Protect me from my friends!

Have I mentioned that I work in a hospital? I enjoy my job as administrator, and my kind and friendly colleagues (professors, consultants, doctors, research fellows, nurses, cleaners and admin people like myself) are supportive of my bariatric surgery and keen to help. So I get advice on what to eat and what not, I'm encouraged to use the stairs instead of the lift, when there's food from a buffet left over it's swept away before I can get near it, chocolate biscuits given as presents are handed out generally far away from the office where I sit, and I'm gently chided if I look longingly at the chocolates which are regularly given to us. Even my boss has gone out to buy snack foods for meetings so that I won't be subjected to unnecessary temptations - I was very touched by this. "Lets all have a bacon butty" is a phrase I remember (just) - with affection.

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I've had every encouragement to go to the gym, and it's been explained to me in a wealth of detail the difference between yoga, pilates and step aerobics, jogging with an MP3 and without one, and after reminiscing with them about a halcyon period when I did aerobics 20 years ago, why I must be the only person in Bristol never to have felt an adrenalin rush after an excruciating session of aerobics and that in fact my feeling bloody awful must have been my imagination. All this is backed up by sound clinical knowledge, there's absolutely no escape. I consider myself fortunate that my department is urology and therefore where weight loss is concerned, there aren't too many dire warnings they can give me about how overweight affects that part of the body. Aside from incontinence of course. Sigh.

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When a recent TV channel asked us if we wanted to take part as a department in a diet & exercise driven let's-see-who-can-lose-the-most-weight-in-the-shortest-time, expectant looks were cast in my direction to see if me-and-my-lapband would lead the way. (We wouldn't. My bandy friend would not have been summoned to help if I had not been the most self-conscious person on the planet. TV cameras? I'd sooner bungee jump down an active volcano).

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I'm by nature communicative. Quite capable of keeping secrets when required, but on the whole fairly willing to share things about myself (healthwise) if I can see I'm not going to send someone into a coma by saying more than one sentence. This is mainly because I hate telling lies. Some of the bandsisters in Taunton have kept their op a secret, and I thoroughly respect that - but I didn't, once the deed was done. Just as well - John was close to calling in the paparazzi 24 hours afterwards. However the trouble with this approach is that people look you up and down when they see you thereafter, and the disappointment is inevitably etched on their faces. They've seen too many TV programmes where the 6 month gap in the middle is edited out, and too many Hello magazines with celebrity before and after snaps. I find myself gabbling in a most undignified manner words to the effect that 'it's early days', 'I need another fill', 'half a pound a week isn't very noticeable', and feebly on and on.

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So as if my journey wasn't difficult enough, I also feel I'm in some sort of goldfish bowl both at work and socially - and for a self-conscious person it's quite uncomfortable.

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So this had better work...

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-oOo-

Second fill - NOW you're talkin'!

I had my second fill on Wednesday - from 4ml in a 10ml band I've now gone up to 5.5ml. I was pleased - nay amazed - that they recorded a 2kg loss since last time, a month ago. As usual I had been keeping away from the scales out of fear rather than 'doing the right thing', so that was a boost.

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For the first time I was able to enjoy the friendly banter in the waiting room, and the exchange of information. My only 'group therapy' so far has been the blogs I read - and they're brilliant. But it was nice to get instant answers to questions, and to learn that it was not at all unusual that 2 months into all this I've felt very little restriction, and certainly no feeling of fullness after eating.

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There was one lady there who was banded 8 months ago and has only lost three quarters of a kg in that time, despite being on 9ml. She lives in London and drives all the way to Taunton for her fills and consultations - brave or what. She's very fed up about it and says there's a suggestion that her band might be leaking, so next time they'll be checking to see how much is actually in there. (I thought they withdrew all contents before filling again to check the volume, but the doctor explained that they only do this if they suspect there's something wrong, and that in any case they can't empty it altogether because it would create a vacuum effect and cause problems when re-filled - so they can have a fairly accurate idea, but not 100%. Interesting)

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Since then I've been amazed by the difference. I can feel it almost straight away, and have had to be very careful not to feel tight, sick, etc. This morning at work I started on a home-made brown bread tuna mayo sandwich and after three bites had to rush to the loo. Both horrible and embarrassing, but wotta lesson. However, I don't feel 'full' after a teacup full of food...

