The recovery continues

So its day five of my life as a Bandit. I'm still pretty uncomfortable. I am not sleeping properly because my wounds still sting and sort of burn, particularly the left one where the port is. Its like I have a stitch all the time. Then there's the wind pain which is like a kind of burning down my esophagus that tightens every so often and takes my breath away with its intensity. I'm quite hungry too because I just can't drink those protein shakes. Ugh, they are disgusting! I've tried Optifast and Up&Go and they are vile. The Sustagen I had in the hospital was tolerable so I think I'll have to leave the house and get some of those.

In the meantime though, I've continued to have various versions of the classic egg flip. This morning's concoction is particularly yummy:

1.5 cups skim milk

2 tblsp Ski D'Lite Honey Buzz yogurt

1 tsp honey

1 whole egg

2 tsp Benefibre

Blend it in the blender and Bob's your aunty's live in lover!

Honey Buzz Egg Flip

Last night I also had two half cups (about an hour apart) of my mum's broccoli soup, which was delicious. It was lovely to eat something savoury.

Noo offering up some of his morning porridge

I'm still so full of wind and I haven't been to the toilet since Saturday so I'm not getting on the scales until Monday. I'll try some De-Gas today and hopefully that will help and my tummy won't feel so much like a blown up balloon.

I still haven't left the house since I got back from the hospital. I feel too sensitive and too tired because I'm still taking loads of pain meds. I'm not comfortable putting on a bra yet and there's no way that I'm leaving the house without the puppies strapped into place!

This has meant I've spent most of the week reading blogs and watching tv. I've been catching up on Hung, Entourage and Mad Men. This week's episode of Mad Men was particularly good. I've always loved Don and Peggy's relationship and this episode just nailed it - the way they are so different yet understand each other on such an intimate level.

I must say I'm starting to find this recovery part a little hard. I'm tired, uncomfortable, feel squeezy and kind of hungry. I just can't wait until this healing process is over and I can start to eat real food again. Even mushies are looking good right now! I just have to keep going over my Positive thoughts to remind myself why I'm going through all this.

I'm off to have a lie down.

V.

All the gory details

I'm now two days post op and I'm feeling better with each hour that passes. I woke up this morning at 4am with seriously bad heartburn/wind pain. It was horrific! Its slowly passing as the day goes on but, god, its been awful.

I haven't really been counting calories yet, just drinking anything that might sooth the discomfort. When I woke up I had half a cup of tea, which took about an hour to drink and then later my mum made me another egg flip (skim milk, one egg, splenda, vanilla essence) and I took a good while to drink that too. For lunch I had another skim milk milkshake but this time with Milo. I loooove Milo! That's been it so far. Tomorrow I will start on the Optifast shakes. I feel like I've been managing a lot more than most post op because I have been feeling a lot more hungry than I thought I would.

I'm still taking loads of painkillers so I'm a bit dopey and tired. Especially seeing I've been up since 4! Noo has been a cutie all day. He senses something is amiss but he's been cool about it all. My dad took him over to see my brother and they went to the park for a run around and to get him out of the apartment to leave me to convalesce

Aaargh, as I type this the wind pain has started up again along with some serious farting. I wish it would all just blow out and leave me be!

So, going back to Monday, the day of the operation. Noo woke me up at around 7am. He'd been up very late the night before so slept past his usual get up time. We got out of bed and I took my usual medication with a small amount of water. I was fine actually, surprisingly so. I thought I'd be losing it with anxiety, but actually I was quite calm about it all.

I walked Noo down to kindy at about 9.30, said my goodbyes and then came home, finished packing and then we were off to the Mater Hospital. It is such a lovely hospital. I'd read and heard a lot about it, especially because it is the hospital where Sarah Murdoch (Rupert Murdoch's daughter in law) had given birth to her three babies.

I was admitted at 11am and mum and I were promptly shown to my room. The staff were all so lovely! Not long after I was asked to get into the hospital garb (see yesterday's post A new Bandit in town! for pics). A nurse came to give me a pair of DVT stockings to wear as well as to take my obs (observations - blood pressure, temperature and heart rate) as well as to prep my belly button for surgery.

DVT stockings

Belly button ready for surgery

 

At 1pm I was wheeled up to theatre and discovered the one thing the agency nurse forgot to do was give me my pre meds which included something to relax my nerves. So as soon as I got there I started to panic. I'd never had an operation before, except to have my adenoid out when I was 3, which I can bearly remember. I've also had a couple of minor procedures like a colonoscopy and endoscopy but nothing has full on as this! 

