Preface: this kind of rambles. I usually write a blog, then proof it, then sit on it for a few days while editing. This is more so like a stream of conscious thought today. Sorry if it gets off track or is harder to follow...
Fast forward 11 months to last month, when I had the shit bag reversal surgery. My final follow up appointment with my surgeon for the reversal surgery was set for this morning. The closure to the story was coming exactly one year later almost to the hour. In some sort of ironic twist of fate, I received a phone call this morning that my surgeon would have to reschedule my appointment because he was called into an emergency surgery. I told the woman on the phone that I completely understood. I understand in a more meaningful way than most people would.
When I woke up today, I was laying in bed thinking back on the morning of December 27th, 2016. That morning started in excruciating pain, though it had been getting progressively worse over the preceding 6 days. I remember telling my husband I would go to the hospital, but that I needed to take a Percocet just to make it to the car. It did nothing for the pain. I guess it is no match for your torso basically being full of infection and your organs struggling to stay alive and functioning.
I must have looked pretty bad because I didn't have to wait in the emergency room. When they took my blood pressure and it was 80/50, everyone appropriately started freaking out. A lot of it is a rushed blur of events in my memory, but I remember specific things very vividly. The fact that I can sit here and recall things and not be completely overwhelmed with emotion speaks to the fact that I have spent the past year doing a lot of self care.
I wish that a year ago, waking up in the ICU feeling angry, scared, defeated, embarrassed, disappointed, frustrated, sad, and so many other emotions, I could have seen myself sitting here now. More than anything, the thought I kept having at the time was "I can't do this" and I really just wanted to give up. But I have always had the philosophy in life that everything happens for a reason. I was just having a really hard time coming to terms with why that (of all things) would happen and why it would specifically happen to me. Looking back on everything now, I know the reasons it happened the way it did and the lessons I needed to learn in the past year. Got it. Loud and clear. Don't need to learn that one again, thanks.
I have enough clarity now to know that probably the only reason I didn't die is because my husband and I had gastric sleeve surgery in 2014. Last December, my body was in the best health condition it has ever been. We were eating better, taking our vitamins, walking 2 miles every day, I was doing yoga every week, and in general taking care of myself. My nana died of sepsis; but I lived, and with no major complications or organ damage. My guts healed while I had the shit bag and now a year later this Humpty Dumpty is back together again.
I think one of the big lessons I needed to learn was that gastric sleeve surgery had helped me to resolve a lot of health issues, but it did nothing to help my unhealthy relationship with food. Spending a year working from home with my desk sitting ten feet from my kitchen was something for which I was unprepared. I don't think I had allowed myself to admit that I ever had binge eating disorder until my kitchen was staring me in the face daily. I truly had no control over my eating and was skipping drinking any fluids so that I could eat instead to accommodate my tiny tummy.
Admitting that I have binge eating disorder and starting down the path of treatment with a therapist was something that I didn't even realize needed to happen until I was put into this situation. I have been continuing my path with my therapist to work through these newly recognized issues with food. Apparently I am not alone as she has started a support group specifically for people who have had gastric sleeve (or bypass or lap-band) and who continue to struggle with binge eating disorder. I guess it is easy to deny that there is a problem for your entire life until you literally cannot binge without huge consequences.
I have only been to one group so far, but I do think it will be helpful. I also think that returning to an office work environment away from my kitchen is going to be a very important tool for me to continue my work with this issue. I guess working in an office was probably the biggest reason I had done ok with the eating since the surgery in the first place. I limited the amount of food I had available at work.
I never really thought about it that much before now, but prior to surgery that was one of the reasons I ate at restaurants or brought home take-out so often. Once it was gone, it was gone. I was able to fool myself into thinking a restaurant portion was the right portion. Of course, most American restaurants actually serve two to four portions on a plate, but if you are in denial you can convince yourself of a lot of things that aren't true. It was a very small way to control what I was eating.
In the back of my mind, I knew if I went grocery shopping and brought home a bunch of food that I would eat it all. I had no control. If I made a frozen pizza, I ate the whole thing. If I made a box of macaroni, I ate the whole thing. If I made a pot of spaghetti, it may take a day or so, but I ate the whole thing. I would go back to the fridge over and over until it was all gone. I never thought of it as binge eating disorder, but that certainly is what it was. This year has proven that I will still do the same thing if given the opportunity and capacity. I will even skip drinking anything just to be able to eat again instead.
I know that having the gastric sleeve surgery was the right thing for me to do. I know that I would not have been capable of losing weight on my own. I know that sitting here almost four years post surgery, I am still learning things about myself and my eating. But I am trying.
I have made a resolution with myself that I am going to continue this work on my eating disorder and regaining control of my diet until it is finished. I am not calling it a new year's resolution or anything like that because I know that it's something that won't be finished in a year. It will be a lifetime of work. But maybe that is why new year's resolutions don't often stick with most people: because they fail to recognize they need to do the work for the rest of their lives. I think my take away is that the work is never done if you have an issue like this.
When things like this happen, they show you without a doubt what and who is important to you, and who is really there for you no matter what. I know I wouldn't have gotten through it all without them. So, although I am not seeing my surgeon today for my official closure, I am putting this year to bed. I survived. It is finished. But I am not.
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