Fat Shoes

I haven't been shy about admitting that I reached my heaviest weight while going through the process of qualifying for surgery. What I never could have imagined was that my fat knows no boundaries. When I was pregnant and my ankels swelled up to the size of my knees, I thought it was some freak pregnancy-related mishap caused by all the hormones in my body. Turns out that I'm an idiot:

It's being fat that causes fat ankles.

On the end of my fat ankles are sausage-like feet. I had wide feet before the massive weight gain, but now I have something else entirely. I'm not even sure they make shoes for feet like mine, unless they are custom-made by short, festive little men in Italy (note to self: look into custom-made shoes). So, I'm in a bit of pickle when it comes to footwear. At my new job, all the women wear high-heels. The other female broker in the office only comes to work in heels higher than 3". I'm much more of a flats kind of gal, but I'm trying to embrace the power suit. No power suit is suitably impressive with a pair of sensible flats on a woman. It kind of looks like your legs got cut off at the shin, which is rather disturbing because I've never worn heels every day.

I have one pair of official, work-endorsed pair of  black high heel shoes. They're size 9 and still don't fit. I can actually feel my toes going numb in them. Then the pain starts. By the end of the day, I'm hobbling along in my shiny black shoes. Sure, my feet might look respectable, but the nasty thoughts that I'm thinking in my head at these blasted pair of shoes are anything but.

Now I'm torn. I know that my feet will decrease in size (maybe) when I lose weight. I also know that I'm getting my surgery in a month and it's realistic to think that my feet won't immediately get smaller. I'm not even sure that I'll get immediately smaller, let alone the potential consequences to my feet. I just don't want to spend money on good shoes that won't fit me for very long. But then I remember that I can't even wear uncomfortable shoes for a full day, let alone an entire month.

I think I just talked myself into some quality shoe shopping time. I'm glad we had this talk.   

Food Cravings

As the prospect of the two-week liquid diet comes closer and closer and my surgery date is around the corner, I feel like I'm in my third trimester. For the first two trimesters, you know that labor is coming, but you can't imagine what it will be like. You know, at least theoretically, you are going to have a baby soon, but actually holding the baby in your arms seems fanciful and unrealistic. Suddenly, you are two weeks from your due date and holding newborn clothing and freaking out, occasionally stopping to stare at babies in the mall. That's where I am right now. I'm overly conscious of every piece of food that I stare at, every aroma, every texture, and beautiful, beautiful piece of food.

Take last night for instance. I guess I should clarify for one moment before moving forward. Just because I'm conscious of what I'm eating, doesn't mean that I'm eating healthy. In fact, the opposite is true. It's a well-understood fact in the gastric bypass community that almost everyone gains weight while waiting for their surgery. How could you not knowing that you face almost six weeks of liquids? The first protein shake is D-Day. To cram as many metaphors as I can into one, small blog post, I'm T-13 days to drinking only liquids. You better damn believe that I'm eating all the food that I can possibly imagine.

That is all just a long way of trying to explain why I got home last night and ordered a Papa John's Hawaiian pizza. Then sat on my couch and talked to Zac, who was drawing pictures. I flipped on the tv and found myself watching every food commercial with intense interest. A Sargento cheese commercial came on, the one where some invisible hand is slicing through huge blocks of cheese and I knew, right then and there, I had to have some cheese. This is the sick part - I had already ordered the pizza. That commercial broke me. I went to the fridge and found my own large block of cheese and shared it with Zac....while waiting for pizza.

"Hello, my name is B, and I'm a food addict."

Less of Me

If we are friends on Facebook (and if we’re not, why aren’t we friends yet?) then you know that I’ve been alluding to a “surgery” that I’m having. Not many people are stoked when insurance companies approve them for surgery, but I had been waiting for a year to receive the phone call that I got on Monday with the good news. I’m having lap band surgery on February 24th to lose weight, lower my cholesterol (total cholesterol: 317!!), and high blood pressure (regularly 140/100). I’ve decided to chronicle my process through the surgery to let my friends and family know: 1) I haven’t completely lost my mind and 2) maybe encourage some people along the way to take measures to take care of their health.

First, let me start with the naysayers. Yeah, you over there. And you. And the person that I’m related to that I will not name in this blog. You all have expressed concern that I’m “taking the easy way out” and even before I’ve started the process, have tried to convince me that I’m going to fail. The conversation that I have with them goes something along these lines:

Naysayer: “Have you even TRIED to lose weight?” (like the thought hadn’t occurred to me yet)

Me: “I’ve tried everything I can think of. In order to medically qualify for gastric surgery on insurance you have to demonstrate obesity for over two years. Some insurance companies require a weight history going back five years."

