responded myself to I, "Uh, yeah, hasn't Brian been telling you that for years? Didn't the Doctors tell you that before you got that band put in." And so began my scheming to get this flabby, fatty, cellulite-ridden, out-of-shape body tuned up. I decided then and there that I would start walking, seriously not just leisurely, and progress from there.

    That Monday once the hubs and kids were off to school I grabbed our great dane and we began our walking cycle. It was difficult and I was sure to log the mileage we covered on my social network page so that as I began to lose weight and tone up, I could see what it was I'd done to get there. Miss Dolly (the great dane) was not always thrilled with the amount of ground we covered (we'd eventually worked up to 8 miles) but I was determined. I eventually began to alternate walking with stationary bike riding as it had some pretty difficult programs and I worked up to 8-10 miles on it as well. I dropped to 209# and was feeling good; I was feeling good about myself, what I was doing, the weight I was losing, and the energy I had. Things were good. Till one day I was on my social network page and a friend posted something about her bootcamp and how she liked it and yadda yadda yadda. She had some free passes for a couple weeks if anyone wanted to try it out. I remembered then that a couple of my other friends did bootcamp for a month and I had seen a literal night and day difference in both their appearances after a month. So, I asked a few pertinent questions; the main question being, "they don't come and bark orders in your ear do they?" I'd done a paramilitary academy once before and, not only was I not interested in doing it again, I was kind of to a point in my life where if someone tried to bark orders in my ear, I'd likely knock a bitch out. That was that. She promised me they didn't do that, so I went.

.....and allow me to close this entry with this....sadly, there is no beer involved.

Major Band Incident #2

    After about a bit of time of rest from the previous incident, I returned to Doc O fatter than ever (I hadn't gained all my weight back but, man, did I feel like I had) and we began (again) down our lapband-relationship-road....he'd fill it to where he felt it should be, I'd go away for a month or so and be back telling him, "More fluid! More fluid!" He'd always reluctantly but loyally oblige me, but not without being sure I understood why he felt it was too much.

    It was no time at all before I was filled to 6cc's (supposedly the 'norm' for most females) and not much time before I got food stuck again, found myself dehydrated (AGAIN!) and back in the hospital (AGAIN!) having fluid aspirated.

    And so the cycle began again....

    Back in to see him and over a period of a couple of months, I eventually ended up where I am now: 5cc's. I figured that'd be good, not too much, not too little. I remembered the time before I was at 5cc's when I couldn't wait to get in to see him again to get more fluid because I was able to eat a ton of food. So, I completely expected to be in his office again before too long having more fluid put in. After a couple of months though, I simply found myself struggling to comfortably eat anything. Everything sat on the top of the band regardless of how tiny my bites were or how much time passed between them. I'd only had food stuck and vomited once but it was during this stint I came to the heartbreaking realization that alcohol and the band DO NOT go hand in hand, for me anyways. I'd had a very small glass of wine on Thursday, a 16oz glass of Red Drank (red fruit juice with vodka) on Friday and Saturday. By Sunday, I could barely get hot liquids down so the misery began again.

    I recently had a friend ask me if, knowing what I know now, I'd get the lapband again. I found it to be a very interesting, contemplative question. I'd love to go the easy route and say no and that I'd never do it again after everything I've been through, but I have to be honest. In order to reach the different mind-set I'm in now, I HAD to endure all of this. It has been a journey and it's a journey I had to take to get here. Do I still have fluid in? Yes, I am still at 5cc's and will be seeing Doc O in the next few days to remove some fluid. Will I ever have all of my fluid removed? I really can't answer that right now,  I'd like to be able to say yes but I really just don't know right now. I'm on a new journey now, a good one, a healthier, happier, more energetic one. It has been the previous journey that has helped me come to the realization that exercise is the ONLY way I will get to my goal weight of 160#...and if my blog does ANYTHING for anyone out there considering or who has the band, I hope it helps you to realize the seriousness of a COMPLETE change of lifestyle. It isn't just about limiting the amount you eat, it's about changing WHAT you eat, the AMOUNT you eat, HOW you eat it, WHY you came to be so dependent on food to fill WHICH void, DO YOU WANT TO DIE looking the way you do, being in the CONDITION you're in? DO you want people discussing your death afterward and saying, "It probably had alot to do with his/her weight" or "It's probably because of the crap he/she always ate"? I don't. It took me going to my son's birthday party at the roller rink for the light to turn on for me. That was my "AH-HA!" moment. I thought I'd get up on skates (because in the 80's I was taking competition lessons) and it would be like old days. Instead, I found I could barely hold myself UP on the skates. That truly told me the condition my body was in.