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I had salad last night without any problems, and this makes me fear that it's bread that will be the problem. Tragic.....

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-oOo-

Doubting Thomas and Diabetes

I haven't posted for a week due to a combination of feeling it was very trivial in the light of the fires in Australia and the number of Australian blogs I enjoy, and because I've been a bit glum myself.

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I feel barely any restriction: the band only makes its presence felt when I eat a piece of bread or pastry too quickly. Then I get gradually increasing pain and I have to stop eating for 10 minutes, or the keen desire to burp - productive or otherwise, and on one horrible occasion a couple of weeks ago (at home thank goodness) I was sick and didn't even make it properly to the loo in time. The cause was a piece of toast eaten before a bowl of soup, of refined white bread and eaten too fast. But the point is, although I'm reassured that I have a band and that it's working - even if on a go-slow - I have no feelings of fullness after a small portion, just the discomfort, and then my appetite returns the same as before.

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Yes, you have to work with the band...it's just a tool... ; yes, you still need a certain degree of willpower; yes, you can't shout at it "Stop me eating, will you!!"; and yes (wistfully) I realise other bloggers I read are successful particularly in the early days and clearly I'm not. However my willingness to cooperate is tempered by low spirits which have nothing to do with being overweight - although of course they make it harder to bear - and I find myself wanting to negotiate with this inanimate object I have in my chest and say "show me first that you can work properly and then I'll do my bit"... like a latter-day Doubting Thomas who wants the miracle before he'll believe...

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I have my second fill coming up next Wednesday 18th, and I'm hoping they'll give me enough to start this process properly. Listening to other bloggers' experiences it seems to follow a cycle: a fill gives you a jump start which makes you lose weight which gives you a real lift, and in seeing the obvious improvement in yourself it gives you the strength and enthusiasm to carry on, which makes you continue to lose weight. Then gradually the restriction relaxes a bit, you get impatient at first, then downcast, then give into temptation, slip a bit, slip a bit further... then back for another fill and the process starts again. I know this is a bit simplistic, it doesn't always happen like that. Some of you maximise the good phase by doing exercise, and sometimes the cycle speeds up due to outside circumstances...

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To my surprise I'm losing about half a pound a week, evidently there's a tiny bit of restriction I'm not even aware of - so it's not all negative.

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I'm too self-conscious to start the only exercise I'm interested in - swimming - until I've lost at least a couple of stone, and have finally got the diabetes back under control since the op. I keep having middle-of-the-night hypos due to insulin overdose, and swimming makes the glucose go down faster. A hypo in the pool is awful and you get little warning - it feels as though you can barely reach the end to get out.

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So far I haven't read any bandster blogs by diabetics, though I'm sure there are plenty out there - so I wonder if these comments might be useful:

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(1) Your eating pattern changes when you lose weight before the operation. You barely eat at all, and insulin-wise that's easy because all you have to do is react to the result of the blood test you give yourself. My consumption of insulin went down to a third.

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(2) In the hospital you follow their advice - up to a point. It's better to have high glucose than low, but in the first 10 hours my glucose climbed steadily, and the nurses kept consulting each other and the on-call doctor as to what they should do, and gave me a different type of insulin. However, the glucose kept climbing. I asked to be allowed to decide for myself what I needed, using my own insulin, and eventually they did, making me carry out frequent blood tests. As I was leaving the senior nurse's comment was that it had been better to let me judge what was best for me.

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(3) Insulin intake during the initial slop phase is more or less the same as for the crash diet beforehand.

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(4) The interesting bit comes once you inevitably start to increase your food consumption, and here's the thing: if you take your glucose reading before you go to bed, and it's high, this could be because (a) you've had dinner and/or sweet & greasy snacks too recently; (b) you had a meagre dinner but had a substantial lunch - or sweet & greasy ditto - and forgot to test or inject (I know I know, don't nag me); or (c) you snacked on sweet or greasy foods throughout the day - even reasonably lightly.

