Think about 1978. How old were you? What were you doing? What was your future? 1978.
I think about 1978 alot lately. Not because I am old, although that might have a bit to do with it. We cannot help but think about our past as we age. As we go through changes. As we deal with today. I hope I am not obsessing with 1978 for those reasons.
I seem to obsess about alot of things lately.
Right now it is 1978. Again I ask, what were you doing. I know what I was doing. In July 1978, I was in Connecticut. Plebe Summer at the US Coast Guard. I was in the best shape of my life. I was running 3-5 miles per day. I was running up and down 3 flights of stairs, several times per day. I was running everywhere.
I had just graduated from High School. I was 17. I had been a pretty dang good high school football player. Involved in school government. Straight A student. Getting ready to play football at the Academy. I was in great shape.
My Dad, Grandmother and Papa were all still alive. I don't want to talk about that any more. But I do miss them all.
Where is this going. I will reiterate, I was in the best shape of my life. I weighed 221 rock hard pounds of football fury. Heh, that was silly.
Fast forward 28 years. 2007. Sick, tired. 447 Pounds, Fat. Dying. Fat. Unhappy. I don't want to talk about that anymore.
So why do I write today? Why do I put this drivel on paper?
Fast Forward 2 years. July 2009. Many changes, health. 2 Surgeries. Wife healthy. OMG - new obsessions. But I weighed myself this morning. 220 pounds. Yep thats right. 220 pounds. 220 pounds of not so rock hard football fury.
I liked July 1978. I love July 2009!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Half the man I was!
I am researching half the man I used to be. Songs written by Clint Black, Merle Haggard, a real strange one by Nirvana.
Usually when one refers to being half the man he used to be, it is a negative thing. I am not there today. As today, I am half the man I used to be. Not because she made me that way, as Merle croons. She has not broke me down and made me half the man.
Today, I have lost 223.5 pounds. Today I weigh 223.5 pounds. Yep, I am half the man I was. It is a good day.
Half the man I used to be! It is a very good day! Indeed!
Usually when one refers to being half the man he used to be, it is a negative thing. I am not there today. As today, I am half the man I used to be. Not because she made me that way, as Merle croons. She has not broke me down and made me half the man.
Today, I have lost 223.5 pounds. Today I weigh 223.5 pounds. Yep, I am half the man I was. It is a good day.
Half the man I used to be! It is a very good day! Indeed!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Fainting
Not me. I did not faint, but I will get there.
Today I am Post-op + 8 days. I am surprised by many things. Let me think. I am surprised by the pain. Or should I say lack of pain. ok true, I am a firm believer in chemicals. Living by modern chemical science, whatever. But I have been told that this was the holy mother of God painful surgery that would have me crunched over in pain and doubt. It has just really not been there. The worst has been the JP drain sites and Doc Hollins removed two of the drains today. The incision just has not been that bad. At worst, the incision site has been a 3-4 on a scale of 10, and that was after 10 hours with no pain meds, 1 hour in the car, no breakfast and a tough night sleeping.
The reasons the JP drain sites hurt, again is not really the drain itself, but the sutures holding the drain in place. If the drains move and pulls, or there is oozing from around the drain and the oozing hardens into my and pubies. Yes I said oozing and pubis and all of my kids on facebook are a little grossed out right now, then I get really painful localized pinching and pulling around the drain site. (Note to self - recommend Brazillian Wax prior to surgery to all those contemplating) The good thing about the JP drains is that there are two less right now. The drainage was less than 15 cc for the last 24 hours for 2 of the 3 drains, and actually was for the last 2 days. Doc said he normally does not remove so early, but he is keeping one in and I am healing up great. He expects to see that one remaining drain keep draining at 30-40 cc per day for a few days. When that one gets to less than 20, (expect next week) he will pull it, Yay - no more robo hoses protruding from my body.
Doc also pulled the steri-strips off the major incision today. Looks great, pretty symmetrical and is healing up great. I am down about 9 pounds from before the surgery which is kind of cool.
I am surprised by the amount of bruising. On both of my hips I have bruises 6 or so inches above and below the incision. Doc did some lipo at the hips and it is really bruised, as is my nether regions. The bruising is is heavy black and blue and starting to get some beautiful sunflower yellow out of it. Yuck. There also seems to be some potential pooling of fluids on my left side above the major incision, we need to keep an eye on, but Doc is not worried.