The staff let mum stay until I was wheeled down to the theatre bay. This is where the anaesthetist met me. She was so lovely and did a great job to distract me from what was going on. At this stage I started to have doubts about what I was doing. I thought, for god sake Vanessa, couldn't you have just stuck to a bloody diet! Or a fitness regime! What am I doing here all prepped to go under the knife and have a foreign object placed inside my gut to force me to eat less. Fucking hell! What was I doing? But before long I was moved across to the operating table and a oxygen mask was placed over my mouth and nose and there was no turning back. I just kept reminding myself about all the research I had done, all the stories I had read, and how sure I was that morning when I left the apartment that this was the answer to my getting healthy. Then the next thing I knew I was out to it...

These are the pictures Dr Taylor gave me yesterday, showing what went on in those 50 minutes I was out.

The band going around my fatty stomach

The band being clipped into place

The band being sown into my gut

**Stop reading here, anyone about to be banded who has a low threshold for pain like me - this might put you off!**

When I came to out of the anesthetic I was in a world of pain. Excruciating pain, almost equal to having a 39 hour posterior positioned labour as I'd had with Noo. Probably not as bad, or as lengthy, but close to it. I was screaming and crying and swearing, writhing in the bed they had me in with the sides up. I gripped onto those sides just like I had while trying to push Noo out, but this time the pain was up high, right under my left boob. It was incredible. Like the grim reaper had thrust his gnarly hand in my chest and was attempting to rip my heart out whole. I was begging for morphine but the nurse could only give it to me in small doses. 

I remember having an oxygen mask over my face and the nurse telling me I had to keep it on because the morphine would slow down my breathing. I was crying so hard and the nurse was telling me to calm down because the tension would make my wounds hurt more. I opened my eyes slightly and saw to my right I was near a wall that had posters up for children, one of which had the alphabet on it. So I started singing it. A-B-C-D-E-F-G... trying anything to calm myself down and distract myself from the terrible burning sensation in my chest. H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P... Slowly the morphine started to take affect... Q-R-S-T-U-... think that's as far as I got!

I was wheeled back down to my room and given two Endone (Oxycontin) and finally I felt some real relief. I was completely whacked out but at least the pain was bearable. The first thing I asked for was my iPhone so I could get some pics...

Loaded up on morphine and Oxycontin

I called my mum and told her everything went well and I was well under the influence of serious opiates so probably no good for conversation over the phone. It was arranged that my parents would come and get me the following morning when the doctor said I was good to go.

I don't remember much of the rest of the night but I do know I was up every couple of hours for more pain meds. But despite all the pain and suffering, I have absolutely no regrets. 

I'm so excited to be on this roller coaster ride to finding a newer, better, healthier me!

Vanessa

A new Bandit in town!

It's done! I am officially a bandit!

I'm in a lot of pain and discomfort but I have absolutely no regrets. I'm too whacked out on pain meds so I won't write a lot tonight, but here are some pics from the last couple of days.

Front view - morning of the op

Side view - morning of the op

Back view - morning of the op

Waiting to go to theatre - love those DVT socks!

Another gorgeous (not) pic

I have some post op photos that I'll load tomorrow.

Night.

V.

On the night before surgery...

Well, this is my "night before" blog. I've been thinking about what to write all day, as well as reading loads of other blogs, but I haven't been able to come up with any profound last words before I go under the knife, so I'm just going to type and see what comes out...

I've been quite consumed with anxiety about it all but not because I'm fearful of the surgery or the anesthetic. Quite the contrary, I don't mind being sedated and having that lovely dreamy feeling when you wake up. I'm not too scared about the pain either, I figure I endured a 39 hour labour when Noo was born, I can endure any pain that I might be inflicted with. What I'm really scared about is what losing weight means to me.

I am at the tail end of what has been a very long, very hard journey that started in 2007 when I had a massive breakdown.  One minute I was living and working in London, the next being admitted to a psychiatric and rehabilitation hospital in Sydney's eastern suburbs. Its been an incredibly hard and bumpy road that has found me here, typing this blog getting ready to be banded to help me shed the fat I've been hiding behind while I heal what have been some pretty heavy emotional scars.

Before 2007 I was a bubbly, funny and energetic party girl. I lived to party and have fun. Then something very bad happened and all that came crashing down. The year that followed was a living hell. I started to self medicate with drugs and alcohol and when I finally came back to Sydney it was to detox to save my life.

