Mental Illness musings

If you've ever met and cared about someone who suffers from a mental illness you could easily find out as much information as you want to know.  This information will most likely be accurate, but there is so much information that you can only found out from the one suffering from the disease itself.  This is because every disease is different.  It's a chemical imbalance and no ones chemicals react the same way within their bodies.  It's virtually impossible to assume the same for every person.   One thing, for example, for me is the pain.  The sheer, unending physical pain I suffer when I'm in a depression/anxious episode.  Yeah, I might not be the only one that suffers this and I'm not saying I am...I've never talked to anyone else to find out.  I fight alone.  Right now, however, I'm in this pain and I am fighting alone.  That's the hardest part about it.  The fighting alone.  

I'm doing great all day at work.  I'm a hard-working employee who tries my best everyday to do everything I can do to be successful and I absolutely adore what I do for a living.  Then comes 4pm.  Things start to drag for me and the loneliness begins.  The pain begins.  The feeling of fighting battles alone in the world start.  And no....my battles are no one else's to fight BUT mine and I do not expect anyone to be there by my side.  But sometimes, just sometimes, it's really nice to have a cheering section. 

Most of my friends here in GA are new.  They don't understand what I suffer or how I suffer.  I don't hide the fact that I'm bi-polar to anyone.  It's a badge of honor to me, to be so "normal" AND a bi-polar.  I am winning at my disease.  I will not let it defeat me.  But at the same time, I don't tell others the whole story to it.   

Here's the truth of the matter.   I suffer everyday to be who I am.  I fight every battle and every single one is uphill.  I WILL be successful despite what my brain and body are telling me.  I WILL do whatever I can to have a normal, successful, and amazing life for me and my children.  I will smile, and laugh, and joke, and be happy.  I will get my work down, I will form bonds, I will NOT be "that crazy bitch".  Sometimes though...sometimes I just need a little help.  

I don't ask for help easily.  In fact, I'm very nonchalant about it.  The one thing I don't want to be is needy or a pain in the ass.  That's not me.  Sometimes all the help I need is a person to text for awhile to not feel so alone.  Maybe a drink one night or lunch one afternoon.  Maybe it's just to sit somewhere NOT alone, to be within someone else's presence.  Something small.  Am I going to whine and complain and be a downer?  Probably not, but I am a sharer.  I am not a secret keeper when it comes to my problems.  It's just not me, but I'm not going to bring anyone else down with me...because I don't WANT anyone else down with me.  *I* don't want to be down with me, why would I want someone else I care about there too?!

Now about that pain we feel.  It's miserable.  It tears a person up.  You feel no joy, just pain. Just anger.  Just something inside you trying to burst out of you.  This is what causes me to want to cut.  This is the pain that causes me, in the past, to want to leave this world.  ANYTHING to make it stop.  Yes, I used to be a cutter.  Yes, I used to be suicidal.  Yes, I fight everyday NOT to be anymore.  WHY?!  Because it's so important to me to be here.  Because my kids are important.  Because what I contribute to this world is important.  I'm not saying I will never cut again.  When that pain comes it's so hard not to.  One pain to stop another....that's what it's all about.  ANYTHING to not feel that ripping and tearing inside, including feeling something ELSE to replace it.  But I made promises to myself.  I have experienced others who are cutters and have seen it from the other side of the spectrum...I know what it's like to feel helpless to help someone in that situation and I don't want anyone else to feel that with me.  

What is the point of this post?  I really don't know.   I just needed to get my feelings out because it was do this or sit in my room shaking and crying.  I'm sorry if you've read this and are like "WTF, Mate?!"  but I do thank you for taking the time to read it.  Please reach out to anyone you do know that suffers from any kind of mental illness.  We aren't scary.  We are normal.  We are humans too...and we fight everyday to make it through and be just like you.  We didn't choose this.  But we can choose to overcome it.  That's what I will do for the rest of my life.  Take my meds and choose to overcome.  And if you know someone, consider getting to know them.  You may find an amazing person behind that "stigma".  

Basically...Run!

Since my last post a lot has changed.  None of those changes have anything to do with a scale.  Still.  *glare*  It's still stubbornly holding strong between 197 and 203.  What HAS changed though is my body. 

