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TT Master
Join Date: Nov 2007 |
Location: London, UK |
Surgeon: Dr. Bruno Dillemans, Bruges |
Age: 52 |
Posts: 2,127 |
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WHAT TO EXPECT - in graphic details!
What to expect – in graphic details!
I am posting this thread on pre-op purely because it was the kind of information I was looking for in anticipation of my Laparascopic Roux en Y bypass operation ten days ago. It is intended to help you prepare for your surgery, not to offend you.
I am a self-pay patient who has organized my surgery through a medical tourism agency, Healthcare-Direct Limited. I paid a flat fee for surgery, hospitalisation, medication, return trains for both my husband and myself from London to Brugge, taxis scheduled to pick us up from the train to and from our hotel and taxis between the hotel and hospital, and our double room with breakfast for us both at the 4 star Park Hotel, conveniently located for both hospital and town. The services with the surgeon’s nutritionist, one hotel visit from the nurse after surgery and one post hospital consultation with my surgeon were included.
My husband and I travelled by Eurostar train from London, England to Brugge in Belgium.
Dr. Dillemans is amazing and the whole experience is just so reassuring and encouraging. Yes, I am eating food, pureed though, like solids for a baby of 4 months. It is so wonderful to feel normal.
Bearing in mind that indeed that I have had a major operation (considered 7/10 if you compare it with 10/10 for heart surgery), no wonder I was hurting the first 48 hours... However, every half day since the operation I have grown stronger, more comfortable, more secure and more at peace.
If one of you will be going on your own, you will quite certainly meet another patient at your hotel (worth asking at the reception desk or at Dr. Dillemans' office) and if, like me you share a room with one other person, you might strike lucky and become pals. When you arrive, tell the nurse on the ward that you are alone, that you would like to be looked after a little and they are really supportive. They prefer to speak English to French.
There is a cupboard in the hospital room, but I don’t think you can lock things anywhere. I believe there is a safe at the hospital. You can email your surgeon’s office to find out. I left all my valuables (rings, money etc) at home except for my laptop (my window onto the world!). I am sure that you can leave your passport and credit cards/wallet in the hospital safe – a situation that must arise for any patient.
Dr Dillemans quite frankly has reassured me exactly and is one of the most honest and positive humane persons I have met. I have found him at no doubt the peak of his career. He has operated on his own mother and to date performed over 8000 bariatric surgeries! He is the doctor to whom all failed operations are referred for repair! How good could it get? After my surgery, there was one girl who was not very lucky because she had internal bleeding whilst in the recovery room. Her liver, it has to be said, was very enlarged, and the cause of her trouble. The Roux en Y itself was easy. I saw her walking in Bruges the afternoon after she left hospital, expecting to fly home to Ireland the following. He looked after her so very well – her own words!
The nurses are a little efficient but very kind if you care to help them with English. They actually understand far better than they are able to speak. I stayed in hospital 72 hours. I was walking in under 24 hours and by 48 hours was on water and yoghurt! The 3rd day I had toast, butter, jam and yoghurt and for lunch chicken, green vegetables and mashed potato! Got back to my hotel, dying to wash my hair and as soon as I had rested about an hour, was walking in Bruges. I did however have the support of my loving husband, but I have heard other single travellers take it slowly into town with confidence. We must wear white anti-thrombosis stockings for 2 weeks, so a little boot would hide them!
The hospital bed was not comfortable. Bring your own pillow or definitely ask for an additional one. I did have backache, but then again, that is due to muscles being compacted whilst lying flat for so long. My back is fine now.
I discreetly used my mobile with an international telephone SIM card (Sim4Travel) and called those people I wanted when it suited me. I was not disturbed by loads of phone calls!
The first week is often referred to “Hell Week” and it is through the support of others on this Forum that I have had the confidence that things improve quickly. Keep repeating to yourself that “it will get better” because, however uncomfortable you may be, it DOES get better, every half day. There is no need for you to be in pain. That is why there are plenty of painkillers available! There is definitely light at the end of the tunnel! You will loose approximately 10% of your weight in the first month alone – surely that is encouraging?!
