pxinaz

My husband had VGS surgery nine days ago. He had complications due to some of his comorbidities, and spent six nights in the hospital instead of one. While he is happy to no longer be hungry, I'm concerned about his unwillingness to follow the rules of his program. He refuses to walk. Even in the hospital, where walking every two hours was mandatory, he refused to budge. He walks to the bathroom and back to his recliner, and that's it. The rest of the time, he bellows out his demands, 24/7. Bring men Jello, bring me ice, bring me Water, come clean up my mess, get me a Protein shake. While I am sympathetic and want to be comforting, my suggestions that he could get up or even reach for something have been met with rage. He is furious that he feels so bad. My telling him to walk off the pain has generated more anger. He ridiculed the nutrition instructors and actually walked out of his post op class. Now he expects me to keep track of his needs. And those comorbidities that caused problems in the OR? He still refuses to handle them. I've been screamed at, yelled at, belittled, and cursed. How can I help him to get himself together so he can work on living with this new tool? And how do I protect myself? I have several severe autoimmune diseases, am a cancer survivor, and I live in constant severe pain. Normally I'm on heavy narcotics but right now I'm limiting my pain meds in order to drive him to his appointments. He is not supportive of my issues. Because I'm on a biologic drug for my arthritis, I'm susceptible to infection, so I worry about having to handle clean up when he gets sick. I do it, but I worry about the risks. His surgeon actually suggested he go to a rehab facility after he left the hospital. He refused. How do I get him up and moving again?

Thank you. It is now six months out. He's lost 151 pounds and feels great. Comorbidities are gone. Still has a long way to go, but this week's surgery follow up made the docs quite happy. I'd like to say things have changed between us, but they really haven't. I've lost 66 pounds without surgery. Go figure. My arthritis hasn't improved. Such is life. I'm the little engine that keeps going forward and I strive for peace. Sometimes that means forgiving the bully and just moving on. Is it what my feminist power self would have done? Nope. But it's the only option for now.

Please understand that I'm not angry or on the attack...I simply could not process the comments that felt harsh. I say this now because other new partners may be walking thru the same hell. Was it abuse? Absolutely. Will I address it? Oh yes I will and am...I have my own therapist. I'm encouraging my husband to get his own. I'm grateful for all the support, truly. And I'm eager to see what happens next.

So we are a little over a month out. He's lost 60 pounds...and is slowly returning to earth. Has it been perfect? No. He's acknowledged how awful he's been. It's a start. I will never forget the things that were said, but this is my life, and I'm moving forward. He is too. I've urged him to get help dealing with the anger and loss. For all those who considered me a doormat or codependent or a wuss, your harsh words weren't helpful, but thank you for standing up for those who cannot express the horror of abuse. For those who said hang in there and let me cry a bit on your online shoulders, thank you for granting me acceptance and peace. It helped me lead myself out of the woods. Here I am...it does get better.

Give it time and give yourself plenty of space. I went through pure hell as the wife of a sleeve patient. He was cruel beyond comprehension, as I shared in my first post last month. He's better now. Perfect, no, but I can live with this. He's cooperating with his docs, he's following his plan, and he's learning to negotiate a whole new world. He's still angry, but he's moving forward. It helped me immensely to get out of the house. It helped him, too, because he had to get up and help himself. So go out, even if it's just for coffee and a sweet. I met up with my crochet group and they let me cry...a lot. Time will help...hang in there.

Again, thank you for all of your insight. Tomorrow is his two week post op appointment and I will have a lot to say. Little has changed. Today he refused to go to his other doctor because he is too tired, and he refused to even talk to them. He's still demanding and thinks he's helpless. Snort. Three positive tiny moments, though. I heard him using the swiffer in the bathroom the other day. This weekend he was on the phone with a friend and he suddenly forgot he was pathetic. He laughed and talked with energy for a good 20 minutes. And this morning, miracle of miracles, he walked 10 extra feet and got his own yogurt. It's something. I am trying to do a better job of taking care of myself. Not easy. And yes, I have many options to consider. I'm well aware of the situation, and that I don't deserve the abuse. For all those who read this prior to surgery and wonder, he is doing well with his new eating style. He feels full. He feels satisfied. He swoons for my omelets still, just now they're tiny 1 egg versions with no butter and well cooked veggies. I don't think he expected to still find pleasure in food under the new regime...but he does.

Thank you, all. First off, I'm going to take some time for me today, and he will just have to deal. I certainly did not pressure him into the surgery. I told him I would support his decision either way. I had concerns about his ability to handle it, but I let him figure it out without my influence. food has always been the love of his life, his mistress, his whore. I helped him see that. To others, he's happy and outgoing. Yes, he's been whiny and full of woe to them recently, but I'm bearing the brunt. Like any married couple, we have our ups and downs. But even prior to surgery, he was verbally cruel. I recently got sick with a UTI at a party, and it escalated so fast, I was crying. He was furious that we had to leave early and yelled at me for crying and embarrassing him, ruining his fun, always faking it. He continued to rant at the ER, where I eventually got a rocephin shot. The UTI went into my kidneys and I was so sick...but he would not let up. I'm tired of all of it. His new line is 'after all I give you' and he knows just how to push my buttons. I do see my own counselor, but have never met his. I need to summon the courage to tell his bariatric team exactly what is going on. He sees them this Wednesday, and it's time for him to face reality. It's immensely comforting to hear that his refusal to get up is not the norm. Best of luck with your journeys.