Nuffsy Nuff... LapBand update

I’m tired of this over-restriction, I’m tired of being sick, of worrying that I’m going to be sick when I’m out for a meal, tired of my blotchy face the day after I’ve had a major blockage, tired of constant heartburn after meals, tired of not being able to eat more than a spoonful of a protein-rich main course... yet seeming to  ‘manage’ a suitcase full of ice-cream, sweets, chocolate, biscuits and cake which I find difficult to resist because I’m so hungry; and finally, tired of the knock-on effect it’s having on my diabetes. 

Bandits are all warned about the dangers of overfill, and we go into denial because we think that “...at least the band’s working – how many more calories would I be consuming if it didn’t stop me dead in my tracks?...”  But I’ve been like this for over a year, and the precious pounds I was so happy to lose are creeping back on again.  I’m also tired of forcing myself into the kitchen to prepare vegetable goo (drink, soup, purée, whatever) so that ‘I get my vegetables’, and John is fed up with washing every cooking utensil and multi-part electronic device I possess after I’ve finished in there... and the cats are fed up because my efforts don’t involve meats, butter, milk or cheese so there are no titbits on offer.

(I’ve nearly finished)

And I’m particularly fed up with the fact that I can’t take my statin pills without drama, because they’re too big.  Our surgery say they can’t give me smaller ones, and crushing pills and mixing them with honey brings out the bitter taste no matter how much honey you put in, and the honey sends my glucose soaring.  I'm careful with the glucose I consume of course, and adjust insulin accordingly, but I know it's not good enough.  Yesterday I faced the fact that I’m taking half the statins I’ve been prescribed because I can’t persuade my band to let me swallow two pills, even with a decent interval.  Don’t want to bring them to work either, I’m too restricted during the day anyway (‘cept for biscuits...).

So there you are, all my dirty laundry hung out for you to see, and you can now laugh and point, and tell me that it’s exercise I need.  Well don’t waste your breath.  My exercise consists of two daily 15 minute walks to and from my car, plus several 20 minute walks a week to and from the far reaches of the hospital site for errands or meetings.  That’s already more than I like, but I grudgingly admit (as I kick the wall with a scowl) that it’s been sort of good for my sciatica, since said complaint stays away from me during the week and comes back on weekends, which, bright spark that I am, I know is no coincidence. 

So if you’ll allow me to use a Bristolian phrase (at least I think it is), after nimmin’ and nammin’ for a few months I’ve decided to have a small unfill.  My reasoning is that I’m eating the wrong food anyway whatever my restriction, so why don’t I try the pleasure of filling up with meat and two veg, and salads (oh I miss them), and when I can say I’m not hungry, then quietly try (very hard) to stay away from the sliders? 

The sweet spot is a moving goalpost.  In the good old days after the operation the more I lost the looser I got inside and the more fill I needed.  As the pounds go back on, I get more restricted.  My band’s fill is at 10.5cc at the moment, I think I should have a half cc removed, and John thinks I should only go for a quarter.  Any thoughts?  I have an appointment for Wednesday 21st March, which I was pleased to learn will be free because I didn’t have my yearly free visit in 2011.

My willpower was never going to be strong enough to pull a brown paper bag, let alone drag me away from temptation, but I think I need to actually find out whether making life a bit more comfortable will help me to “make the right choices”. 

And if I stay out of the kitchen John won’t have to wash up.

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Photo Finish -
From Lonicera's non-digital archive

Rugby, and Fuerteventura, Canary Islands

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