Pre-op Day -2 Monday:
I chose to arrive one day ahead of my pre-op consultation and paid for that over and above my “flat fee” as this was my choice rather than the standard procedure. This was in aid of finding our bearings and remove any “stage fright” that my husband might have (I have visited Brugge a few years ago). By unpacking quietly and familiarising myself with my hotel and room, I created my “nest”, having bought some flowers and a scented candle at the local market, just to add my own personality to the room. This brought confidence to my otherwise somewhat anxious but very supportive and calm husband. We strolled around town and noted places where my husband would feel comfortable going to, bearing in mind the language obstacle. We enjoyed a nice meal and concentrated on ourselves and our lives ahead of us.
Pre-op Day -1 Tuesday:
Having arrived one day early enabled me to have a lie-in and a leisurely breakfast and a quick skip into town, pack my hospital bag in readiness for the next day and leave relaxed for my consultation. It felt very glamorous having a long pre-ordered taxi pick us up from the hotel to the hospital. Just sign for the journey as everything had been taken care of by the medical agent. At the hospital, I spent a little while waiting for the reception to go through the administrative verification of my identity and that I had paid my surgery. Sent up to the reception desk on the consultation floor. Long wait before meeting the nutritionist who weighed and measured me and gave me a post-surgery nutrition advice sheet. Up another floor for a blood test. Down to the waiting room again. Long wait watching other more or less obese persons, all there for the same reason. Some were post-op going for a check-up and their beaming faces confirmed in yet another way that the reason I was there myself was more than worth it. Meeting with my surgeon’s assistant to go through my medical details and ask any outstanding questions, verify that I have really understood the procedure I am about to embark on.
At last, nearly two hours since arriving at the hospital I met the Surgeon! Actually the very man who would change my Life. It was as much an emotional moment as a medically reassuring one. A lot of vibes went through him and myself, with my husband sitting next to me. Those split seconds involved that I trusted him with my Life and that he returned with the promise to do his best and would look after me. The moment was over in a flash but it had been essential in the whole process and my husband witnessed it and sensed relief too. I ordered the taxi back to our hotel (part of my package deal) and then went shopping with my husband before a “last supper”. I enjoyed my meal very much but did not want to eat “for the sake of eating”. From midnight absolute “nil by mouth”. Off to bed for a final “fat person’s” sleep.
Op Day - Wednesday!
I leave “nil by mouth”ed from the hotel by the pre-booked taxi at 7:30 am! My husband stayed half awake in our room. This we had decided suited us personally though of course he had the option of accompanying me. Again the formalities of checking in and being shown to the waiting room of my ward. I had selected 2 beds to a room and luckily for me was very pleased with the woman who shared with me, 3 years younger only. We were quite compatible which made postoperative unpleasantries far more bearable. We unpacked, furnished our drawers and checked each other’s stories and waited…
If told that I was “forbidden” to eat or drink anything from waking until 11:30 I would have winced. But in this very particular case, I did it with great joy! I asked the nurses whether I needed to shave “down there” – they were surprisingly “horrified” by the thought and assured me that “these days” it was no longer necessary (I later found out that my exposed body was painted in surgical antimicrobial “paint” of a golden yellow, including my private parts, (hair and all!). Then at least I was going to be given an enema? No? not even a teeny, weeny suppository? Nope! (Well, I had not had a bowel movement since my light dinner last night!).
From the beginning, my roommate, her husband and I were chatting as if at a social gathering. 4 hours from leaving the hotel, a reliably sturdy and friendly nurse called for me, nearly “intruding” on our getting acquainted. Right, Madame, now get this gown on and be ready in 15 minutes! Aha, for a pre-surgery beauty session? No, Madame, for being wheeled downstairs! Boy did I get undressed fast (in case time was up earlier!). The gown, a hint of palest green, did up in the back with two tie strings. I managed the highest one but my “friend” volunteered to attach the one slightly lower down, my whole back and backside on display. Strangely, hormones protect you from being inhibited (or was it because we were in the same boat so to speak, I Swedish and she Danish and both heading for the same modesty?).
It felt weird being wheeled in my bed and taken down the lift when perfectly capable of walking myself (albeit my bare back showing!). I waited, calmly, no nerves, just strong in myself and confident, in the waiting room until somebody else came to take me to the antechamber of the operation room. There I was given a drip in my right hand through which painkillers and saline would keep me comfortable and hydrated. The delightful, reassuring anaesthetist and I verified all the information that was already confirmed and indulged in light small talk – in fact, I was about to disappear under full anaesthesia, with just a little whiff of oxygen to make me calm and confident. From then on, “curtains” of a kind! A part of my Life for which I have absolutely no recollection whatsoever (thank God we all say!)!
