Nummies 911

Where Have I Been???

Well, it was a crazy summer with all the kiddos together.  It was great   fun, until, on the last event, a trip to Myrtle Beach, I got very sick. It wasn't until we were on our way home, that I decided the pain was severe enough to stop at an ER. We stopped at McCleod Memorial in Florence, SC.

After admission, they found my abdomen (below my diaphragm) was full of air, meaning that there was a break somewhere in my digestive system. I was sent for a CT scan and scheduled for surgery, only to find out that the CT scan showed no obvious breaks.  The contrast didn't leak out anywhere.  Thank goodness I had the best surgeon I've ever met since my gastric bypass surgeon. He was patient enough to wait and every day something weird would happen, I'd spike a temp, or drop 3 points in my hemoglobin, things like that. Still he wanted to wait, and so did I. We kept waiting until finally after five days a barium swallow showed no leakages. I was allowed to eat and once I did fine with that, I was released.  It has been assumed that most probable cause was an ulcer in my post gastric surgery stomach that was probably thinning the lining and finally allowed a break during an episode of throwing up (which I did just previous to going to the ER.) Both the hospitalist and surgeon have told me my likely survival would have been dim had I not gotten to the hospital when I did.

Now you guys know I'm a nurse and my sister is a Medical Tech, and we don't make the best of patients.  But these guys, the staff at McCleod were absolutely the best I've ever seen.  At one point I was taking morphine every two hours and even on a busy day, at shift change or the middle of the night, I NEVER had to wait. The doctors worked together and never entered the room empty handed when it came to test results and plans for action. The nurses and docs never balked at our questions or suggestions and if they disagreed, they politely explained why and we understood their reasoning. The surgeon even went so far as to contact my gastric bypass doctor in North Carolina. On my day of discharge, I leisurely ate my small breakfast and we joked that maybe we would be out of there by noon or 1pm, knowing how busy things are.  I was released about 10am and that was mainly because WE were not ready. So all and all, if you have to get sick on the road, Florence, South Carolina is a very good place to do it. Their customer service rivals that of Disney. I even got a follow up call from the nursing staff a few days after my discharge. Not the doctor, but the head of nursing staff for the floor on which I stayed.  She said, "Call us anytime if we can help or answer a question for you.  We hope you are feeling well." 

Thank you McCleod, for some of the finest medical care I could ask for. Thank you Lisa and Dean for coming to sit with me when it was still early and I didn't have a clue what was going on. Thank you for taking my three children to Fayetteville. Thank you Liz and Kevin for taking care of Camille while I was in the hospital despite the challenges you had going on that week. Thank you Stacy and Amanda for driving way to far just to be with me in the hospital and making me laugh when I had abdominal pain (thank goodness for the morphine.) Thank you for driving me to pick up Camille and driving me home.  And lastly thank you Anna, for believing me when I said I needed help and for taking care of everything else that needed attention while I was away. And for everyone else who kept in touch via text and calls, thank you for your concerns, thoughts, and prayers. 

I'm still recovering and you know my impatient self is frustrated with that. But it will come, it will. I just need to believe and spend this time healing. I need to learn to accept the help, and it has come in so many forms, from so many people that I'm sure I would leave someone out if I tried to name them all, but you know who you are and believe me, I think of your kindness almost daily now. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

 

 

With Age comes...

This year at the beach, I tried bodysurfing. Now please remember that just being on the beach is a huge step for me. Two years ago I looked like this.

But this year I was at Myrtle Beach and decided to give it a try. Cullen was my teacher. He waded out with me. Let me back up and say that I’m no great swimmer, and my sister, Stacy, who was my personal lifeguard all through childhood, made sure Cullen was looking out for me.  I had no idea how hard it would be just to get out to the point where you actually BEGIN to bodysurf.  I felt I was drowned and winded before I even started. After three or four failed attempts, we were far down the beach and Cullen motioned that we should get out and walk back up to where we started. This is when my epiphany came.

I’m walking down the beach. I’m tan. I’m 130 lbs. I’m carrying a bodyboard. The sun is shining and the breeze is blowing. I should be basking in this scene. But the reality is much different. I couldn’t think about any of that. I was only concerned with putting one foot in front of the other, so I didn’t fall down. I was breathing so hard and I could feel the sides of my vision closing in. My back was about to seize up. My legs were like jello from trying to withstand the blows of wave after wave. After a few paces, Cullen was so far ahead of me that I doubt he could have heard my call for help, even if I had mustered enough breath to actually yell. That’s when I kept saying, one foot after the other...get close enough so that my sister will see me when I collapse. When I got there, Stacy was watching my approach and while Cullen was still facing forward, I feigned a fall as if to say, I’m about to die. She laughed hard.

