Feeling Shitty

I'm usually pretty indifferent while I'm at work. I usually just go through the motions with no real care about what I'm doing. I'm sitting at work now and I feel terrible. I hate my body, I hate everything. My mind keeps getting away from me and thinking about things that make me more depressed. I mean, just hypothetical situations keep going into my head, these scenerios, with no bases for anything actually happening, make me feel even worse. Nothing is actually wrong. It's making me crazy. I should be happy. I've started walking and all that, I got approved my surgery, it's scheduled and everything. I should be crazy happy. I just want to leave work, because I know when I go home, I'll go walk 2 or 3 miles and feel a lot better, hop in the shower, and hopefully that will last the rest of the night. In the mean time, I just have to deal with these feelings and images and all the other shit I'm thinking about.

I just hope that one of these days I won't be so depressed that I can call my doctor and get a shrink. I know I need a shrink, but at the same time, I don't like going. I usually just don't like how the interfere with my plans for the day, and then that makes me unhappy. I just don't like them..it's stupid. My day is stupid...

12 days until my last day of work....

Roux en Y (part 3)

I met with my nutritionist again, and this time she sees that I am willing to make changes in my life, and she supports my decision. I'm working hard, I changed my eating habits, I'm eating more fruits and veggies, and I have cut back dramatically on my smoking. The meeting went very smoothly. The doctor is now submitting to my insurance to see if they are actually going to pay for it, now that I went through everything else.

I also feel the need to comment to my anonymous commenter... first, I'm sure I know this person well, but I'm surprised at myself, that I can't think of who it would be...

"hey, so it's not really my place to say this, but you should really consider life after that surgery.
Dumping syndrome will make you feel like death if you eat too much food, or if you eat the wrong things. Dumping is like... the worst acid reflux that you could ever imagine, combined with diarrhea and vomiting. and- eating too much isn't like binge eating. Eating too much after you've had this surgery is about as much as a well balanced meal. You won't be able to eat more than... oh... half a chicken breast and some vegetables.You are so young, and you are a culinarian."

I am young, but now is the time to get the surgery before I get any life threatening illness. I have spent a lot of time thinking about this, and I know the risks, and I know what life will be life after. I know that I won't get to gorge myself on creme brulee and truffles, but I got the opportunity to go to culinary school and to eat some amazing food, expensive food, and exotic food. It was like touring the world every meal. I also can still enjoy amazing food, just in moderation, like a normal person would eat it.

You won't be able to enjoy food nearly as much. Rich foods, spicy foods, large meals... I don't know what other health issues you have that are forcing you to make this decision, but if they aren't life threatening, i agree with the nutritionist. You haven't exhausted other options.
what happened to the Claudia who "would never get lipo or weight loss surgery, because it's a cop out- because i can do it myself"? That's what you used to say.

I almost remember saying that. It still is a cop out. After all of the diets, the personal trainers, and the stress, and the endless failure, some people just have to admit they can't do it on their own.

You are depressed, and feeling shitty. So it's easy to give in to the visual imperative of our time. But it won't make you happy. No it won't. The pain pills may help for a while, but I believe in the girl who used to throw for track. I believe in the girl who was the only one on the team who could do their 100 leg lifts. I believe in the girl who would drop it like its hot and drop down and get her eagle on (you do realize that those dance moves are strength training exercises?)

I am often depressed, which of course is pretty shitty, but my unhappiness does not stem from my weight. I have spent a good amount of time having a shrink explain to me that losing weight isn't going to solve my problems. Luckily for me, my depression stems from abuse, not weight. I have never really loved my body, but I have liked being a thick girl, not a typical tiny girl.
I loved doing track, being the strong girl. I still can do a disgusting amount of leg lifts, and I can lift hundreds of pounds with my calves. I can still do all those things, but the muscles that I have from track, and dancing, and personal trainers, and everything else, is unfortunately, covered in fat.

Well, i hope you read this, although i know that the process has started and it won't be stopped. I'm sorry things are tough for you right now, but you can get through it!

The process hopefully won't be stopped. It's incredibly hard for some people to realize, that the hardest part about getting weight loss surgery isn't the tests and the doctors, it's having a personal realization that you just can't do it on your own. You spend months feeling like a failure, and trying harder and harder to do it without help, and you can't. You'll try starving yourself, and weird diets, and maybe, like me, hire a big mean black man to force you to work extra hard every time you exercise. Except nothing works, and that sucks, and that is when you hit that low, low, where you finally come to terms with the fact that you need the surgery. That doing it own your own isn't an option, because you've repeatedly failed doing it your way.

To my anonymous commenter, I know I must know you, and I know it must be well. I can't imagine anyone remember when I did track, or that all the girls on my team were weak (they couldn't even do real push-ups), but I'm glad you spoke your mind, but I'm sorry I don't agree. And if for some reason you decide to leave me a note saying who you are, that'd be pretty sweet, because I kinda feel like an idiot not knowing someone, who I actually know well.