I have absolutely no sense of how I awoke from the surgery, my body, my whereabouts, myself, sound or the state of Life. All I was capable of was hearing people talking . And then it came – pain. Talk about pain! I was disoriented, in pain, did not open my eyes to look as I was so very, very tired. Then I felt a need to find a focal point, to hold something true. But before that, I felt something totally different, not anything I was expecting but which was more than so wonderfully welcome. A sound, the sound that only my husband makes. He was there, there for me when I was feeling so terribly awful. I opened my eyes, and yes, there he was in the corner of my hospital room, as I was being wheeled into it. What joy, what comfort, what security! The look on his face was all-important – I knew I was all right and well, even though “a truck had driven across my stomach”. With the comfort of my husband by my side and him holding my hand and stroking my forehead, I felt allowed to rest and recovered and hence dozed on and off. That moment was quite crucial in my recovery, knowing and sensing his relief that all was well.
My husband, who had come bearing flowers, a seldom occurrence, called the necessary family to convey the good news of my positive surgery and much later I managed, faint but clear, to say a few words to my best friend. I knew I was alive and improving!
My husband stayed until about 9:30 that evening, by which time I was reassured, pain monitored and feeling stronger. An hour after he left, my roommate returned, having spent 4 ½ hours alone with her husband, waiting for her surgery. That was hard for her and frankly, I felt lucky that I had been chosen first!
The nurses tended to me very efficiently, kindly and regularly. At one stage in the night I needed a bedpan and they were most helpful. I was sore but not in unreasonable pain. I looked and counted 5 small waterproof plasters, all in a neat row under my bosom line. The pain was not related to those parts but to under my left breast. The ping-pong match started. My neighbour needed the nurse with great regularity due to an unattractive reaction with her anaesthesia. She was nauseous and retching or vomiting, none of which I thankfully experienced. But when she was “quiet” I found myself being awoken by the nurses who were taking my vitals and changing the drip etc.
Day after surgery = +1 / Thursday
At dawn I needed another bedpan and obligingly produced a copious amount of golden liquid.
Early morning both my neighbour and I pulled out of the night sleep and compared notes. We were given each a bottle of fine spray water to squirt into our parched mouths and tongues and generally hydrate our faces with. These sprays became our only source of personal hydration other than the saline drips and these squirts became our lifeline to some sense of sanity. Pain was being brilliantly controlled so much so that we managed to get out of bed and walk to bathroom. My neighbour was terribly dizzy but I was luckier. A mid-morning pee on my own, washing of my hands and body (a nurse washed my back), brushing of teeth and hair, a fresh nightie and tired, I went back to bed. More squirts and a snooze.
About 24 hours after my surgery, my husband came back during the visiting hours. Oh, how wonderful to see him again and he was very relieved to see me definitely perky and chatting better than when he left me the evening before. We chatted about where he had been during the morning and that was a fresh subject of conversation unrelated to surgery! We just spent time together, he reading his book and I dozing every now and then. It was the day it was so difficult not to drink any water at all!
That night I slept better as my neighbour was feeling somewhat better and I myself was getting stronger. I went to the loo unaided during the night and found my physical freedom quite rewarding. I did everything normally, just a little slowly and cautiously.
Post-Op +2 / Friday
Definitely improved and this was the day I would be allowed water! Eureka! A whole bottle of 1.5 litres water! All mine! The first few sips were bliss and I cherished each mouthful. The day passed uneventfully but peacefully, sleeping twice during the day and gaining strength. At this stage I was able to sleep on both sides which improved confidence too. I would say that my felt recovery is at the rate of every half-day. I was sore though not in pain and I reduced my painkillers. Up and walking quite comfortably several lengths of the corridor, several times a day. What I was really wanting was fresh air! Thankfully I could open a window, narrowly, and felt sane! I was having a few problems with my bruising and a very sore back (lousy bed!) but my husband’s massage really helped. He had had quite a further look around Bruges and had a lot to chat about. Also the husband of my neighbour was a pleasant companion when mine was not around. The nurses were just as attentive as earlier but were needed less frequently. I went up to them for a change in dressings, otherwise was of little disturbance…
Post-Op +3 / Saturday
This is the day of miracles! For breakfast a cup of tea, a dry biscotte with low fat butter and jam and a yoghurt! Absolutely bliss! As I live in England, I opted for a hot cup of tea first and waited the long half-hour before enjoying every morsel of my toast with butter and jam and I managed only half my yoghurt! For the first time as far back as I can remember, I was satiated! It took me 20 minutes to eat my breakfast! I was actually full! How blissful to have been fed, stopping upon satisfaction and still feeling well at the end of it all.
