whippledaddy

She knows I'm your banded brother. I think she liked what she saw here. She is much less critical of me being on here now. In fact she kind of encourages it. It's funny, but I think reading some of my posts reached her in a way that everything else I do could not. It's a glimpse into how I feel about her, when she's not looking. Women are definitely mysterious. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Michelle said "Misery loves Company". And ain't it the truth? And when seeking company sometimes the miserable try to "kill us with kindness". Well, whether it was kindness or cruelty, yer just as dead. She's struggling. She thought she was drowning in a world of fat and frosting, but at least there was someone there to go down with her. Now you've grabbed a life preserver and she suddenly feels alone. Like a jilted lover she's trying to seduce you back to the dark side with carbs and comfort. And you know what? She's not even conscious that she's doing this. Her denial goes deep. Good denial always does. To the eating addicted (or obsessed, choose your term) food takes the same place heroin does to a junky. Food is how she makes herself better after the world hurts her. Food is how she makes amends when someone is angry at her. It's a Gift of the Magi, in a way. She is, after all, giving you the most important thing in the world, to her. She doesn't think you'll be her friend any longer now that you are breaking free from the chains of caloric prison. Her self esteem tells her that she isn't very likeable, and her subconscious takes every step to make sure that it is true. I'm not analyzing her. I'm analyzing me. When my wife first started on her RNY journey I would cook anything she asked, even if I knew it was going to make her go into dumping syndrome. Now I cook whatever she asks, but in the healthiest way possible. You may have to break it off with your friend. You may have to shun her. But no matter what, you've got to take care of Lisa. This is life and death. And, if you handle it right, you may be able to remove food from the equation of your relationship with her. If she can feel accepted, as she is, without the food issue, then she might be open to hearing how she, too, can be helped like you. This can be the beginning of a good thing. And I think you're just the little ball of fire to do it! Lotsa love, and prayers for you, Lisa. Whip.

One thing I did was call my insurance company and ask them this question, just this way: "Depending on the diagnosis code, and procedure code, do you cover weight loss surgery?" If they answer "yes" then you know that it is a possibility and you have something to strive for.

Congrats, Tim. I, too, was expecting it to be much worse. Perhaps medical science has made great strides since I last had a surgery. My PCP says it is much less painful post op with a skillful surgeon. I dunno.

Tracey, it only gets better from here on. That's not to say it's all milk and honey, but you are making progress in a positive direction. Heal and enjoy the next weeks. I know I am! Thanks for all the kind words and welcome to the banded side.

A few times in my life I've been hurt by the things that people said. Mostly though, I've been hurt by circumstances themselves. There was that humiliating time in Church when the pew broke beneath my weight. And in school when a desk chair buckled a leg. An aluminum camp chair collapsed under me, and someone actually caught it on camera. It was funny, I suppose. Then there are the numerous times my pants have split whether I was at work or play. Once Patty said something that really hurt. That was over twelve years ago, and I feel the sting of those awful words to this day. She was larger than I at that time, and for some reason, that made her comments even more damaging. Others? Nope, not too much in the hurt feelings category, I guess. Sometimes their stupidity makes me a little angry. But there is one thing I have learned. Stupid people won't see their own oafishness, or can't see it, no matter how hard you try to show it to them. Good luck. Hang tight, and don't give up on the whole insurance thing.

Dr. Stephen Morris did my wife's Aunt when she lost due to roux en y. He is very good, he's in Midland, but ya gotta pay up front and he isn't interested in insurance coverages. I did a web search on docs and found a few here and there who do take insurance in limited circumstances.

This is such a great thread! I've got some questionable genetics of my own, might as well air them here. When I was two years old my grandmother tried to slit my throat. The knife was dull, she was ninety, and my mom intervened. For those reasons I am still alive today. My only memory of Grandma is her in the living room gesturing for me to come to her. The look of terror on Mom's face is unforgettable. That incident was the last straw in a string of events that had proven Grandma's cheese was slipping off her cracker. First she ran off and told the neighbors that there were strangers living in the house (It was us, her family) Then she set her bed on fire because she was cold. Lastly she sold the four farms she owned that she rented out for income and converted it all to cash money. She hid the money in the large "tin can" between our house and the neighbor's. The large "tin can" was the burning barrell that every country house had in those days. My Father's large inheritance literally went up in smoke that day. When my mother passed away all us kids were sitting in the funeral home for the viewing when a very strange lady walked in. She viewed my mother then went and talked to my dad. It was his first wife. He had a daughter by her but this woman was so whacky they put her in a home and she never saw her daughter. My sister came up to Dad after the whacky woman left and said "Was that my Mother?" I have three brothers and one sister. We boys share a single mother, but each has a different father. My sister and I share a father, but have different mothers. So..... niether of my brothers has a sister, but I do. The brothers two fathers are also brothers, so they are brothers and cousins. Each of them can say "My Uncle is my Brother's Father." We never get together, for holidays or for reunions or anything else. It's just too darned confusing.