Naysayer: “I get that you haven’t been successful at losing weight, but why give up now? Losing weight is hard! Think of how much pride you’ll have in yourself when you lose weight through diet and exercise”

Me: “...I plan to lose weight through diet and exercise”

Naysayer: “No, you plan to have an invasive surgery that has potentially long-term side effects that haven’t been fully studied so you can fit into society’s image of ‘thin’”

Me: “The surgery is an out-patient procedure done laproscopically. Lap bands can be removed at any time, for any reason. I don’t want to be skinny. I just want to fit into the medical profession’s idea of “healthy” and it’s pretty obvious that I can’t change your mind about surgery, so I’m just going to step out of this conversation now. M’kay?”

If I don’t end the conversation, it can go on for hours. I never really realized what a red-hot issue bariatric surgery was before I started down the path. For those of you that might think that surgery is the “easy” way to become skinny, let’s just review what I had to do to get my insurance company to approve the surgery, shall we? I started in December 2009, with a visit to my PCP. She referred me to a bariatric surgeon because of my weight and persistent co-morbidities. After that, I:

1) Attend eda three-hour educational seminar about the impacts of gastric bypass surgery and the pre-and-post surgery requirements

2) Talked to my shrink and therapist about what impacts, both positive and negative, the surgery could have on me.

3) Met with the bariatric surgeon for the first time to discuss the kind of surgery that would be most appropriate for me (lap band).

4) Went through a two-hour psychological test of endurance that included a 350-question personality test and hour long interview with a psychologist to assess suitability of the surgery for me. Was told that I have to get a note from previously mentioned shrink and therapist.

5) Went back to shrink and therapist. Asked them for letter of approval from. Felt like I was in the sixth grade. Called them three weeks later and asked, “No really. I’m serious this time. Can you pleeeease write the letter?”

6) Went to six months of nutritional counseling where my nutrition guru convinced me that if I didn’t lose SOME weight that I wouldn’t be approved for surgery because I couldn’t demonstrate the ability for short-term behavioral change. Considered finding a new nutritionist. Kept a food journal for six months and try to follow the American Diabetic Association diet which involves limiting carbs, fats, and meat. Contemplated just giving up food all together. Lost four pounds, then gained nine. Then gained some more when I found a new job.

7) Was informed that my surgeon switched hospitals. Went through a painful process of getting my records, individually, transferred one-by-one to the new hospital. Hit my head on my desk several times a day each time the new hospital either didn’t receive my record or lost it

8) Made an appointment with a new PCP to get a formal letter of medical necessity. Had my cholesterol and blood pressure checked to confirm co-morbidities. Found out that my cholesterol could take now a small ox.

9) Called the new hospital almost every day for a month, trying to get all my records in one place for submission to my insurance company.

10) Waited for two weeks for my insurance company to approve the surgery

AND…I finally got the good news on January 24, 2011. I’m tired from just writing about it. For anyone who says to me, “Couldn’t you just have spent all the energy losing weight?” I’d like to point to #6 on the list and tell you to suck it.

On deck for tomorrow, more procedures, tests, and protein shakes…

Well....There is That

Thank you for the support from my last blog post. It was a very difficult time, but I'm hoping that I've turned a corner. I worked with one of my former teammates from school, which made work incredibly uncomfortable. I also found out that I wasn't qualified for a management training program at work, so I started looking for a new job. I went to a two-day career fair at my University and met a guy talking about the brokerage industry that was a Tulane alum. I walked up to him after his talk and we started talking. He called me the next week and we continued our conversation. I sent him my resume and cover letter. Later that week I was asked to come in for a math/finance/economics test and completed a personality test online. Then I was asked to come in for an interview. Then I went in for a second interview at a branch office that is 3 miles from where I live.

....and....I got the job. I know, I was more surprised than anyone. I know work as a Financial Advisor trainee at one of the largest retail brokerage houses in the US. I was accepted into their three-year training program. I quit my old job, took a day off, and started my new job on Friday.

It's all happened so fast. It feels like just last week I wrote my last post about barely making it through each day at work. Now I'm studying for my Series 7 and 66 brokerage and insurance exams and buying business suits. It's a little bit Alice in Wonderland and it hasn't completely sunk in yet. It's hard for me to really believe that my life has taken such a good turn. I'm hesitant to scream, "Woo hoo!" because I still have the same medical challenges that I've had for the past seven years. It's still easier for me to fall asleep than stay awake. But wow...what a difference a month can make.

Back

Here I am. I never really left the Internet or Blogging...just took an extended break. Life has been hard since I got back from the international trips. My motivation to finish my MBA dropped to near zero and work became harder and harder. Sometime, I don't even know when now, let's say early June, I got called into my boss' office. The Director of Human Resources was there. I was told that my teammates had come and talked to my boss about my behavior at work. Basically, at a minimum they tried to get me off their team. As a worst-case scenario, they tried to get me fired. I can't even really think about it and I'm not going to rehash everything on here in detail. There were parts of my behavior that were unacceptable and parts that were a direct result of the medical problems I face. I actually had to get a note from my Shrink explaining some of the side effects of my medication. I kept my job and had to confront all four of my team members. I apologized for my behavior, smiled, and tried to forget the betrayal. I buried it deeply within me and forced myself to go to work everyday. Head down. Just focus on the job. I now have to go into an empty office or into the hallway when I need to call one of my many doctors or business offices.

