post-surgery

The thing about being 'under' is that you don't know that you are until you wake up. It's weird.

So there I was, having this conversation with the anesthesiologist, and five seconds later I'm moaning, "Owww . . . owweeee . . ." and wanting someone to stop the pain so I can go back to sleep. Even before I could open my eyes I was saying, "ow ow ow Ow Ow OW OW OWWWEEEEEE!" I felt like a baby, and I'm pretty sure I also sounded like one. I was being forced to take sips of Gatorade and periodically I would get relief from the pain. "What is that?" I asked the voices I heard talking around and about me." "Fentanyl," came the answer. "Oh, good," I said, "That's my favorite."

I was dizzy, thirsty, nauseated, and exhausted. Eventually I was put into my own loose-fitting clothing, and then into a wheelchair and essentially poured into a car to take me back to my hotel. I was vaguely aware that I had a band velcroed around my abdomen. I spent the rest of that day taking in liquids and trying to rest and also stay on top of my medicine. I felt phantom belly pain (I don't know what else to call it) and sent a few drunk tweets and text messages (ie, to my friend Sue who wished me to feel better and I replied, "Thank"). I remember trying to watch 30 Rock that evening, but having to turn it off because laughing was severely painful. A nurse from the surgeon's office came to check on me that night, and again the next morning. I opted to stay an extra day/night in the hotel after hearing that a few of my children had acquired H1N1 (anyone remember that?).

When I got home I took my place in my bedroom, in a recliner, next to the window. I was propped up with pillows and blankets, and had my cell phone at my side to, you know, call my house phone downstairs. I had a schedule for my medications and napped a LOT. 2 days post-surgery I decided to try to take a shower, so I took my brace off . . . and this was a mistake. I moved around too much and ended up vomiting. That's right, 2 days after major abdominal surgery, I vomited. So gross and clenchy.

When Jen arrived, she went to the store to buy a wireless thingey, set up a network in my home, and handed over her laptop and some movies, including Clue. What more could a friend want?

The next six weeks were, essentially, spent in my chair. I'd listen to the radio and watch movies and Arrested Development. I drank gatorade and water and ate soup and crackers and pudding. I watched the landscape out my window turn cold as snow flurries blew in. I heard my children downstairs, sometimes laughing and playing, and sometimes crying and fighting. It was frustrating for me to have other people taking care of my children. I admit that I pushed myself more than I should have; that is, I hobbled down the stairs with my cane, bent over like an old woman, to try to take care of things when I should have been resting and relaxing my body, letting it heal. But a mother's gotta do, right? I was blessed to have visitors, and some friends brought in meals, which is the way to ease a mother's mind.

Slowly, gradually, I re-joined life. Although with my 'do-rag and cane I looked terrible -- even worse than I thought: I later heard that people speculated that I had been horribly afflicted with H1N1, and other interesting postulations.

Before I knew it, I was at my six week post-surgery check up. I went back to the gym immediately and had to be patient with myself. It took me a while to get used to not wearing my brace; when I took it off it felt like my body was falling apart. And I preferred to sleep in my chair rather than flat out on my bed. Each day, my swelling would increase throughout the day, and it took me quite a while to stand up straight. I was completely numb; in some areas, I still am.

My six month post-surgery appointment was this past April. Everything looks to be as it should, other than my belly button, which is almost completely closed (this will be fixed this fall) and is off-center (I'm the only one who can see that). At the time I was going through it, this was all such a big deal in my head, like having the surgery was part of my identity and made me a part of a club or something -- not in an elitist way, just as a definition. Yet, now? I barely even think about it, that is until I see my scar. Or when someone says to me (like at church last week), "You're looking skinny!" I thank them and quickly brush it off because while I work really hard (and I'm not anything close to skinny), I also did this huge thing to help me along.

The surgery has helped me tremendously. I knocked 30 minutes off of my triathlon time. I've gone down at least 2 pants sizes. There are some days when I don't feel any different than I did a year ago, at which point I look at my before pictures and recognize that my waist is significantly smaller. I feel more like myself.

If I continue to lose weight, it's because I count calories, something I never, NEVER thought I would do because 1, I love to eat and 2, math's hard. It's something that has been trial & error (and error and error and error) but it's been worth learning how to do. I'm still learning.

Thank you, as always, for reading. Don't forget to come back for my other posts.

What questions do you have?

heavy

In August of 2008 I was the heaviest and unhealthiest I had ever been.

I had had six babies in nine years and six days' time, but I hadn't done what I needed to do to recover from those pregnancies. My eating habits were horrible. My weakness was found in a bag of Lindt Lindor Truffles - an entire bag. I was hiding treats in my room and eating in solitude (I don't say secret because it was certainly evident that I indulged in treats). I wasn't sleeping as I should (which is hard to do as a mom anyway), and I would be out of breath from carrying a basket of laundry up my stairs.