Major Band Incident #1

    I was completely shocked when I came back and noticed I hadn't had a new entry to this blog for OVER TWO YEARS!!! Wow! Lazy girl! Ha ha! So much has happened in these past two years and I could go on for days but I will just hit on a few of the more pertinent happenings.

    First, my band has been so tight, it has actually been filled to 9cc's (my band holds 10). This was a fun time. I actually got down to 188 pounds but it was because all I could consume was soup (very, very slowly) water, basically all liquids.

One weekend we decided to go camping......

   So picture this: beautifully pristine, SILENT desert surroundings, warm weather, weight loss to the point that I'm ready, willing and able to go hiking. Hell yeah! Give me a hand full of those chips! My band has been doing good- if I have some chips...no harm, no foul! WRONG!!!! Those things got stuck and when they did, I found myself laying on the bed with excruciating pain like I've never felt before. The pain shot through the front of my chest so badly it was hard to know if it was band pain or a heart attack. It jutted up my neck and throat are and into my jaw and also resonated out of the left side of my back bouncing between my shoulder blade and spine. It was terrible. It wasn't long before I was in the bathroom vomiting simply in an effort to get some kind of relief from the pain. Vomiting did provide some immediate relief but in the long run, it really just aggravated the band site to the point that I couldn't even swallow my own saliva. So, there I was: swallow, then a few minutes later up it comes...swallow saliva,  a few minutes later up it comes, and so on. This went on for 24 hours- it even woke me up every ten minutes or so throughout the night to vomit and it was during this time in the evening I came to realize I was now vomiting bile.

    To everyone's dismay (including my own) we had to leave our camping trip to get me to the hospital to have the fluid removed immediately. I was severely dehydrated, cracked lips, weak, loopy in the head, it was not pretty. Once we arrived at the hospital I was informed my Dr. wasn't coming- that the staff at this hospital had been personally trained by my Doc on this procedure and were perfectly capable. I was a tad nervous but the pain overtook my nervousness, I even had to sit on the bed with a bucket because my body was continuing to purge every drop of saliva and bile it could muster. You all might think I'm crazy but it was at this time I found myself terribly sympathetic to those with eating disorders who can't keep food down because it comes right back up. I doubt they have the exact pain I was suffering from, but not being able to keep anything down is NOT a good feeling.

     A Doctor in his mid to upper 40's introduced himself to me and began to tell me how he'd never done an aspiration before and am I sure I'm ok with him doing it. I told him he didn't have to if he was unsure, that he could just bring me the needle and I could do it myself. That may sound funny, but I wasn't being an ass, I was completely serious and he could tell that. I could tell he was terribly nervous about it. I took his hand and put it on my belly where my port is located and I told him, "You feel that? That's the port. Now give me your finger and I'll show you where the center is." I placed his finger dead center and told him, "Now, when you have the needle placed directly perpendicular to the center of the port, I will lift my head, tightening my abdominal muscles and the port will stabilize and come closer to the surface. Just stab the needle straight in, not at an angle, and you'll be good to go." He still seemed rather uneasy but I told him it would be ok and told him I trusted him (and I did)- that it only seemed difficult. He centered the needle and I lifted my head. He said, "Are you ready?" I responded, "Yeah, it's ok, this really doesn't hurt. With a little bit of force, push that needle in." He did so and immediately the plunger began to back out and the syringe filled with fluid. He had a beautiful smile on his face. It was clear he'd been concerned and was happy things had gone successfully. He even went back to the break room which was near where I was and began to tell everyone in a very excited tone that he'd just done his first band aspiration. He did well. I was empty now and couldn't get enough water down my gullet. The Dr. wanted to admit me because of my color as well as a slew of other indicators of dehydration but I refused. I knew it was simply a matter of getting that damned fluid removed...and the water back in my body.

   Six days and numerous gallons of gatorade and water later, I found myself finally rehydrated and woofing as much food down as I possibly could. Ugh. Here we go again and my weight went up and up and up and up. . .

Heave-ho!

   Ok, so I told a friend (Hi, Kym) that I was going to post a new entry yesterday and never did get around to it so here we go. . .