James Brown's . Whoa!

The smallest pebble, thrown in the largest pond, will make ripples that reach the farthest shore. Every little action, every little word, has it's own ripple effect. Words, once spoken, can never be retrieved, they head out, like cruise missles who no longer have guidance systems, and they do their damage. When you're surrounded by that layer of fat, your body might be protected, but your soul, already tender, is exposed to all attacks. Heavy people are reduced (no pun intended) to taking their self esteem from the esteem of others. It's a fragile patch over our tortured insides at best. When we do this we are putting ourselves at the whim of others. It's dangerous for us, and a big responsibility for them. True self esteem comes from within. That's easy to say, but it gets pretty hard to find when the comments are coming fast and thick, and we can't even defend ourselves because we have a part of us that agrees with our attackers. Somehow we all seem to feel we're not good enough, not worth defending. So we only half take our own side, and the other half goes over to the enemies side. We have mirrors. We have hearts. We can see equally well into both, and both can be broken. I know of no way to get a thin person to understand what it's like. If they, too, have some highly visible reason for comment, they might understand, but not always. I knew a girl once who was covered in large, unsightly warts. Every inch of her was a mass of bumps. It was hard to look at her, but when you saw beneath those ugly bumps, you found a truly beautiful girl, smart witty and very sexy. But you had to invest the time to look, and to really see what you were looking at. I doubt your hubby understood just how much damage his comment did. Heck even those of us who battle the weight don't fully understand why those comments hurt so bad. He knew it would hurt a bit, maybe like a pinch, but it's really a punch in the gut. If he knew, he would have taken a different tack, I'm sure. You've recieved good advice here on how to handle this. I can't give you any better, but you can take a moment to really deal with your emotions. You feel hurt and you deserve to feel hurt. The one who has the fate of your fragile heart and feelings in his hands, hurt you. You are unprotected from such an attack. You deserve to feel hurt. It's your pain, give it room to live it's short life, so you can get back to the job at hand. Try to find a way to let him know just how much those words can hurt. Try to do it without making him feel like he's under attack. We men tend to react that way. We're fragile in that way. And we have nearly no idea of what we are feeling at any given moment. We are not evolved emotionally. So if you make him defend himself, he'll miss the point. Indeed he'll wonder what the point was, he won't even come close. And, as a husband myself, who's been in the dog house and didn't know why, I can tell you that whatever he did is because he loves you, and wants the best for you. He wants you to be happy. And so do you. You have a common goal. Live, love, and be well.

I'm healing up from my banding. Walking into the bathroom several times a day and lifting up my shirt so I can see my incisions in the mirror. It's real. I've lost some weight, but there's a secondary benefit that I didnt' expect. I'm a different person, because, for once in my life I did something for me. So many times I have stepped back, and let others have what they needed while I made do. Then I would use that little setback as a reason to gorge. Now I have taken a step that is for me. To make me better than I am. To make me healthier, and maybe a little happier too. I would like to say that when I'm looking in the mirror I can see the man that I'm becoming, but I can't. I do see the man I am, and he's better than the man I was yesterday, and that gives me a kind of quiet joy. That I can get better, and that I can recognize it, and not hide it from myself. Truth is I have always been thin, but under wraps. The thin Ryan is a man I visit only in my dreams. Now the world has taken on the quality of dreams. Maybe the drugs they gave me haven't all worn off, but then, I think not. Maybe it's that I'm not only new to Bandland, but to Taking Care of Myself land. I'm new to dealing with my feelings rather than heaping a bunch of cake and hamburgers on them to shut them up. Maybe I'll grow easy with my new life. Maybe there are some rocky places in the path. Truth is, now that I am on the Bandland boat, I can look back and see the shores of Fatville still close at hand. I know that the sail will carry me away, but "then" is still pretty close to "now". The wind will blow, I'll have my trials, and my setbacks. There will be storms, and the desire to attack all problems with chocolate. But I have the Band. One day I'll look behind, and the shores of Fatville will only be a grey edge on the misty horizon. Then I'll shade my eyes and look ahead to where the boat is pointed and I'll see the shining spires of Thin City. And if I cock my head and listen, above the creak and moan of the ship and ropes, I'll hear the music and the cries of the citizens of that place singing the sweetest song, whose refrain is: "You can do it". It will be a bright day. So is any day I visit the stellar folks of LapBandTalk.com.