Doc re-prescribed more chemicals, yay, and all in all I am feeling pretty good. Oh yeah, the fainting part. Doc had a young Kid "Shadowing" him today. Probably a 19 year old college student. Bad Shirt, Bad Tie, Cheap Shoes. I believe he was trying to determine if he wanted to go to Med School or not. So Doc stood me up, took off the steri-strips and decided to to remove two of the drains. All was well. So Doc snipped the sutures, and proceeded to remove the drain, which was really kind of cool. About 8 or so inches of tygone tubing in me being pulled out slowly. There was a bit of blood, and I looked over at the young shadow, and said "Cool"! I turned back to Doc and we heard a crumple in the corner. The Young Shadow fainted. Poor kid. He was all embarrassed, and apologizing. Doc told him to stay on the ground, proceeded to remove the other drain and clean me up. Poor Kid. Maybe there is a future in Auto-Mechanics! Funny funny stuff!
Be well all and I will keep you updated.
Today I am Post-op + 8 days. I am surprised by many things. Let me think. I am surprised by the pain. Or should I say lack of pain. ok true, I am a firm believer in chemicals. Living by modern chemical science, whatever. But I have been told that this was the holy mother of God painful surgery that would have me crunched over in pain and doubt. It has just really not been there. The worst has been the JP drain sites and Doc Hollins removed two of the drains today. The incision just has not been that bad. At worst, the incision site has been a 3-4 on a scale of 10, and that was after 10 hours with no pain meds, 1 hour in the car, no breakfast and a tough night sleeping.
The reasons the JP drain sites hurt, again is not really the drain itself, but the sutures holding the drain in place. If the drains move and pulls, or there is oozing from around the drain and the oozing hardens into my and pubies. Yes I said oozing and pubis and all of my kids on facebook are a little grossed out right now, then I get really painful localized pinching and pulling around the drain site. (Note to self - recommend Brazillian Wax prior to surgery to all those contemplating) The good thing about the JP drains is that there are two less right now. The drainage was less than 15 cc for the last 24 hours for 2 of the 3 drains, and actually was for the last 2 days. Doc said he normally does not remove so early, but he is keeping one in and I am healing up great. He expects to see that one remaining drain keep draining at 30-40 cc per day for a few days. When that one gets to less than 20, (expect next week) he will pull it, Yay - no more robo hoses protruding from my body.
Doc also pulled the steri-strips off the major incision today. Looks great, pretty symmetrical and is healing up great. I am down about 9 pounds from before the surgery which is kind of cool.
I am surprised by the amount of bruising. On both of my hips I have bruises 6 or so inches above and below the incision. Doc did some lipo at the hips and it is really bruised, as is my nether regions. The bruising is is heavy black and blue and starting to get some beautiful sunflower yellow out of it. Yuck. There also seems to be some potential pooling of fluids on my left side above the major incision, we need to keep an eye on, but Doc is not worried.
Doc re-prescribed more chemicals, yay, and all in all I am feeling pretty good. Oh yeah, the fainting part. Doc had a young Kid "Shadowing" him today. Probably a 19 year old college student. Bad Shirt, Bad Tie, Cheap Shoes. I believe he was trying to determine if he wanted to go to Med School or not. So Doc stood me up, took off the steri-strips and decided to to remove two of the drains. All was well. So Doc snipped the sutures, and proceeded to remove the drain, which was really kind of cool. About 8 or so inches of tygone tubing in me being pulled out slowly. There was a bit of blood, and I looked over at the young shadow, and said "Cool"! I turned back to Doc and we heard a crumple in the corner. The Young Shadow fainted. Poor kid. He was all embarrassed, and apologizing. Doc told him to stay on the ground, proceeded to remove the other drain and clean me up. Poor Kid. Maybe there is a future in Auto-Mechanics! Funny funny stuff!
Be well all and I will keep you updated.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The Haze
I think about what I want to remember on surgery days. Because I have had two major surgeries now, and they were both planned, i could prepare. I had time to think about what I wanted to do, what I wanted to remember, and with this surgery, almost pre-plan what I wanted to write about. Funny, the twists planning brings us.
I wanted to remember the name of my Anesthesiologist. I wanted to remember the music playing in the Operating Room. I wanted to remember my time in the recovery room, so I could accurately write about it.
I can't. I don't. It's a haze. That drives me crazy.
I like to think that I have a great memory. Great recall of events, and I cannot remember. How damn hard is it to remember a song, even a genre? Dr. Hollins seems like a classical music guy. Definitely not opera. If not classical, then classic rock for sure. I don't see Boot Scootin Boogie playing in the OR while he is performing his art. Yes, I said art. He is an artist. So I want to think it was Classical, and unless he tells me, I will never know. I can't freaking remember.
It's a haze.
I cannot remember the Drug Dealers name either. I call her the Drug Dealer, truthfully because it is easier than thinking about the spelling of Anesthesiologist every time, and she gets paid to make me feel good. Really, that is her job. She gets paid to ensure I feel no pain. Make the cares of the world go away. I Imagine it would be difficult to be the child of an Anesthe...Hell, Drug Dealer. Think about your kid having to take you to share a parent day and your child having to write Anesthesiologist on the board in front of the class. It would be traumatic, and again since her job was to make me feel good - I choose to call her my Drug Dealer. I get the really good stuff from her.