There were times in my life I would have paid good money to be 130 lbs, tan, on the beach, but now, I’m just hoping to survive. Later when we were both walking with boards, we joked that the young people are looking at us and saying, “What do those two moms think they are doing?” However, we agreed that even though age brings us less stamina, more aches and greater pains, the gift is that we don’t care what other people think.

I wish I had learned that a little earlier in life. I watched Cullen abandon the group several times because we were embarrassing, and while I understand that is just being a teenager, I hope he leaves that with his teen years and emerges with the self-confidence to do what he loves, no matter what other people think.  I spent too many years trying to please others and worrying about what everyone else thought. I still catch myself doing it now, but less and less often.

So here’s a quick video of one my many wipe outs. I hope you laugh hard and remember me the next time you see a mom trying something with her kids. I, personally, am extremely grateful for a “second” chance at life through my surgery and weight loss. I’m grateful that I COULD be active with my kids, instead of watching from the sidelines. So I intend to embarrass them every chance I get. That’s my small payback for all the diapers and sleep lost. Not an even trade, but hey, no one said life was fair.

Oh, and how about this picture!  Britt having the time of his life...me hanging on for dear life.

Opinion Poll

I'm jumping off the hair color train. I'm embracing the wisdom of my gray hair. Or more truthfully, I've been asked a couple of times if Camille was my grandchild despite coloring my hair, so I'm thinking, what's the point? Besides, I could use a break from those root touch-ups which inevitably occur at the worst times.

So...I got a lot of my hair chopped off, and here is the cut.

I have a question for you all. I really like the cut, but for a couple of days I kept having this nagging feeling like it just seemed a bit too familiar. Then, my people magazine came and Kate Gosselin with her new hair extensions was on the cover.

"That's it! I have Kate's old haircut!" I thought! At least maybe...

What do you think? Is it Kate's Old Cut or is it My New One?

Please leave your thoughts in a comment!

And here's a shot of me weighing in at 131lbs.

  

Happy New Year to everyone!

 

12 Months = 103 lbs

It's been a year! A whole year! The sentimental side of me did not get to ruminate as much as I would have liked because of the move. I kept trying to think about the photo I wanted to post for this "one year" event. Nothing seemed right and days kept flying past as I moved and unpacked one heavy box after another and as I moved and removed each piece of furniture, trying to find its perfect spot in a new home. Then it occurred to me, one evening as my back ached from all the strenuous work. The photo I most wanted to post was not a "glamor shot." Haven't I made it clear that I did not lose all this weight to look good? No, I wanted a shot of me unpacking boxes, digging up shrubs, lifting furniture that I could not have dreamed of moving a year ago. I wanted to show you how I got on my hands and knees and scrubbed a hardwood floor and how I put together a kitchen island and two Expedit Bookcases from IKEA.  I wanted to let you know I was able to bend over long enough without losing my breath to install a dishwasher. I have made at least fifty trips up to the attic with boxes. I have raked leaves, swept walkways. Dug holes to transplant those shrubs along with new ones. And at night, my back hurts. I won't pretend it doesn't. But I can take Motrin, and I am able to get up the next morning and press on. Last year, I would not have been able to do ANY of these things! So, for my one year celebration, I am doing exactly the things that I want to do. I am living my life, day by day, working hard and seeing the fruits of my labor. That alone, to be off the couch and into life is reason enough for what I did.

 

Unpacking the kitchen. Lots of Halloween stuff lying around because one of the movers complained that I had too many seasonal boxes and that I would never have time to put the Halloween stuff out this year. I unpacked 90% of the Halloween decorations before he left. Just to prove a point.

Putting together one of the Expedit bookcases. Camille thought it was a great hiding place.

Thanks to everyone for all the support you've given me over the past year. It means more to me than you could know.

Eleven Months = 99lbs

Cullen took this picture for me, after Brandy's wedding. I have little make-up on because I cried several times during the wedding and reception. Brandy was such a beautiful bride, and when Holly sang her solo, it touched me so deeply I cried during the whole song. Then at the reception, Brandy's mother thanked me several times for the cookies, a small contribution to the celebration, and she was so sweet to remember to say hello to Anna, who couldn't make it. That meant so much to me.

