16 Days to Wait...

I can't honestly say that I remember much about the 16 days between my Daddy's death and the day of my surgery. In fact, I remember shockingly few details. Maybe I was in shock... I don't know. I spent the night at my sister's house the night daddy died and made the 17 hour drive back home the following day. I remember the drive to Florida really vividly... I was steeling myself because I knew what was happening. I did a lot of self- talk on the way out there trying to make peace with a lot of things in my life. I had to forgive myself for the things I couldn't change. For all the missed opportunities to show my daddy I loved him. For all the time I didn't spend with him. For all the phone calls that I missed. Those were all big demons for me to wrestle with. The guilt alone was almost more than I could bear. I did a lot of praying too. Asking for peace about the situation, peace for my daddy, and as much peace as possible for my sisters. I worried for them most. I knew I could handle losing daddy. I worried about my pregnant sister, Alyssa and her unborn son. I worried about my sister, Courtney, because she was also handling her daughter being very very ill at the same time Daddy was ill. I worried about my sister, Renee, because I had never seen her in a stressful situations of this magnitude. I worried for everyone else but myself because I knew I had control of myself and I know how I am under stress.

The ride home was much different though. I remember driving away from Jacksonville and thinking about that large part of my history... half of me... would never speak again. I remember crossing every city and thinking about how I would never pass this way under the same circumstances again. I was running on 5 hour energy drinks, Java Monster and very little sleep. My body was in overload. I'd never had a panic attack before and I had my first one in Beaumont at 1 a.m. on the 22nd. I was scared and jittery and exhausted. As soon as I had it, I knew what it was but I had to get home. I wanted to be nowhere else but home. Then, I had my second one at 5:30 a.m. in Huntsville. I slept a little in the backseat of my car because if I didn't, I was going to crash my car. Lord knows I didn't want to do that.

I had a stress test on the 24th and that sucked (I can't lie about that... if you're going to have gastric bypass, the stress test is going to suck something fierce)! It HURT. The lady had me lay on my left side and was digging the ultrasound wand into my chest... I was so sore! THEN, she put me on a treadmill, attached to all sorts of wires and monitors and I had to get my heart rate up to a certain level... it felt like FOR-E-VER to get it there because in a brilliant move, I took my blood pressure medication that morning and it keeps your heart rate from elevating. Yeah... that was a very long 8 minutes on a treadmill going 4.0 mph on an incline to get my heart rate up. And THEN she stuck that damn wand back in my chest to get ultrasound pics of my heart. After the torture of the ultrasound wand, I found out I had an enlarged heart because I wasn't controlling my high blood pressure. I had no idea. That wasn't the first time I realized how life-threatening obesity and obesity related illness is, but it sure made me think.

Of all the appointments I had to go through in the 6 months leading up to surgery, this one with the cardiologist was by far the worst. It wasn't fun at all. I would even say the psychiatrist visit, the scope to look at my esophagus, the sleep studies, and every office visit would be considered fun compared to that ultrasound! But, I wouldn't change the decision I made to have this surgery. I kept telling myself that while I was suffering on the treadmill that afternoon- "do whatever it takes. It's only temporary. Don't give up." And I wasn't going to.
After that day, I don't remember much. I spent a lot of time sleeping. And on a liquid diet. I think that might have been the hardest part of my pre-surgery. I was CRANKY for the first few days because I was hungry! It didn't matter how much crappy soup I drank (and by the end of the week, all soup was crappy!) it couldn't fill me up. It was just like drinking water... it satiated me for a while but I was soon hungry again. I ate a boat load of soup that week. The purpose of the liquid diet is to let your liver rest, detox and shrink back down after getting rid of all the toxins. Towards the end of the week, it wasn't so bad. I didn't feel the desire to eat everything in sight. I didn't think about eating steak and ice cream every second of every day. I think it was more of the mental aspect of the surgery that was going to change my whole life being imminent than anything.

I weighed the night before surgery and I weighed 319.5 pounds... I loved stepping on the scale that night and knowing that was the last time I would EVER see that number again... for the rest of my life!