Hey, Jack. If I gotta model my Hulk Underoos, you can model a thong. Sheeeeesh! I mean, take one for the team, eh?

Oh, Lisa, it sounds like if there is a difficult path you will find it. And walk it. It's not enough to be strong, it's not enough to have good intentions, it's not enough to call folks and complain. But it is enough to be tough. And you're certainly tough enough. Time passes. Things heal. The tough survive. You will survive, and your story will inspire others. You will overcome the port and band problems, and you will beat food. Look at all you've been through and still survived, and iced the cookie of that survival with the sweet frosting of success. Down 66lbs. You are triumphant. What a tale you have to tell! I, who have never met you other than here on this board, am proud of you. Proud to know you. Priviledged to call you friend. When you need comfort a part of me will be there in spirit. That's my hand on your shoulder, and that's me whispering "You Can Do It".

Now THAT'S a Christmas present!

Hello Santa, here's what I want you to bring me this year, nothing expensive, and it won't take up much room in your sleigh. First I'd like a reminder of all my blessings before I start complaining about my irritations. I have a loving wife, three good dogs, a roof over my head, good food to eat, and a job with excellent insurance. Yes, I have to shovel snow from time to time, and yes, I hate it. But I'm not sleeping in a desert foxhole tonight, wondering if I'll ever see my family again. Yes, it's cold. And I hate the cold, but the furnace is in good order, and I can build a crackling fire if I need it. Oh, the fireplace will be nice and cold on Christmas Eve, no worries, buddy. And no matter how cold it gets, one of Patty's smiles warms me through. Yes soon the gatherings will start. The party for work (they usually have to pay me to hang around those people) Parties at the inlaws, parties with people who share DNA with me, though little else. At these times more than others I need to remember my many blessings. I'll spend money I can't afford to spend. I'll consume calories I can't afford to consume. I'll laugh at jokes I don't understand. I'll see people consume too much booze. Help me not obsess about the money. Help me work off the calories. Help me forget these people in their inebriated state. Let me remember them at their best. They're good people, after all, they deserve that. And let me remember that it really IS the thought that counts. Maybe the thought of the recipient as much as the giver. Let me rejoice that I'm not raising children alone, working at a minimum wage job, trying to be a good Santa's helper for them, when all is ice, and snow, and sniffles. In fact, send any material presents of mine their way. Maybe they will be appreciated more there. And lastly, after my little reminders, please make sure someone is watching over the innocents, helping them through life. Keeping them warm and loved. Slow the hand of the angry parent, make them think before they hit. Stop the evil ones who would steal innocence from the children. Yes, I know it's a tall order for you. And I'm sorry to ask for things so difficult. But there is yet one thing. One very selfish present that you could bring to me. During those gatherings perhaps you could arrange, that all the people who made fun of me when I was fatter, could look at me a little lighter, and be just a little jealous? But no, that will happen on it's own. Merry Christmas.

So what's so terrible? You've decided to preserve your OWN environment. We must take care of ourselves first, and others second. You're taking care of your family. If you need to feel that you are making a difference, why not volunteer? But, you do make a difference, here. We love you and you help hurting people find a way to stop hurting. You are a much better person than you think you are. TTFN

slathering on the chocolate lotion? Uhhhhh......okay.

Any port in a storm?