She gave me the Haze.
Again, I remember nothing about the recovery room. Must be a really boring unremarkable place, as I have no memories of it.
It is a Haze.
I don't remember my ride to my room. Haze.
Wait, I think we bumped into the wall while I was being transported. Not sure. Haze.
I guess it is good that it all was a haze. There was a movie released in December of 2007 called "Awake". It talks about the,omg, fact that 30000 people per year actually feel something during surgery and remember it. From pulling to, you guessed it, the whole kit and caboodle. Yes complete cutting, tearing and ripping. Now that deserves an OMG. 100 people per day, awake enough during surgery to feel and remember it.
It is a haze. I am glad it was.
So here I am, day one of the new me. And it is a haze. I know, bad grammar. I never promised proper grammar with this blog. Just stories. Today, it is a haze, and for that I thank my Drug Dealer.
Now I am wondering why I have the song, I've got friends in low places, stuck running through my head????? Hmmm, it's a haze.
I wanted to remember the name of my Anesthesiologist. I wanted to remember the music playing in the Operating Room. I wanted to remember my time in the recovery room, so I could accurately write about it.
I can't. I don't. It's a haze. That drives me crazy.
I like to think that I have a great memory. Great recall of events, and I cannot remember. How damn hard is it to remember a song, even a genre? Dr. Hollins seems like a classical music guy. Definitely not opera. If not classical, then classic rock for sure. I don't see Boot Scootin Boogie playing in the OR while he is performing his art. Yes, I said art. He is an artist. So I want to think it was Classical, and unless he tells me, I will never know. I can't freaking remember.
It's a haze.
I cannot remember the Drug Dealers name either. I call her the Drug Dealer, truthfully because it is easier than thinking about the spelling of Anesthesiologist every time, and she gets paid to make me feel good. Really, that is her job. She gets paid to ensure I feel no pain. Make the cares of the world go away. I Imagine it would be difficult to be the child of an Anesthe...Hell, Drug Dealer. Think about your kid having to take you to share a parent day and your child having to write Anesthesiologist on the board in front of the class. It would be traumatic, and again since her job was to make me feel good - I choose to call her my Drug Dealer. I get the really good stuff from her.
She gave me the Haze.
Again, I remember nothing about the recovery room. Must be a really boring unremarkable place, as I have no memories of it.
It is a Haze.
I don't remember my ride to my room. Haze.
Wait, I think we bumped into the wall while I was being transported. Not sure. Haze.
I guess it is good that it all was a haze. There was a movie released in December of 2007 called "Awake". It talks about the,omg, fact that 30000 people per year actually feel something during surgery and remember it. From pulling to, you guessed it, the whole kit and caboodle. Yes complete cutting, tearing and ripping. Now that deserves an OMG. 100 people per day, awake enough during surgery to feel and remember it.
It is a haze. I am glad it was.
So here I am, day one of the new me. And it is a haze. I know, bad grammar. I never promised proper grammar with this blog. Just stories. Today, it is a haze, and for that I thank my Drug Dealer.
Now I am wondering why I have the song, I've got friends in low places, stuck running through my head????? Hmmm, it's a haze.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Countdown to a New Me
I just had my pre-op conversation with Mary Kay - the access nurse for the University of Nebraska Medical Center. She seemed nice, and genuinely concerned for me. Don't ever be mean to a nurse. They make hospital life bearable, and don't get near the credit they deserve.
We went over my surgery plans, health history, etc. Amazing how much the answers have changed since the original surgery. Not even 2 years ago, and I was dying. Yes dying. Much quicker than I am dying today. It is hard to imagine how sick I was two years ago. What is more difficult, is how could I have ignored it so? How could I let myself get that way? I still have not figured that one out. If you are contemplating Gastric Bypass Surgery, one of the things that is recommended is continued therapy or counseling.
Do that. Deal with the issues. Deal with what got you to obese, or morbidly obese, or as in my case Super Morbidly Obese. There has to be a reason. Has to be something that kicked you into overdrive on ignoring your health. Being this far into it, I sometimes chuckle when people say it is genetic, or its my metabolism. For the most part, those folks are still in denial. It is the calories fool, and the fact that for some reason you don't want to take care of yourself. I still don't know what my reason was, but I have decided to go on the quest to find out. When this final surgery is over - that will be my quest. Find out what caused me to do this to myself. Not blame others, I did this. I gained the weight. I caused this, and I need to find out why.