I mentioned a few posts ago that I entered an obstacle course race.  I did this because I came to the realization that it was time to stop concentrating so hard on the scale and start making my own victories.  I figured that if I could just FINISH the race still standing on my own two feet (or hands and knees really, I wasn't too picky) I would be happy.  I was joined on race day by a gal I graduated high school with, my 5 year old, my father, by Bestest, her husband and my nephew, and another gal I went to high school with was competing with her husband and her 2 young kids.  The race started. There were hills.  A LOT of hills.  Then there were tunnels, then somersaults, and then I lost my shoe in a big mud glob and fell down a hill, giggling and laughing my ass off the whole time.  It was a ROUGH 5 something miles.  You know what though...it was a BLAST!  I learned so much so quickly.  The most wonderful, miraculous, and most treasured thing I learned?  Runners LOVE others.  They don't judge.  They support.  They help pull you over the wall you can't get over.  They cheer you on.  As we got passed at the end of the race by the "Dog Heat" (a group of people running with their dogs that started 2 HOURS!!! after our heat left) they high fived us and told us what an amazing job we were doing and didn't minimize the fact we were so dead last.  It wasn't funny...they celebrated that we totally made it this far and we were doing amazing!!  As my friend and I finished the gal I went to HS with grabbed Bella (my 5 year old) and ran her over to me and all 4 of us ran through the finish line together with such an amazing sense of euphoria it was overwhelming.  My friend and I were cheered on by spectators and volunteers just as enthusiastically as those that won first place. 

We finished.  On two feet.  Exhausted.  Muddy.  But with such a sense of achievement I was completely addicted.  Oh - and once the final race times came in...we were NOT in last place!!! ;)

We finished!  She did her own version - The Kids Dash!

This evil pit swallowed my shoe and was the hill I rolled down!



exhausted...totally exhausted



Did I mention it was October?  In Ohio?  This water was COLD!

 

Strong and Proud!

Best part of the run?  Getting to slide down this HUGE slip and slide!!

Then in December I ran another race with another friend of mine from High School.  This time it was a 5k in downtown Cleveland and my son was running with me.  Another very cold day and I had a hard strength training that week, of course on legs/quads, so it took a while for me to get warmed up.  My son and my friend QUICKLY got ahead of me.  Not the point.  Once again, I shoved through and I finished.  1 more race in the bag and my medal collection is now doubled! 

 

 

Now it's 2015 and I've started to plan my race season for this year.  For serious..."My Race Season".  It gives me chills just thinking about it.  I'm 34 years old.  I have NEVER been a runner.  Sure, I ran on the soccer field...short distances...but I was slower than a sloth in peanut butter.  I made up for it by being a brute of a brick wall without a fear of getting hurt.  IF you got passed me though...well...I wasn't going to make it there fast enough to stop you.  I made my track coaches lives HELL in High School!  I threw Shot and Discus and was pretty damn good at it.  Senior year I didn't come out because I didn't feel like it.  The only way they got me out that year was promising me I wouldn't have to run.  I'm not proud of the fact I was a lazy ass.  But, a fact is a fact and running was hard for me even then when I was in shape and athletic.  Currently, I have 5 races planned from now until August.  I have no idea where the Army will be sending us, so I haven't planned further ahead than that...but 5 races!!!  Almost triple what I did last year!  August is another Obstacle Race that I'm doing with a HUGE group of people I went to High School with as well as a friend I haven't seen in over 20 years!  Then there's May when I'll be doing 2 5k's in one day!  In the AM I'm doing a race with my daughter.  A Tutu and Princess 5k to benefit Make a Wish Foundation.  The PM I'll be doing another 5k with my son, a blacklight run.  March will be my first 10k with my cousin.  We are heading off to participate in Notre Dame's "Holy Half".  The soonest one is the craziest one EVER!!!  My husband and I are heading out in our undies to do the Cupid Undie Run on Valentine's Day!  Yeah...a one mile race. In the bitter cold of a Cleveland, OH winter.  In our underroo's!!!!  This is a big one and I'm excited.  I know it's only a mile compared to the others, but I'm going out there baring my new self to the world.  (Of course I don't have the daringness enough to be AS "underwear" as typically other fit women...but I will be baring it.)

