My Bariatric Experience, part 4--Re-emergence

The following blog is part 4 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.

Shortly after surgery,  I visited Dana, my nutritionist.  She got me started on a program called Myfitnesspal.com.  In many ways, this has been as important to my success as the surgery.  I use it every night to keep track of every bite I eat.  It gives me the nutritional value of everything, and a record of how much I eat.

This was important because there were many restrictions. Six hundred calories at first. No more than sixty grams of carbs.  At least sixty grams of protein, sixty ounces of liquids, and sixty minutes of exercise.  I would never have been able to keep track of all this without computerized assistance. 

Every day,  the exercise got easier.  I've been a sporadic exerciser all my life, but this gave me the incentive to make it consistent. 

Before surgery, I thought that the disruption of my life would be short-lived. I was wrong.  This was a commitment that took time from everything else I was doing--time which I could not spare.  Between the record keeping and the exercise, it turned out to be close to an hour and a half a day.  Walking the dog and a stationary bike made up most of my exercise at first.  I had to give up time on everything else.

It isn't a consistently forward motion.  Some weeks I lost more than others.  Some days I missed going out with my wife, eating at restaurants. We still go out, but I was limited in what I could order. Sometimes we would and there would be nothing on the menu I could eat.  I was dropping close to five pounds a week, but it was never fast enough for me. 

Two weeks of liquids.  Two weeks of purees. Two more weeks of semi soft. I looked so forward to my first egg, but when I finally could have scrambled eggs, I almost choked on the first one.  Part of the routine was that I could not eat and drink at the same time, and most foods were too dry, at first. Once I forgot and had water after dinner, and threw it up.  I am on a vitamin routine, taking five supplements a day.

But on the positive side, there were the clothes. I never gave up my old clothes. As I gained weight over the years, I kept my old clothes in boxes.  The summer before, I sorted through my closet and made a pile of clothes that no longer fit. My closet was almost empty of wearable clothes.  Most were too small.  Day by day, more clothes came off the small pile, and before long, most of my clothes from the year before were fitting. 

But more than that,  I was beginning to gain more confidence every day.  People were starting to notice.  Every day, I was beginning to become more thankful to God for the surgery, and what it was beginning to mean for me in my life. 

There are little things you give up when you gain weight, like sitting comfortably in a chair, having clothes that fit, buying clothes off the rack,  turning around while seated, crossing your legs,  or seeing your toes. They go so slowly you hardly notice.  Now, these simple pleasures were coming back.  I was beginning to be grateful for the change.  

By Thanksgiving, I was down over fifty pounds.  I remember having turkey that day, and a quarter cup of oatmeal.  It seemed almost decadent. 

I was consistently exercising a full sixty minutes daily.  I think I only missed three days in the first three months.  My calorie intake was increased to a thousand a day, which made life a bit easier.  By Christmas, I was down almost seventy pounds.  Christmas I received mostly clothes,  which I would have hated before, but now I very much liked. 

I talked to a man before the surgery who was two years out from gastric bypass, and had dropped more than a hundred and seventy pounds.  He said he had a burst of energy at two months, which had not stopped.  With me, the energy burst came much later. But one thing I did notice, my mind was getting sharper.    The sleep apnea was gone, and I was sleeping all night.  I was doing things faster at work, and better. 

Every so often, people would see me that had not seen me before, and they would compliment me on how much better I looked. I can't take any credit for that, I would say. It's God's doing,  through the doctor.  I just followed orders. 

In truth, I do not think I had much choice.  It is my last chance, after all.  At my age,  it was probably the only way I could be free of this excess weight.  God has given me an opportunity to push the reset button on one of my most troubling shortcomings, and I had better take advantage of it. 

Day by day that pile of too small clothes shrank.  Day by day, the pile of clothes that were too big for me has grown. As it has, I've been giving them away. Today,  I have few clothes, not even socks and underwear, that I had before.  I've learned to shop at Goodwill, and other places, as the pile grows smaller. 

As I've been progressing through my recovery, though I've become increasingly aware of how many other people around me are suffering from being fat.  It makes me sad for them, because I know how hard it is for them.  We are a nation obsessed with food, and diet. The more we try to diet as a nation, the more we eat. Every time some well meaning person goes on a crusade for physical fitness,  they only increase the shame that those who are suffering feel. The more we complain about fat, the worse people feel. The worse they feel, the more they eat. It is a vicious circle.  Diets make it seem easy when it is not.  It is nothing but hard work to stay on a track.  I have been really blessed--I who have poor willpower when it comes to food--to have God,  my doctor, and my nutritionist walking with me,  showing me how to eat and live.  I wonder who will help so many others. 

We like to fool ourselves into thinking that there are some other reasons for our problem besides food addiction.  We tell ourselves we are big-boned, that it's just temporary water gain, that we just don't get enough exercise on our jobs,  or that everyone is wearing a gut nowadays.  We also like to tell ourselves that whatever discomfort or physical ailments our addiction brings on is not related to it.  Our difficulty with moving is just because we're getting older, and our joint problems are bad genes. But I can tell you  that for the most part it's hogwash.  If you're overweight, you are paying a toll for it.  You can either pay the toll forever or change your ways. 

The difference between dieting and not dieting is something like the difference between renting and buying a house.  Either way, you have to pay on a regular basis.  But when you buy, you at least have something to show for it in the form of equity.  Being overweight is like being a renter.  Your "rent" will be paid in lost energy, sleep apnea,  diabetes,  joint problems, etc.  You can eat anything you want,  but you also become partially incapacitated. That's your "rent".  If you diet and exercise you pay in lost leisure, lost pleasures, and maybe hunger and soreness,  but all that gets better.  In the end, you gain a healthier,  stronger mind and body that allows you to build up equity in the future.  I'm not denying myself any pleasure, I'm banking them for retirement,  exchanging the constructive for the destructive. This is how I have come to look at it. 

Believe me, it works.  I can already feel the difference.  My old self, who I thought long gone, is beginning to reemerge--more energy, more enthusiasm,  more life--is back.
And I am glad of it.