The Joys of Productive Burping

Well, I knew it would happen. 

It took a little over 4 months and 4 fills to get there.  In fact, until a few weeks ago, I never got stuck.  Now I am definitely learning to chew and things are finally off the table food wise. 

But today I had my first productive burp.  Just when I got comfortable and starting to think it was only something that happened to other people...

Here's the scoop.

I wanted to have a burger for lunch.  So I went to Five Guys and got a burger.  I got down a few really nice, satisfying bites before one got stuck.  And then it was slime time.  I was coughing up mouthfuls of slime...always delightful...until I finally took some papaya enzyme tablets (god send...) and got the offending burger bite down.

So...a few hours later, my room mate made cinnamon buns from scratch...Word to the wise, my roomie is from Sweden.  Her cinnamon buns are unparalleled.  So I decided to have one.  They're small and I figured one of the dogs could help.

I've been struggling with the not eating and drinking at the same time bit.  I just get thirsty while eating.

Yeah...so today was the first time I happened to have Diet Pepsi nearby.  The story goes a little something like this...

I took a bite of bun, then a swig of pepsi.

I felt a little gurgle, so I tried to burp.  The next thing I know, I have projectile vomited cinnamon bun and diet pepsi all over myself.

It wasn't like throwing up.  There was no gagging or sick feeling.  Just a sudden onslaught of slimey brown STUFF coming out of me uncontrollably.

After it was over I couldn't stop laughing.  What a DISGUSTING thing to happen.  And I cannot say I wasn't warned. 

So the adventures continue.

And no, I didn't make it to 50 pounds this week.

Gah!

48 Lbs

I've been neglecting this project.  Silly, silly me.

48 lbs have left this body for good. 

It's funny, I've had 4 fills and I am finally feeling restriction.  I eat very little and the weight is coming off. 

Ah, but things get stuck more often than I wish they did.  And it hurts. 

I'm dating...it's nice. 

Well, I did it..it's over

All of that worrying, all of that build up.  And it's over.  It all started at 4am on January 21st when my mother and I got up to go to the hospital.  We got there at 6 (subways in NYC are super slow in the early early morning hours).  It was snowing and still dark out. 

I checked in and signed all of the documents regarding my insurance and put on my hospital bracelet.  Then, Mom and I went back into my room to wait. 

I cannot say enough about how much I love NYU Langone Medical Center.  Every waiting room, every hospital room has a large chair.  And they gave me a large hospital gown that actually fit and covered all of my backside.  The next hour was a blur.  A nurse came in to check my vitals, my anesthesiologist came in (she looked about 16!) and then two nurses.  My final visitor was my surgeon, Christine Ren-Fielding, looking stylish and so confident.  I don't think I have ever met anyone who commands so much respect just from coming into a room. 

Then, we were off to the races.  I was walked into the OR myself (which is waaaaay different than my other surgery experiences) and they had me lay down on the table.  Then, they ran an IV...gave me some valium and I was out.  They didn't do the typical count backward from 10 thing and they kept telling me to breath deep but I COULDN'T BREATHE.  Ahhh well, I was out soon enough.

The next thing I knew, they were telling me to wake up and I told them I had been dreaming about work.  At fist, nothing hurt AT ALL.  They asked me my pain from 1-10 and I said 3.  And that was mostly because my throat hurt.  The scariest thing was that I couldn't see.  That was a little disconcerting, especially considering it took a few hours before I could see but my nurses said it was ok...so ok.

Interestingly enough, they brought a guy in next to me in recovery who had some sort of surgery to unclog his arteries.  He was in so much pain and they kept coming in to do additional testing.  Now, I am not a religious person but I do consider myself spiritual. And I felt as though God was showing me what could have been.  My Mom came in and I started to cry a little.  I just felt so relieved.  IT WAS DONE. 

It took until almost 1pm to get me a room and then came hours and hours of watching bad TV, checking my blackberry (I'm a sicko...I know) and talking to Mom. 

I finally got in a cab at 7ish and was home by 8pm.  It was a long day but well worth it.