Fun part ahead!  Like all the other races I choose to do, the Cupid's Undie Run is a fundraiser and they've made a competition out of the fundraising!  The Cupid's Undie Run benefits local children diagnosed with Neurofibromatosis (NF) - a destructive, incurable tumor condition that incessantly attacks the body’s nervous system.  You don't receive any "Swag" from the run at all, no t-shirts, no medals, nothing.  You want swag, you buy it!  It's not timed, so no money spent on timing systems.  Everyone volunteers.  The money you pay goes to the foundation!  All the money raised through fundraising goes to benefit the children!  So, I've decided to sign up to help fundraise!  If you'd like to donate anything from as small as a $1, it all helps!  Please use this link to donate to these amazing kids!  There will be pics of us freezing in our undies in the snow for you to laugh at as a bonus prize !!! LOL

 

Finally, as a reminder.  If you are on this journey, PLEASE (!!!!) make sure you are taking part in a support group!  It's such a small but VITAL part of your journey!  Others understand you and are there to make you not feel alone and to help with questions or just a kick in the pants when you need it.  There are tons around the web, but mine is located on facebook here.  I will say this...unlike other groups, we are no holds bared, completely honest.  We tell the good and the bad. 


Here are the links again if anyone is having a problem with the links:

Donations for the Cupid's Undie Run: http://my.cupids.org/AmyMcCarter

If you wanna be crazy and run with (or like) us use this link here to register!! They are taking place all over the US on Valentine's Day!:

http://my.cupids.org/register.asp?utm_source=referral&utm_medium=link&ref=48472

To join WLS Sleeving Stars on Facebook (for all bariatric patients) join us here:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/sleevingstars/

If you get the reference in the blog title you get bonus points and we should probably be friends...just saying. 



Gratitude

I have 2 posts to write, one I've been procrastinating on and this one that NEEDS to get written tonight for MY wellbeing.  (I promise I'll write the next one while it's still this year ;)  )

I've been struggling.  It's to the point I can't be in support groups anymore (online or in person), I can't read the newsfeeds of my bariatric friends, some I can't even bring myself to talk to anymore.  Depression overwhelms me, my anxiety starts flaring, my panic attacks start.  Why am I not losing?! What did I do to deserve the "dud" sleeve or have so many of these problems!?  I'm frustrated, I'm furious, and frankly...I'm fucking jealous. 

I said in my last post about how I haven't lost anything in a long time.  I still haven't.  A month later.  I was in tears tonight with my husband over the whole situation.  Again.  He brings up the same thing every time.  "You didn't have the surgery to be skinny, you had it to be healthy, remember?"  Okay, fine, but you know what...I've been a fat girl all my life, for once it'd be totally awesome to know what it was like to be a "normal" or "skinny" girl.  And STILL 85ish pounds later, after having weight loss surgery, I'm a size 14 and can shop at Lane Bryant.  Just for ONCE I'd like to walk past that store and say "PFFT nothing in there fits me anymore!"  NOT because it's BAD to wear clothes from there, I had an AMAZING wardrobe from there for the last 15 years!!!  Just because it'd be awesome to say "Those clothes don't fit me" to a plus size store.  Like I've had to say to "Normal" stores ever since I was a teenager.  That's all.  Yes, I can shop in most "Normal" stores now...if they run up a bit bigger in sizing, but it'd be awesome to say "Nope - not you!  Everything in that store will NOT fit!" 
While I was on video conference with my hubby my one of my bestest friends messaged me.  We hadn't talked in a while because life does that, but that doesn't mean squat to our friendship.  She is a fellow sleeve patient and as I'm video conferencing with her tiny, skinny little ass she's shoving food into her gob and telling me that she hasn't worked out since the last time I dragged her to the gym with me in AUGUST, when I still lived in Texas with her, and I just wanted to jump through the screen, wring her tiny little neck and yell "THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT?!?!!?!  YOU! YOU!"  but I didn't, because I adore her and none of this is her fault.  We talked.  And one of the many reasons she's my friend popped out clear as day, she got my out of my slump and into seeing the truth of the matter.  And yes, my husband said to me almost the same things she did, but my husband has never been a fat girl dying to fit in (hell, he's never even been a fat boy...and has NEVER EVER WANTED to fit in anywhere LOL), he's never had the surgery, he doesn't understand.  Not like she does. 

