What a Difference a Day Makes

I would like to talk about weight. Yes, I know it is a taboo subject but in recent years, it has caused me much mental anguish. I am embarrassed to say I have been on both ends of the scale (No pun intended).

                Growing up, I was skinny. I am talking about size 0/2 jeans, x-small/small shirts. I did the Freshman 15 in college, but it came off so easily that it did not bother me. My wedding dress was a size 2 and still had to be taken in. I never gave my weight a thought. It was just the way I was. My weight was not even on my radar.

                After I had two children, I put all my energy and time into my kids, their activities, and sports: soccer practices and games, swim practices and meets, sailing regattas, dancing school, dance recitals, band concerts, PTA, play dates, homework, not to mention the dogs and housework. (Just to name a few.) There was no “me” time. It just did not fit in with the schedule. So over time, my weight crept up, and up, and up.

                By the time I was fifty, I was in terrible, terrible shape. The number on the scale was absolutely horrifying to me. My blood pressure was rising, and I was prediabetic. (The idea of getting Diabetes scared the bejesus out of me.) I physically hurt all over, especially my knees and back. It was (literally) a pain when I dropped something. I would do anything to avoid sitting down on the floor because it was so difficult getting back up on my feet. Going up the thirteen stairs in my home, I would be gasping for breath before I reached the top. I had no energy or stamina and felt exhausted all the time. I was also diagnosed with severe sleep apnea and had to use a sleep mask. This caused such a debilitating sense of mortification.

The depression and anxiety I have been dealing with since 2005 was in a serious decline, too. My mood was so up and down I felt like I was on a rollercoaster that never stopped. I was lethargic and unmotivated to do anything. I did not want to be in pictures with my kids, husband, or anyone else out of embarrassment of my appearance. (I forced myself to be in one for my son’s high school graduation but even today, I cringe in embarrassment to see it.)

                  Finally, I decided I had to take care of myself. The kids were older so I felt I could without feeling any mom-guilt. My oldest had her license so was able to help drive herself and her brother wherever they needed to be, which was extremely helpful as I was working full-time at this point.

I began by being more careful with what and how much I ate. I stopped making pasta with every dinner. I joined a gym and went five days a week, which was hard at first, but my husband encouraged me saying that after a few weeks, it would be less of a chore to go, and I would want to go. Surprisingly, I enjoyed it. I would go for an hour, listen to music as I walked on the treadmill or rode a recumbent bike, and lose myself in my own little world. It was just me – not mom, wife, daughter, or friend – just me, myself, and I. After a year of this, the weight was not coming off. Yes, it still felt good to exercise and mentally it was helping, but the number on the scale was not going down.

I decided to see an endocrinologist as there is a family history of thyroid issues, however, bloodwork was normal. We discussed weight loss options including surgery, which I ruled out immediately as I did not imagine getting to that point, so I was not going to even consider it.

           I tried Weight Watchers first. I knew people who tried it and succeeded and always heard positive reviews. For six months I followed their points program. I filled out a questionnaire about weight goals and lifestyle and was assigned the number of points I was allowed a day. They even sent me a scale. (Yippee.) It was not as easy as they made it sound though. You cannot eat anything you want. The only way you stay within your number of points is to use their recipes or ready-made frozen meals. I detested all the recipes, but I kept at it. (My husband made separate meals because he and the kids hated the WW recipes so much.)  There were so many nights I wanted to cry because I was so hungry and had to eat this disgusting-tasting food while smelling the delicious aromas of my family’s meals. I continued with the exercise, weighed myself every two weeks, and dutifully entered everything in the WW app. I was feeling great and proud of myself when I went back to my doctor after six months as I had lost thirty-six pounds. (Or so I thought.)

                I had not lost a single pound, according to all three of her office scales. I felt devastated to the point I sat in front of her in tears. I tried so hard, eating food that I did not care for, desperately wishing I could eat what my family was, and many nights went to bed hungry. I left her office in tears of frustration. (WW’s response was to send me a new scale [I threw it out] and shrug their shoulders. At least, that was my impression of their response.) I was also angry because Weight Watchers is expensive, and this was considered a luxury within our budget.

                I gave up on WW and tried Jenny Craig. Again, I was diligent and followed their plan. It was easier because most of their meals were delicious. I kept up with the gym because even though it had not helped me lose weight, it was still helping a bit with my anxiety. For months I stuck with it but again the number on the scale did not budge. I briefly considered Nutrisystem, but these programs are expensive. No wonder obesity is a problem in the United States as it is so much more expensive to eat healthily than not.

