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Still tired as anything, and still kind of medicine-woozy, but doing better than I was yesterday.
I'm of the opinion that as rotten as I often feel these days, the psychology of it is worse. I've been dealing with these issues, these medicinal side effect and the like since 1999. The long term fatigue, negative feelings and actual pain just wear on and on and on and on. (And, as they say, on.)
The secret is transformation. If I can make a radical step -- something that changes the whole field -- I can also transform my mental state. I can move forward with a whole new program and regimen. I can start over.
Which is one of the reasons waiting for the surgery is so frustrating. The surgery, a gastric bypass, is designed to facilitate highly rapid, safe weight loss. It's actually indicated in my case by the National Institute of Health guidelines. Having the surgery done will have three major positive effects on my overall state:
It's all good stuff. All good.
But I have to wait until my ticket comes up. See, after some disconcerting experiences with the first surgeon we attempted to do this with, I decided to enroll in a program at Dartmouth Hitchcock -- one of the finest critical care facilities in the world and home to one of the best Bariatric Surgical units out there. My safety is maximized going through Darmouth Hitchcock, and the followup care is excellent.
The problem is, I'm not the only one to decide to do this. At the three different presurgery support meetings I attended (three is required) there were between two and three hundred new patients, all hoping to get on board. A significant percentage of these patients go through the process.
Which means there's a long waiting list. And, because they won't cookie-cutter the post-surgical care, they can't easily predict how long the wait will be. And, because they are a primary critical care facility, they have some patients with severe, immediate life threatening conditions come in -- patients for whom bariatric surgery is the potential difference between survival for more than a few weeks and death. By necessity, those patients go to the head of the line.
They're up front about all of this. They reinforced it over and over again at the meetings. And they gave us a laundry list of tasks to complete in the meantime.
All of which I've done. So now I wait. And wait. And wait. And this gives me an acute awareness of just how rotten I feel.
Anyhow. This is longer than I expected it to be. I'll sign off and promise more later.
I'm of the opinion that as rotten as I often feel these days, the psychology of it is worse. I've been dealing with these issues, these medicinal side effect and the like since 1999. The long term fatigue, negative feelings and actual pain just wear on and on and on and on. (And, as they say, on.)
The secret is transformation. If I can make a radical step -- something that changes the whole field -- I can also transform my mental state. I can move forward with a whole new program and regimen. I can start over.
Which is one of the reasons waiting for the surgery is so frustrating. The surgery, a gastric bypass, is designed to facilitate highly rapid, safe weight loss. It's actually indicated in my case by the National Institute of Health guidelines. Having the surgery done will have three major positive effects on my overall state:
1. My health will improve tremendously. As the strain on my body, my internal organs, my heart and my joints is lessened, my overall health will swing back up. I will likely need lower dosages of the medication (and might be able to eliminate some of the meds entirely), exercise will become my friend again, and in general I'll be in a much better place.
2. The gastric bypass mandates (with specific negative reinforcement, I would add) a major change in regimen and lifestyle. This will invigorate my thoughts and put me back to the sense of empowerment I felt in the early days, as I fought the cardiomyopathy and congestive heart failure back.
3. I will be able to fit in clothes, cars, turnstyles, chairs, amusement park rides, restaurant booths, phone booths, airline seats in coach, and the relationship plans of people of the opposite sex. Well, the last is theoretical, of course. All right, pencil it in under 'it's possible instead of impossible post surgery.'
It's all good stuff. All good.
But I have to wait until my ticket comes up. See, after some disconcerting experiences with the first surgeon we attempted to do this with, I decided to enroll in a program at Dartmouth Hitchcock -- one of the finest critical care facilities in the world and home to one of the best Bariatric Surgical units out there. My safety is maximized going through Darmouth Hitchcock, and the followup care is excellent.
The problem is, I'm not the only one to decide to do this. At the three different presurgery support meetings I attended (three is required) there were between two and three hundred new patients, all hoping to get on board. A significant percentage of these patients go through the process.
Which means there's a long waiting list. And, because they won't cookie-cutter the post-surgical care, they can't easily predict how long the wait will be. And, because they are a primary critical care facility, they have some patients with severe, immediate life threatening conditions come in -- patients for whom bariatric surgery is the potential difference between survival for more than a few weeks and death. By necessity, those patients go to the head of the line.
They're up front about all of this. They reinforced it over and over again at the meetings. And they gave us a laundry list of tasks to complete in the meantime.
All of which I've done. So now I wait. And wait. And wait. And this gives me an acute awareness of just how rotten I feel.
Anyhow. This is longer than I expected it to be. I'll sign off and promise more later.
