It has been three years since I had my stomach cut down to the size of a large walnut. My brother-in-law refers to it as when I was "filleted like a fish" which isn't really true. I wasn't filleted; I had six little one inch holes... let me see him gut a fish with only six little holes. Hmph.
Weight Loss Surgery is one of those things that everyone has an opinion about but no one really knows what to think. That didn't make sense but it kind of does. To some it seems so drastic and extreme while others feel it is the easy way out. It seems to be a knee jerk reaction either one way or the other. I look at it this way. My body was broken and I had it fixed. Like a broken arm or a ruptured appendix. Whether I created the problem or not...my stomach to brain signals weren't working for whatever reason. I would over eat and my stomach wouldn't tell me. It would let me eat, eat, and eat some more without saying - o.k. enough already - you don't need anymore! I believe it was 48 years of over eating, gaining weight, starving myself, losing weight - literally dozens of times that got me to where I was.
The good doctors gave me baby stomach again. It is up to me to take care of it. It is a new chance, a new beginning, kind of a do-over. I know that sounds cliché but that is how I look at it.
Every year I go see the good doctors on my WLS anniversary. About a week before I go have blood work done. Yesterday was the big day. First off - they weigh me. I still absolutely dread it. I weighed myself before I went. I knew that I was on target. But the scale has never been my friend. In the doctor’s office I got on the scale and I swear to goodness it took forever for those numbers to appear. Long enough for my pea sized brain to think the scale was broken or maybe my scale at home was broken and had I gained too much for this scale to weigh me? None of this is logical because I know I haven't, but that is what was going through my mind. I was just getting ready to ask and the numbers flashed up. Whew... the number was the a few ounces different than what I had weighed at home. A wave of relief swept over me. Then the thought crossed my mind of just how ridiculous all this overthinking was.
I met with the doctor and we went over my blood work. Everything looks good. Great actually. We talked about how, when and what I eat. We talked about what vitamins and supplements I take. We talked about my exercise routine and when I tell him that I am riding two horses five to six days a week - he is impressed. Thank goodness my WLS doctor rides horses. I am not completely convinced a non-rider would understand that riding is a good form of exercise.
I have maintained my goal weight for 3 years OR over 1,000 days OR over 25,000 hours OR over 1,500,000 minutes. I have learned to eat better, I feel one hundred times healthier, I definitely ride better, I can move freely, my joints don't ache anymore, my shoulders don't have ruts in them from my bra straps, I sleep better and clothes are comfortable again, I don't worry about whether or not I am going to fit into a chair or god forbid break one when I sit down, and last but definitely not least... the pp leakage problem (TMI - SO SORRY) is completely gone.
I have had bumps in the road along the way. It hasn't all been peachy. I had a twisted intestine and had to have colic surgery. I have to work at maintaining my iron/feratin level. I gave up some of my favorite things - avocados, ranch dressing, Sees candy, beer, Diet Pepsi, Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade and my penchant for drinking vats of Margaritas - along with a few dozen other things that just don't like me anymore.
Was it extreme or the easy way out? Who knows. All I know is that I am riding better and that makes me happy.