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(5) If (a), then the usual amount of insulin for that reading will be fine; if (b) or (c) it will be very difficult to gauge how much insulin to give yourself: the high reading may be on its way up because of (a), or has already peaked and is on its way down, so the 'usual dose' of insulin will be too much.

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(6) So - there's another bad habit to overcome, apart from over-eating, and that's irregular meals...

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It's not just my body that has a long road to travel.

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-oOo-

"Interview" Part 3

DocSly asks what is worth seeing if she should ever visit the UK, and whether I've ever been to the US.

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Visitors to the UK are besotted with London - certainly a beautiful city reeking of history, and locals always sound puzzled as to why this should be. I think it's good "placement", as they say in the advertising world: not just in English-speaking countries, but also Europe, South America and as far away as Japan. Your education has included the images, the films, the nursery rhymes, the kings and queens, Henry VIII and his wives, the changing of the guard, Buckingham Palace, the present-day gossip about the Royal Family, Wimbledon, The Beatles (if you're of my generation)... so when the visitor arrives in London, they can at last see 'the real thing' - it's not just the old buildings: the Tower of London isn't just an old fortress, it's where history happened which you already knew about before you came - to give just one example.

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But there's so much more to see in the rest of the country. For history there's the big cities, not just London, but also Oxford, Cambridge, Edinburgh, Liverpool, Brighton, Bath. For quintessential pretty British countryside (often in the rain, why else do you think it's all so green?) there's the Welsh valleys, the Cornish Peninsula, Devon and Dorset, Somerset - for the cute villages to die for there's the Cotswolds and the Midlands, Kent and not forgetting Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon. All at its best in springtime. I've visited Northern Ireland three times and can say that it's about time everybody, English included, discovered what a treasure it is. It's the way England used to be when I came here for the first time in the seventies. Quiet, sedate, conservative, charming, with a stunning north coast - but a lorra lorra rain...

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If you want to get behind the pretty façade visit the northeast or the Welsh valleys and learn about the gripping and sad history of the coal industry, or the Midlands and the northwest for how the industrial revolution made Britain the country it is today. Above all, talk to the people, learn to understand their accents and how they differ from one region to another, learn how they think. See the enormous cultural mix and understand how it happened, it's good and bad influences - i.e. leave the rose-tinted spectacles behind if you want to see what modern day Britain is really like. I guarantee you would return home understanding why the US got such intense support at the time of 9/11.

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I was born and brought up in Argentina, and at 18 visited the US for the first time. I was immature and a bit timorous, so I stayed with relations in Maryland and went as far as five hours driving would take you in a day, with my uncle and cousins. (Richmond, Harpers Ferry, Washington, from memory). I loved it all. I spent a day in a typical American school with my cousin of similar age, and I loved that - I had seen so many films set in high schools... (Example of the reverse of visitors to London described above - I was seeing the real thing only read about in books or seen in films!). And don't get me started on the first time experience of hamburgers... Sigh - which brings me back to the reason for this blog...

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About ten years on I was living in the UK, married, and my then husband and I went to Vermont and Rhode Island for a holiday - and the scenery took my breath away. I'm sad to say I've never been back. I'd love a long holiday criss-crossing the country, not forgetting Hawaii one day to take pictures of waves and surfers, a long-favourite photographic subject of mine.

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You can wake up now, I've finished! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to say all this.

-oOo-

"Interview" Part 1

Dawn asks which five people I would invite to dinner; and the significance of honeysuckle at the top of my blog page.

There are plenty of people I’d adore having dinner with because I admire them and find them entertaining and funny, such as Rolf Harris, the Australian TV presenter and “national treasure” who’s lived in England most of his adult life but has lost none of his Aussie ways or accent – musician, painter, presenter of a very successful animal TV programme & very funny man who nonetheless always seems interested in others and not himself.

Rolf Harris (Google Images)

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But I’d give my right arm and leg to bring Mollie back to life, a British lady author of a book - found on eBay - which captured my imagination years ago (favourite listed in my Profile) which I’m having a go at translating into Spanish; also her parents, who travelled from Britain to Patagonia (Argentina) during World War I, where her father managed several British-owned sheep farms in very difficult and often inhospitable conditions until 1923, when they returned home.