I turned to less expensive options like Golo diet pills, apple cider gummies, ACV Keto gummies, just to name a few. I was desperately trying anything I could to lose weight. Again, the scale never moved.

                I have always just put one foot in front of the other and kept going, no matter how difficult it is, but after trying for years to lose weight with no result whatsoever, I stood still. The discouragement, frustration, and utter hopelessness I felt were unreal. I am ashamed to admit this, but I gave up. I felt so demoralized. I became a shadow of my former self. At this point, I could barely remember who I used to be. I had no self-esteem, no self-confidence. When my husband would pay me a compliment, I would just smile a little, say ‘thank you,’ and not believe a word. (Please understand that my husband never caused this. These feelings were all me.) I stopped doing things with friends and family, even my husband and children. I came up with any excuse I could think of because I would never tell them it was because I was too fat to be able to do anything. Just the idea of saying that aloud horrified me. I felt a bone-deep embarrassment, humiliation, mortification, and shame over my appearance. There truly are no words to describe just how deeply this was affecting me. I stopped living. I lost me.

                Then in the summer of 2023, I fell apart though I made a supreme effort to hide it from everyone. There was not anything they could do so I figured why worry them or even bother. Sometimes I would try to talk to my husband but just could not find the words to truly convey what was happening within me. The pain went so deep. I just went through the motions: wake up, work, kids, pets, chores, bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. In August 2023 I spiraled and could not take any more. My depression and anxiety were at an all-time low and was affecting every aspect of my life, including my job, so I took a medical leave of absence from work and made an appointment with my doctor to discuss options. Ozempic and Wegovy were out of the question because of my history with depression and anxiety so she advised bariatric surgery as the best route. (Not to mention my last hope.)  I was at the point I never imagined I would be.

I found a bariatric surgeon and made an appointment for a consultation that week. I did my homework on several types of bariatric surgery beforehand. I wanted one that had the fastest results and the longest period of keeping weight off so my surgeon agreed that the gastric bypass would be the best option. (He was wonderful. He exuded confidence both in himself and in my succeeding. I felt the teensiest bit of hope because of it.) My surgery was scheduled for four weeks later.

There was so much to do. Insurance does not usually cover bariatric surgery because they consider it cosmetic and do not consider obesity a medical condition. (Even though doctors have medical degrees, the insurance companies feel they know better.) I had to jump through a lot of hoops to get them to cover it. I had to show them how much I spent on weight loss efforts, what methods I tried, prove that health issues that had arisen were due to the weight gain, my BMI had to be a certain number, and I even had to see a therapist that specializes in bariatric patients to make sure I was of sound mind and strong enough for this challenge. It does not sound like much, but it was a flurry of activity, and I finished it all in two and a half weeks.

After that it was a waiting game. I was all at once hopeful, an even bigger ball of anxiety and scared at what I was about to have done to my body. (Remember, also, Lisa Marie Presley passed away in January 2023 due to complications from bariatric surgery she had previously so that was very much on my mind.) I prayed so hard because in my mind this surgery was my last chance, and I was terrified it would not work. I felt that if this did not work, that was it and I would be fat for the rest of my life. It was extremely difficult to feel any hope at all after having failed so many times.

For those of you who are not familiar with gastric bypass surgery, it is quite scary (to me!) even though it is one of the most common ones performed. The surgeon cuts the top of your stomach off and creates a small pouch. He then cuts your small intestine and attaches it to this pouch thereby bypassing the remainder of the stomach. (This remainder is just floating around in there. Some days I still cannot believe I went to this extent.)  This pouch can only hold three to four ounces of food or liquid as it is only the size of an egg. There are short-term and long-term risks like pulmonary embolisms, bowel obstructions, strictures, internal hernias, gastro-gastric fistulae, gallstones, marginal ulcers, dumping syndrome, and the nutritional deficiencies that accompany altering the GI tract. This surgery is not for the faint-hearted. This is not the effortless way. This is a complete and total, permanent lifestyle change, and you must be 150 percent committed to it.

On September 26, 2023, I went under the knife. It was a rough recovery for me even though it was laparoscopic. I had six incisions, and I really hurt. Oxycodone was my best friend. I had to rest but still get up and walk around every two hours and I was fortunate to have a lot of help from my husband, my kids, and my parents, who came and stayed for a while.

