I Am Lisa D

Still banded... still living

2008-07-02T20:03:00.000-07:00

In the excitement of blogging about Cambodia on my other blog, I realize that I have neglected this one. I should provide an update. I am still banded. I am still losing. Still slowly, but I'm going in the right direction. There have been some bumps in the road but I'm down 37 pounds since surgery. Woo hoo!

Dr. McCloskey's practice at Magee is VERY conservative in how they give fills. I have a band that will hold 10 cc of saline. On my first fill I was given 1cc. I really didn't feel any restriction, which is what the band is supposed to do for you. Makes you full quickly, keeps you full for a long time. Not so much for me. So on my second fill on May 20th, they gave me another half cc to give me a grand total of 1.5 cc. Ironically, after this fill I felt even less restriction. I actually called a couple of weeks later to say "Hey - where'd my band go?" They assured me that these kinds of changes were normal and the restriction would come.

So after a month of slow and frustrating weight loss and lots of hungry times, I had to go in yesterday (July 1) for an un-fill. I'm leaving for Cambodia tomorrow and they just didn't want me to have much restriction at all for this kind of trip. This time I had a different P.A. (physician assistant) to do the unfill. She told me that they thought they should remove the .5 cc so that I would have just 1 cc in my band for the trip. She stuck in the syringe, pulled back the plunger.... and guess what? My band was almost empty. Just .5 cc in there. So my sense that the second fill had actually been an unfill was right. Very frustrating. Grrrrr. So they put back in the .5 cc and assured me that upon my return from Cambodia they would work with me more quickly to achieve good restriction so that this band thing will start working for me. I'm hoping this is how it works out. Ironically, the PA who gave me the weird fill last time is no longer with the practice. Strange.... but I'm counting on better experiences from here on out.

So, almost unrestricted I head off for Cambodia tomorrow. Since I'm sort of picky about food, it's hard for me to believe I might gain weight in Cambodia, but that could happened. On my previous two trips there I've lost weight, but this time, who knows. Now that I know it's not my imagination and I truly don't have restriction, it's going to be temping to overeat.

But I'm proud of how I've done over these last 4 months based on willpower. The band has helped keep me honest and motivated, even if it doesn't make me feel full. It's good to be heading off to Asia almost 47 pounds lighter than the last time I went. In the heat and humidity, that lighter load will feel pretty darn good I think.

I am the little engine that could...

2008-04-20T14:58:00.000-07:00

So I'm now down by about 20 pounds. It is slow going. But for some reason, when I got on the scale this morning, for the first time I thought, "Hey - I'm going to do this. I'm going to lose enough weight to be a healthier person. I think I can. I think I can. I know I can. I know I can." Even after going to the extreme of surgery, there was a big part of me that still didn't think this was going to work. I was going to eat about 1000 calories for months, and remain morbidly obese. How could that be possible? Don't know, but I was sure that was what was going to happen.

Perhaps I was looking for magic, and when the magic didn't happen, I didn't believe at all. But I'm going to start believing again. In total, I would be a "normal sized" healthy person if I lost 80 pounds. I may never get there. But I'm going to get part way. And now I actually believe that wherever I end up, I'm going to be able to stay there. I'm going to be healthier. Keep in mind that for the next 11 days when I step on the scale and lose not an ounce I will probably slip back into feeling sorry for myself. But for today, I'm a believer. In more ways than one. :-)

Dear God, Have you noticed that I'm hungry....

2008-04-01T14:50:00.000-07:00

So about two weeks post banding I'm down 10 pounds or so. Woo hoo. And then it stops. I'm eating nothing (or so it seems) and I'm not losing anything. Hello? God? Have you noticed that I'm not eating? What gives here? Can you help me out with this?

Seems it all comes down to my being a woman, yet again. A nutritionist explained to me that it's all about my body and its faith in its hunger/gatherer. Hello? I have a hunter/gatherer? Seems so. Let's take it back to cavewoman times. Apparently the woman would sit in the cave and wait for the hunter/gatherer to bring back the grum. Must have been nice. When the hunter/gatherer didn't show up with the grub, her body was smart enough to shut down to conserve energy and fat until he finally got back with the good stuff.

According to this nutritionist, I am a cavewoman. (Yes, I see the resemblance.) And because I have only been eating small amounts of very low calorie foods, my inner food burning intution has decided that the hunter/gatherer has gone on strike and is no longer returning with food. Therefore, my cavewoman body is not burning off fat, but hoarding it all just in case the hunter/gatherer is gone for a long time.

OK. I get it. But I don't like it. Cavewoman or not, I think I should be rewarded with a pound or so a day, not a pound or so a week. Grrrrr. If the cave people were alive today, you think the menfolk would go do the grocery shopping? I think not.