   So where to begin. . .ahh the joys of the band! My band was fairly tight and I would say it was doing it's job fairly well, but I had to be in control, as usual. I went in on November 1st and asked Dr. Owens for 1/4cc fill. He said my band was pretty tight but I begged and he let me have it. The water went right down, no problems. I lasted a whole 5 days without any issues. I had to eat VERY slowly, taking  up to an hour to finish a VERY SMALL amount of food, but I was losing- yay! That Sunday, we were invited to our friends' restaurant to have dinner with them. I ordered a whopping five buffalo wings. I finished my last wing and within 3 minutes I was running to the bathroom to throw it up. I'm sure the poor girl in the stall next to me thought for sure I was bulimic. Well, this was the beginning of a very uncomfortable month + for me.


  As par, I went on liquids for 24 hours and slowly introduced foods back in, beginning with soft foods and progressing from there. I was not able to get milk down, cottage cheese, soft cheese, etc. But, staying true to form, I pushed the issue, got something stuck and threw up again. And so began my month-long cycle of liquids, soft foods- Oh, crap can't do it, throw it up, and back to liquids. It eventually got so bad that even SIPPING broth or water caused pain on top of the band. It all came to a head on a Sunday:


  My husband and I had to be at mass early because we had dismissal with our catechumen and inquirers. I drank about a 1/4 cup of coffee and noticed acid reflux seemed to be brewing. I should note here that I'd been awoken twice during the night over the last month, throwing up a little bit in my mouth from whatever I'd had for 'dinner' that night. I sucked it up, took my medicine, biotin (both capsules) and then chewed and swallowed my one-a-day vitamin. Mind you, I did this over a 20 minute period. As soon as I swallowed that vitamin, I was done for. The pain I'd felt was unlike anything before. It was like I'd swallowed a tennis ball sized stone that was sitting on the opening of my stomach, unable to go through. I stood up and continued to tell myself to be a good little soldier and deal with it, this too shall pass. Once outside, I found sitting down was painful, standing was painful, breathing at all was painful. The pain had stretched all the way into my back by now and even putting my arms above my head offered no relief. I had my husband drop me back at home- there was no way I could be of any help to anyone in this condition! The pain was so awful I was unable to think of anything else and couldn't even find my phone to contact Dr. Owens. At this point, my heart was palpatating, my breathing was shallow and labored, there was pain in my chest, abdomen, and back, and so I decided to lay down. I lay there, the reflux being ungodly bad, like nothing ever before, and the 'stuck' pain unrelieved. I got up, I sat down, I laid down, then I did it all over again. Nothing I did relieved anything at all. I went to the kitchen to get some milk as by this time I'd already chewed antacids just trying to get the reflux calmed down but nothing worked. So I swigged the milk and the reflux subsided for a second but came back with a vengeance so I swigged again- mistake! My saliva began to run like a faucet and I could feel everything pushing it's way back up through my esophogus. I booked as fast as I could to the sink and stood there wretching and heaving like I haven't done since my stomach flu of '05. I heaved fluids, one nifty color after the next until there was nothing left, but my stomach was determined and continued to heave another five times before allowing me to catch my breath! In all, 15 heaves that began at my toes and worked my entire body not allowing me a single breath in between. THAT is how you spell relief apparently because everything subsided after that. I rejoined my husband at church and went about my day, very slowly sipping only hot liquids and nothing else. Once the pain was gone, I realized my phone had been left in my husband's car- funny the way severe pain pushes other things out of your head.


   After mass, I texted Owens about everything and of course he was extremely concerned. He wanted me in the ER if the pain came back like it had been but I was very careful not to take anything in that wasn't hot fluid and I took it in a tiny sip at a time. He told me he wanted me in his office first thing in the am and I wasn't going to argue that- even if it did mean an hour drive in the rain!


looney, but I was worried. Owens asked me what I wanted him to do but asked me to please trust him. I gave him the green light to do what he thought was best and so an entire cc came out.


    It has been 3 days since the removal of the fluid and I tell ya, I am still VERY VERY tight. It still takes me an hour to eat anything. I am taking a couple of protein shakes a day and maybe a raw carrot or some raw cauliflower for lunch. I eat dinner with my family, but my dinner consists of about what could fit in the palm of my hand. Am I hungry? No. The amount of food I'm eating right now is just enough to keep me satiated for a few hours. I'm doing well.


   So where exactly am I now? Here's the breakdown:
10/2005: 215#
04/2010: 260# (first banding done)
04/2011: 247# (second banding by Owens)
12/2011: 212#
   

Societal Norms Can Bite Me. . .