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Finding out background information before and after their sojourn has been like pulling teeth – but from crumbs of evidence from the internet there’s a moving story waiting to be unearthed. With no descendants to beg for help, I’d go on a pilgrimage to Lourdes and sell my soul to the Devil if I thought I could have them to dinner and have some of my questions answered.

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As Dawn allows me five, I would include the aunt to whom Mollie was close, and one of the managers on the farm, another Australian, an expert in sheep rearing who helped introduce the merino breed to Argentina and who I believe provided advice when she wrote the book. These people have been dead for 30-50 years of course…
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Honeysuckle – I’ve always liked the fact that the latin name of one of my most favourite perfumes, honeysuckle, is lonicera, which is also an anagram of my name. I’ve said to myself for years that if I ever had a blog I’d call it that… voilà!

-oOo-

"Interview" Part 2

Nola asks how I met my husband, and what it’s like where I live.

I imagine she refers to John, my partner, and not the ****hole and sports fanatic I stupidly married when I was too immature to know any better and who thought I was grossly overweight at 65 kilos – and then told me after 8 years when he went off with a mutual friend that I should have held him on a tighter rope. If you need holding on a rope at all then you’re not worth having – and I realised that even in the midst of the misery at the time. I never married again.

John is a sweet gentle soul who has put up with me for over 20 years. I met him when I felt low after my marriage ended, as did he over the recent disability of one of his much loved daughters, who died a few years later. He sang bass with a local amateur local opera society, and I was looking for an activity - such as helping backstage - which would help me think of other things, and a mutual friend put us in touch. It was an unlikely partnership at the time, but we helped each other and have remained very close. He spoils me to death.

John with Rusty in his favourite place

We live in a bungalow with a garden, in a village just outside Bristol which is very quiet, although the garden backs on to a field by the motorway, so the hum is always in the background – except on Christmas Day… My neighbours are mainly retired people, friendly but mostly keep to themselves. The couple opposite kindly look after my cats when we go away, and the couple next door have an adorable little boy aged 2, curly blond, very cute, sturdy and tough. At Halloween they dressed him for trick-or-treating in a pointy black hat as tall as he is, with a sweeping black cloak – I wish, wish I’d taken a photo of him because he looked good enough to eat.

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Back of the house, with annexe & and conservatory newly built in summer 2006 when my mother was coming to live with us. Sadly she wasn't able to enjoy it for very long.
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In Bristol you have the cultural, shopping and employment advantages of a reasonably large city (3/4 of a million) and some beautiful architecture here and there – what survived the blitz of World War II that is. And in 15 minutes you can be out in lovely rolling green countryside with the hedgerows, small irregularly shaped fields and lots of trees which are the feature of most of Britain. We’re also just across the Severn Bridge from Wales. However what I love best about living in Britain is that you're surrounded by history, and in most cases the sites, buildings and monuments are treated with respect and lovingly preserved for posterity.

-oOo-

Unlike the celebrities - I welcome interviews! Go on then...

It's great the way Nola's idea has taken off... I'd be delighted to answer any questions as best I can, so ask away, the more the better... I'll reply in a future post.

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(Though I don't think the tabloids and the paparazzi need get too excited...)

-oOo-

First Fill! The train is at last pulling out of the station...

(Between burps) I'm happy to report that the first fill went very well. I thought the session would feel like a slimming club evening, but it was so liberating to realise that it's far from being that because my success will no longer be totally reliant on my own willpower alone. I don't need to lie any more or make excuses - I'm just going to tell it how it is.

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I saw the nurse first, who weighed me, and I felt silly having told her beforehand I felt like a failure because I hadn't been able to do much dieting after the first three weeks, so I was bound to have gone up... and then found I had lost one kilo since the op. It's not much, but it's amazing, because I felt I was putting it on slowly. But there must have been a little restriction, enough to make a slight difference.

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I was seen by the surgeon as it was the first fill - thereafter it probably won't be. And having studied all the blogs so carefully, here's the surprise: my port is nowhere near the side of my ribcage, but bang in the middle by the central scar in my chest. New LapBand design? My shape is even more weird than I thought? He put saline into my lungs by mistake?!