She was able to get to me see a few things.  Things that I was too blind in my desperation and frustration to see.  Links she's sent me from other groups that I may have gotten (I don't remember, honest!!) but may have not opened because I couldn't bear to look at those groups about advice, options, other people having the same issue I do.  She knows I've been struggling.  She's been by my side since my 3rd month out, insta best friend since we met.   She knows exactly when I stopped losing, she was there showing me other ways to see things.  She's been there trying to find answers, researching reasons or diets to try to kick start things again (up my carbs, lower my carbs, up my calories, up my whatever!!!) She may have lost well herself...but she's been in this struggle with me 100% and feels my pain, my frustration, and was the first one to say the words..."Jealous" to me.  She gets it.  She knows...despite me only having this to be healthy, would it be so friggin' frackin' bad to be a LITTLE skinnier too?!

While talking with her I got to the realization that I do have a lot to be thankful for.  No...I may not have lost weight like all these other people have...but I lost weight.  85 pounds of it.  I don't have diabetes anymore.  A diabetes that was slowly and steadily killing me each day.  No vials of insulin to keep cold.  Snacks carried in my purse, having to turn around because I ran out of needles, constantly monitoring blood sugars a million times a day.  I don't have sleep apnea anymore.  I don't to worry about falling asleep in the car (as a passenger) and possibly dying because I stopped breathing.  No lugging a HUGE oxygen machine and my CPAP machine around every time I have to go somewhere overnight.  I can move again.  I have loved sports and working out my ENTIRE life.  I even made a career out of it working in Recreation and Aquatics.  But before surgery I wouldn't even walk 1/4 mile to the mail box.  I wouldn't get the mail until I had to drive that way.  It was literally too much for my body to handle.  I was winded, my knees would hurt, I would have a headache from the spike in blood pressure.  I'm now running miles at a time, I'm working out like I LOVE to, I have energy and feel GOOD!  And frankly, I'm more fit than half the "skinny" girls I take classes with!  (Skinny does not mean Healthy!!!)

So, because it's Thanksgiving today...I've never been more thankful in my life than I am for being able to be given the opportunity to have this surgery and be able to take my life back and to be there for my friends, family, and children.  I am thankful for the people I have met due to the surgery.  AMAZING people that were it not for the surgery would have never blessed my life with their presence.  I'm thankful that I chose health and I see my children choosing health because of it.  They too want to participate in runs, my 5 year old does sit-ups and exercises with me, my 11 year old runs with me, the 5 year old makes healthy choices BECAUSE they are healthy when she's eating.  She knows Fries are a sometimes food, but apples are just as yummy and are healthy for her body, so she chooses those instead.  These things bring me joy because it means ME getting healthy is ensuring my KIDS will be healthy and be their for their kids in the future.  I'm thankful I'm not dependent on chemicals to keep me alive everyday.  I'm thankful about how much I've learned about my body, how it moves, how it works, how it processes foods, etc.  I'm thankful I can cross my legs or curl up in a chair with a book or squeeze onto a couch with 4 other people when there is limited seating.  I'm thankful my hair is starting to grow back, FINALLY.  I'm thankful I get to experience life rather than try to keep up with it.  I am thankful that when I go to the zoo or on a walk I can keep up with my group instead of them holding back waiting for me to trudge along behind.  The list is endless, I can think of so many thing if I sat her long enough.  I had to write this post today because of that.  Because I NEED to remember...no, you aren't skinny like the other girls who had the surgery...but you are healthy and you are alive and look at all the things you can do now that you could never have done 85 pounds ago. 

What I'm not thankful...moving to Ohio from 6 years in Texas right before winter hit and having no wardrobe that fits that is appropriate for cold weather!!! 



https://www.facebook.com/groups/sleevingstars - A place for honest support for all bariatric post ops

Myth: I get by with a little help from my friends...

Fact:  I NEVER would have survived this long if it weren't for the love and support of not JUST my friends but also the strangers in support groups, exercise classes, online groups, etc. that would eventually become my friends, or in the least, supportive cheerleaders!

I know that it has been awhile since my last post.  Things got VERY hectic here and it became very stressful for me trying to post about the past while trying to live in the present.  So...I've decided to chuck the past.  I'll get to it if it pops up.  I'm going to focus on the here and now.