Oh, yeah. And the food thing? Every ear in this place hears you. That's why we're here, the food thing. Food to Celebrate, food to console. Food to comfort, food to fill the void. Food when we're bored, food when we're tired. Food when we're deliriously happy, food when our heart is broken. Food when it rains, food when it shines. It's all about the food. It could be liquor, it could be spending, gambling, sex or compulsive vacuuming or hand washing. Food's the drug of choice, baby! Have another shot of french fries. Let's freebase some pie. All we can do is feel our emotions. All we can do is hold on to the life preserver through times like this, hoping the next wave won't take us under. Hoping we won't go to the refrigerator. We know the comfort that will bring, and the sting of guilt when the feeding frenzy is over. So what can you do? You can do your best, and if you make it through the storm, and the fresh light of a new day finds you weary but unbowed, the fridge door still un cracked, you can take pride in your accomplishment. It was a battle to be in the songs of heroes. But, if you should discover that the storm was too violent, and you were not strong enough, but you did eat like a berserk human vacuum, then have the good grace to be as kind to yourself as you are to others. I watched a boxer get knocked down three times once, but he got up each time to win the match. Let the man count nine. Then get up and start swinging. It isn't losing this battle, or the next that decides if you win this war or not. The only way you can lose is to give up completely. Hang on. Get back up. Forgive yourself for taking one on the chin, and get to work on the good fight once again. Get these feelings through your system as quickly as you can. Grieve your loss, and you are losing something in this situation. Grieve it. Own it. It's yours and you have a right to be bummed. You know your enemy, food, you know his tricks and devices. You have a band, though empty, I assume it will not always be so. You can do it, Tellie. Wait and see how many people encourage you here. Read often. Read instead of eating. Read while eating if you must, but that is a bad habit, eh? But read. Share. Vent here, or PM me and vent. I can take it. Best of luck, though a warrior like you really doesn't need luck, does she?

She didn't have any trouble calling on your friendship to get the original booking, did she? I wouldn't feel too sorry for her. Business is business. Now if you truly believe that it is a legitimate mistake, and you can save her job with your magnanimous gesture, then do so without guilt. But, I too, find it hard to believe that no one else will complain. I'm a very suspicious person when it comes to money. You shouldn't have to lose any money on this. You didn't wheedle her into giving you a raging deal. She approached you. Maybe she needs to lose her job and find something she is more suited for. So, to review. She called you. There was a great hurry, giving you no time to think it over. Then the deal falls through. When they rush you honey, it ain't never on the level. Unless this is my best friend in the whole wide world, I would complain my hinie off until I got every red cent back. If she is your friend, this won't damage it. If you have to buy her friendship by taking it in the @#$#$ then that ain't no friend. Just my two cents worth. But ultimately it's up to you, tough decision.

I had to break down and go buy plastic wrap. There never used to be leftovers to store. LOL.

Good luck Fran. I'll be driving down the Ohio Turnpike on the way to Cleveland Clinic for a procedure for my wife. At 10:00 I'll say a prayer of hope for you, though I know you'll do just fine, and you're gonna love your band. Now that's no small offer. Last time I prayed I burst into flame. LOL.

Just a dozen days ago I was fitted with the Adjustable Gastric Band. Just a dozen days ago and much has happened. I have been learning a new way to eat. I have been congratulated on shaving my beard. Of course I never had a beard, but my face is thinner, maybe that's where the confusion starts. I have discovered how to eat too quickly, and the consequences of that lapse in judgement. I have found out about eating too much. I reccomend neither, except as learning experiences. I have discovered that, yes, just as the others have been saying, the band has a mind of it's own. One day I can absent mindedly eat more than I intended, and the next day Water can be excruciatingly filling. And I am still without my first fill. I can look in the mirror and see a thinner face. I have entered the uncharted territory on my belt. My knees hurt less. I haven't had a diabetic pill in a dozen days. I've slept better than I have in over a year. I find myself keeping busy, because I want to, and I have the energy to accomplish many things. I actually did some of my "Honey Do" list. Patty was duly surprised. Thank goodness for the CPR training, LOL. I expected to be doing something positive for myself. I expected for my life and my health to get better. I didn't expect to have it get better right away, or to feel this good this soon out. It only makes me even more excited about the future. Today I worked a fourteen hour day after two hours sleep last night, and here I am still going, and hardly tired. Well, now, I take that back. Tired is the word, the good healthy kind of tired you get from doing a days work, and living life, not the tired you get from struggling against your own body to accomplish things. If thirty odd pounds does this, what will happen with the other hundred thirty five? Just wanted to share. It gets better. IF you are trying to decide whether or not to do this, think hard, please don't dismiss it out of hand. It can help you live.

Yeah, what Leatha said. The pre op diet is easier than the post op one, 'tis true. That diet before the band is taken in a spirit of excitement to be on your way, headed in the direction of a new life, a new lifestyle, and a new you. But after the band your mood changes to "let's get on with this already" and you hope that the Jell-o factory has a permanent power outage. You can do it, girl. I did it and I have no willpower at all. So if I did it, anyone can. It will be hard, but we'll be here for you. And mine really wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Keep your chin up.