I have been living a week now with this new device inside of me and it hasn't been bad. 

Next up, the side effects of healing.  Soon, I will be getting a life...and I promise that will be interesting (and a little R rated)

Still 4 days...

I never did find out if my doctor met the requirement and faxed the information into the pre-admissions office at the hospital.  I surely hope so.

I called and left a message for the hospital but they haven't called me back.  Surely my doctor's slow faxing skills cannot get in the way of my surgery, right?  RIGHT?

It's strange.  After all this time and all this planning, your mind starts to play tricks with you.  Maybe it is the lack of carbs but I have fairly well convinced myself that something is going to cause this surgery to be postponed.  Maybe I simply won't believe it until I wake up in post-op.  Maybe I never will believe it.

And lately the question running through my mind is "What if this never happens?"  What if it all blows up in my face.  The one thing I have learned through this pre-op diet is that I CANNOT do this alone.  The hunger is like a monkey on my back.  It never lessens.  It never goes away.

And, though I don't want to die young, I can't live with this either. 

Please let this surgery happen.  I need this so much. 

4 Days left...4 nights...4 more days of protein shakes

Is it going to be difficult? I asked my surgeon and my nutritionist when discussing the pre-operative diet I must maintain for two weeks prior to surgery.

"No," they said.  "After the first few days, it gets easier."

LIARS!  

I am 11 days in and it sucks today almost as much as it sucked on day 1.  I am dizzy half the day, my higher brain function seems to have deserted me and I would kill someone for a piece of fish and an apple.  Interestingly enough, I am not craving chocolate or cookies or any of that.  My body is telling me it needs "real" food and I can only apologize to it and lie and say it will be over soon.  It won't be.  I have 4 more days of this followed by 10 days of liquid post-op and then 10 days of mushies.  My only hope is that, post-op, I won't be so obsessed with food.  I have a feeling it won't be that easy, so we will see.

Right now this doesn't feel worth it.  But that could be because I am still so afraid the other shoe is going to drop.  I have been through pre-admission testing.  All fine.  I saw my doctor last week.  All good.  He is supposed to have everything faxed to the surgeon today.  I just called.  He still hasn't done it. 

FOR GOD'S SAKE.  Put me out of my misery.

Ah well, more later.

Why am I here?

My name is Erin.

Ten years ago, I was a girl who sometimes walked a stage in a swimsuit.  I may not have been Miss America but I got to wear a crown.

My name is Erin.

Ten years ago I felt sexy most of the time.  I commanded attention.  I could walk into a store and find something that fit and made me look good.

My name is Erin.

Ten years ago I was fairly thin.  I didn't have Cindy Crawford's body but it wasn't bad.

My name is Erin.
 
Ten years ago I was starving and I have to resort to some fairly desperate measures to stay at a "normal" weight.

My name is still Erin.

Now, I work with girls who may someday be Miss America and my heart aches because I am twice their size.  I would rather die than be in a swimsuit in front of anyone, except for people I really trust and, in my heart, I imagine it is disgusting for them to see.

My name is still Erin.

I still command attention, such as when I was walking down the street in Las Vegas and someone rolled down their window to yell "HEY SHAMU" over and over again until I wanted to go back to the hotel and hide.  I struggle to find professional, well made, affordable clothes that fit and I don't feel good in them.  EVER. 

My name is still Erin.

And I am FAT.  Not just overweight, but morbidly obese.  "Morbid" is an interesting word.  The medical profession means that I am so overweight my life is in danger.  But the word morbid also means "gruesome, grisly, tainted, corrupted" and I feel all of those things. 

My name is still Erin

I am still starving, all the time.  Only now, I eat.  I cannot seem to find it in myself to ignore that gnawing feeling inside. 

My name is Erin and, thin or fat, I have always been a fighter.  So I found a way.  I found hope.  I found a solution.

That solution is gastric banding.  And, on January 21st, 2010, with the help of the NYU Center for Bariatric Surgery and a very nice "ok" from Bluecross Blueshield, I am getting my damned life back. 

Herein lies the story of Rediscovering Me.