Day 1 - Results

If ever there were a day to solidify my reasoning for having a surgical band placed inside of my body, today was it. 


Let me make this perfectly clear. Having a lap band, for me, is not a whimsical, 'easy option', fast track way to having a body I can dress up and look pretty.  I completely and utterly resent the small handful of opinions that have filtered back to me recently suggesting this. 


This is about me not dying at the age of 35 with something that I literally could have prevented through losing weight.  


Let me tell you something. I wake up every single morning and have a box of tablets with Monday AM, looking back at me. Later that night, before I eat I have to flip the side and take the handful of tablets for Monday PM.  Every. Single. Day. 





I have bloods taken from my arms every 12 weeks to make sure they have me on the right dosage. Which has become a bit of a joke for the past 2 years. Nothing has changed and nothing is controlled. 


You don't need to know everything I take but when I have been taking the highest possible dosage of thyroid and diabetes medication and I am still having the pharmicists say "Are you SURE this is correct", I can't help but be concerned. 


I sat across from my beautiful surgeon, Professor O'Brien today who turned the pages of my test results (15 vials of blood were taken from me last Friday for his benefit and others for my doctors own regular tests) and his face turned from a pleased to meet you face to a holy shit face. 


"I take it those aren't good", I reluctantly asked.


He sighed.


"Rebecca, I don't know how you are alive."


For those in the medical know.  My HbA1C was 18. After 14 years of endochronologist care, and the highest diabetes meds. Are you kidding me?


For the first time in many many years, my blood pressure was up. Even for a fat girl, I have a great resting rate and good blood pressure. 


He also announced that I have PCOS  Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome. Bravo? Anything else?


"Your results are showing an extremely high likelihood of N.A.S.H. " 


"So my liver is rooted?" 


"Well NASH is a liver that presents like a liver with lots of damage, like an alcoholics. It starst to build scar tissue around it and can develop cirrhosis.... blah blah ... sadfksdfgjkdfkj"


What did he just say? It was at this point my heart dropped and tears fell and I really didn't take much else onboard.  Cirrhosis?  My liver is fucked? How on earth, can my body have all this going on inside me without me knowing? 


The rest of the test results were not pretty. I think perhaps as much as I was putting on a face, the first couple just bowled me over. 


Then, Professor looked at me and said "I'd like to operate immediately. Do you have health insurance?"


"Yes, but my waiting period isn't finished until March 17" 


He grabbed his diary next to him and flipped it to the closest date.  
"I'm booking you in for March 22. I'll get you into the hospital on the Sunday night (21st), operate on the Monday and you should be out by the Tuesday" 


If I were having heart valve issues, no-one would blink if I went to hospital to get a pacemaker. They'd know that I need one to keep me alive. Right? This is a man, who sees morbidly obese people on a daily basis. I'm sitting in front of him, basically being interviewed to see if I am an appropriate candidate for lap band surgery.  To have him say, we need to do this immediately to save your life - it scared the SHIT out of me. 


This was the absolute kicker - "Rebecca, we cannot mess around with this - you have two little boys who need their mum alive, we need to move weight off you, and fast".


Cue Niagra Falls. Blubbered like a baby. Still am writing this. 


So I have to do 6 weeks of Optifast. To remove the fat from around my liver so he can operate. 


Opti starts tomorrow. I know, that in lieu of an operation, I need to get the crap off my liver. 


I'm sad. Just found out and I'm entitled to be. Tomorrow is a different day. 


I'm angry that not one of my doctors in recent years suspected anything other than thyroid issues. 


I'm passionate and I suppose ready to defend my choice more than ever now. For those who still think that the choice to band is this fat persons lazy way out, you're wrong.  My goal is to stop having a box of tablets that I have to face every morning and night. Anything after that is a bonus. 


I'm ready.  I'm ready to finally feel full. I've never had a satisfaction 'button' that switches and says "You're full". 


I'm also ready to stop a 23year cycle of weight loss yo-yoing. I have NEVER been a healthy sized adult. Ever.  This shit started when I was 11 years of age and went to my first ever Weight Watchers Meeting. I was a baby. 


I really am just a bundle of up in the air emotions.  I haven't sat down and told Scott the extent of it because I just feel so ashamed.