Then the same thing happened with my team in school. Even higher stakes. The team, again, all four of them, went to the Dean of the Business School and asked that I be removed from the team. This time, it was effective. The Dean said that if it was an unanimous decision then it was binding. They didn't even have the courage to tell me themselves. The Dean called me and told me. I had three choices at that point: 1) Ask another team if I could join them; 2) Form a team of one and complete all of the assignments by myself; 3) Suspend school for a year and be placed in another team; or I lied, there was a fourth option 4) Quit school 16 months into a 22 month degree program. I've already spent close to $55,ooo - to not get a degree at this point would be such a collassal waste of money that I couldn't even begin to comprehend it.

But the betrayal. I had worked closely with these four people throughout the past year. I knew them personally. I thought they knew me. I had a bad reaction to a medication and fell asleep and missed an hour of the team meeting. Unprofessional? Yes. Excusable? Possibly, if you knew the story. My problem is that I only really tell my problems on this blog. I used to put them on Facebook, but I realized that I would be more successful broadcasting my needs and struggles on the side of my car. At least then I wouldn't have the shame of knowing that someone who knew me in the 8th grade knows about my chronic pain.

Then I stopped blogging. I just held everything in. More and more pain. The night the Dean called me I took four Ambien and slept for 18 hours. Then woke up, talked to my therapist, and took some more Ambien. I couldn't even cope with being awake and existing with my feelings. Two distinct parts of my life had cast me out because I didn't tell them that my medication makes me fall asleep and I have to go to more doctor's appointments than an "average", healthy 29 year-old.

Now I just try to make it through the day. I've had to disclose my medical problems at work. I found a new team at school. I hate almost every moment that I'm in class and I'm counting down the days until graduation. I'm in a class of 28 and trying to avoid the four former classmates is almost impossible.

If it's possible, these experiences have made me more negative and more cynical. Perception matters. It didn't matter that I got all my work done at work, all my teammates saw was that I wasn't pulling my own weight. My teammates at school loved me when I was getting them A's on their papers, but turned against me within a week. What people think matters. You need to play nice with others. You'll get cast out otherwise and it's cold outside.

Central America

I'm not sure how time keeps getting away from me. I'm lucky if I make it home from work without sharp pain in my hands and arms. Turning on the computer to blog is the last thing that I want to do and Zac ends up playing on the computer most nights after he takes a bath, so it's easier to just lie on my couch and read or watch television.

I'm in Guatemala now and an unbelievably beautiful college campus in a lush, tropical capital city. If the capital is this beautiful, I can't imagine what the rest of the country must look like. I just posted on Facebook, being in a place like this makes me wonder why America (and Houston being the worst offender) tore down all the trees and vegetation in the name of progress and commerce. Houston is so ugly that it hurts some times.

Yet I digress. I have a burning issue that I need to get out. Basically, about three months ago, I was evaluated for lap band surgery. My weight had gotten so high that I was uncomfortable and I can't help but wonder if my physical pain is compounded by the amount of weight I'm carrying around. I'm huge. I know I've said that before, but really....now I have photographic evidence.

This picture was taken of me in Panama, standing outside with my professor and a couple of classmates. I didn't even recognize myself at first glance. Damn, I can't upload it, but trust me when I say that I'm not exaggerating. I look round...everywhere. My face, my arms, my stomach. I'm round. Now I'm second guessing my decision to wait until I finish my graduate program to get the surgery. I've been trying to diet on my own, but it's not working. I feel stuck and everytime I weigh myself and the scale doesn't move, I feel like a failure. Then I eat to make myself feel better. Then I'm disgusted by how much I ate...and the cycle continues.

There isn't much I can do, except start exercising during my lunch hour, which is a possibility. I'm not sure. I'm in such a stressful, hard part of life with Zac learning and growing more every day, yet not being completely independent and me in school and working full-time.

Ugh....that's all I've got for a conclusion...ugh.

Catch All

Oh hello there...it's been a long time. My fault completely. Well, not completely my fault. Let me see if I can explain. About a month ago I was diagnosed with carpal tunnels and tennis elbow in my right arm. It made typing a bit painful and I was doing more than enough typing between work and school. I had nerve testing done and they found no significant nerve damage and I am still able to respond to light sensation in my finger tips. That's a good sign. I went to an Orthopedic Hand Surgeon and he gave me two injections of steroid and lidocaine -one in my wrist and one in my elbow. After three days of extreme pain, I felt better. He also gave me a wrist brace, which I wore while at the computer and driving. Everything was going fine and I was planning on going back to the Ortho Doc and telling him that I was ok. I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of wearing a brace for the immediate future, but I wasn't in excruciating pain, so it seemed like a trade-off.