So I'm alive (I think)

2008-03-08T14:39:00.000-08:00

Since I'm here to write these words, obviously I survived the surgery. I think. To be honest, it was worse than I expected and came with a few surprises. My surgery wasn't scheduled until mid-afternoon and with all of the anti-nausea meds and everything, I woke up quite parched. I was ready for the clear liquids I had been told by my fellow bandsters on the internet that I would get when I woke up. Umm... no. Not at Magee. A couple of hours later when I finally got to my room they gave me a sponge swab to use on my lips with a teeny cup of water. OK - true confession. I sucked that sponge swab as often as I could. My belly hurt. Worse than I expected. And worst of all (at least for me) I had a urinary catheter in place. Hello? What was that for? Everyone talks about how minor of a surgery the band is and then I wake up with a catheter that I had to keep in over night?? What gives? Let's just say that I hate catheters and I'll go happily someday if I don't have to have one again.

And then of course due to my supposed sleep apnea they made me keep an oxygen MASK on my face. Not the cute little nasal kind. A mask. And I'm claustrophobic. I woke up in the middle of the night, in pain, feeling like I was suffocating from that mask, the room was very dark, and I couldn't find my call button. Can you say "panic attack?" Yep, I had one. This is not a common occurance for me, but given the double whammy of my fears of a dark room with a mask on my face, I succombed. The nurses couldn't hear me yelling. I finally found the button and this poor young woman came in and I insisted that she get me up to move around, catheter or no catheter.

The next morning the catheter was removed and I was told that if I wanted to I could stay another night. Are you kidding me? This ain't the Ritz Carlton. I want to go home. And that's where I went. The first few days were tough. Very tough. As long as I was getting clear liquids I didn't really feel like I was getting my strength back. About a week later as I graduated to full liquids including protein drinks, etc., I woke up one morning and realized that I was back. Woo.

Tomorrow is the day

2008-02-28T12:29:00.000-08:00

Well, tomorrow is the day. I'm anxious. Excited. Scared. Hungry. I've been on clear liquids again for 3 days and it sucks. I'll be on them after surgery for a while, too.

It is very hard to think about life that will change dramatically when it comes to food. Yes, I'll admit it... I like the stuff. Especially sweet stuff. Ironically, I feel much more "prepared" for the surgery than I did back at the end of January. This extra month has given me time to read, lurk on lapband message boards, and prepare myself for the changes that are ahead.

From what I've read, it seems like for some lucky "bandsters," the band limits the quantity of the food that they want or are able to eat but they're still able to eat about anything. Others aren't so lucky. Food gets stuck in the narrow area that is wrapped by the lap band. Some can't eat any breads, others meats, some rice, etc., etc. Seems like for every person it is a process of elimination to figure out what you can eat over time.

Even more than being anxious about what I'll be able to eat down the road, I am of course anxious about the surgery. Although I believe that this surgery is essential to my long term health, it is still an elective procedure. The thought of course keeps running through my head...."what if I never wake up from this and my kids are left knowing for the rest of their lives that their mom died having an operation that wouldn't have been necessary if she just laid off the desserts." There's a tough one to live with.

But I shall think positive thoughts and know that I am in great hands with Dr. McCloskey and the surgical team at Magee. And I shall continue to trust that God who has carried me to this very hour isn't about to drop me now!

Slight Delay

2008-02-01T12:24:00.000-08:00

Well, the good news is that Jim's insurance has sent a letter to Magee saying that absolutely positively they will pay for the surgery no matter what my insurance does. Every claim will be filed with my insurance first, and then once it is denied Jim's will pay it. Still seems like a bunch of crap to me.

My heart goes out to those who don't have a secondary coverer to pick up the pieces when their insurance companies say no.

As for me, I'm now scheduled for February 29, 2008. A delay of 4 weeks. Not so bad in the grand scheme of things, I supposed, but I'm still disappointed.

Good, Lord! They Say I'm Skinny!

2008-01-31T12:07:00.000-08:00

Someday I will laugh about this, but on this 31st day of January 2008, at 2:30 pm, I was told that I am not fat. According to the Board of Pensions of the Presbyterian church (USA) which is my health insurere, fat is a BMI of 40. I have a BMI of 39.2. I need to weigh 15 pounds more to be fat. The Board of Pensions has denied my request for coverage for this procedure. My doctor is filing a grievance. I’m going to Dairy Queen. I still can’t talk about it without getting tearful. The irony is here that my husband's insurance (Highmark BlueCross/BlueShield) has approved the procedure. Since they are my secondary insurer, however, the hospital is leary as to whether or not this would happen since it rarely does. If your primary says, "no," your secondary follows suit.

Surgery is delayed at least a month while the insurance jerks fight it out. I was on the phone today with lots of people at the Board of Pensions, Highmark, and the hospital. As I pointed out to the people at the B.O.P., the irony here is that if I was unemployed and used my husband's insurance I would be heading off for surgery tomorrow. But because I have given 20 years of my life to the Presbyterian Churchn and I'm held hostage by their second rate insurance coverage, I'll be going to the Dairy Queen instead.

I wish I had the time and energy to become a champion for justice. The health insurance industry is badly broken and needs people to get angry and motivated to call for change. But for today, I'm just tired and defeated and sad. It took A LOT of time and emotional struggle to get myself to the point where I was ready to take this plunge and now somebody went and moved the pool.