I wrote about mortality yesterday. Not because I have any concerns about the surgery. But I have begun to wonder about how I will be remembered. Is that vanity? SWMBO says, and I agree, I am vane. I admit it. Is it vanity to be concerned with what people think about you? How one will be remembered? Is vanity such a bad thing? Is it bad to want to look nice for someone, to not embarrass them? I believe if you are consumed with anything, it is bad. Just as being consumed with vanity would be bad. But I don't think it is bad to desire to better yourself, in many different ways. I want to be better. A better father first. I want to be an awesome grandfather. I want to be an awesome husband. It is strange that I put those in that order. I want to be a better employee - sorry GE - you are number 4 on the list. I want to play the guitar, paint, write, dream and do all those things with passion.
I want to sail around the world. I want to run on the beach, a very private beach- naked (Sorry Jason and Brooke - Dad running naked probably not a great visual) - and I will say it again, a very private beach! All my Christian friends are going to chastise me for that one - and Brooke will say Dad - you always go one step too far.
I am rambling today. Sorry about that. Random thoughts exploding out of my fingers. This has been a wild ride. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I will see all of you on the other side. Hopefully blogging tomorrow night or thursday, in a morphine or vicodin induced haze. I actually look forward to that. Last time I wrote under those circumstances, it was fun. My insights were funny and the stories were good. Thanks for all your well wishes. See you on Thursday!
We went over my surgery plans, health history, etc. Amazing how much the answers have changed since the original surgery. Not even 2 years ago, and I was dying. Yes dying. Much quicker than I am dying today. It is hard to imagine how sick I was two years ago. What is more difficult, is how could I have ignored it so? How could I let myself get that way? I still have not figured that one out. If you are contemplating Gastric Bypass Surgery, one of the things that is recommended is continued therapy or counseling.
Do that. Deal with the issues. Deal with what got you to obese, or morbidly obese, or as in my case Super Morbidly Obese. There has to be a reason. Has to be something that kicked you into overdrive on ignoring your health. Being this far into it, I sometimes chuckle when people say it is genetic, or its my metabolism. For the most part, those folks are still in denial. It is the calories fool, and the fact that for some reason you don't want to take care of yourself. I still don't know what my reason was, but I have decided to go on the quest to find out. When this final surgery is over - that will be my quest. Find out what caused me to do this to myself. Not blame others, I did this. I gained the weight. I caused this, and I need to find out why.
I wrote about mortality yesterday. Not because I have any concerns about the surgery. But I have begun to wonder about how I will be remembered. Is that vanity? SWMBO says, and I agree, I am vane. I admit it. Is it vanity to be concerned with what people think about you? How one will be remembered? Is vanity such a bad thing? Is it bad to want to look nice for someone, to not embarrass them? I believe if you are consumed with anything, it is bad. Just as being consumed with vanity would be bad. But I don't think it is bad to desire to better yourself, in many different ways. I want to be better. A better father first. I want to be an awesome grandfather. I want to be an awesome husband. It is strange that I put those in that order. I want to be a better employee - sorry GE - you are number 4 on the list. I want to play the guitar, paint, write, dream and do all those things with passion.
I want to sail around the world. I want to run on the beach, a very private beach- naked (Sorry Jason and Brooke - Dad running naked probably not a great visual) - and I will say it again, a very private beach! All my Christian friends are going to chastise me for that one - and Brooke will say Dad - you always go one step too far.
I am rambling today. Sorry about that. Random thoughts exploding out of my fingers. This has been a wild ride. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I will see all of you on the other side. Hopefully blogging tomorrow night or thursday, in a morphine or vicodin induced haze. I actually look forward to that. Last time I wrote under those circumstances, it was fun. My insights were funny and the stories were good. Thanks for all your well wishes. See you on Thursday!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Mortality
I find it fascinating that when I am getting ready for surgery, my thought seem to migrate to my mortality. Not that I worry about it. But I think about it. Think about the what ifs, the why's, the legacy. I am not at all worried about eternity. I have that one in hand, so I am promised. But I am thinking about the now.
What is a legacy? There is a line in a song that I like - "I want to leave a legacy, how will they remember me..?" What will I leave? What will I be remembered for? Whom have I impacted? Listen, I am not planning on dying this week. But as i said, fascinating how I tend to focus on my mortality in times like these. I hope I have affected people positively. I know I have done some stupid things. I know I have hurt some people. But overall, I hope I have done more good that bad. It is amazing how our minds work. Focusing on the bad memories, focusing on the hurt. The hurt and pain over-riding the joy and kindness.
Why does that happen? Why to we let the bad memories control our lives. Why do we sometimes live in the scars of the past? I know I am not answering anything here? Really just rambling thoughts being put down on paper? I try not to live there. Try not to live in the pain of the past, but in thinking about my mortality, all my memories come into play. Not just the good ones.