Ok, it's been eleven months. About the only things I have trouble digesting are red meat, corn tortillas, and just about any fast food. That should tell you something about fast food! The red meat thing is particular to me, I think, because even in my fat days, I couldn't digest red meat very well. Although I could put away some fast food!

I still cannot drink soda, but I can tolerate a sip of a fountain drink every once in a while. Just for the sheer enjoyment of the bubbles. It's just not the same though, and I have to say I still miss that. I was drinking a lot of cranberry-pomegranate juice, until I had a kidney stone a few weeks ago and my doctor told me to lay off that because it has a lot of oxalates in it. Now I'm drinking Glaceau Vitamin Water, in XXX (acai-blueberry-pomegranate) flavor. He said I should just stick to water, which I do drink, but I need a little flavor during the day.

I'm walking and doing a little running, still. I need to up that a bit for my endurance. I'm also doing some yoga, which Camille calls "yogo," and for some poses she is better than I am. 

For those who asked in the beginning, "How does your body know when to stop?" My thoughts are this; over time you are able to eat more and more and over time your body requires less and less. Soon, you reach an equilibrium where what you take in is enough to maintain the weight you are. I think I've pretty much obtained that state, and I'm happy with that. It still takes a lot of will power not to overeat, as I could eat little bits of cookies or cake all day long and quickly put back on the weight. And for someone like me, who uses food as a coping mechanism for stress, that is a hard habit to break, even eleven months later. But at least now, I'm more aware of it and it's easier not to turn to the cookie jar when I'm not feeling hungry all the time. 

So here is another photo taken at 10 months.

 

9 Months = 95lbs

I posted this picture on FaceBook and received so many nice comments. I think that's why people are addicted to FaceBook. Where else can you shamelessly post photos of yourself and have people gush over you in nice bold print for everyone to see?

I mean you may come into work looking particularly nice one day and someone may say to you, "Hey, nice dress" or "You look great today." That makes you feel good, but on FaceBook, that comment stays there for the whole day, in black and white, reminding you and all your "friends" that SOMEONE out there thinks you rock. Well, guys, I think you all rock just for coming here and reading my blog from time to time.

By the way, my friend April swears I hired someone for that "before" photo. I didn't, but then fat people rarely let themselves be photographed like that. I knew I was having surgery in a couple of months so I broke the rules. Wait, I always break the rules, don't I? No excuses.

Oh, and for those of you out there with OCD, the photo was taken a few days before the 9 month date and I lost a couple of pounds after that, so that's why the photo says 92lbs. and the blog says 95lbs.

I'm working on a slide show for the one year mark in October. I need suggestions for the music, because I'm not very good at that. Please help me out and let me know what a great song would be for the amazing metamorphosis.

Thanks again for all your support, and especially for those who leave comments on this blog (thanks Angie, Holi, Stacy, Anna, J, Lisa and Rhonda.) You are so important to me.

Eight Months = 90lbs

Here I am at work, 90lbs lighter.

This month, I'm opening it up to questions. What do you want to know?

Seven Months = 86lbs.

It’s been seven months and I’m getting later and later posting these monthly updates as you can see. Maybe because I find it harder and harder to put into words all the subtle changes.

1.  The weight loss is slowing down. This is normal. This is expected. But it is terrifying to me. Many people have asked me, “How will your body know when to stop losing. “ I have always answered very confidently, “It just will.” I know you can’t keep losing weight at that pace forever, but the reality of it remains, if I can stop losing weight, then I can gain weight. That terrifies me more than I can say. I am eating so little now and the weight loss has slowed down, what if I continue to eat small amounts and it starts to go back up. What will I do then? This is my heart talking of course. My brain reminds me of the physiology I know, that I must slow down and eventually reach equilibrium. That calories consumed and expended do have an affect on my weight and it is not some magic spell or luck that makes me gain or lose. However, when I step on those scales, it’s the heart that yells louder than the brain. She is so emotional!