Getting sober at first was like being striped clean with bleach. I had nothing to help me hide from the thoughts in my mind and was forced to face what my life had become. I was 32 and I had nothing but a massive UK credit card debt and a serious drug and alcohol problem. I was not the cool party girl/rock chick, in control of her habits, as I had somehow managed to convince myself I was. In those three weeks in the hospital I began to realise I had no idea who I was. Since I was a shy teenager who discovered drinking alcohol gave me the confidence I could never have alone, I had made drinking and partying the central part of my personality. Now that it was gone I was left open like a raw weeping wound without a band aid. 

In the hospital I was put on various medications to help with detoxing and with the deep depression I now found myself in. Over the last three years I have tried eight different anti-depressants and about five different anti-psychotic/mood stabilisers (which I don't need any more). Some of these medications really affect your appetite and by not being able to drink, I was seriously drawn to food - particularly chocolate and any other sweet food.

Chocolate is addictive and affects the same neuro pathways as drugs and alcohol do. With my increased appetite thanks to whatever meds the psychiatrists had me on I became obsessed with chocolate - it was my new cocaine! 

Finally, after four admissions and almost a year to the day of that terrible thing that happened, I found out I was pregnant with my son. It was make or break time. Get sober and live and raise a little baby out the ashes that was my old life or, well, the or just doesn't bear thinking about.

So I was preggers. The first 14 weeks I had horrific morning sickness and couldn't eat so actually lost 13 kg.  I got down to my lowest weight since giving up the booze, etc, and was 83 kg as I headed into the second trimester. By the end of my pregnancy I was completely infatuated with lollies and chocolates and fruit and ice cream and anything sweet I could get my hands on! Most importantly though, I found a new hope and could finally see a future for myself as I fell deeply in love with the little baby that was growing inside me.

By the time Noo was born I was 104kg. In the few weeks and months following his birth my weight never really dropped below 95 kg.  I was hungry all the time. Seriously starving 24 hours a day. I would eat whenever he needed a feed, even throughout the night. My appetite was bigger than it had even been on those horrible mood stabilisers! I complained about it to my doctor and it was just put down to the fact I was breast feeding. I also started to get other symptoms - profusive sweating, sleeplessness, and extreme anxiety. I began to feel like the world was going to end. I had this overwhelming feeling all time of impending doom.

Once again I went back to my GP and I was seeing a psychiatrist weekly but still my symptoms were put down to being a new mother who was breastfeeding. I was also on a massive dose of an anti-depressant which was giving me a strange side effect that my head would experience a buzzing sensation whenever I moved. Both my GP and the psych put it down to anxiety and kept increasing my dose.

By the time Noo was just over 3 months old, I was losing it and finally I was admitted to a psych hospital again to come off my meds to try another type of anti-depressant. As is routine when you get admitted to these places, the hospital's GP ordered a stack of blood tests. I was later called in to see the doctor and told that my thyroid was malfunctioning and was extremely hyperactive, to the point where he thought I might have Graves Disease. I had my laptop with me so was straight on to Google when I got back to my room. Symptoms included, anxiety, fast metabolism causing increased appetite, profusive sweating... I could not believe it! Here I was thinking I had regressed back to the depressed state I was in back in 2007 and what really was the issue was that I had a thyroid problem! 

I was furious to say the least.  I'm still not over it really, will never be, that my doctors did not test my thyroid function given my extreme symptoms. I suffered for about 4 months with a newborn who I was struggling to care for because I was losing my mind. When I finally got to see an endocrinologist I was diagnosed with postpartum thyroiditis. Phew! That was well over a year ago and my recent appointment with the specialist confirmed that the thyroid disease has righted itself and is functioning at normal levels now.

Wow, this has become a much longer entry than I expected but I suppose it goes to how I find myself here, on the eve of my gastric band surgery.

I tried many diets in an attempt to lose the weight I had gained including Weight Watchers (x2), Jenny Craig and two sessions a week with a personal trainer. Still nothing was working, or it would work for a couple of weeks to a month and next thing I knew I was falling into bad habits again.

In one of my stints in rehab I met an alcoholic girl around my age who would eat very little food. I must have asked her about it and when she told me she had a gastric band I was completely intrigued. When my Jenny Craig diet failed last year, I started thinking more about that young woman and began researching all about laproscopic gastric band surgery. I have read everything, I think, there is to read about it, and I knew it was the thing for me.  I know I have a lower BMI than most people who have the procedure but for someone who has been in the overweight/obese category for most of my adult life, I really think its the right thing for me.

So I've been sober two and a bit years and I am the mother of the most wonderful little boy. Getting pregnant got me sober and being a parent keeps me sober.  I don't know if anyone would understand this but being obese also keeps me sober. I hardly ever go out at night and I haven't even thought about another relationship or men in general, since this whole saga began. At the beginning, I was too broken for a relationship, now I'm just too fat. But a healthy relationship is something that I want but it frightens me so much at the same time.