I want to leave a good legacy, I want people to remember me for the good that I did. The positive life I have led. I hope that is the way it is.
What is a legacy? There is a line in a song that I like - "I want to leave a legacy, how will they remember me..?" What will I leave? What will I be remembered for? Whom have I impacted? Listen, I am not planning on dying this week. But as i said, fascinating how I tend to focus on my mortality in times like these. I hope I have affected people positively. I know I have done some stupid things. I know I have hurt some people. But overall, I hope I have done more good that bad. It is amazing how our minds work. Focusing on the bad memories, focusing on the hurt. The hurt and pain over-riding the joy and kindness.
Why does that happen? Why to we let the bad memories control our lives. Why do we sometimes live in the scars of the past? I know I am not answering anything here? Really just rambling thoughts being put down on paper? I try not to live there. Try not to live in the pain of the past, but in thinking about my mortality, all my memories come into play. Not just the good ones.
I want to leave a good legacy, I want people to remember me for the good that I did. The positive life I have led. I hope that is the way it is.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Preparations
Eight Days. Eight days away from a scalpel. I am preparing in the only way I know how. That is to write what I am feeling. Write what I am thinking. I am listening to a cool mix that a friend gave me for my Ipod. I find it calms me. Helps me to think. Helps me to focus on the tasks ahead.
Today I am returning home from 7 days in upstate New York with my son and daughter-in-law. It was a celebration of their marriage. Yes they married 7 months ago, but we had the party this weekend. It was going seeing old friends, but I don’t know that I will ever live there again. I miss my son, his wife, her family, but that is really about it. Not much more. I really am enjoying my life in the Midwest, in fact it is now my life. Omaha is where the changes have take place. The changes in my body. The changes in my mindset. The changes in my life.
I believe the Midwest is now my home, and I am comfortable there. I don’t know where in the Midwest. But, I like it here. Especially Omaha and Minneapolis.
So, back to my preparations. Wednesday of this week I will have my pre surgery visit. Blood work, check up. Physical. Workups. Ready for the big day. Yesterday I put my sort term disability claim in. This is a requirement at GE for any illness over 7 days. Make sure you check your employer’s requirements. The disability payments do not kick in until 20 sick days out, but at least all the preps are complete and if recovery takes 6 weeks, I will be getting paid. As a good employee, they will continue to pay me 100% of my pay. I do not expect to be out more that three weeks as I am normally a pretty quick healer and seem to have a relatively high pain tolerance.
As far as the pain. I am starting to think about that pain more often. The knowledge that this surgery will be much more painful, or should I say the recovery from this surgery, is starting to weigh upon me. My WLS was six small holes, and 3-4 days into the surgery, the pain was really pretty minimal. I have heard and read that this could be easy, or very difficult. I don’t know where I will end up! I am trying not to think about it. But, it is beginning to weigh upon me. Continues to be that thought that is often in the back of my head. I will, in my way, keep all of you informed.
I have an “In Case Something Stupid Happens” file in my file cabinet. It is the first file in the drawer. Big letters. Bold.
SWMBO hates that file. Every Man, Father, Husband ought to have one of these files. Wives, girlfriends, lovers and children probably hate these files. Wives, lovers, girlfriends and children will cringe when they read this part. But I would not be a responsible Father and Husband if I did not have one of these. It has all the insurance information. The investment information. Locations of the stuff. In case something stupid happens.
Why am I afraid to say “If I die?” I find that fascinating.
When you have surgery, they make you sign a release, talking about side effects of the surgery your are having. Side effects of the anesthesia. One of the side effects is always death. I would feel so much better if one of the side effects were “Sometimes something stupid happens!” I don’t want something stupid to happen. But it could and I need to be prepared. Insurance papers. I will also call my financial advisor. Makes sure he know what my desires are for SWMBO and the Grommets. They really are not grommets any more, I just like calling them that.
I will also call my PCP this week. That is my “Primary Care Physician”. Make sure he knows I am going under the knife next week also.
So here I am. Eight days out. Waiting. Ready. Really. This is very cool!
Today I am returning home from 7 days in upstate New York with my son and daughter-in-law. It was a celebration of their marriage. Yes they married 7 months ago, but we had the party this weekend. It was going seeing old friends, but I don’t know that I will ever live there again. I miss my son, his wife, her family, but that is really about it. Not much more. I really am enjoying my life in the Midwest, in fact it is now my life. Omaha is where the changes have take place. The changes in my body. The changes in my mindset. The changes in my life.
I believe the Midwest is now my home, and I am comfortable there. I don’t know where in the Midwest. But, I like it here. Especially Omaha and Minneapolis.
