Hi everyone!! Firstly let me say thank you to everyone for your patience over the past few weeks. I know that I have been distant and I haven't written, and that several people have requested that I do, and I apologize if I have hurt anybodys feelings or made anybody feel left out or ignored. June has been an extremely difficult month for me - both physically and emotionally - and in between trying to heal from everything and trying to process my emotions I have somewhat retreated into my shell to allow myself time to adjust and regain focus. By now, I'm sure, you are all asking what exactly has been going on, so lets start with the physical part. As most of you know, I finally went back to work in the beginning of May and I was able to return to the gym and begin working out and pushing myself again. To be honest, it felt amazing! There is nothing quite like popping my ear buds in, drowning myself in my music, and feeling my muscles burn as I push away the day - it's the most cathartic feeling in the world, and rather addictive as well. While I'm at the gym, going as hard as I can for as long as I can, I feel like I am doing something, like I am actually accomplishing something rather than just waiting for everything to happen. I feel good about myself, about my life, about the changes that are going on with my body - and I know that I will reach my goal. So, because of that, I had been making an effort to go every day and to push harder and further each time I went - then June 1 happened. Joe and I had gone to the grocery store for your basic stuff for Saturday dinner - yes, Saturday dinner. Saturday is "mommy day" because she doesn't have dialysis that day or on Sunday so she can stay later. We have dinner, hang out, play games, talk, whatever - it's just nice bonding time for all of us and I look forward to it all week :) Anyway (back on track sorry) Joe and I were at the store and I was talking on the phone and finishing getting the last couple of things we need and - wham - my feet were flying from under me and I was grasping at air trying to catch myself. Somebody had spilled yogurt on the floor and hadn't bothered to tell anybody or to clean it up, and I - and my flip flops - was the one to find it. The way I slipped I bent my knee backwards (I call it barbie dolling my leg because I used to bend my barbies legs that way when I was a kid) slammed my foot into the shopping cart and popped out my hip - and the way I tensed so I could catch myself threw out my back. It was completely embarrassing and extremely painful. I ended up going to the emergency room where they did xrays and a cat scan - Doc was worried I had broken my shin bone which is why she ordered the CAT scan. Fortunately, no bones were broken....not so fortunately, I royally damaged my meniscus and acl and screwed up my hip. I left the emergency room in a full knee immobilizer and on crutches - neither of which is exactly conducive to working out. I am working with a specialist so that we can get my knee to heal completely; which, for now, means that we are doing physical therapy to try and strengthen it up because we can't do another surgery so soon after my last two. Good part is that I am finally off the crutches - I use a cane if it is really hurting and I have a different knee brace that allows some movement that I wear under my jeans - bad part is it will be a bit before I am able to go 100% at the gym. (I also ended up making a second ER trip as a result of that slip because my hip was so out of place and in so much pain I couldn't move it without getting sick) Emergency room trip number three happened Tuesday June 11. I was working overtime and sitting at my desk taking calls and I started to feel funny. The room was starting to spin, I could hear my pulse in my ears, things were getting fuzzy, and breathing was becoming difficult. I wasn't overly worried about it at first but it kept getting worse. I finally wrote to my MR and told her that I was having a hard time catching my breath. She went and got our Area Manager and my best friend came from the other side of the building. By the time they got to my desk I was starting to turn blue and I felt like something was sitting on my chest. I was still fighting going to the hospital but my boss was adamant about calling 911. We pulled into the ER and I had no breath sounds and a pulse ox that was considered critical. Due to my history, the doctor initially thought it was a PE, and - no matter what was wrong - she was worried because I was totally unable to draw a breath. We did another CAT scan and several blood tests and I was lucky because it wasn't a PE....what it was was a severe asthma attack. It was so severe that my bronchial tubes had totally closed which is why you couldn't even hear a wheeze - my lungs weren't getting any air so they were totally silent. Doc even said the "admit" word but after some steroids and nebulizers we were able to get me opened up enough and breathing well enough that I was allowed to go home with more steroids and inhalers - under strict orders to see my doctor and an asthma specialist immediately. I am following those orders, by the way, and we are getting my breathing under control - however, this is ANOTHER set back when it comes to working out. With all of that, I am physically recovering, it is just taking time.....I do think that the emotional toll of this month will take longer to heal....