Will losing weight and feeling good about my body be enough to make me want to go out and meet people but also tempt me to drink again? Its a frightening thought but honestly, I don't think so (the drink party I mean, not the meeting people!). Writing this blog has made me realise that. I am so far away from that shell shocked girl that came back from London in June 2007. I am a strong and resilient woman who has come back from the brink of oblivion and I'm ready to let go of this mask, this armour, and let the new and fabulous me come out and shine!

Next time I post I will be banded! It is midnight so I must go to bed.

Vanessa

The diet to end all diets

My anxiety is bordering on out of control at the moment. I'm so worried about the surgery now. Worried that my anxiety will cause another physical symptom that will stop me from having the surgery, worried I'll wake up after the anesthetic and wish I hadn't gone through with it, worried about food envy when other people are eating yummy stuff and I can only handle a few sips of water, worried about the pain, worried about not being able to give Noo Noo any proper cuddles for a week, worried that I will still eat bad food and not lose the weight after so much time, effort and money has gone into this - THE DIET TO END ALL DIETS (supposedly)!

I'm just managing to stop myself from screaming or crying or biting somebody's head off by resorting to my old standby - food. God, I've been a little piggy this week!

My other method of self soothing is shopping.  I absolutely love to shop. When I gave up cigs and booze I took up shopping and eating. I racked up a terrible credit card debt over a six months period last year which will take me five years to pay off.  What an idiot, hey! I love to buy shoes, clothes, books, cosmetics, electrical appliances, baby clothes, toys, have my hair done, massages, manicures, eat out - you name it, I love to spend money on it. I even love going grocery shopping. Anything where money changes hands. Crazy and expensive and self destructive.

The last couple of days I've enjoyed a little retail therapy. I bought some ultra comfy ecco walking shoes. They are red and fit my orthotics in them perfectly. They are much more suitable for long distance walking than my Converse were. If I'm going to be doing minimum half hour of exercise a day after this band goes in, I need decent walking shoes.

I also bought up supplies for my liquid diet - box of Optifast chocolate shakes, Berocca, V8, tomato juice, Up & Go, drinking yogurt, Iced Tea.

I got two new nighties for the hospital. They are quite nice considering they are Maggie T plus size nighties, simple and black knit.

I got my eyebrows shaped and my eyelashes tinted, as I figured I will not be up to applying make up next week.

I bought myself a book called The Non-Designers Design Book as it was recommended by my design teacher at TAFE as being pretty good book for the basics in design principles. While I was at Dymocks I also got Dad his birthday present - a text book for Photoshop Elements - which he is obsessed with at the moment, to put together all his travel photos into slide shows. 

I also went to Daryl Lee (Australia's best chocolate shop, in my view) and got him the "Dad's Bag" which is 1.2 kgs of choccies and lollies and of course had to get a couple of bags of my fave sweets while I was there.

I've been to my favourite bakery - The Central Baking Depot - and bought my favourite bread (sourdough) to consume over the next three days before bread will no longer be a part of my diet (sob, sob). Of course, also had to get some of their delicious white chocolate and date brownies and almond croissants to ensure I get my last fill of them too.

I've been to my favourite dumpling place twice this week for lunch and now I'm a little sick of those gorgeous little parcels of deliciousness. One of my good friends also took me out for my last steak at this lovely resaurant down at The Rocks called Pony Lounge & Dining.

I just wish my op was tomorrow! This week is dragging so badly (despite all the shopping and eating). I just want to get it over and done with. At least I have a few good things planned for the weekend to make the time pass more quickly including a friend's birthday dinner tomorrow night and my sister and I are going to take Noo to the zoo on Saturday, as long as the sunshine comes back.

Well, that is enough whinging and whining for me, I'm off to bed to have an early night.

V.

PS Thought I'd leave you with a design I've been working on for school all day using Photoshop. 

These are my initials

This was taken from a picture of my hand:

I got this tattoo in February 2008

The Rocks

Well it's been another beautiful weekend in Sydney Town. Mum has been down from the Blue Mountains keeping me company again and its been so great hanging out with her. Yesterday we went to the Orange Grove food markets and met up with my sister Yo and her husband Cal, who were joined by some friends with their gorgeous little girl, Eden.