My drip came out and thus restored my freedom. (A lot easier to use the lavatory and wash!). The stomach naturally produces blood, which moves around freely to help lubricate and separate organs. Upon this kind of surgery, excess blood needs to escape and we have a little bag at the site of the largest incision. The first day my bag was changed 3 times, 2nd day twice and by the end of the day it was removed altogether. By breathing in deeply, the nurse quickly pulls it out and the discomfort is non-existent. By being allowed to drink water you feel already more human and normal.
I washed myself, got dressed for going back to the hotel, put on make-up, my shoes fit, I packed my little case and all my bits scattered on my night table. Then it was time for lunch! Absolutely amazing! I had the huge difficulty of timing my drink around my solids, as it is really essential to leave a clear half-hour either side of solids. For me this proved a far greater pain in the neck than I imagined, but on my 6th day, as I am writing this, I am already starting to master a technique that suits me.
My Darling Husband came early to pick me up. What he found he was unsure of, but he recognised me loudly and clearly! He could hear me from 50 yards from the elevators, snoring! I was sleeping the sleep of my life, at long last relaxing and content. A few minutes later, having said goodbye to my new friend and all the dayshift nurses, we left, back into the big world. At reception we called for the taxi which brought us “home” to our hotel. I was aware of every bump in the road but was not uncomfortable. At the hotel I asked for the post-op menu available for room service for their guests and an internet voucher for my laptop.
Back in my room, the most pressing thing for me was to wash my hair and my husband was very helpful in monitoring the shower. Thoroughly cleansed and groomed I felt so much stronger and on the definite path of recovery. I moved around lightly and painlessly our room and relaxed, reading emails and surfing.
We ventured out for about half an hour. It was cold and raining but more than anything I needed fresh air. I was absolutely fine with my husband and I felt great joy at being able to hold myself, albeit weakly, in social company. To be part of normality reinforced my recovery.
Then it came: I had to be grown-up about my circumstances. It needed doing and I knew my husband was chicken in such circumstances: I had to take my first injection by myself! This is vital as an anti-thrombosis measure (together with my gorgeous white clot preventing stockings!). No ifs or buts, just to get on with it. I told my husband I was going into the bathroom to self-inject. I left the bathroom door ajar (in case of “emergency”!) and made myself comfortable on the bathroom seat. I picked up a roll of stomach flesh (5 cm anywhere below my navel) with my left hand and “stabbed” the needle in and pushed the syringe. In fact, no problems other than I might not have gone in as deeply as I could (did I inadvertently pull out a little?). A little hushhhing sound emerges when you have finished and boy did I love to hear it. I had read how to retract the needle into the syringe and dispose of it. Easy peasy, just do it! I took a tablet to prevent stomach ulcers (especially around the “joins” of the pouch and Y segment.)
My first night in the hotel bed was perfectly comfortable, I slept on both sides. A pillow tucked under my stomach to relieve the pressure was a trick I learned during my pregnancies.
Post-Op +4 / Sunday
I took a long time grooming, ready to face the world in the form of a walk into the main shopping street across from our hotel. I really did not feel too keen to eat breakfast and “forced” it down me. The porridge was in fact quite decent – only there was too much of it! I had ordered a yoghurt too and a glass of orange juice (to use a snack later). There started my first experience of having a memory for food portions larger than my new pouch intake! I have struggled with the adjustment to smaller portions ever since!
The nurse arrived and changed my dressings, took my temperature and saw I was perky and doing well so dashed pretty soon after she arrived. She agreed that I did not really need that post-op consultation with the surgeon unless I really insisted on it (which I did not).