Then I went to the physical therapist for my elbow. My pain isn't actually in my elbow, it's in the tendons in my forearm, on both the topside and the bottoms ide, for lack of better words. The therapist told me that I was over wearing the brace and could cause muscle weakness and soreness. She wants me to stretch and strengthen the tendons to see if that gives me any relief and wants to know when I'm in pain. Basically, she wants to use my pain as a diagnostic tool. I'm not a big fan of this approach - mostly because it means that I have to get worse before I feel better. I'm willing to give it a try. As I write this, I'm not wearing my brace and feel some pain at the top of my wrist, forearm, and twinges in my elbow. Not much fun.

Let's see...what else. It's been six weeks without any car accidents. Given my recent string of them (3 in two weeks) I consider that a significant improvement.

I'm on a break from school right now. Technically we are in a module called "Cross Cultural Management", but really it should be called, "Traveling to Central American Countries and Trying Not to Get Sick or Stressed Out". I showed up for my flight to Panama last week, only to be turned away. My passport was only valid for the next 60 days and Panama required that your passport be valid for 90 AFTER the departure date of your trip. I couldn't leave with the rest of my class. I left the airport and went speeding to the closest regional passport office (conveniently located in downtown Houston) and arrived about 45 minutes before they were about to close at 3:30pm. First, let me say that I would love to have a job that ended at 3:30pm every day. That sounds lovely. Second, I can say that miracles do happen, even in the realm of government bureaucracy. I paid for an expedited passport and was told that I could pick up my passport at 2:30pm the next day. Well....that wasn't going to work because there are only two flights a day to Panama on Continental, one at 9am and the other at 3pm. I needed to be on the 3pm flight or I'd miss another full day on what was turning out to be a very short trip.

I went up to Huntsville to see a guy that I've started dating. We hung out and the next morning I drove down to the office in Houston around 11:30am. I asked if there was anyway my passport was done and the guy behind the counter said it was my lucky day because my passport was ready. He handed it to me and a rush of excitement went through my body. It actually worked! I was actually going to go to Panama. I went from there immediately to the airport where I met up with my Tulane professor that was on the same flight as me.

By the time we got through customs and got the hotel, the group (my grad school class, 10 Guatemalan, and a couple Venezuelans) were returning from an evening at the Panama Canal. I was bummed that I missed that, but still glad to be there. The weather there was unbelievable. About 90-98 degrees with 90-100% humidity. It rained almost every day and felt like Houston in August, minus the scorching sun. It was hot. So hot that I think I sweated the entire three days I was there. Just really damn hot.

I did have a good time while I was in Panama, including a jaunt with some Guatemalan students to the largest mall in Central America. I purchased some overpriced Panama souvenirs and sweated some more in the dense crowd in the mall. Fortunately, much like Central Asia, I was taller than most people in the crowd, so at least I could see. That's something.

When I got back to Houston I almost immediately started cramping and going to the bathroom 4-5 times an hour. The cramping continued on through the next day and I went to the doctor after some blood was involved. I won't get into particulars here, but let's just say that strong antibiotics and anti-cramping medication have seemed to solve the problem. Thank God. That is the last time that I will drink "filtered" tap water at a hotel, but even if I avoid that, I was still brushing my teeth with tap water and consuming ice from who knows where. They could have been filling up their ice trays from a hose in the back for all I know or an expensive filtration system. According to the Panama Tourism Authority, the water in Panama City is fine - in fact, it's the best in the world. Then again, that guy also said that everything in Panama was the best in the world so maybe I should doubt the source a bit more.

In two weeks we are leaving for Guatemala. We're spending one night in Guatemala City and the next two nights in Antigua, the ancient capital of South America. Guatemala is supposed to be much more temperate, although a smidgen more crime-ridden than Panama. Panama is the white-color crime center. There banking and financial sector rivals America's. It was amazing. They don't even print their own currency. They just use US dollars.

Other than that, I'm back on my diet after falling off the wagon for the last six weeks. I felt huge and awkward around the slim Latin Americans. It was good motivation to try to focus on dieting again. Plus we don't have actual class in Houston until June, so at least I can't blame school food or boredom during class for high calorie snacking. I'm trying. That's what's important. I usually feel so disgusted with myself that I don't even want to think about it. I cram food down my throat to make me feel better, then feel intense amount of shame at what I just did. I hate it. It's a vicious cycle that I'm trying to get better at.

Well, I'll try to be better about updating more frequently. I have a lot to talk about and I've missed blogging. Hope you all are well. Drop a comment and let me know what you've been up to.

-B-