The markets are in a little primary school so they are enclosed by fences which allowed Noo to run free for a while. Well if you call being shadowed by your mother everywhere you go free, then it was. I am what is now called a "helicopter" parent. A parent who hovers by the child anxiously trying to avoid any accidents of any kind. I just can't help myself! It drives Noo and me both crazy but I just couldn't just stand there idly, watching him fall over and hurt himself badly. I know you're suppose to let them explore the world to discover things themselves but I just hate the anxiety of it all. Sometimes I think I need a Valium just to get through half an hour at a kids play gym. I try to stand back and count to 10 but always end up shouting across the playground "Noo, Noo, be careful!" or whatever it is at the time. He is only 20 months after all. I never thought I'd be like that as a parent, but I'm just so paranoid about something happening to him.

The markets have fabulous food and one of the stalls that's been there since the markets first began back in the early 00s has the best bacon and egg rolls in Sydney. For $6 bucks you get the freshest white bread roll with two eggs, two thin and crispy rashes of bacon topped with the sauce of your choice - we had barbecue. Food heaven. My surgery postponement was worth it just for that experience! We also had these steamed (go figure!) muffins with apple and cinnamon, pumpkin and orange marmalade, and bacon, cheese and zucchini. Delicious!

We topped our day off by picking up some groceries at Broadway Shopping Centre. Noo fell asleep in his stroller while we were walking around and so he could sleep mum and I went for an frappacino at Gloria Jeans which was very decadent, topped with whipped cream and caramel sauce. So, so naughty! I think mum is looking forward to me getting my band as much as I am because I'll then be less of a bad influence on her eating.

And more bad eating continued today. Mum, Noo and I spent the day walking around The Rocks which is where we live and which is the oldest settled area of Australia. The Rocks on Sydney Harbour is where my ancestors first settled back in 1788 when the First Fleet came in with its cargo of convicts, including my great, great, great grandfather, who was transported from England for stealing a bolt of fabric in 1786. Walking the cobbled streets of The Rocks always makes me think of them and their struggles to forge a life for themselves in a hostile new land.

We had delicious lunch at this gorgeous little French patisserie, sitting in the courtyard to enjoy a chicken baguette for mum and a sausage roll with salad for me. We finished off with a great cappuccino and the most divine cakes I've had for a while.

I've been documenting what I ate this weekend because I'm starting to get very nervous about letting this lifestyle go. I just love hanging out at cafes drinking coffee and eating cake, especially while Noo enjoys his midday snooze. Cafes really have replaced pubs for me, now I just need to find something to replace the cafes!

I am really getting sick of waiting and talking about this operation now. I just want it already! The anticipation is killing me. I've looked at so many blogs, reading so many different people's stories of their experiences that I'm so ready to just jump in and do it myself, but alas there is still another week to go. I've just got to keep busy and hopefully the time will pass by quickly. I've got to keep chilled about it too because I don't need another anxiety related physical attack.

I've babbled on way too much tonight. I'll just end with a couple of photos. One is a photo mum took of me last Thursday and the other is my gorgeous little Noo Noo.

Me with new dress and scarf

Growing up so fast!

Good night.

V.

One day at a time

I've been really slack and haven't written since the whole neck incident. I've been so enthralled with the election, spending all my time online reading analysis of the result, or lack of one, as Australia waits for these three Independent MPs decide who will govern our nation. In my opinion, we should go back to the polls and let the Australian people have another go at voting who should lead our country, not three blokes from the bush.

Ah, but enough of politics, this is predominately a weightloss blog after all.

I had a lovely day today with mum and Noo. We started it slowly, laying about reading the papers (me online, mum the old fashioned way) while Noo watched kid's TV until he could stand it no more and had to get out of the apartment. We took a walk from home down to the Harbour to stroll around Walsh Bay and then Campbell's Cove and up to George Street to get the bus to the other side of town. It was such a lovely sunny day and the Harbour was sparkling blue with lots of boats - ferries, yachts and big ocean liners - floating along in the considerable August wind.

We went to one of my favourite restaurants in Sydney, Din Tai Fung, for lunch.  It is a dumpling and noodle restaurant and you usually have to queue to get a table, like we did today. Noo was asleep when we arrived but awoke not long after, in a 'terrible twos' kind of mood. He's been starting to show real impatience when he doesn't get things his way and playing up to get attention or what he wants.  It's a challenging time and I think its only going to get worse - as he does what kids do at this age - before it gets better. I've got a couple of parenting books for advice but I suppose its just a matter of going with what feels right for both of us.

Overall though, he was his usual gorgeous self, slurping up noodles and flirting with the girls on the next table.  We walked back up town after lunch through to the Queen Victoria Building to catch the bus back to The Rocks.

My sister and a very good friend of mine popped in after they finished work, which was lovely. My friend brought some of the most delicious cheese that I've tasted in ages, along with some great salamis and olives. I just love good quality cheese and antipasti type 'nosh' food, as my mum calls it. They are loaded with fat and calories so it will be au revoir fromage from Monday week for me.

