Half-Assed at 10 Months!

Today I’m officially 10 months out from surgery and… drumroll please… I am also officially one-half the woman I was before.

From 364 to 182, my friends!

Half.

Half!

I can hardly believe that. No, it hasn’t all happened since surgery. Since surgery though, I’ve gone from 299 to 182 and that ain’t shabby. It was April 2007 when I really started trying to lose weight at 364, so I’ve been working on this for more like 19 months.

Anyhow, that’s all details. HALF!

Next goal: 174.4 by year’s end, and I’m officially done with obesity and on to the world of “overweight.”

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The Granny Chronicles

So I did get an apology letter from my grandma last night, and of course it was terribly apologetic and made me feel like utter crap for making my poor grandma apologize. She explained that the lady at her beauty shop who had gastric bypass is always proudly announcing her weight loss, and that they ask how I’m doing, and she just wants something to be able to tell them.

So I called grandma, explained that of course I love her too, I’m sorry it got this far, and I explained precisely why I’m not proudly announcing my weight loss, and it’s because I feel more ashamed that I have the weight to lose than I feel proud that it’s gone.

She understands, we both cried, life goes on. šŸ™‚

Follow up on the pain

So I saw my primary doctor yesterday, and basically we’re still trying to figure out where that pain was coming from. She’s sure it was my gall bladder, so I’ll have an ultrasound and some kind of function test within the next few weeks to figure it out.

But the pain hasn’t been back since Friday, so maybe I’ll just wait and see what happens. I’m on antibiotics and pain killers, so maybe that’s why I’m feeling so fine!

She didn’t seem concerned at all about the kidney issue. While the preliminary report from the CT scan showed atrophy of my left kidney, the final report declared everything “normal.” I don’t know how that happens, but whatever. We’re just going with the “normal.”

Shrug.

Grandmama Drama

Don’t you love it when a big family fiasco occurs right before a major holiday? Don’t you just love that warm, gooey feeling of walking into a Thanksgiving celebration when you know everybody’s royally pissed at one another? Yeah, me too. There’s no place like home for the holidays.

This is an ongoing saga. I have a long history with my grandparents and my weight issues. It’s not that they’ve been overtly critical directly to my face, but there’s an undercurrent of judgement about appearanceĀ since I see them talk about other people. There’s a whole host of other issues, but they can’t all be delineated here. Suffice to say, though, that despite all of that, the overarching theme of my relationship with my grandparents is unconditional love and acceptance. They never say anything to me, it’s more of a feeling that I have.

So I didn’t tell them about my surgery until afterward, and I’ve been very clear that I don’t want to answer questions about how much weight I’ve lost. Some people are very open about that, and I understand: they’re proud of how much weight they’re losing. But I don’t see it that way at all. I don’t like to reveal exactly HOW MUCH weight I had to lose in the first place, and I don’t feel proud that it’s coming off. I’m more ashamed that I gained it all in the first place.

And if you don’t walk around asking people point-blank, “How much do you weigh?” then WHY in God’s name do people think it’s any different to ask the question, “How much have you lost?” Because let’s be real here: when people ask how much I’ve lost, it’s because they want to try and figure out how much I weighed before and how much I weigh now. What other reason could there possibly be for wanting to know the number? Seriously, if there’s another reason and I’m missing it, fill me in!

So I’ve been very clear with my family that I will not tell them how much I weighed, weigh, want to weigh, or have lost. I don’t do numbers. But still, EVERY FREAKING TIME I talk to my grandmother, she says, “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but how much have you lost?”

“I know I’m not supposed to ask…” So she gets it. I don’t want to talk about it. But she asks anyway, and I’m left with 3 choices:

  1. Telling informating I don’t want to tell
  2. Lying just to get her off my back and leave me alone about it
  3. Going off on my dear sweet grandma because I’m sick and tired of being asked this damn question, and she knows it, and she doesn’t give a shit.

So Saturday when she called to see how I was going with my gall bladder, she ended up asking how much I’ve lost. I was taken off guard since I know she KNOWS I don’t want to talk about it. I just blurted out: 150 without even thinking about it. Then she goes ON to ask, “does that include what you lost before surgery?”

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? Follow up questions too??? I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS!