2.  Buying a bathing suit is a losing battle no matter how much you weigh. Enough said.

3.  I mourn the loss of my breasts.  The last six pounds have come directly from my breasts. I was an A in college. I grew to a C when I gained weight. I was a D when I got pregnant the first time and I’ve been a D for the past 14 years. I couldn’t tell you what I am now because the way I read it, you measure a cup size by the difference between band measurement and your breast measurement at its fullest and well, since mine are hanging a good four inches south of the band measurement, it’s difficult to say. I really don’t care though, because as long as they make a Victoria Secret push-up bra, then I will be sporting a size “whatever-I-can-get-away-with” without looking freakish. I hope my friends come to my rescue on that one. Don’t be afraid, Holly, to say, “Becki, those boobs are a bit freakish, perhaps you should downsize them a bit.” I will be eternally grateful.

4.  People “see” you more when you weigh less. I spent the last weekend in Atlanta (without children.) Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there is a difference between being “seen” with children and without. When you’ve got a cute little toddler in tow, you could be Attila the Hun and people will give you a cursory smile. Without children, you are judged differently. I noticed that when I weighed over 200lbs, people did not see me. They may run into me, and that was easy to do because my butt was taking up half the aisle, but they wouldn’t “look” at me. I’ve even had conversations with people who never looked me in the eye. Fat is a huge insulator in more ways than one. However, now, I’m having to get used to people “seeing” me. They see me in stores, in restaurants, on the sidewalk.  It is a bit unnerving for me because it’s been so long, I really don’t know how to read the attention.  Near the end of my weekend in Atlanta we walked into a Starbuck’s. Nearly everyone in the establishment looked at me, a few intently. I felt as if I were being put on the possible terrorist list. 
“Do I look like a terrorist?” I asked Anna.
“What?” she said.
“Everyone is staring,” I said.
“Probably because of your breasts,” she replied.
“VERY FUNNY!” I screamed!

P.S. If you read this, and I know who you are, certainly you can do a kind deed and leave a comment. PLEASE! (I’m begging now.)

Six Months = 80lbs

Here are some photos of me 80lbs lighter.

This was taken after 13+ hours of work, and I'm still smiling, mainly because Meg was taking the picture. I miss working nights with Meg. Meg says eventually she is going to quit nursing and work at the beach selling frozen lemonade and margaritas. When the going gets tough, we start taking orders.

This was taken by Molly on our way out to run errands. We had to take about 15 shots, which explains my fake smile trying to hide my impatience.

I am still feeling great! I can pretty much eat whatever I want, just in small amounts. I still miss soda, but I cannot drink it. The bubbles are just too much.

I bought a few new clothes for the summer, all size medium. I have to tell you that the color and style choices for medium are much greater than for the 2-3XL sizes, but then that's a whole other rant.

Mainly I remain grateful for my renewed energy, less back pain and for being able to move with much greater ease. My thanks to everyone who has supported me this far in my recovery and for those who have been so kind as to send compliments. It means more than you know.

Five Months = 72lbs

    It’s turning warmer now. I live in a small subdivision that hibernates during even the mildest winters. Now everyone is venturing out and reconnecting after months of not seeing each other. I’ve been met with such wonderful comments from my neighbors who haven’t seen me in months. It inspires me to keep going with my exercise.
    I went shopping for clothes a couple of times this past week. I was delighted when I went to Old Navy and I took four shirts and a skirt into the dressing room, all size large, and every one of them fit. Of course, now that I can find clothes that fit, I am faced with more serious fashion dilemmas. Like how to shop at less expensive stores, like Old Navy and not come out looking like a 40 year old trying to dress like a 20 year old. Any suggestions welcome.
    Of course, if I had enough money, I would just walk into J. Jill and buy my wardrobe there. Actually, Anna did buy me a beautiful white blouse there this past weekend. She wanted to treat us girls to a shopping day. When I tried it on, I actually ventured out of the fitting room and walked to the three-way mirror and looked at myself. I stared for several minutes and I started crying. I looked huge. I kept thinking that I looked unbelievably fat. It was disconcerting because I was actually wearing a medium shirt. How can I be this fat and wear a medium sized shirt? Something isn’t right. I couldn’t reconcile it. I still can’t. I can only tell you that when I look in the mirror, I still see myself as huge. When I see a photograph of myself, I don’t. That’s why I take a lot of photos now.
    Here are a couple from last summer.

This is my friend Ayrril who visited us last August from Germany.

Normally I do not allow photographs of myself in a bathing suit, but this was a couple of months before the surgery and I allowed it to be a reminder.