Battle Of The Bulge

This morning I joined a 20 week challenge at my gym. The brilliant and stellar owner, Pat, called me the other day to tell me about it, as she knew my motivation had been seriously lacking. I hadn't been to the gym for about 6 weeks, and my depression had been so bad that most days I couldn't even get out of bed to shower. Things have started to turn around, and get better, so I decided to take up the challenge.

There are some lovely people in the group, who will meet once a week to compare food plans, exercise, successes, and the gym girls have taken measurements and weights.

FYI, I weighed in at (gulp) 123.5kg (271 pounds).

I am officially 5 kilos heavier than the beginning of the year, before my breakdown. Which is okay. I have made peace with it, and it's a lot less than I would have regained before I had the surgery. I guess I need to accept responsibility now, the smaller stomach basically lost the first 45kg, now I have to apply common sense and restraint to lose the rest. Gorgeous Jon, my surgeon, called me the other day and left a message asking to come in and see him so we can keep track. I have been avoiding seeing him, I am so conflicted now about the surgery and how easy it is to have it done (without psych evaluations, etc). I still think it's a terrific thing, and worth doing, but I do think there should be more support - especially as I was already diagnosed with depression and had serious binge eating issues.

I guess people will say I should have reached out and asked for help before I hit the point of having a breakdown. But the illness is deceptive, and I was on a high seeing such great results. I think I got carried away with the compliments and the fact that I looked better and could buy nice clothes. Shallow!! Now I am dealing with the reality that although I am 45kg lighter, and a lot healthier and fitter, my life is still empty and I am still suffering from image problems and sadness. I'm glad to have finally received a diagnosis, though, because I always knew my behaviour was "out there". I know what's "wrong" with me, and even better I know how to fix it (or at least manage it).

I had a great workout this morning, I have missed going to the gym! I have a new job starting next week, which is Tues, Wed and Friday, so am hoping to get to the gym at least twice a week. I need to establish a new routine, but not overdo it. My other problem, which is something the gastric sleeve couldn't fix, is snacking between meals. Totally out of control. I'm hoping that working again, and being busy, will help me forget about food a little haha!

Probably I should set some goals for the 20 Week Challenge (which is called The Battle of The Bulge, hence the title of this post). I don't want to focus on numbers, but getting back down to 118kg would be nice, which is where I was before my mental episode! I will work out some other fitness goals and post them here.

Surgery - Day One

Well, I am finally "on the other side" as they say, and have been lap-sleeved since 7pm Monday night. It's now 2 and a bit days later and I feel like a million bucks! Seriously! I felt like crap the first night, sore and cranky on Day One but since then have been on nourishing fluids (smoothies, ice cream, juice, tea, soup) and got discharged from hospital this morning. For anyone interested in the process I'm going to break the process down into bits & pieces. There is so much waiting around...aargh.

DAY ONE - Monday 29 Oct
Arrived at hospital 11am, got taken to my room around 11.30am - though I had asked for an paid extra for a private, they don't guarantee it apparently, and Mercy is VERY busy right now. The other bed was unoccupied for about the half the time I was there anyway. No biggie. Room has a lovely view over leafy Mt Lawley, staff all awesome. Had my shower with antibacterial soap and got into my gown and stockings by 1:30. Nurse Jerry came in and put Bactoban ointment up my nostrils (antiseptic, for the tubes?), injected me with Heparin (blood thinner)took all my vitals, asked the usual questions (name, DOB, operation). Eventually I went down to the pre-op room, where I laid for about 5 mins and then two more nurses separately asked me the name, DOB, operation type questions. Theatre nurse took me into theatre, where my anaesthetist came in and chatted, and Gorgeous Jon also stopped by. Dr Swan the anaesthetist said "Now, I'm going to put something in your arm to..." and that was all I knew for the FOUR HOUR PROCEDURE. Yikes. Now usually, it doesn't take more than an hour and a half, but I had extensive scar tissue from a previous surgery so it took longer. Meanwhile, my family were freaking out a bit, but I was happily snoozing away.

Out of surgery, I came to briefly in the recovery room, where some nurse hassled me about my face being red and was that because I had hives??!!! Tried to give her a smart alecky answer but the oxygen mask and general wooziness cramped my style! Next time I woke up it was 7:45pm and I was in the Special Nursing Unit (SNU) and my hubby and mum were there. Apparently I looked dreadful (thanks guys) and felt like my throat was gonna crack. I remember saying "I can't breathe, I can't breathe", as I sucked on oxygen, and Nurse Emma (who became my favourite nurse at Mercy) was saying "Your oxygen's fine love, just relax". The first night was a long one, just with dozing on and off, and having my obs (pulse, BP, O2 levels) taken every hour.