Today was my first post op appt at Luton & Dunstable Hospital, op was only 7weeks ago. I haven’t slept all night, and I was starting to feel tired around 9am. I go to bed but know we have to leave at 11.30am at the very latest as it is a good 2hr journey by the time we have parked etc. My stomach is turning summersaults as I am getting ready. I am like a zombie but somehow manage to get in the car at 11.40am, eek! Luckily, Paul enjoys driving like a lunatic and he gets us there by the skin of our teeth, even if he had to endure my tuneful snoring all the way there too.
I meet the lovely Carol Mc in the waiting room, as we had chatted on face book and discovered we both had appointments the same day and time there. We both chat to another patient called Debbie C, and we swap details. This is one place I don’t feel so ashamed of myself, as we are all here for the same reason, to get help. The dietician is first on the list to see, which means the dreaded weigh in and the reality of how much I have actually lost in the 7 weeks since surgery. Judith says after chatting to me that I have a very low self esteem (no shit Sherlock) and that I am to stop thinking of dieting and comparing myself to others, as we all lose weight at different rates. I feel so low at this point and tears fill my eyes, and I swallow hard.
I yearn to be as good as everyone else and to overcome this lifelong addiction and poor relationship with food and self image. Even to pluck up enough courage to look at myself in a full length mirror. I can cope with a face mirror and pretend the rest is not repulsive and grotesque. The main reason I feel this way is because my stomach is so enormous and hangs so low. It feels like I am constantly carrying a 52kg sack around. I am very self conscious of it and try to hide behind anything to avoid the persistent stares from strangers and it moves like a Pendulum clock when I walk.
Now for the moment I had been dreading and I am told to get on the scales. 9kg lost in 7 weeks, I am gutted. I have read how some have lost 2-3stones and they had their ops similar time to me, and I haven’t lost anywhere near that amount. The tears are now rolling fast down my cheeks and I cannot control my feelings any longer. The dietician said she is very pleased with this and that I am on track but says she thinks I should have a further talk with her as I am obviously struggling mentally, and she is not happy about that. She also suggests I may need a counsellor and should talk to my GP about it. She says I need to get more structure in my eating as I am not always eating at set times, i.e. breakfast lunch and dinner times, plus snacks. I explain about my erratic sleep patterns so although I eat like that, it could be 3 meals any time not set times.
Have to wait 2hrs plus to see my consultant Mr Whitelaw, so we have arranged to meet another special lady Lou bee Lou as I fondly call her and her beautiful daughter Abbie in the cafe.
At my appointment with Mr Whitelaw, he says he too is pleased with my progress and says I am on track and reminds me it is not long since he performed my surgery and it will be up and down in terms of weight loss. I tell him that I now have intolerance to some meats but he is not worried about that and says it’s perfectly normal. After checking my scars, he told me I no longer need to see him again, unless I develop a serious problem. He also tells me that I no longer need to worry about damaging the scars as they have heeled well and it is now safe for exercise.
I feel mentally and physically shattered as we leave the hospital and Paul is a superstar and get’s us home safely and I snore the whole way home too. At least I am being consistent with that!
Tonight I log onto face book and update friends on how my appointments went. I still feel really low at my progress as I have always managed big weight losses at the start of a diet, and thought this would be the same. I have noticed small differences in my capabilities by losing the weight pre and post op, which is important, so I am trying to focus on that.
Much to my surprise and delight I get a new friend request on face book and they lift my spirits and we get on so well we talk all night. I am still struggling with the transfer addiction and I have struggled with the constant urge for passion, lust and sex ultimately my sex drive is going through the roof. Maybe this is a temporary thing but I find myself hooked on watching Secret Diary of a Call Girl and watching sexy programmes to lose myself in the fantasy world of dressing up and wearing killer heels and role play.
When you have a partner who has a very low sex drive, and would rather have alcohol than make love, it has a knock on affect on your mental image of yourself. I feel as attractive as a beached whale, and I think if I bathed in Abbott Ale or looked remotely as attractive as a pulled pint, I would be in with a chance. This is very hard to deal with, I feel guilty as I don’t want to apportion blame, as it is neither of our faults but it is not easy for me to “bang one out” like a bloke can when I am horny as hell. To me pleasuring yourself is possibly something that is all the more exciting when shared with your partner? “Order - Two cases of bromide for the strumpet in the sumo suit!”
Food wise, since the festive stuffing has calmed down considerably, I seem to be able to cope mentally a lot better. I am finding that no matter how many times I look in the fridge or cupboards there still seems to be so little that I fancy eating. I am eating, but the pleasure is not there and this is hard to cope with too for some reason. Paul has been great and done lots of cooking during his Christmas holiday from work, and it is good that he enjoys it and dons his chef hat that the teens got him for Christmas, as I have definitely lost interest in cooking.
Have been applying for jobs, although they are few and far between at the moment and the stress is causing my eczema to flare up big time. Financially it is killing us with me not bringing in a wage, and this is possibly part of the reason for Paul’s constant drinking, but we all have our different ways of dealing with stress don’t we?
Can’t believe tomorrow will be nine years since my dad died. I have missed him and Paul’s dad a lot this Christmas as they were both larger than life characters. I know mum will be especially low, so I will take her to bingo, as she enjoys that.
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