March 6th 2008…

This Thursday was a long time coming. The journey to get there started years before and failed attempt after another found me switching insurance companies and finally, finally committing to the whole idea. On January 7th, 2007 I was on my way to this day, the day that was going to change my life.

I went to bed rather late, but didn’t worry too much about my 5:30am arrival time. I was going to be sleeping most of the day anyway right? Well, I did the no food or drink after 9am thing which is traditional. I packed light and wore baggy clothes, jammy pants and a t-shirt to be exact. Unfortunately for me, it was also my time of the month (this doesn’t affect the surgery).

First thing I learned.

Just because they told me to be on time didn’t mean they would be. My boyfriend and I were there 15 minutes early and waited another 30 before he prep-crew opened the doors. They made up for it by being nice.

I was assigned a bed and asked to change into hospital wear which included their underwear and their feminine pads. I hope to god I’m not on my period the next time I have surgery!!!!

And though I packed light, none of it stayed with me. It all went with my boyfriend. My clothes, my book, my glasses, all the things I brought for my one night stay, gone!!!

No big, but it was kind of weird not having my glasses. (You can’t wear contacts, the anesthesia can dry your eyes out to the point the contacts will glue to your eyes.)

During prep, the nurses hooked up IVs, talked to me a little about my surgery and what I was having done. They answered all of my questions and then I waited and waited until being moved to another room.

There, a nurse checked my tubes, got me a warm blanket and basically double checked me and my information. My Anesthesiologist also came by and asked me a few questions about my medical history, my reactions to anesthesia and made sure my C-PAP pressure was right. ( I was told not to bring mine, they would take care of it. Some places ask you to bring your c-papa).

All in all it was very smooth and every one made me feel safe. I had no doubt they were paying attention and I wouldn’t accidentally get the wrong surgery or anything like that. ( I would go nuts if I got the bypass by mistake).

They wheeled me into surgery and I was out before I new it.

When I woke up I could hear voices. I felt people touching me, checking my pulse and things like that. It took some time for me to come back fully to my senses and I’m not sure I actually did until another hour later.

As I laid there I could feel my incisions, just slightly, like a itty bitty sting. I also thought that I didn’t feel that much different. Somehow I thought it’d feel like something was inside of me. I was thinking this as my Surgeon came up to me.

She was smiling and jubilant. I smiled back the best I could. She looked away for a moment then said ‘We didn’t get the band in.”

I heard her clearly. I asked why not and she explained to me what had happened. To tell you the truth I really didn’t hear what she said, just bits and pieces of it.

“I have to lose 30 more pounds don’t I?”

“Yeah.”, she said. Was she surprised I knew that? Was she just humoring the numbers I tossed out? I don’t know. But I was right and that’s what I had to do.

I wasn’t upset at that moment. I took it all in stride and said “I got to do what I got to do and what’s the difference? I’m still losing weight.”

I was sent back to the original staging area and there I was in the way. I called my Mom to come get me because I had sent my boyfriend to work, thinking I’d rather have him take the next day off rather than this one.

The nursing staff was still nice, but it was hard not to notice to them I was now taking up space. They needed the bed I was in. They needed to get other patients into their surgeries.

I did my best to be patient and you know what I did? As soon as my Mom got me I asked to go out to eat. I think it was a fuck you, a bit of anger, a bit of something bubbling inside of me.

I started healing that day physically. My incisions weren’t so bad. If I swallowed too much, too fast I just stopped eating or drinking and it would pass. I imagine having the band will feel similar to that.

I spent the next few days thinking, ignoring the failed surgery, then I allowed myself to get angry. I took a few days off of my “diet”. I reset myself and got ready to give it all another go.

It’s May 29th now. I haven’t lost the weight as quickly as I would’ve liked. There are many factors to that, some medical, some psychological. I’m getting there though. I’m doing what I need to and I know I will have a second chance. Hey isn’t this all about second chances?

(x-posted to surgery stories thread)

WOW I think I would jump off the bed and tackle that doctor! I hope you reach your goal soon so you can be banded. Good luck to you!

Thanks for the comment.