So...the here and now.  I am now down 85 pounds since surgery on January 2nd.  My 9 month "Surgiversary", if you will, was on Oct. 2nd.  I would have NEVER gotten this far were it not for the people who have helped uplift and push me along.

I have had a lot of pitfalls.  The largest being that I haven't lost a single ounce since 19 weeks.  That's NO weight loss in 17 weeks.  It's so disheartening.  Especially when looking on all of the message boards I'm on seeing all these people losing 100's of pounds and only a few months out.  It's worse when you see them boast about "OMG, I'm not even exercising!" or "I eat what I want" or "I'm not even TRYING!"  I am trying SOOO hard.  I worked out constantly (before moving to Ohio a month ago) and nothing was happening. 

I took this question as well as an annoyingly detailed food diary to both my doctor and my nutritionist.  I've taken blood tests to check for hormone imbalances, thyroid problems, etc.  The consensus.  They have NO clue what's going on.  I get the "Maybe your body is just done".  Uh.  NO!  My body is NOT done losing after only 19 weeks.  I refuse to let that be the case. 

I am happy to say that my health is OUTSTANDING!  I no longer have diabetes, I'm the only patient my sleep apnea doctor said he's EVER seen beat sleep apnea (especially with just HOW bad mine was), my cholesterol is normal, my blood pressure...well I'm still on meds for that, but I'm a stressed individual LOL.  I feel better physically and mentally.  I can move, I can keep up with my kids, my life is happier!  I'm just terrified that these things will come back since I'm still SOOO close to my start. 

With all of this weighing on me it's been my friends who have been there to support and love me.  Everyday I look up and see amazingly supportive love notes from my "wife" Jori who posted them secretly when I was just starting my pre-op liquid diet.  Her notes inspire me when I want to give up. 

Then there is Stacy.  She's a gal who is a veteran sleever and I was so blessed to meet her.  She's there to tell me to shut up, to measure my ass to show me "hey you may not have lost weight, but look!  You've lost inches" or when none of that is happening, she has a new idea to show me how far I've come despite being stuck.  She's there to drag to exercise classes and keep me moving and laughing.

Mindy, another sleeve gal who was a few months after me is always there to trade ideas, do crazy things like the pouch test, keep uplifting and pushing, and inspiring. 
My husband has always been my biggest cheerleader.  Totally against me having this surgery in the beginning has never stopped him from supporting me, loving me, and giving me the boost I need now and again.  Even if it's a harsh reminder or a kind word. 

My support groups both online and in person are there to vent to, learn new ideas from, and in general find a mind that can understand your battle.  Sometimes they can be something that brings you down, but when it's really necessary, they are truly there to lift you up.  I even ended up starting my own (because some are just WAAAY to out there and drama ridden that I had to leave) If you are a bariatric patient you are welcome to join us there!!  You can find us on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/groups/660538027375408/  under the name "Sleeving Stars".  In person support groups have proved to be the same way...both way over dramatic with annoying people, but also SOOO supportive, uplifting, and a place to keep your brain moving on the right track.

The last group that has kept me moving (and this one, literally!) is all the amazing fitness instructors who have helped kick my ass and help raise my spirits and moved into a group far beyond "fitness instructor" and into "Friend"  Tashia, Sacchia, Jamie, and the staff and Iluminate24 in Harker Hts., TX.  Walking into my gym and being known by name, their inquires of my well being, their smiles, and especially there "WHERE WERE YOU?!?!  Why weren't you at class" really kept me moving!  Albeit in a very guilt tripped fashion ;)  It's exactly what I need when I'm feeling run down and beat...1 little facebook message to remind me "HEY!  Class tonight!  You better be there!" put me in a mood to get moving again. 

Now I'm here in Ohio and far from all these people who have made this journey successful for me.  Now I'm starting over.  Now I'm on my own (they are absolutely still here for me in spirit, but now it's me and up to me)  I have found a new gym.  But still need more motivation to go.  I'm eating right...but I've still gained 5 pounds.  To cure this, I've signed up for The BadAss Dash.  It's a 5k obstacle course that's this weekend.  I'm starting to find my team here.  A friend from High School has agreed to be there with me and help push me forward and not be scared on my own.  They have Team Amy started in Texas and are cheering me on from afar.  Next week I start training again, like I should be.  I will start finding support groups again.  I will not let myself fail. 