Ah, Monday 6 September, my new D day, or B day it really is. After this week's surgery postponement I'm not as excited as I was last week, still having nine days to go but I'm sure that excitement/anxiety will come back as the new date nears.

I saw my psych yesterday who suggested the said excitement/anxiety about the op probably had something to do with my waking up with a wry neck last Friday and I tend to agree.  My anxiety has always shown itself physically when it gets really bad so I just hope I can keep it under control by the time 6 September is here.

Well that's enough from me today. I've started putting together a few new pages, including a goals page and I'm hoping to also add a 'positive thoughts' page to go to once the band is in and I'm feeling like I need a little motivation to get through. My psych is getting me to prepare in advance for any relapses in bad behaviour (eg pigging out for comfort or self sabotage) before they occur. This new lifestyle I'm planning for myself is very much about addiction control as it is anything else and, just like when I gave up alcohol and cigarettes, I will need to take one day at a time!

V.

Some pics I took with my iPhone yesterday:

Noo eating a 'Delta Cream', Australia's answer to the Oreo

Playing with stickers while waiting for Nan at the dentist

Self portrait with the Hipstamatic

A pain in the neck - surgery postponed

What a couple of days it has been!  I was all set after my trip to the clinic last week to see the dietitian.  I had my goodie bag with all the tools I could possibly need for the few days post surgery, I had Noo booked in for the whole week at day care, my parents were set to stay down in the city to help out, I'd even made up some yummy broth in little baby food containers to help get me through the liquid phase.  

On Friday morning, Noo and I were going to drive up to the Blue Mountains (a 2.5 hour drive from here in the city of Sydney) so I could watch the federal election countdown with my parents on Saturday night.  We woke up at our usual time around 6.30am after what was a particularly restful sleep.  My son shares my double bed with me.  He has his own bed, always has had, but has spent most of his life sleeping in with me.  Most of the time I don't mind this - he is a human hot water bottle who loves to cuddle - sometimes it can be terrible as I get heels and toes in the face if he is having an unsettled night.

So I get woken up with the usual "hi! hi!", cuddle, cuddle, "hi!" and I feel fine.  We then do the usual - me - trip to the loo, Noo - change nappy, get brekky, feed Noo, start to tidy up, put washing on, then ouch, oooh, my neck hurts a bit.  I'm thinking, what a pain, I'll have to do that long drive up with a stiff neck.  I start rubbing from behind my right ear along my right shoulder because its really starting to pain now.  After getting Noo cleaned up and out of the highchair I put The Wiggles (Noo's favourite show) and lay down on the floor thinking I just need to straighten out a bit.  Nup, that hurts more.  By this time I'm thinking I won't be able to drive on the motorway until this settles down a bit. My movement by this stage is really starting to get restricted.

So I call my parents and say I'm going to be delayed.  I tell them that my neck is killing me but it should pass in a couple of hours because I've got a heat pack on it and that usually helps (the same thing happened three weeks before but not nearly as badly).  I couldn't of course take anti inflammatory medication because my surgery was on Monday and I wasn't suppose to take any of that within three days of the op so I just take a couple of paracetamol.

Not long after that the pain is so excruciating and I can't move my neck at all. I have to hold it kind of face forward and slightly to the left. It feels like all the muscles on the right side of my neck have scrunched up and tightened. My shoulders are moving further up toward my ears trying to relieve the strain.  I call my mum again, by now I'm crying. Really crying. I hadn't felt pain like that since I gave birth.  It was mind blowing, in a bad way. Noo was being really good just staring at The Wiggles occasionally looking around looking a bit lost and not knowing what to do.  I've always hid my tears from him but there was no way I could control it on Friday. I was completely freaking out. What was I going to do? Mum and dad were miles away and my sister was at work.

On the phone I'm saying to mum "talk me through this! I'm freaking out, what do I do?". Oh my god, it was horrific. Finally she says she'll call my brother to come in and help out with Noo. By this stage I'm still thinking I just need a really good rub and everything will be ok. Then my brother shows up and asks if I want him to take me to Emergency. Instead of panicking he provides much needed calm so that I can start thinking again. 

My sister then gets in contact, she can get me into an osteopath early in the afternoon. I've never believed in osteos - I'm a physiotherapy person - but I couldn't get into the physio so the osteo it is. As I live in the city and there's no parking in the centre of town anyway, my brother, Noo and I walk in through one of the busiest times of the day. Suits are hastily marching everywhere, trying to make the most of their lunch hour. I'm walking along like a freak with my head cocked awkwardly, my hair still wet and clumsily held back with a band I struggled to put on, desperately trying not to bump into anyone. Each step is like a jolt of lightning through my shoulder and I'm gasping out loud as I move.