  Wow! Well, I went to see Dr. Owens and found I've lost 8# in a month! Woo-Hoo! Doesn't get much more exciting than that! It's the first time I've lost a SIGNIFICANT amount of weight in a month, so happy! Oh, and my wedding ring keeps trying to fall off!


  I have now removed all sizes 18 and 20 from my closet and dresser and boy, am I bare. Not a good thing to be when you're financially broke. But it's still a good feeling to know I can no longer fit in those sizes because I'm TOO SMALL for them! What an awesome thing to be able to say! SO, I guess it's a good thing that I held on to some of my size 16 stuff- not a lot but some. Problem there is. . .that stuff is starting to get big on me now too. I am so happy I think rainbows may soon be shooting out of my butt!


  I did ask Dr. Owens to give me 1/4 fill. At dinnertime my portions were getting slightly bigger so that told me I was getting a bit stretched. So, he said, "Ah! You're asking for fine-tuning now!" He said it in a way that he sounded happy, like he knew I was finally reaching that 'sweet-spot', and I believe that I am. The more weight that drops off, the more energy I have, and the cleaner my house gets!


  Now here's the big question: have I been exercising? Well, I suppose it depends on your definition of exercise! Have I been running, jogging, lifting weights, riding a bike, using the thigh-master, or the chin-master,  or the gazelle, or expensive rubber-bands; all those deliberate exercise things? Uh, no! I do wear Sketchers Shape-ups (the serious 4"ers) and I am working all day cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. So, yes I am getting exercise when you compare that to not having the energy to get off the sofa or doing a thing for 15 minutes before my feet, knees, or back hurt so bad I had to sit down. Yes, I'm getting exercise, just not the kind Southern California's societal norms dictate I should be getting. As previously stated, I'm rather defiant so So Cal's societal norms can bite me. When I feel the need to get deliberate exercise, I shall. In the meanwhile, I'm doing very well right where I am.

I Love You, Grandma. . . .

 Just got back from visiting my 94 year old Grandmother in a nursing facility. She's been dealing with dementia/alzheimer's for sometime now. I visited with her yesterday and although fairly lethargic, she knew who both I and my daughter were and our relation to her. So. . .it was a quiet but meaningful visit.


  Today, however, I found myself in the strangest of strange situations. Grandma was in a wheelchair in the hallway and I walked up to her, knelt down, put my hand on her knee and said, "Hi, Grandma, how are you today?" She looked at me quite angrily and said, "Who are you?" I knew this day was coming, so it didn't throw me too bad, I just answered her that it was me, Donna, her granddaughter. She told me no that I wasn't her Donna and that I could, "Too-da-loo!" Basically telling me to leave. So, I stayed with her, giving her her space, just so she knew I was around.


   Her charge nurse came and rolled her into the game room where they were listening to the Beach Boys and throwing around a beach ball for exercise. I went in, stood behind grandma's chair and just enjoyed watching the elderly people enjoy the music and interaction. Grandma sat quietly, more sleeping than anything else. The nursing staff knew what grandma had said to me and they all were very sweet, consoling me and such, but I didn't feel I needed consoling, I knew the day would come. They told me, "Yes but it still hurts", and they were right. I told them it was just important that I was there- she knew in her heart and soul that I was there and that was all that mattered. I was just a quiet presence is all and that was ok because I knew she could sense me being there. 


   One of the weirdest things for me, I found, was how to relate to these people. I knew how to communicate with kids, teens, people my age, my elders, but I found in the presence of these folks, these people that had seen more and experienced more than anyone I knew, these people with years of living on their faces, sadness in their eyes, anger on their lips at times, and the want of love and compassion in their hearts, while appearing old, spoke and interacted like children. Here I stood, having raised kids, lost two parents, 3 grandparents, prison guard for 10 years, having witnessed men stabbing men, men hanging themselves, how to check a fool when being disrespectful, I found myself completely dumbfounded for a way to interact, respond and communicate with them. I just stood and smiled, not knowing what to say.


   One very tall staff member in all white joined everyone and began clapping her hands to the music. Some of the people responded by clapping in turn, including Grandma. I was glad to see her responding. She even began to smile. The staff member nudged me with her elbow and said, "See?! You get them responding to the joy and it takes them back to the era and they remember the good things!" She must have seen the loss of what to do on my face. She was very kind and sweet with everyone, especially me.