So, back to my preparations. Wednesday of this week I will have my pre surgery visit. Blood work, check up. Physical. Workups. Ready for the big day. Yesterday I put my sort term disability claim in. This is a requirement at GE for any illness over 7 days. Make sure you check your employer’s requirements. The disability payments do not kick in until 20 sick days out, but at least all the preps are complete and if recovery takes 6 weeks, I will be getting paid. As a good employee, they will continue to pay me 100% of my pay. I do not expect to be out more that three weeks as I am normally a pretty quick healer and seem to have a relatively high pain tolerance.
As far as the pain. I am starting to think about that pain more often. The knowledge that this surgery will be much more painful, or should I say the recovery from this surgery, is starting to weigh upon me. My WLS was six small holes, and 3-4 days into the surgery, the pain was really pretty minimal. I have heard and read that this could be easy, or very difficult. I don’t know where I will end up! I am trying not to think about it. But, it is beginning to weigh upon me. Continues to be that thought that is often in the back of my head. I will, in my way, keep all of you informed.
I have an “In Case Something Stupid Happens” file in my file cabinet. It is the first file in the drawer. Big letters. Bold.
“In Case Something Stupid Happens”
SWMBO hates that file. Every Man, Father, Husband ought to have one of these files. Wives, girlfriends, lovers and children probably hate these files. Wives, lovers, girlfriends and children will cringe when they read this part. But I would not be a responsible Father and Husband if I did not have one of these. It has all the insurance information. The investment information. Locations of the stuff. In case something stupid happens.
Why am I afraid to say “If I die?” I find that fascinating.
When you have surgery, they make you sign a release, talking about side effects of the surgery your are having. Side effects of the anesthesia. One of the side effects is always death. I would feel so much better if one of the side effects were “Sometimes something stupid happens!” I don’t want something stupid to happen. But it could and I need to be prepared. Insurance papers. I will also call my financial advisor. Makes sure he know what my desires are for SWMBO and the Grommets. They really are not grommets any more, I just like calling them that.
I will also call my PCP this week. That is my “Primary Care Physician”. Make sure he knows I am going under the knife next week also.
So here I am. Eight days out. Waiting. Ready. Really. This is very cool!
Bellybuttons.
I am thinking about bellybuttons today. Is the correct spelling bellybuttons or belly buttons? Spell check corrects neither. I need to check on that.
I should not be thinking about bellybuttons, but I am.
You see, in 15 or so days, I could no longer have one. I could be bellybuttonless. Spell check wanted to change that – but I am not going to. I imagine it is really no big deal. I receive any nourishment through it. It does not breath for me. Someone once told me I should have a window installed in place of my bellybuttons. Seems I had my head up my ass that day and it would help me to see. It really provides no real pleasure. I have never let a cute girl do a body shot out of it (Note to self – must try this if Surgeon does not lose my bellybutton). It can be a storage facility, a portable storage facility for lint.
Sometimes when I sweat, my bellybutton stinks. You have to get real close to smell it, but it can have a rather ripe aroma. Warning, stay away from Jim’s bellybutton after a workout! That warning may no longer be necessary in 2 weeks.
15 days and potentially no bellybutton. You may be asking why? Ok, here is the deal. Dr. Hollin’s casually informed me with the Abdominoplasty, I have, well actually he has, a 40% chance of losing my bellybutton. That is really almost one in two, fifty/fifty, ot fitty/fitty. How does a man, so well educated, so well trained, a master plastic surgeon actually lose my belly button?
At first, I also just casually said “Ok”! Now I am not so sure it is Ok with me.
Think about it, I am almost 50 years old, and never once, not even once for a second, lost my bellybutton. One time I went to the Del Mar Fair in California, I lost my son for about 10 seconds, It was scary, seemed like an eternity. I lose my keys almost every day. Yet, I have never lost my bellybutton for even one second, and in 14 days I could have lost it forever. Weird.
SWMBO watch’s all kinds of surgery shows. Loves them. I used to, until I watched the one about the vasectomy. Ouch! I don’t watch them anymore. But she, nor I have ever heard about this 40% bellybutton losing phenomena due to this particular surgery. I know I should be thinking about other things. Like not waking up after anesthesia. Insurance. Disability. Who is going to take care of my customers while I am recovering.
But I am not. I am pondering the outcome of my bellybutton.
Sure, I am thinking occasionally about the other aspects of this surgery, a slimmer, trimmer me. No more scary skin. No more rashes. Yep, I said rashes. Ewwww! But I really want to keep my bellybutton. It is a nice bellybutton, and somehow is part of the complete me. I have been told, he can make a new one, but it really doesn’t look the same. I have been told I can have one tattooed on. That would be cool, probably will add the words “Insert Lint Here” or “Imagine the aroma”. But do I really want a tattooed bellybutton on place of the original?
I don’t really want to lose my belly button. Note to self, I should take a picture of my bellybutton, just in case???? Heh!