Roux en Y (part 2)

My cardiologist, took a fun filled background of me, involving where I went to high school, how many siblings I have, and where I go to school now. He did another EKG, and after struggling around my boobs for sometime, though never actually touching them, thankfully, he managed to hear my heart. He decided that the root of my problems is that my boobs are too big, but made me get an echo of my heart anyway. An incredibly nice woman performed my echo. She came in joking and smiling. Considering that I was pretty exposed, I like that she kept the door shut and the lights very dim. When it all was done, I felt less violated than I expected, and wiped off all the goo off of my stomach, chest, and boobs.

My pulmonologist seemed to me like a waste of time. I came in, the listened to my heart, asked a few questions, and said I was good to go, and sent me on my way with a prescription for nicotine patches and gum. Unfortunately I did not get off that easily. He also set me up with a another list of tests. I'll let you know how that goes after next Friday.

My favorite appointment thus far, has been the nutritionist. First let me just say, who the fuck wastes their life getting a degree in nutritionist, I mean really, your gonna spend your life explaining the food pyramid to people, that's a joke, her life is a joke. Anyway, upwards and onwards. I arrive after being sick for several weeks, I had taken the day off of work because I felt like death, but managed to roll out of bed for this appointment. I sit there and she asks me if I ever tried dieting and all that (even though I've explained them to everyone else already). I find she has a bad attitude from the jump off, she doesn't think that I've tried other alternatives enough. She tells me that what I eat isn't good for me, she doesn't think that I'm ready to make changes in my life and that I'm not ready for the surgery. I look at her and kindly tell her that I have been to more doctor's appointments over the last 3 months than most people go to in years, I've been sick as a dog, and I'm sorry if I'm not super excited about the food pyramid.

My tolerance for shit at this point is pretty low, I've been dealing with these people for quite some time and this wench is the last person I have to get through before they ask my insurance company for the money. She makes me want to kill people. I wanted to jump across the counter and jam trans fats of any kind down her skinny little throat. Regardless, I kept myself calm for the most part and she told me that I should come back in two weeks. You have no idea how excited I am for this. Her other issue with me is that I don't like mushy foods, and after I get my surgery I have to eat mushy foods for a brief period. I think I can handle a week of mush, god forbid, and they have sugar free water ice at Rita's, what more do I need in life?

Roux en Y (part 1)

I started this process when it was still warm outside, I don't remember the exact date, but I remember the beautiful weather. I had finally decided that it needed to happen, I'm so unhappy with my body that I have spent a lot of time crying about it.

So for starters...The mental process of getting to a point where you know, in your heart of hearts, that you have put forth a good effort to loose weight. You have done everything in your control to lose all those extra pounds. I've tried diets, weight watchers, Alli, and I even got a personal trainer. Some of us just weren't meant to be thin. My dad weighted over 300 lbs when he got his surgery around the age of 30, which was in the 1960's, so his gastric bypass was much different than what mine will be. My mom's idea of losing weight is a strict diet of running, grilled chicken and vodka. She went from a very large woman to a zero, until she busted her ankle, and now she's fat like me.
grilled chicken.

Either way, that first step, is the hardest, when you know that it is all out of your control, and you have no other choice. It's a hard truth to come to.

My first doctor appointment consisted of me finding out that I was two inches taller than I thought I was, and therefore, I fell just under the minimum weight requirement. I cried and balled hysterically, I'm not sure for how long. My dad's response was much more relaxed. He felt that it was the greatest thing that could ever happen to me, because I should eat milkshakes for days until I got my weight up those few pounds I was short. I quickly learned that that particular doctor would not see me again for another 6 months, so I gained the weight, and found a new doctor.

You sit through a long, long drawn out presentation on all of your surgery options, you mentally decide which of the surgeries your interested in, and make an appointment to meet with one of the nurses. At that meeting, you chat a little bit, she gets some history from you, and then hands you a lovely stack of prescriptions for a day of tests.

This is another fun part of the process. You arrive at the hospital and are poked and prodded. You show up with your stool sample, they take blood, multiple times from different parts of your body, you get an EKG, probably the easiest of the tests. The chest x-ray isn't too bad, followed by an ultrasound of your stomach. So after you feel kind of violated you head back to your doctor with the results. This is actually the first time you meet the man whole will perform the surgery. My doctor, was awesome. He came in and told me I was going to have to see a specialist for a variety of the test results that came back abnormal. Then he told me that I was a perfect candidate for any other surgeries, so I was excited to hear that I was getting the Roux en Y, just like I wanted.

Unfortunately, it was not over yet, I had a rectal exam coming. Of course they tell me this about an hour before it happens so I get to sit there and think about for that whole hour, not cool.