   Eventually, they came in and began to wheel everyone out for lunch, it was time for me to head out to receive the kids from school anyways so I approached grandma and told her I had to go. She looked up at me smiling and said, "OH! I'm going to eat lunch! Do you want to have lunch with me?" I told her I couldn't because I had to get the kids. "Next time," she responded. At this point I was knelt down before her again and held her hand. I looked at her and said, "Grandma, do you know who I am?" Awaiting the second heart piercing of the day, she responded, "Yes! You're my granddaughter!" I gave her a great big kiss and hug and promised to return again tomorrow. 


   It is so hard to watch someone who was so stubborn, head strong and independent suffer this type of mental and emotional anguish. Yes, it is hard on the family, but imagine it: having lived a lifetime and not knowing who anyone is around you, not remembering things from minute to minute, knowing you used to be able to do things that you are no longer capable of doing, even going to the bathroom on your own. . .


   I love you, Grandma. . . .

A Few Words About Stupid People. . . .

   One of my most common prayers that I say on at least a daily basis, if not more, is my prayer to God for patience and tolerance of those whom I deem unworthy to breathe the air in our atmosphere. In other words, the stupid folk out there! I am constantly reminded, especially by our parish priest, that the Lord does not grace us with patience, He graces us with opportunities for patience. That being said, I am sure the Lord  is very disappointed in me because he affords me numerous opportunities for patience and I fail them at least 9 out of 10 times.
   "So what is this weird entry here for in a blog about a lap band?" You may ask. Well, it has nothing to do with the lap band, I just had an incident with one of those 'special' people and I need to share it. So if you don't want to listen to me rant, you need read no further.
    This morning, after throwing my back out, I realized my daughter had left her lunch behind. So being the glutton for punishment that I am, and not wanting her to have to eat that horrible cafeteria 'food', I gathered her lunch bag and headed to school, severe back pain and all. Once I arrived, I saw two parents sitting on the wall outside of the office. I presumed they were waiting for their kindergartners but when I noticed the clock said 10:40, I realized it was entirely too early for that so I proceed to the office doors. It should be duly noted at this time that I recently received a new pair of prescription glasses because I can't see worth a shit without them. Do you think I was wearing them? Well, of course not! I'm defiant, stubborn, and certain that I can conquer my eyesight problem. So as I approached the office doors, I noticed (remember, I'm supposed to not be able to see anything without my glasses) the only white sign on the door right at eye level that read, "Earthquake drill in progress, doors are locked, will return in 20 minutes", I begrudgingly sat on the wall because my back hurt so bad, and before long I found myself wanting for a pair of Bose noise cancelling headphones after being barraged by the droll story of this man's wife who can't stand their baby's spit up. About as soon as that thought entered my mind,  a bit of entertainment began to approach us.
   A man in his very early thirties, dressed in black slacks, black shirt, black tie, and black shoes, looking appropriately dandy with his properly used hair care products, man-bag, and official-looking ID tag hanging off of him, charged the office doors. Now before I go any further, you all need to understand that this man stood no more than two feet away from me. . . so this made things especially amusing. He grabbed hold of one office door, pulled, and when it didn't open he did the same with the other one.  He then began to shake the doors as if somehow they were just lodged together and all of us on the wall were too stupid to figure that out. He continued to shake and pull on the doors, stopping only to push his face into the glass to see that the office was empty, just as promised. He shook and pulled the doors again and then he looked at me. Apparently I had that, "Really, Dumb Ass?" look on my face because after looking at me, he stepped back and noticed, right there in front of him, at eye level, was the only sign on the door warning him that the doors were locked. He looked at his watch and proceeded to dance a little jig as if to distract everyone from his stupidity; however, this only served to add to it.
   It was at this time I found myself thanking God for never letting this man be a partner of mine when I worked in the prison. This was, after all, the kind of guy who would walk to the guard station and complain of his side hurting, his partners being the ones to notice the shank in his side, you know, the one the inmate was flailing in front of him before sticking him with it! Yes. . .we had stupid people like that working the tiers with us and  we were expected to trust them to back us up in serious situations and to get us home safely to our families at the end of our shifts. Perhaps it is this line of work that has made me so sensitive to the stupidity of others, or as my friends tell me, "You're too sensitive to all the little things nobody else notices." Perhaps they're right, noticing those little things are often what protected us from what was about to happen, but I digress. . .
   Can ya'll just do me a favor? If you see me out there (I look exactly like my blog photo) and you're about to do something stupid, or you notice someone near me who's about participate in some sort of random, stupid activity, can you please remove yourselves (or them) from my presence? I swear a little piece of my brain melts away every time I'm witness to such stupid antics. I'm just saying. . . .