I should not be thinking about bellybuttons, but I am.
You see, in 15 or so days, I could no longer have one. I could be bellybuttonless. Spell check wanted to change that – but I am not going to. I imagine it is really no big deal. I receive any nourishment through it. It does not breath for me. Someone once told me I should have a window installed in place of my bellybuttons. Seems I had my head up my ass that day and it would help me to see. It really provides no real pleasure. I have never let a cute girl do a body shot out of it (Note to self – must try this if Surgeon does not lose my bellybutton). It can be a storage facility, a portable storage facility for lint.
Sometimes when I sweat, my bellybutton stinks. You have to get real close to smell it, but it can have a rather ripe aroma. Warning, stay away from Jim’s bellybutton after a workout! That warning may no longer be necessary in 2 weeks.
15 days and potentially no bellybutton. You may be asking why? Ok, here is the deal. Dr. Hollin’s casually informed me with the Abdominoplasty, I have, well actually he has, a 40% chance of losing my bellybutton. That is really almost one in two, fifty/fifty, ot fitty/fitty. How does a man, so well educated, so well trained, a master plastic surgeon actually lose my belly button?
At first, I also just casually said “Ok”! Now I am not so sure it is Ok with me.
Think about it, I am almost 50 years old, and never once, not even once for a second, lost my bellybutton. One time I went to the Del Mar Fair in California, I lost my son for about 10 seconds, It was scary, seemed like an eternity. I lose my keys almost every day. Yet, I have never lost my bellybutton for even one second, and in 14 days I could have lost it forever. Weird.
SWMBO watch’s all kinds of surgery shows. Loves them. I used to, until I watched the one about the vasectomy. Ouch! I don’t watch them anymore. But she, nor I have ever heard about this 40% bellybutton losing phenomena due to this particular surgery. I know I should be thinking about other things. Like not waking up after anesthesia. Insurance. Disability. Who is going to take care of my customers while I am recovering.
But I am not. I am pondering the outcome of my bellybutton.
Sure, I am thinking occasionally about the other aspects of this surgery, a slimmer, trimmer me. No more scary skin. No more rashes. Yep, I said rashes. Ewwww! But I really want to keep my bellybutton. It is a nice bellybutton, and somehow is part of the complete me. I have been told, he can make a new one, but it really doesn’t look the same. I have been told I can have one tattooed on. That would be cool, probably will add the words “Insert Lint Here” or “Imagine the aroma”. But do I really want a tattooed bellybutton on place of the original?
I don’t really want to lose my belly button. Note to self, I should take a picture of my bellybutton, just in case???? Heh!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
I Must
I write, again, and again, I write. I don’t quite understand why I must. Why I must put these random thoughts down on paper, or whatever it is that we put them down upon. But I must do this. You may, or may not care what I have to say. May agree, or again may not. But I must express myself. Express myself publicly. Physically expose my thoughts, my feelings, what I want to present. It is strange, I want your blessings, your approval, I want you to like what I write. But at the same time, I really could care less. I have to write these words. I must write them.
I must.
So much has changed in the last two years. Too much. Really, sometimes it is just too much. One must be prepared beyond belief to deal with the change. The weight loss, the attention, the changes are almost too much to bear sometimes. Not that I would change anything, not one single thing. I cannot even imagine being 450 pounds again. I would venture to guess that SWMBO would agree. She can’t even imagine herself being almost 300 pounds again or me at 450. I even have trouble remembering that person today. Just 18 short months later. Who was that person, why did he get that big? How could he get that big? It is one of the reasons I blog. One of the reasons I write. I don’t want to ever forget that man. Ever forget that pain. Ever forget those feelings of inadequacy, the pain of that life, of being just that damn big. This is probably the main reason I must write.
I must write.
So now I start over. Start writing again. In fifteen days, I will again undergo another major surgery. This Abdominoplasty is the next to last step in my personal metamorphosis. That change from a caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly, a beautiful butterfly searching for its rose. I know, Jim a butterfly? I don’t have a better example. Give me one please. Something in nature that changes from one form to an incredible other form? I am sure there is one, one example. I just don’t know what it is. But I really want to be that butterfly. Amazing all as it sits there, emerged from that shell of a cocoon, letting its wings absorb the energy from the sun in preparation to fly. Then lifting off. The color in its wings, red and blue. Am I ready for this? The metamorphosis? This final change in my person? My body? I am looking forward to the scars. The forever reminder of where I was, and where I have progressed to, where I have been.
I must write this story.