No one can make this journey alone.  If you are pre-op, start building your team now, if you are post off and feel like your floundering, find your team and reach out!  This is so much more than just slicing out part of your stomach, eating differently, and exercising.  There is so much that goes into the mental factor of it.  You have to have love, support, and understanding from those around you.  There are going to be days when its time to have that disgusting protein drink and you just can't.  That's the day you are going to need people to give you a new recipe, a new idea about how to drink them, or just to tell you "Big girl panty time!  Head back, chug!" 

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.  You amazing people in my life are more the reason I have lost 85 pounds than any else!  You are in my heart so dearly. 

Breaking News: Doctors usually know what they are talking about.

I got home it felt amazing to be in my own house.  I shuffled off into my bed and laid down.  YAY!  Bliss!  Then the cat, who missed me terribly, jumped up on me and started to "knead" my belly like she usually does.  This sent me screaming in pain and the cat straight up to the ceiling and then bolting out of the bedroom.  Then the 5 year old who missed her Mommy came running in and jumped on me.  she to jumped tothe ceiling and ran like the cat.   At this point I believe all of the other living creatures in the house realized it'd be a good idea to let the Mama be. 

THEN....I had to pee.  I couldn't get out of the bed.  My abs weren't working because of surgery and the pain so I had to kinda roll out of the bed into my husband's (hopefully) waiting arms and have him help me upright.  Luckily, the trust fall worked and he did in fact catch me.   (You could have guessed this by the general knowledge that we are still married now...)

I was sent home with liquid Loritab (a liquid hydrocodone), a medication to help coat your stomach (take this, it HONESTLY helps the pain so much), and a stool softener (TAKE THIS!!! it HONESTLY helps you poop so much!).  Unfortunately, the doc didn't listen when I told him that hydrocodone doesn't work on me.  Zippo.  Nada.  No effect.  I need to be on Percoset.  That weekend was so painful.  I should have listened and never left the hospital.  I regretted every minute of that weekend. 

Monday I called and they got me in to see my surgeon right away.  I couldn't even walk.  I hurt so bad I was in tears by the 5th step.  Hubby helped me in and we saw the doc.  When I showed him where I hurt he knew EXACTLY what was wrong.  This helped things along a bit.  There had been a complication with the surgery (that we didn't know about - doc included - until now) he had bumped something causing inflammation, which caused the nerves to be pressed up against, there in causing the pain.  Good news - answers.  Bad news - nothing he could do but wait it out.  Good news - at least I now had pain meds I needed that worked.

Or so I thought....the pain a week later was still unbearable so I went in again to see him.  He immediately got me a referral out to pain management to see if they could help.  In the mean time,  no working out,  try to walk as much as I can tolerate,  otherwise rest.

Nights in the ICU

The barium swallow test happened on day 2.  They give you this cup of disgusting ass stuff that you...the person who is puking everywhere, whose mouth ALREADY feels disgusting, and who just had surgery so you can hardly eat or drink anything...are supposed to drink.  Drink ENOUGH to get a good picture.  Which is more than you can REALLY ACTUALLY drink.  They were kind and patient with me but damn that shit is nasty.  I was so weak and in pain at this point I needed help standing to get the pictures, but got them they did.  The first thing I did when we got back up to my room in ICU was go back down because they needed 2 more pictures.  SERIOUSLY!?!? 
Finally, I passed the swallow and the first thing I did after it was confirmed without a doubt I didn't need to swallow that stuff again was brush my teeth and swish my mouth out.  The Doc walked in on me and said I was the first person he'd ever seen to put "brush their teeth" as a priority at this point.  I just don't think he has ever paid much attention.  If you had that horrible cotton mouth and THEN had to swallow that barium, trust me, you'd be brushing your teeth too!

