My Bariatric experience, Part 3: Surgery

The following blog is part 3 of a series describing my experiences with having surgery on Sept 25 of last year.  I'm writing because of requests I've received from some of my friends.  The surgery and the immediate recovery.

I slept very little the night before surgery.  I got up at four thirty, took a shower, and stepped on the scale.  It read 309. 

My wife drove me to the hospital. We were there a half hour early. I dressed in one of those open backed surgical gowns and put a plastic cap over my head, and felt ridiculous.  The hardest part was getting my wedding ring off my finger.  It had not been off my hand in years.  I had to use soap  to get it off my fat finger. 

They stuck a needle in my arm and started giving me "happy juice."  Joy said I was singing by the time they rolled me down to surgery.  

The surgery took about two and a half hours.  Most of this time was spent in fixing the hiatal hernia, which was worse than they thought.  The main thing I remember about waking up was how tired I was.  Since I had never been under the knife before, I didn't expect that. I was sick at my stomach. There were tubes coming out of me in weird places.   I looked like a target after archery practice.  There were five holes in my abdomen, and something that looked like a large blue tick coming out of my side. When they pulled it out the next day, it felt like a large blue tick  coming out of my side.

Food did not look good.  The only thing I could have was protein drinks,  which I sipped out of tiny little cups. They seemed enormous, though. I wondered.  how I could get an entire protein shake down, even in a day..

The rest of that day, many friends came to see me, and it was a real blessing to have them .   You never understand what's so special about people visiting you in the hospital until you are there.  

 I went home the next day.  People came to see me, and they were most welcome.  My family came over and ate pizza, while I sipped protein drinks out of little plastic cups.

I remember feeling--well, freakish, actually.  So much of our life centers around food. It's the way we enjoy ourselves, and celebrate each others' company.  I had just consented to having my stomach permanently changed, which would change the way I ate from now on. This bond of pleasurable eating which unites us had been broken for me, and I felt like an outsider.  That more than anything, made me wonder if I'd made a mistake.   Would I ever enjoy a pizza again, or a slice of birthday cake?  I was happy because my clothes were already getting loose, but depressed because I was tired. I did not cherish the thought of being a stranger at the table, always eating separately from others. 

But by the third day,  things started to improve.  I started walking.  It was late September, and the weather was perfect. I started walking with a cane, but within a week, I did not need it. I began to realize that as pleasurable as food was, it had been robbing me of other pleasures,  particularly the joy of walking in nature, smelling the autumn air. I was beginning to actually enjoy myself again.  

My friends and family were a great support, constantly reminding me that I'd done the right thing.  It would have been different, I'm sure, if I were socially isolated, but I was not.  Many friends encouraged me, including some who had already had similar surgeries.  

It taught me the value of support in our lives, and bearing each others' burdens.  They were a great support to me.  Without them,  I don't think that all the good things which happened later would have happened.  

I also learned something about surgery, which many people seem to forget.  Mostly, you survive it, and come out better on the other side.  Surgery is not something you want to have.  It's messy,  degrading,  and painful. But if you need it, get is as soon as possible, because,  it really does make you better, generally.

I had heard lots of scary stories about this surgery. It seems that everyone knew someone who knew someone who died of it, or went crazy after it, or for whom it did not work. I don't doubt them, but for every story like that, I heard ten of people for whom it was worth it.  I was one of them.  

In the next two blogs,  I'll tell you what God is doing through it for me.