In preparation for the surgery I have been on nothing but clear liquids for 3 days. So I am one cranky lady by now. But with surgery postponed, I'm going to eat a sandwich.

You've got to be crazy to come here....

2008-01-28T12:38:00.000-08:00

My daughter Kaley who recently turned 17 has been suffering with fairly acute panic anxiety disorder. My heart breaks for her and I want to do anything that I can to help her get through this rough patch in her life as easily as possible. She is a beautiful and gifted young woman but right now the insecurity and anxiety is just eating her alive.

Here in Pittsburgh the "best" mental health services are supposed to be at Western Psychiatric Institute which is affiliated with the University of Pittsburgh. We recently had an intake appointment with the adolescent panic/anxiety clinic there.

Upon arrival at the hospital the parking lots were full. We were sent to a lot a good 6 blocks away. That's not too bad. At the registration area, nobody seemed to have a clue what was going on. We had to stand in a doorway and just wait for a staff member to happen to come out of a locked area to let us in to even begin the registration process. The lobby was unattractive, outdated, cold, etc. Our appointment was at 11:00 am. After the six block walk we were barely on time. After waiting for 15 minutes for someone to acknowledge our existence, we were late. We were then told that we were in the wrong building but that we could walk to the right one which was "just down the street." By the time we walked another six blocks or so, we were really late. I was about to have an anxiety attack myself when the woman at the front desk of the second building had the audacity to tell us that we were late. Really???

When we finally left the appointment and hiked back to the car, I decided I would re-trace our route in the car to see how far we had gone to get to the appointment. 1.2 miles. Yep. Just down the street.

Having recently spent a lot of time at Magee Hospital lately, I couldn't help but be smacked in the face with the contrast. Magee has a grand player piano in its beautiful main lobby. Patients get first priority in the underground parking, and if that lots full, a valet will take your car for you. There are friendly and knowledgeable people working at the central reception desk. Clearly this place knows that its patients are customers and could choose to take their business to another hospital.

At Western Psych... not so much. For the most part its the only game in town for mental health services. Those in are society who are most broken are subjected to poor facilities, unfriendly staff, and ridiculous ways of operating.

Once my daughter was safely in the office of a comfortingly friendly psychologist for her intake session, I sat in the lobby and felt the tears slip down my face. Tears for my daughter who was entering into this messed up world of mental health services. And tears for all of those people sitting around me who have to fight their way through this system every day of their lives. You've got to be crazy to come here. God bless us all.

I Left My Pants in a Mexican Bathroom

2008-01-25T11:36:00.000-08:00

Strange, but true. In a moment of recogznizing how my life is about to change, last week I left my pants in a Mexican bathroom. I was on vacation in Cancun and had worn a pair of denim knee length shorts over my bathing suit. Since I have lost a miniscule 10 pounds over the past year while deliberating my life changes, they were a bit on the big side. As we walked around the ruins in Tulum I was constantly having to pull up my pants (lest someone think I was masquerading as a 16 year old male.)

During a lunch and beach stop at a resort I went to the restroom and suddenly had the thought, “Hey. I’m never going to wear these pants again.” So right then and there I left my pants in a Mexican bathroom. Thank God for my long t-shirt. There’s no turning back now.

I have been thin two times in my life. The first was as a little child. I was sort of sickly and always on the skinny side. I was very white and didn’t look very healthy. As I’ve been told (don’t actually remember) I got my tonsils out when I was four and all of a sudden I was a healthy kid able and willing to eat just about anything. And I did. Elementary school, junior high, and high school were spent as the chubby girl. Not huge, but chubby and self conscious. I think I remember my first diet in sixth grade. I guess it didn’t work so well. But thus began a lifetime of down 10 pounds, up 15. A pattern that has continued to this very day.

In my senior year in college my roommate and I caught the fitness bug. Well, it was some kind of bug. We did aerobics a couple of times a day (but they were Christian aerobics so it was all good) and we ate nothing but lettuce and popcorn. An occasional slice of cheese on the lettuce was quite the treat. By graduation I was down to about 140 pounds, the thinnest this 5’9” frame has ever been. I entered graduate school thin and happy, but away from the discipline of the shared diet and exercise routine of my roomie, I soon gained back way more than I had ever lost.

The whole weight thing has been a yoyo ever since then, but I've been fortunate. I'm healthy. I'm fairly active. I can pretend that being "morbidly obese" (and yes, that's what the charts say that I am) doesn't impact my life, but it does. I want to have more energy. I want my feet to hurt less when I am out and about. I don't want to get diabetes. I do want to live to be a grandmother and maybe even a great grandmother and if there's anything in my power that I can do to help make sure that happens, I suppose now is the time to do it.

So on February 1, I'm going to Magee Hospital to get a lap band. To learn more about the tool, visit here: www.lapband.com. I wish I felt like I could do this myself without this kind of intervention, but I have failed over and over again. So it's time to thank God for medical science and draw upon a tool that I believe has a chance to help me be a healthier person. I'm scared but excited about this journey. And I'm ready. After all, I left my pants in a Mexican bathroom.