Then, something happened which made me really, really take a look at my life; evaluate where I was, how I had gotten to where I was, as well as where I wanted to go and how I was going to get there. I realized that I wanted a healthy life. I wanted to have the ability to be physically active with my kids, I wanted to be active and be able to participate, not just stand back, out of breath, watching the rest of my family have fun hiking, playing, running. I wanted to treat my body as the gift that it is, to be healthy, to live a life worthy of my kids' emulation.

In October of that year I bought some new running shoes, joined a gym, and hired a personal trainer.

I was committed. I bought the membership which included the child care and made my trainer appointments for mid-morning. My kids had a really difficult time being in the daycare room; I was being paged 3 or 4 times during a 30-minute workout session. (My trainer would say, "Do they really need you? Can't you just wait and finish your workout?" and roll her eyes each time my name was paged. This, combined with her lying to me about an emergency trip out of the country resulted in my requesting a new trainer, who was a complete tool. My third trainer? I still train with him, it's been almost a year and half. He's excellent.) I soon moved to a very early workout time, as in, at the gym by 6, so as to be done with the workout and home before everyone else in my family had to leave for the day. This schedule works for me, and I like having my workout done early.

In early February of 2009, my friend Kerri came to visit and I asked her to tell me about the triathlons in which she had competed. She told me about how fun, how addicting racing can be. For whatever reason, triathlons were something I had always considered because of how much I love to swim and to bike. (Running -- not so much. Or at all.) I caught her excitement, and before I knew it, we were both planning on participating in the Salem Sprint Tri, to be held in May, '09.

I was so nervous, but I liked incorporating this goal into my workout. The time for my race came, and, as you may remember, I placed dead last. But Kerri was right: the racing scene is addicting, and I immediately signed up for a second triathlon, to be held three weeks later.

It was while training for the running portion of that second triathlon that I had an experience which would ultimately result in a huge change my body, and therefore my life.

(see you tomorrow!)

and the doctor said

"There I was, at my doctor's office, again. How many times did we have to have this conversation? My weight would NOT drop. Strict calorie-counting of a smartly-portioned diet and exercise -- I was doing it the old-fashioned way WITHOUT any success. Strong legs, yes, but a waist size so large -- a belly, a gut. I was shaped like an ice cream cone. I was a triathlete, and people were asking me when I was due.

My doctor, chart in hand, looked at me over his glasses. 'I think it's time to take the next step. We need to reduce the size of your abdomen. I'd like for you to consider an abdominoplasty. I can give you a referral for a surgeon, and because this affects your health, your insurance should cover at least a portion.'

With the promise of a referral from my doctor and a paper with three surgeons' names written on a slip of paper tucked into my purse, I left my doctor's office and planned for the surgery.


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That's not how it happened.

But sometimes I think that that's how I should begin my story, because people have a weird thing about it, about abdominoplasty, or more commonly, a tummy tuck - an elective procedure, but they have absolutely no problem with any procedure if a doctor suggests it. I've been judged by adults in ways I wouldn't have thought possible. I've also gotten more support than I expected.

I think it's time I wrote out my story here.

Monday I'll continue.

get it right or pay the price

We've got to talk about writing, friends. I mean writing what you mean to say.

I don't mean They're Their There.

Here's what I mean:

Yeah - Slang for "yes"

Yea - also a short affirmation (but no shorter than "yes"), and when you use it because you think it's how "yeah" is spelled, you are incorrect. Or maybe you like to write scripture.

Ya - This, in no sense, means "yes." It can be a shortened form of "you" but when you use it I'm going to think you're signing my 7th grade yearbook.

Yae - This isn't anything.

Yay - Phonetic, this is a "hooray!" kind of thing.

What Mormons Believe

A few months ago I was invited to a meeting in Salt Lake City where I and the other attendees were told that we are "influential Utah bloggers" and specifically "influential Mormon bloggers". At the meeting we learned about a site about to launch -- not a new site, but a site with different content: Mormon.org has long been a reliable resource for people to learn just what it is that Mormons believe, but it was presented in a format which, while accurate, didn't necessarily put a face on the people living those beliefs.

That has changed.

On mormon.org you can now see personal profiles of people from all backgrounds and locations, all telling how they live what they live, answering frequently asked questions ('Why are you called Mormons?'), and sharing why they've aligned themselves with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

You can even do a search for someone in a specific demographic by clicking on Our People and choosing Meet Mormons. For instance, if you wanted to search out what someone would say if they were, oh I don't know, a caucasian female with a Catholic background, aged 25-34, living in North America, you may just land on my profile.

Check it out. I'd like to hear what you think about the site.

Do Performance & Fitness

I'd like to draw your attention to today's Screamin' Deals Deal (look on m' sidebar).

78% off a one-year membership/12 one-hour workout sessions: $99. ($457 value)

That's a super good deal.