In my haste to the leave the apartment I've not checked the time and we're half an hour early.  I leave my brother with Noo in the stroller so they can go for a walk while I get this disaster looked at. While I'm sitting in the waiting room, I start to think "what the hell am I doing here?". Why didn't I just go straight to the ER as my brother suggested? Time goes by and finally my name is called.  The guy seems nice enough and I'm trying desperately not to cry. He tells me to lay down on the massage table but I can't move! Leaning to the side trying to lower myself is out of this world kind of pain. He insists I lay down and helps me on to my back and I'm screaming. Its like torture. Pure torture as pain shoots left, right and centre through my neck, my shoulders, my spine, my right arm. I'm crying as my body refuses to yield until finally I find myself in a horizontal position with my head in this guys hands.

The osteo attempts to rotate my head to see how much range I have and its extremely limited. He's telling me all this stuff and asking me questions but I'm barely listening, I'm just trying not to move too much. I so should have gone to the hospital. I need drugs! I need them now! Heavy ones. Morphine maybe. Because this is hardcore. Finally I'm back sitting up and I tell the guy I'm off to the hospital and hightale it outa there after dropping a considerable amount of cash just to have some guy hold my head. 

I leave the pseudo-physician thinking that's it, I seriously am off to the hospital until I realise that that will just cause more waiting and the pain is so bad I just don't think I can withstand it any more. My general practitioner's office is near but closed Friday arvos. Luckily though when I meet up with my bro and Noo again we find one just about 20 metres down George Street from where I am waiting for them.

I see a GP who, unlike the non-doctor osteopath, can prescribe me painkillers.  He doesn't even touch my body and says I should take it very easy and not to have anyone attempt to manipulate the area until the pain subsides. I tell him I'm due to have gastric band surgery on Monday. "No, you're not." I have a "wry neck" apparently and I won't be fit for surgery for at least a week. I'm shattered but not surprised.

After reading so many stories about other people's surgery and how they feel post-op, I know that most complain of pain in the left shoulder as a result of gas being pumped into the abdomen during the procedure. All day I had been thinking I don't think I could bare the pain of the recovery plus this neck problem but still I was disappointed to hear it from the doctor.

When I return home pumped with Di-Gesic and anti inflammatory meds I call the clinic and tell them I have to postpone. They are actually quite good about it and I'm now set for 6 September. Two more weeks of eating chocolate! Well that's what I am telling myself to combat the feelings of disappointment. It still leaves me four months to drop the kegs before our Christmas holiday down the coast too.

So that's my story and the countdown continues. 15 sleeps to go.

V.

That's what friends are for...

Had my first appointment with the dietitian this morning. Its all starting feel more real with every day that passes. I'm getting my band done at the OClinic in Sydney.  The staff are all really nice which is important seeing I'll be going over the Bridge (Sydney Harbour) every month for check ups for the foreseeable future.  I was weighed on arrival today and surprisingly have lost 1.2 kgs.  Amazing!  I think I'm psychologically preparing for next week without even knowing it.

At my appointment the dietitian explained to me the liquid diet and then the mushies phase.  Its going to be a very interesting month as my diet will be changing dramatically.  Its gonna be like going to sugar and fat rehab.  I'm a little anxious about it actually.  I had to fast this morning before having a blood test (the cause of the weightloss?) and I felt so sick and had a terrible headache because I was so hungry.  Does anyone else get this?  I literally feel really, really nauseated if I don't eat regularly.  I just hope that the band sends the right messages to my brain otherwise I will struggle with the half a cup of food per meal.

I got a starter pack from the clinic which included a cook book, some sachets of Optifast, and a shake shaker, Benefibre, a pedometer, measuring tape and a plate that shows exactly how much food you can eat and what types of food should eat.  It also has a circle printed on it which shows you the diametre of hole into the stomach once banded.  An excellent pack of goodies I thought.

After my appointment I went to visit a very good old friend of mine who runs a cafe in the inner city.  We only catch up every couple of months but its always like no time has passed.  I have loads of really good friends like this.  Friends where the passage of time does not put distance in the friendship.  

On Monday night I also caught up with old friends.  These were two girls I worked with back in 2001.  One I hadn't seen since then, the other I had only caught up a couple of times over the last decade.   All three of us had gone through so many changes over that time including getting married, having kids, etc, but there was no awkwardness as we laughed while reminiscing about old times. It was such a great night.  I'm so lucky to have so many great friends. 