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He inserted 5 ml of saline (I have a 10 ml band apparently) and with the needle held still asked me to sit up and drink a glass of water ("What, all of it?" "Yes, there's gin at the bottom") After half a glass I was gurgling like a water-cooler and in some discomfort, so he removed 1 ml and made me finish the glassfull ("You lied, there's no gin there" - he just grinned). They want to see me again in 3 weeks for an adjustment, or if I should need an unfill I can contact them any time and they'll fit me in. Thank goodness it's all part of the package to have 2 years of fills etc, so I won't need to worry about shelling out more money.

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Most of the people I deal with, nurses included, have lapbands, so there's advice available everywhere. I'm told that if at night I wake up because of saliva accumulating in my throat it's a sign that I need an unfill (and I'm also remembering all the comments Tracey has made).

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Of course the greatest advertisement for the procedure are the bandsters that go back more than 6 months - the squeals of "I can't believe it's you!" from the other patients, and their stories of how they're getting on make you want to hurry up and start your journey. And everybody's happy - it's amazing, like being in a parallel world.

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As instructed I've had only soup for dinner... oh well all right then, I also had two cream crackers with butter on, pinched off John who was having cheese and biscuits. I'm afraid I'm still hungry, but I'll be obedient tonight because it's the first 12 hours... so when you say in your blogs "I feel restriction", I still don't know what you mean...

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Tell you next time. Hey, guess what - I'm on my way!!

-oOo-

7 Morbidly Obese Dwarfs and not a Snow White among us...

OK, so I'd never make a very good forger,

but you get the picture...

-oOo-

The Sat-Nag

John was given a little device for Christmas called a "Sat-Nag", which looks just like the real thing, only made of black plastic, and the front has a drawing of a road map, with "Desperation Way", "Nag Street", "Moaning Road", "Earache Avenue" and the inevitable "Backseat Drive" marked thereon. When a button is pressed, a female voice makes statements in clipped tones, most of which are quite amusing.

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However, in mid-chortle I realised that the side-splitting witticisms had clearly been written by a bloke, so here are the best ones (the really macho ones make me gag, so they've been censored) - followed by another set of statements (mine) which I reckon could be made by women about men. Any similarity with what John as the front-seat driver says to me is not purely coincidental.

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Written by him about her

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If you don’t slow down and start driving within the speed limit I’m going to ring the police myself.

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At the roundabout I’m going to say again that I told you not to buy this penis-extension of a car.

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At the next junction I’m going to explain that it’s not what you said but the way you said it that annoyed me.
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In 50 metres - if you fart again I’m going to get out of this car and catch a bus.

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In 20 metres I’m going to remind you that you’re not invisible in traffic jams, and people can see you picking your nose.

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I know you’re a man, but it’s been 45 minutes now, so can you please admit we’re lost and ask someone the way?
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OK so we didn’t have sex last night, but could you stop driving like a lunatic?

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In 50 metres when we’re stuck in traffic I’m going to ask you if your shortcut is really faster.

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Written by her about him

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In 50 metres I’m going to ask you if you realise that this car has five gears.
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In 25 metres I’m going to repeat what I say at the beginning of every journey when you’re driving: Now what are we not going to do…. yeees, we’re not going to rush, are we?
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Every 20 metres I’m going to suggest overtaking/not overtaking or slowing down/speeding up.
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At every traffic light I’m going to let you know its colour.

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At every intersection I’ll do all the courteous-waving-at-considerate-drivers stuff (or apologise to them if I consider it necessary), you just concentrate on the driving.
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If I think you’re going too fast I’ll grip the dashboard with both hands till the whites of my knuckles show, while I ask you in a strangled voice what the hell you think you’re doing.
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If a decision is required which could be one of several alternatives, I’ll always let you know what I normally do in these situations, and not quite pick up on the “Yes, so you always tell me”.
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The fact that I’m letting you drive this evening has absolutely positively definitely nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that you don’t drink and I do. Nope.

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-oOo-

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(Can you tell I'm marking time waiting for my first fill? Well, go to the top of th class then).