This surgery will be much more painful. The last was six little holes. SWMBO tells me this will be bad. Damn, she watches way too many medical shows. She knows how long the recovery will take, talks about the number of drains, the two months or more of swelling. She knows just too much. But I have to have this. It is a need now, not just a want. I need this. Need the pain. I need this to remember. I need this to grow. The intoxication is still here. People that I have not seen in a long time are still amazed. But, the occasions of amazement are farther apart and fewer now. I need this pain to remember. Remember that intoxication that I call life. That intoxication will be rekindled, through this pain. Through this next to last change. So again, I must write. Let you experience my thoughts, my desires, experience this change with me. I will photograph, chronicle and share. I covet your thoughts and prayers as I go through this. Just 15 days away. Again putting my life in the hands of Surgeons, Anesthesiologists and Nurses. I will write it all. You will experience it all. I will hold nothing back. SWMBO likes that sometimes, and doesn’t other times. But you will hear about all of it. All of it. The pain, the tears, the successes and failures. For this reason I write.
I must.
I must.
So much has changed in the last two years. Too much. Really, sometimes it is just too much. One must be prepared beyond belief to deal with the change. The weight loss, the attention, the changes are almost too much to bear sometimes. Not that I would change anything, not one single thing. I cannot even imagine being 450 pounds again. I would venture to guess that SWMBO would agree. She can’t even imagine herself being almost 300 pounds again or me at 450. I even have trouble remembering that person today. Just 18 short months later. Who was that person, why did he get that big? How could he get that big? It is one of the reasons I blog. One of the reasons I write. I don’t want to ever forget that man. Ever forget that pain. Ever forget those feelings of inadequacy, the pain of that life, of being just that damn big. This is probably the main reason I must write.
I must write.
So now I start over. Start writing again. In fifteen days, I will again undergo another major surgery. This Abdominoplasty is the next to last step in my personal metamorphosis. That change from a caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly, a beautiful butterfly searching for its rose. I know, Jim a butterfly? I don’t have a better example. Give me one please. Something in nature that changes from one form to an incredible other form? I am sure there is one, one example. I just don’t know what it is. But I really want to be that butterfly. Amazing all as it sits there, emerged from that shell of a cocoon, letting its wings absorb the energy from the sun in preparation to fly. Then lifting off. The color in its wings, red and blue. Am I ready for this? The metamorphosis? This final change in my person? My body? I am looking forward to the scars. The forever reminder of where I was, and where I have progressed to, where I have been.
I must write this story.
This surgery will be much more painful. The last was six little holes. SWMBO tells me this will be bad. Damn, she watches way too many medical shows. She knows how long the recovery will take, talks about the number of drains, the two months or more of swelling. She knows just too much. But I have to have this. It is a need now, not just a want. I need this. Need the pain. I need this to remember. I need this to grow. The intoxication is still here. People that I have not seen in a long time are still amazed. But, the occasions of amazement are farther apart and fewer now. I need this pain to remember. Remember that intoxication that I call life. That intoxication will be rekindled, through this pain. Through this next to last change. So again, I must write. Let you experience my thoughts, my desires, experience this change with me. I will photograph, chronicle and share. I covet your thoughts and prayers as I go through this. Just 15 days away. Again putting my life in the hands of Surgeons, Anesthesiologists and Nurses. I will write it all. You will experience it all. I will hold nothing back. SWMBO likes that sometimes, and doesn’t other times. But you will hear about all of it. All of it. The pain, the tears, the successes and failures. For this reason I write.
I must.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
A New Chapter?
Again, I begin to write.
Again, I begin to contemplate.
Again, I begin.
A new chapter unfolds before me. June 17, 2009 approaches quickly. That is the date that I again, will "go under the knife". That is the day for my Abdominoplasty.
According to Mr. Wiki :
So here we go, hold on to your hats.
Again, I begin to contemplate.
Again, I begin.
A new chapter unfolds before me. June 17, 2009 approaches quickly. That is the date that I again, will "go under the knife". That is the day for my Abdominoplasty.
According to Mr. Wiki :
Abdominoplasty operations vary in scope and are frequently subdivided into categories. Depending on the extent of the surgery, a complete abdominoplasty can take 1 to 5 hours. A partial abdminoplasty (Mini-Tuck Abdominoplasty) can be completed between 1 to 2 hours.
Complete abdominoplasty
In general, a complete (or full) abdominoplasty follows these steps:
An incision is made from hip to hip just above the pubic area.
Another incision is made to free the navel from the surrounding skin.
The skin is detached from the abdominal wall to reveal the muscles and fascia to be tightened. The muscle fascia wall is tightened with sutures.
The remaining skin and fat are tightened by removing the excess and closing the defect.
The old belly button stalk is brought out through a new hole and sutured into place.
Liposuction is often used to refine the transition zones of the abdominal sculpture.
A dressing and sometimes a compression garment are applied and any excess fluid from the site is drained.
So here we go, hold on to your hats.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