Bonus: It's my trainer's company. I've been working out with John for over a year. He's outstanding. He's really got a passion for exercise, he knows what he's talking about, but he's not bossy or condescending about it. He truly likes to help people reach their goals and be healthy.

Click on over there and get workin' out.

Paul McCartney Salt Lake City

"Y--yy-you remember when...remember when you were with The Beatles?

That was awesome."

Megan, Megan, Bella, Paul

YES, you are right. My blog does look different. Newer. Better. Thanks to magician Megan Romo for reading my mind and putting it on the internets. Please notice the buttons in the banner: this is where you'll find so many things which were previously crowding my previously single sidebar. (Dear Aunt Minnie: if you want to find NieNie's blog, just go to my links button and you'll see her button. Love you!)

**********

My daughter's project, Dwellings For The Displaced now has two additional drop-off points in the state of Utah: one on Foothill Drive in Salt Lake, and one in St. George. In other words, now you can drop off your tents & tarps at ANY Sweet Tooth Fairy location. (Thanks, Megan!)

**********

U haz funnest times laffing wif a vampiors.

**********

Also, see:

110 In The Shade

images taken from google images duh

When you take your seat at the Hale Center Theater in Orem, odds are you're going to feel pretty proud of yourself for having scored the best seat in the house. This is just part of the magic of seeing a show in such an intimate setting. The real magic, to me, however, is how anyone manages to put together such a high-quality production on a set which is smaller than my bedroom.

On Friday I was fortunate enough to see one of the limited engagement showings of 110 In The Shade, limited due to its starring Local Boy Gone BigTime Will Swenson, and 4-time Tony Award Winner Audra McDonald. They agreed to participate as part of a fund-raiser for the Hale Theater, and manohman, did we ever luck out. Broadway Gold, right in our own yard. I could barely believe my eyes and ears.

At show's opening: complete blackout, and as the lights on the stage slowly illuminated, I saw the wooden platform of a stage, heard the harmonica, and I was there. Immediately, transported to 1930's wherever-in-Texas-probably, feeling the heat and wishing for rain. By the end of the first act, I found myself leaning forward, at the edge of my seat, only Audra & me in the room, and when she was finished singing I found I had been not just crying, but weeping.

That's what that's about.

The entire show, it goes without saying, was incredible. I loved seeing my friends Hailey and Korianne on stage, as well as the Clarks, the Merritts, and the Valentines in the audience.

Walking outside to the parking lot, I was hit with the strong scent of rain accompanied by a fantastic lightning show. Made me think . . .

. . . maybe it's about time I got back on stage.

so glamourous

Isn't that a lovely photo? It really represents how I've been feeling, that is, each time I sit in a mountain meadow with my hair Just So. Luckily, I have my tissues at-the-ready. Do you like my yoga clothes?

My doctor told me yesterday that even people who don't have allergies are having allergy-type problems this year. It's really bad. Dang cottonwood trees.

I'll be back when I'm feeling better, mmmkay?

drawn to timp

Lately I'm really preoccupied with Mount Timpanogos. Not obsessed, but certainly interested. There's a legend, something about a girl waiting for her lover, a soldier, to climb up to the top of the mountain to marry her or something, and when she learned that he was killed she decided to lay down and die on top of the mountain. Her silhouette is visible from certain points in the valley, along the top ridge of the mountain.

Still, I can't help but be drawn to the mountain for some reason.

Why?

Am I supposed to climb it?

Heaven help me . . .

Say Ladeo

Yesterday I went to a funeral. It was for a friend of mine, a good man, kind and gentle, and very, very wise. He passed away on Sunday; when I found out on Tuesday a part of me felt . . . well, the best way I can describe it is to liken unto Harry Potter when Sirius died (spoiler alert) (what? I can compare myself to a make-believe boy wizard). That is to say, Lost. That part of me felt that I am to now continue my journey alone (which we all know isn't really true, but that's how I felt).

Tuesday I let the acknowledgement of it all sink in, I let myself feel sad. Going to bed early was on my wishlist, and it's what I got, but I had a hard time falling asleep. It was then that I opened my laptop and went to ye olde youtube to listen to a song I had heard on KUER a few weeks ago, a song which when I first heard it I was caught in its melody & rhythm, its harmonies & vocals. It calmed and soothed me then, and it calmed and soothed me on Tuesday, to the point that I only needed to hit refresh about a dozen or so times (it's a long song) before drifting off to sleep.

I've been listening to it all week (I've sinced purchased the entire album on iTunes), and I want to share the song with you. Maybe with all your goings-on you'll need some calming & soothing. Or you just need some nice new music in your life. I hope you have a lovely weekend, even an extended weekend in some cases. Enjoy your parades, your fireworks, your picnics, your families. Be safe. And if you're in Provo, don't forget to go to Justin Hackworth's 30 Strangers Exhibit.

I give you: Say Ladeo by Bobby McFerrin:

addiction, part 2

See also: addiction