I'm am frustrated, I am frustrated with myself and with this process and with my progress. I am frustrated with the past month and everything that has happened. The day after the asthma attack I had several doctors appointments, including my stomach doctor and my weigh in. I always look forward to going to see my bariatric surgeon - he's awesome and kind and gives me the right encouragement - and this visit was no different....then I got there and got on the scale. Now, I understand that I have lost over 70 pounds since I had my surgery March 26. I understand that that is over 20 pounds a month which is amazing. I understand that I was extremely sick after my surgery which caused me to lose too much weight too quickly. I understand that my goal was to have lost 50 pounds by this point and I have far exceeded that. The logical part of me gets all of this totally, but with everything that has happened this month that is not the side of my brain that is winning lately.....So, I get there and I get on the scale, and....nothing. At all. In three weeks I hadn't lost a single pound. The nurse looked at me and I just started crying, just blubbering like a fool. The poor nurse looks at me like I have three heads and all of them are leaking. She gets me to the room and I'm pretty sure that she ran to get my doc and told him that I had lost my mind because he was in the room in minutes. I couldn't explain to him why I was so upset, I couldn't put it into words. I'm not even sure if I knew fully why I was so upset - all I knew was I was devastated and I couldn't make myself stop crying. Doc took one look at me, hugged me, and told me I was being silly and should be proud of myself. He reminded me that I had just been weighed with a knee brace on which adds weight number one. He then reminded me that I had been on steroids and muscle relaxers and had been pumped full of steroids the night before which causes you to retain water. He finally pointed out that I was well ahead of schedule on my weight loss, that I am doing amazingly, and that he is more than thrilled with my progress. I heard him, I head what he was saying, I understood what he was saying, but it didn't help. I slapped on a smile and my happy face (it's one of my specialties) and let him think I was perfect while the little girl in my head was curled up in a ball silently rocking back and forth and crying. Over the next week I couldn't seem to get out of my funk, AND I couldn't seem to shake the worst case of munchies I had had since the surgery - and that only made everything worse. I know I am an emotional eater, I always have been. No matter what was going on in my life, no matter how badly I was hurting, food was the one constant that never abandoned me - and it is still where I habitually turn when I am upset. I have been battling that habit since the surgery, and I have been winning - instead of turning to food I exercise, play a game, read a book, or write here - and now I felt like I had lost all control. I still wasn't stuffing my face with everything I could find (the worse for me the better), but the pull to munch on everything, to constantly be chewing even when I wasn't hungry was so strong, I felt myself spiraling back to the person I was and I was powerless to stop it. I had an appointment with my regular doc one week after my bariatric doc to begin the follow up from my asthma attack, and the closer it got the more I panicked. My regular doc is amazing, I trust him with my life, with the most precious people in my life, and I am so lucky I have him. More than him is his nurse. His nurse is one of my heroes - without exaggeration. She has been my champion over and over since I started going there. She takes pictures of me and saves them so she can show me my progress when I am struggling. She has fought with insurance companies, hospitals, my employer, even doctors on my behalf to make sure that I am getting taken care of. When I started the process for my surgery, she was the one that researched surgeons for me, she found my dietitians, she ordered all of the tests I would need, she helped me keep my food journals correctly for the insurance, she found every hoop there would be even before it was there and she made sure we could jump through it. She is the woman that I call when I am struggling or don't feel well or even when I have a stupid question, and she is ALWAYS there - I do not have enough words to describe how much I love this woman or how much she means to me - as does her opinion. As I'm driving to my appointment I could feel the panic attack starting. I was going to have to walk in there, with these people that fought so hard for me, get on a scale, and show them that I was still fat - not only was I still fat, but I hadn't lost any weight in a month. I was terrified, literally gripped with fear, at the thought of disappointing them. By the time I walked in the door I had worked myself into a frenzy - all over the scenarios that I was playing up in my head. Deb called me back and, before the scale, she hugged me and told me how amazing I am looking - I'm telling you, that woman is an angel and can read me like a book. She had me get on the scale and - guess what - I had lost 4 pounds since seeing the surgeon the week before!! I could feel some of the panic lifting, especially as she high fived me and told me how proud she was. We got in the room and she did the nurse thing - stats, temp, etc - then she pulled up pictures of me from just before the surgery. She made me look at them and made me admit how much better I look now. I have a defined neck again and you can see my collar bones. My breasts no longer look like a shelf attached to my chest, rather I am developing a shape. When I smile you can still see my eyes, whereas before my cheeks were so chubby they would block my eyes. She made me look at and acknowledge the differences. Then, before getting doc, she told me to stop beating myself up. She reminded me that exercising has been very difficult because of my injuries and asthma but I have still been trying, and that everybody hits bumps when they are