The pain was still unbearable.  I was put on the liquid diet and the crystal light was a blessing!!!   You don't drink much of it though and I was still exhausted and reeling from the pain.  A lot of people are up moving and dancing around by Day 2 and on their way home.  They are posting on facebook and talking coherently.  This was NOT me.  (Once again I say...EVERYONE's experience is soooo unique and different, this is only mine because this is the only one I personally went through ;)  ) I attempted one facebook post and reading it back later it made NO sense. 
It read :

 

 "I'm so fucking miserable. I can't get the pain and naseaous under control my mouth feels like   the sahara and I'm still locked away in the icu. I'm doing what I can. I'm pushing ,yself to walk as much as I can but it is making it worse. The gas bubbles are so painful. I'm prauing in the end hst it  istruly worth all thismiery"  

As you can see I started to fall asleep about half way through the post LOL. 

The gas bubbles I mentioned...they are HORRIBLE.  It's all the gas they pumped in your body during the surgery working themselves out and it is NOT comfortable.  They really encourage you to walk, walk, walk, walk, and then walk some more!  It helps start getting you moving and feeling better, and it also helps work the gas out...and it does work at getting the gas out.  Out all ends.

Every time that I woke up the first thing I did was hit my nurse button, hit my pain button, pee, walk.  That way I could get my required laps in so they would let me leave.  If only I could get the pain under control.  The plus to walking, like I said, was helping move the gas bubbles out which REALLY helps!!

This continued on and on, day and night until the 4th.  (2 days later)  I was still in SOOOO much pain but I was getting to the point of some bad depression because I missed my family, the bed was uncomfortable, hospital "liquids" are just as bad as hospital food, and I was sick of peeing on a chair in the corner of the ICU.  The doctors were all STAUNCHLY opposed to me going home because of my pain level, but it got to the general conclusion it was that or I was going to stab someone and I promised to be in contact and come to the ER right away in case anything happened. 

Slicin' and Pukein'

I don't remember anything during the surgery...which is a damn good thing since I'm not supposed to and all.  My husband will have to fill in all the details on length of surgery, recovery, etc.  It'll be a while for that since he's in Korea right now without internet. 

I woke up and the first thing I remember thinking was "Is it done?  Did he really do the surgery?  Is my stomach really smaller?"  For some reason I had a hard time really believing the surgery was done. 

I was in SOOO much pain and I was so nauseous.  All I did in the beginning (or at least all I remember doing) was puking...constantly, and sleeping until I had to puke again or my pain meds wore off.  It was seriously some of the worst pain ever.  They put me on Phenergan which helps the puking, but it makes me so sleepy.  The second biggest problem was my blood oxygen levels kept dropping so they were putting me on oxygen.  It was because of this that I was placed immediately into the ICU.  It wasn't until I was slightly coherent that I was able to yell (hahaha, hardly...my husband yelled, I mumbled at him in a frustrated voice and fell back asleep) at them about not putting me on my CPAP and oxygen when I was in recovery like my pulmonologist and I told them was necessary, a million times, and even face then my cpap before going into the room.  Amazingly, once my CPAP was in place I didn't have O2 problems!  Wow!  Go Army! 

The other problem I had that was the most annoying and aggravating thing possible was the dry mouth.  This was only made worse by the snoring and the stopping breathing because I was not on the CPAP.  If there was EVER motivation for me to get out of that bed and strangle someone it was due to them not letting me just swish my mouth out.  It was misery.  One nurse gave me this disgusting thing to suck on (God it was nasty) that was supposed to help, but it just made me throw up more.  The night nurse was kind enough to give me a glass of ice (under the STRICT supervision and possession of my husband) and a little sponge thing on a stick so I could kind of scrub it around my mouth so it wasn't SO nasty in there.  The reason they don't want you drinking is they need to wait for you Barium Swallow test in order to ensure that there are no leaks and everything is going down the right way.  I understood completely, but honest!!!  I would have just swished and spit!!!  I wasn't thirsty, I was just miserable with the dry mouth!! 

The pain was excruciating for me.  I hit my button every chance I got and they ended up having to give me shots of Dilaudid intermittently in order to help control the pain.  All I did the first week or so was regret EVER going through with the surgery.  When I was coherent I just remember thinking, "Is there anyway for them to put it back?!"  "Why did I do this"  "This was the worst decision ever"  "What was I ever thinking!?" "BLECH" (that was me puking all over the poor night nurse...I think I ended up giving him a bit of PTSD, the second night he came on shift he walked into my already armed with Phenergan, a puke bucket, and a change of clothes and sheets.  Poor Captain Nurse :(  )