As I mentioned, this means a complete lifestyle change so there are many rules to follow (chewing each bite thirty times, nickel or dime sized bites, stop drinking thirty minutes before eating, do not drink while eating, do not start drinking until thirty minutes after eating, proteins must be tender and juicy, only thirty minutes to eat, etc.). There are a lot of sacrifices to make (no alcohol, no carbonated beverages, no fatty or fried foods, no pasta, no skin on fruit, no citrus fruits or pineapple) for the rest of my life, but I kept reminding myself what I would get out of this. I started putting one foot in front of the other again.

There are four phases of recovery. Phase I means clear liquids only for two to three days after surgery. Phase 2 means two to three weeks of three liquid meals. (It could be things like Cream of Wheat or sugar free pudding thinned out with skim milk, creamy, fat free, high protein soups, a small amount of skim milk, or Oikos Greek Triple 0 yogurt). I could only manage one to two ounces per meal if that. I also had to start having two protein drinks in between meals. This is a high protein diet. I had to work my way up to about 65 grams of protein and at least 64 ounces of fluids daily.

I did not have any appetite, no hunger sensations at all but even though I was missing the delicious meals my family was eating, I was happy with my one ounce serving of Cream of Wheat or Greek yogurt. I was not sitting there feeling so hungry and yearning so much to be eating what they were like I did while on other weight loss programs. I was surprisingly content with what little I was allowed to eat.

                After this, it was on to Phase 3, three meals a day, soft foods only, for about three weeks. This was the stage where I had to start following the rules of stopping liquids thirty minutes before eating, no drinking while eating, and start drinking thirty minutes afterwards. (Being that my stomach is so small now, it cannot fit both food and liquid.) I temporarily had to go back to Phase 2 because I became so dehydrated by that loss of drinking time. I was not allowed to chug or gulp liquids and could only take about three sips at a time. Soft foods included everything from Phase 1 and 2 and foods like high protein, no/low fat soups, cooked zucchini, mashed banana, sugar-free applesauce, canned chicken with no/low fat mayo, a single scrambled egg or egg white. Again, I could only manage about one to two ounces per meal and believe me, my body let me know if I ate too much or too quickly.

I am now on the final phase, which is Phase 4 where I introduced regular foods, one at a time. Everything I eat must be low/no fat, no/low sugar, no carbs, low calorie, and high protein. Anything I drink must be sugar-free, non-carbonated, non-alcoholic, and decaffeinated. (I am allowed about eight ounces of caffeine, but I see that as empty calories so choose not to.) If my protein is not tender or juicy then it is off to worship the porcelain god I go. I spend a lot of time reading labels so there is no such thing as a “quick trip to the food store.”  Slow-cooked meals are the best I have found. Eventually, I will be allowed what is called the bariatric plate, which is three to four ounces of protein, two ounces (max) of a vegetable or fruit and two ounces (max) of a starch like a potato (minus the skin) or a whole grain. (I must eat the protein first, then vegetables, then the whole grain. I have only thirty minutes to eat or until full, whichever comes first, and I must eat very slowly.) I am still nowhere near that goal yet. That will take time.

There are some foods that I struggle with even if it is something I am allowed to have. Chicken is one and I have not been successful with pork yet. I do end up worshipping the porcelain god at times because what I ate did not agree with me, I ate too much, too quickly or my bites were too big which can get extremely frustrating.

It has been almost fifteen months since my surgery. It has been an exceptionally long journey, but everything has changed drastically and for the better. To date, I have lost 112.7 pounds, and I have dropped eight pants sizes and am back to a size small or medium shirt. To finally see results after such a long road is extremely gratifying and fills me with a contentment I have not felt in a long time. Having this surgery was the best decision of my life and there are no regrets at all. Not one. My energy level is through the roof, no more body pains, stairs are not a problem anymore, no more anxiety medications, my blood pressure is back to normal, I am no longer prediabetic, no more apnea mask, and most importantly, I am so much happier. I feel my self-confidence returning and my self-esteem rising. I do not look in the mirror anymore and want to fall into a sobbing heap. I am eager to get out and do things. I laugh. Oh, my goodness, I truly laugh. I had not truly laughed in an exceedingly long time. I forgot what it felt like. 

            I am not completely there yet but I am on my way. I am starting to find ‘me’ again and I am beginning to like her.

 September 26, 2023. What a difference a day makes.