.. Smile ..

When all you feel like doing is screaming. That about sums up my day.

My surgical follow up appointment was a farce.

I have a hard, swollen, uncomfortable lump where my port is. Oh, and it's been conveniently located right on my waist line. I feel it when I bend over. It's not fun.

A situation at work that may become untenable. And toxic.

And news today that I thought I was okay hearing. I wasn't. I'm trying to be.

I'm teary. Look at me sideways and the dam might burst.

But smile, I must. Even though I feel like screaming.

I *heart* steak

Last night I ate steak.

Steak with seafood. And broccolini. And sugar snap peas. And sweet potato mash.

It wasn't nearly as much as I could eat without a band. That might've only been because I was being conscious not to overeat.

I cannot describe how nice it was to eat. Eat without fearing I'd choke. It was weird. And fantastic.

Maybe I might try a couple of months without fluid.

:: Introducing: Dr T ::

This is a story about Dr T.

Dr T is the man I share my life with.

He is calm.
And kind.
And gentle.
And patient.
He is a man of few words. But he cares deeply.
He has the most beautiful soul.
His karma is good.
He makes me laugh.
He makes me happy.
Waking up next to him is like Christmas morning every day.
Nothing fazes him.

Well, almost nothing fazes him. Maybe dealing with an poorly fed, narky woman played mild interference with his usual zen.

See, Dr T has only ever known me with a band; eating more or less like a sparrow (exceptions to this rule include pork ribs and peanut butter & chocolate ice cream of which I seem to be able to eat in normal, non-banded portions!). In the time we have been together, I have rarely eaten three meals a day. Generally, I'm not hungry or I'm too distracted to worry about food. Almost every night our conversation is involves a scolding from Dr T because I have not eaten.

So I have forgotten what it's like to be truly, physically hungry.

On Thursday, fluid was removed from the band during surgery. The surgeon advised this course of action due to the results of my barium swallow the day before which showed that no fluid moved through the band on immediate swallow. In essence, the band was too tight. There was no known reason for it being that way as I hadn't had a fill in months. But it was causing severe reflex and considerable difficulty eating/swallowing. The trouble is that I have no idea how much fluid was removed. But however much it was, I now experience real hunger again! And my word, if I'm not fed within 20 minutes of getting hunger pangs, I'm toey. I'm crawling the walls. I cannot focus on anything other than food. The intensity of my hunger has given me a bit of a fright. And I'm a bit embarrassed by it all as well. I desperately look forward to having some fluid back in.

I never thought Dr T would ever see me truly and ravenously hungry; much less something that morphs into a demon when it's not bridled with a band. It hasn't been pretty. But he has returned to his status quo of being unfazed.

So, Dr T is so the sort of person you want on your side .. especially when you hit some turbulence in life. He's the best.

Why, darling, it's been 4 years!

Four years ago today, I had gastric banding surgery.

Four years

I won't lie. It hasn't been easy. Nor fun 100% of the time. I have had two port re-vision surgeries. And a scare that I had had both a band slip and an erosion. I have at times suffered severe, severe reflux. In fact, so bad that I have vomitted in bed because I couldn't sit up fast enough. I have struggled to eat enough. I have struggled with eating too much. I can't hand on heart say I know what a 'sweet spot' is. I think it may be bollocks.

Four years

And my life no longer revolves around food.

Four years

And at times I have been acutely focussed on weight loss. An outstanding example of a bandster. But I have also been side tracked. Focus has waxed and waned.

Four years

And I have moved. I have moved two streets over. I have moved one suburb. And I have moved half way around the world. I moved for right reasons. And maybe for a couple of wrong ones. The best move I have ever made, was that to take up residence with Dr T.

Four years

And I have had three jobs. I have enjoyed them all. Except for maybe the ending of the second job - only because I was bullied.

Four years

And I have owned one car.

Four years

And I have had a relationship end unexpectedly. And then another begin after what felt like an eternity. I have lost friends. I have gained friends. My family has doubled in size.

Four years

And I have lost 27kgs. I have 10kgs to go. Quietly, I would be pretty chuffed to lose another 15kgs.

Four years

And I'd do it all over again.

Must. Run!

It's nearly four weeks since I've been able to run or lift weights. This is mostly because off the torn port issue ... but could also be attributed to the fact that I got collected by a car as a pedestrian.

I know many people find the idea of enjoying exercise abhorrent. But it's my religion. I miss it. I'm having to suffice with reading Women's Health magazine; much like someone would the bible when they're not at church.

I desperately want to go for a run. Or for a hike up the hill. Heck, I'd even be willing to do a super set weights training session at the moment! I want to be sweaty. I want the endorphin high. I want to be tingling all over. I want to hear my heart rate monitor chirping at me. But alas, I am having to rest. Sporting surgical dressings and chewing pain medication.

My follow up appointment is on Friday. I cannot wait to get medical clearance to exercise. And maybe a little saline to tighten this baby up. I suspect the band system was almost emptied during surgery. I only think this because I am perpetually hungry. And trust me, it ain't no head hunger either!