So I said yes, and we hung up, and I emailed my parents to vent. I do not know how to handle this because the grandparents will not drop it and leave it alone. I picked a random number just to shut them up. I’ve actually lost 180 pounds, and I have no idea why I can’t just say that, but the truth is, it’s personal information and I do not want to share it with everyone. I just don’t. (Don’t ask me why a blog is okay and my living breathing family is not. It’s complicated.)

So you would think the story ends there, but nooooo.

I learn later that my dad (the grandparents are his parents) was so angry at my grandmother that he went over to her house and told her to drop it, leave it alone, mind her business, etc. He even dropped the bomb and said, “You know Meghan doesn’t want to talk about this, you refuse to respect her privacy on this issue, and you forced her to lie to you.” Oh geez.

So apparently, grandma is writing me a letter to apologize, which makes me feel like a pile of steaming poo for a number of reasons:

  1. This issue should never have caused friction between my dad and his parents. Geez louise.
  2. Why can’t I just be normal and tell everyone how much weight I’ve lost? Why can’t they just be normal and quit asking? I guess my grandparents and I are well-matched in terms of stubbornness.
  3. A letter? Good Lord, we’ve resorted to letters?
  4. Now I get to worry about this and grow an ulcer until this darned letter actually arrives, and then I’ll have to deal with it from there.
  5. And finally, I get to spend time with all these people under one roof in just over a week at Thanksgiving. Good times.

Tell me, am I unreasonable? I know I’ll need to have a sit-down with grandma and explain that I’m not upset, I just REALLY really do not want to talk about how much weight I’ve lost. Period. I don’t know how much clearer I can be on that.

Family is so dang complicated.

65 hours and counting…

65 hours until I get to see my primary doctor on Monday. 65 hours until I hope something can be done to deal with this wretched pain.

Of course I’ll trek it to the ER again if it gets unbearable, but in the meantime, I’ll just be curled up in a ball around my heating pad. Whine.

And with the painful, dental-work-filled week I’ve had, I need to admit that I haven’t worked out at all since last Sunday. It feels very very wrong to miss that many days of working out, but I’ll get back at it when I feel human again.

Waaaa. Whine. Moan. Complain.

Please excuse the drool…

So even after all the ER drama, I had a follow-up dental appointment this morning. Apparently, I had deep grooves in some teeth that could develop into cavities, so my dentist wanted to go ahead and fill them. I’m all about prevention, so it sounded good to me.

The teeth were filled at 9:00 this morning. It is currently 4:49 pm and I STILL CANNOT FEEL MY FACE. How much freaking novocaine did they inject me with?!

I’m starving, but I can’t eat because my mouth is totally useless. I did get a Pure Protein shake in, but that’s not real food. Waaa!

Phantom Pain…

I’ve been having this occasional weird pain in the upper left quadrant of my abdomen, right underneath my g-tube scar. It has been infrequent and annoying, but nothing to really worry about. Until yesterday.

I ate (most of) a Kashi frozen meal for lunch, and the pain started. I thought to myself, “I guess these meals don’t agree with me” and carried on. But the pain got worse and even two hours after lunch, I was still waiting for it to subside. As the pain grew more intense, I finally decided to head home early.

At home, I laid on the couch and put pressure on my belly, which did help for a while. I took some left over medicine from after surgery, which did not even TOUCH the pain. Later, when Lee got home, we went to bed and I slept for about an hour until I woke up out of a dead sleep to SHARP pains in the same area. When I stood up, I immediately started to pass out. I called for Lee who helped me up off the floor, and we headed to the ER.

Of course, anyone with abdominal pain is a big mystery to begin with. But abdominal pain after gastric bypass is like a freak show of guesses and hypotheses and bizarre tests to the ER doctors who really have very little experience with the specifics of RNY. I had to explain to my doctor that nothing was actually removed from my body.

And, since I’m a female, everybody and their brother wants to do a gynecological exam any time pain of any sort is mentioned. So that was fun.

A few chest x-rays, blood tests, and a CT scan later, I found out… nothing. There’s no explanation for my pain. They did discover, however, that my left kidney is shrinking (although my kidney function is fine) and I’m supposed to follow up with my primary doctor about it.

So no news as to the mysterious pain. It went away right before the CT scan, so I just have to wait until whatever it is progresses to the point where it can be diagnosed.

Lee wondered if I regretted surgery when I was in the throes of pain, and I have to say it’s still a resounding NOPE! Whatever is wrong, we’ll figure it out eventually and fix it.