losing weight - no matter what process they are taking - I am no different. She also pointed out that the thinner I get the slower I will lose weight, BECAUSE I HAVE LESS TO LOSE (her emphasis lol). She said all of the things I needed to hear and she did make me feel better, but I couldn't stop the nagging feeling over the munchies - then doc came in. He and I had our typical small talk. he checked my lungs, set me up with a specialist, and gave me another script, then he brought up the steroid I had been taking because of the asthma. He asked me if I had been hungry lately, even though I shouldn't be. I told him yes and that it was really bothering me because I couldn't figure out what was going on. That was when he informed me that any time I get any prescriptions I need to call either him or my surgeon because my body is different now, so the side effects that are no big deal to most people are detrimental for me...one of the biggest issues with the steroid I was taking (in large quantities I may add) is increased hunger and water retention. The constant munchies I had been experiencing weren't my fault, they were a result of the meds, and the fact that I was fighting them was awesome. Even more impressive to him was the fact that I was noticing there was an issue with food and with the munchies. Before the surgery, before I became so committed, I would have just eaten - hungry or not, healthy or not, it wouldn't have mattered - I would have stuffed my face without even thinking. Now, however, I was realizing that I was craving food even though I wasn't hungry, AND when I chose to eat something I was putting good things into my body. I was drinking water to make sure I was hungry, not thirsty. I was eating veggies and granola, not chocolate. I was making all of the correct decisions, even with my system so off because of the meds. I needed to hear all of that because I had been brutalizing myself for a week, trying to figure out what was wrong with me and why I was such a failure. Talking to doc and his nurse helped me, and it answered questions I had been struggling with all week. That said, I am still having a difficult emotional time after my last weigh in. Yes, the logical part of me accepts everything I have been told and knows it is accurate. I get that. I just can't shake this feeling that I am letting everybody down. So many people, so many of you, have been pulling for me. Over the past year I have discovered I have the most amazing support system on the planet. I have this group of people that love me, and support me, and cheer for me, and are excited for me and my victories, and I don't want to disappoint them. I step on the scale and I can see that the number is so much smaller than it was just a few short months ago, but I look in the mirror and all I see is the same out of control fat chick staring back at me. My clothes are literally falling off, to the point that I have to hold my pants up (I even accidentally put on Mykayla's panties the other day) but when I see myself I don't see any changes at all, and I can't figure out how anybody else does. Again, that logic side of me knows that it is not the reflection in the mirror that I am struggling with - it is my perception of that reflection - and, again, my logic side isn't winning right now. I think I am just so afraid that I will no lose enough fast enough, that I will write a blog without enough of a difference, that I won't lose inches quickly enough, that everybody will just give up on me. I worry that I will let everyone down and they will feel like they invested their time and effort into the wrong person. That they tried so hard to support me and I just turned around and went back to my same old ways again. I want so badly to see what everybody else tells me they see. I want to look in the mirror and see the woman that does look thinner and happier and healthier. I want to put my clothes on and feel good about how they fit and how they look. I want to see a camera pointed in my direction and not feel my stomach drop at the thought of a picture being taken looking like this. I want to be able to take my girls to school or the pool or out with friends and not worry that I am an embarrassment to them, or that their friends are going to tease them for their fat mommy. I want all of these things so badly and there are times I can see them there, they are almost in my grasp, I just can't quite reach them yet. I really am trying. I am trying to heal the broken parts of me that change the reflection in the mirror. I am working on getting back to the gym and pushing because I feel better about myself and about life when I have worked out. I am reshaping my relationship with food and what I do when I am upset or when I have the munchies. I am working on all of this and some days I feel like I have made huge strides and that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and other times I feel like I am taking more steps backwards than forwards. What I must try to understand and accept is that it took me almost 34 years to get this way - both physically and mentally. Parts got broken little by little, my pieces became sharper as they were worn and rebroken over time, my body got bigger slowly as it tried to hide my pieces from the world, all of these things happened over years not days, or weeks, or even months, and they are not going to change and heal instantly. This journey will take time, it will not happen overnight, I will probably be struggling with some of this for the rest of my life, and that is ok as long as I am willing to keep fighting. Slumps like this will happen, I will take steps back, but it is the ones that I take forward that will define who I am on this journey. So, I ask all of you for continued prayers and patience as I continue to navigate this bumpy path I have chosen. I have made it this far because of your strength and love and I am so blessed that each of you is supporting me. I promise to try and never disappoint you and to always push towards the finish line...
Until next time, thank you for reading, good night, stay safe, and I love you!!!