One of the big things that I'm worried about post surgery is giving up Diet Coke.  It has been one of my addictions for so long.  I love it.  Truly love the taste of an icy cold can of Diet Coke.  Since getting sober it has been even more my drink of choice.  I only have two cans a day but if I have a bad day I might have a third and a fourth can, just like I would have beer back in the old days.  After the op I will just have to let my Coke go flat so I can drink it because I don't think I can give it up entirely.

Another thing that I love, that's not something I put in my gob, is my iPhone.  I love technology and gadgets.  I always have.  I've been able to hook up a home entertainment system with stereos, tvs and videos since I was about 10 years old.  My iPhone fulfills so many of my needs, both practical and emotional.  I've gone through 4 iPods all of which I've loved and carried with me all the time.  

Music is also another love of mine, although I don't dedicate the same amount of time I use to pre parenthood.  The only gigs I've been to since Noo was born are Fleetwood Mac (excellent) late last year and LCD Soundsystem (awesome) and Hot Chip (also fantastic) a couple of weeks ago.  Since putting on this much weight I can't stand up for long periods of time so thankfully those concerts were seated.  I couldn't go to venues where there isn't seating as I'd wake up the next morning with swollen knees.  

I have a terrible skeletal structure - my legs are hypermobile and my knees knock (what an attractive picture I must be painting!).  I also badly injured my left knee about five years ago which causes me a lot of trouble trying to carry around 98 kegs on.  This injury has also now caused problems with my left hip and ankle.  I've had so many physiotherapy sessions for it and bought expensive orthotic inner soles but really nothing will help until I get the weight down.  This is one of my prime motivations for losing the weight.  I really don't want to be having knee reconstructions any time soon!

Back to the iPhone, I've found a couple of apps that are to help bandsters track weightloss and fills.  They are Barimate and My Band Fill.  Does anyone have experience with these?  Was hoping to get some user experience before deciding which one to purchase.

Well that's all from me today.  I hope anyone reading this is well.

V.

PS. This is a picture of me before I started stacking it on in 2007.  I was about 75kgs in this pic...

I want to look like this again! (Including being 3 years younger.)

Denim jeans. I love them.

Can't believe this time next week I will be getting ready to go into hospital!

Only a week left and I haven't even been having any serious binges this weekend.  I hope its like when I quit drinking.  At the end I couldn't really even stomach it.  I was a full on beer and wine drinker when I lived in London but in the last couple of months before I finally kicked it for good, I couldn't stomach either unless it was doused in lemonade.  I hope it turns out the same with chocolate and lollies and all the other treats I've been shoving down my gob.  I even walked past family size blocks of Cadbury's for $2.50 on sale at Target today!  That's over half price!  There's also a tub of ice cream in the freezer I have not touched all weekend.  Crazy times.

Noo has been waking up at 5.30 am these last few mornings so I very tired so this entry will be brief.  Also, I have just spent the last hour writing a complaint email.  Won't go into details about it but gees, those kind of communications are exhausting.  I don't like confrontation but I will stand up for my rights.

I've started to get a little anxious about the op itself.  Oh and living on liquids for a couple of weeks, but mainly the pain of the operation and the recovery rate is concerning me slightly.  I have to rely on my dad and my sister to help with lifting my boy while I'm recovering and I don't want to burden them too much.  

Noo is 11.7kgs, I weighed him this afternoon.  I weighed in a 99kgs exactly.  The highest I've ever been is 104kgs but I was 9 months pregnant that time.  After Noo was born I went down to about 95 but that was it.  I've been hovering around 91-99kgs ever since and he is 20 months now.  I look like I've been preggers with the second kid for nearly two years!  

God, I can't wait til I start losing it again.  I remember when I was living overseas I hovered around 75-85kgs.  I hated being 85 kegs then but now I just dream of being in the 80s!  Oh my god, when I get to see a 7 on the scales I'll be crying tears of pure joy!

I went through a pile of jeans I've kept over the years that are too small for me.  I haven't been able to wear jeans at all this year because I refused to get a larger size.  I just can't wait to wear them again.  Denim jeans. I love them.  I even have the pair I used to wear clubbing when I was 22.  They are a size 12 and barely go on one leg now but I tell you what, I'm gonna get in those jeans again one day!  I also have a gorgeous pair of 7 For All  Mankind jeans I spent 250 quid on in 2007, just before I started stacking it on.  I fantasise about the day I can wear them again all the time.

Dreaming of the day...

With that thought I am going to go to bed now to dream of tight fitting denim wrapped around my little butt of the future!

Thank you for all your comments welcoming me to the blogging world.  Look forward to reading more of your stories.

V.