A little trip into town. Amazing! It was raining and my husband was on my “pouch” side to act as a buffer should it be needed. We went in an out of a couple of my favourite brand shops and invested in a really luxurious treatment shampoo and conditioner. Went and bought some chocolates for friends and was given one piece which I happily took (and quietly passed to my drooling husband who had already eaten his own!). Satisfied that I was normal from head to ankle, I giggled when I got sideways glances from those who had caught sight of my medical stockings, in contrast to the classic style I was wearing!
Back to the hotel for rest and lengthy telephone calls. A little room service supper, television, internet and my self-injection. Easy again. I was tired and happy and just went to sleep.
Post-Op +5 / Monday
My sleep had been erratic, I could not find my rhythm to my immense irritation. I was out of sync. The hotel “chicken” “soup” was so lousy that I resorted to two fruit purees instead, with crackers. Much better though I was worried about the intake of sugar and dumping but luckily had no symptoms whatsoever.
Ah, bliss, normality in another sense: my first BM (bowel movement!). Regular in consistency and normal to me. Not smelly (the MacLean has a tendency to produce discoloured and foul smelling stools, the RNY is virtually free from “smells”). I felt as though I had swallowed a construction brick which lodged itself neatly, under my chest. This can only be the air pumped in for the surgery being stuck, but it felt hard and solid. Not pleasant but on the other hand definitely not a big deal. It just felt uncomfortable there, permanently lodged it seemed.
More than anything, I needed sleep and from 9am could just not wake up until 1pm. I ordered lunch, had a leisurely shower, without getting my plasters wet, put stacks of body lotion on as I felt the effects of my skin for not drinking enough water. I did not take any painkillers as I did not need them. I realised that not only my skin and mouth but more importantly my person was not functioning at best due to lack of water intake (only 2 glasses). When I started to drink regularly and steadily, my whole being was being replenished and refreshed. Which enabled us to go out for another final walk. As my husband was starving for lunch at 3pm, we went into a small café where he enjoyed a chicken salad. I used his chocolate bar wrapper to put one of his largish chicken pieces and some egg slices and put this precious parcel in my pocket for later. I enjoyed a nice hot cup of tea whilst he wolfed down his meal. Back at the hotel when I had cleared space between drinking and eating, I nibbled on the chicken and what wondrous delight to have some “real” food, not packet stuff at the hotel.
We finished our Christmas shopping and packed at the hotel in readiness for our return to London in the morrow.
Self-injection is now a doddle, not my favourite part of the day, but just something to be done. My visit to the lavatory yielded nothing save for a few burps and fart – they were wonderful nonetheless, so much less inside me!
Still a night owl, on the telephone and on the internet whilst keeping my feet up, lying on the bed.
A good, solid and restorative night was had…
Post-Op day +6 / Tuesday
Up and dandy, having regained much more mobility and self-assurance in “tricky” manoeuvres. Careful grooming, leisurely breakfast, a visit almost immediately after to the loo for my delivery of another soft, smell-free small mass… The building brick had dropped but was still there… Doing everything I would normally do any day, just a little more slowly and deliberately.
The taxi picked us up for the hour-long car ride in foul rain from Brugge in Belgium to Lille in France. We arrived with such advance that we had about 3 hours to kill before catching our train to London. That was dicey! The station was freezing cold, you could see your breath. It was like hanging around a small area, walking it backwards and forwards for a very long time. My feet were getting numb from cold. Luckily I had a feather coat (some chick, eh?), which kept me very warm indeed, hat and scarf. There was no heated waiting room to be found. The station did however have 7 feet tall vertical heaters, which we huddled around. At last time to board the train, rushing around with our luggage in the shortest time to get into our coach. Luckily I had my husband to deal with all the bags but one. The journey was relaxing and lasted only one and a half hours. Upon arrival in London we took a black London cab (very spacious and known by all tourists) for the hour journey home. The dogs were thrilled to see us and under strict orders not to jump, and so refrained with great effort from giving me their traditional welcome. The children (23, 21 and 19) cautiously turned up, one by one, worried about the state of their mother. They could not believe their eyes when I sailed in, thrilled to be home and feeling genuinely like a million dollars. (We could in fact have been away on a week’s holiday and come back just slightly tired – nobody would have known I had had major surgery a few days before!).
I did pop into my neighbour’s for an hour and a half with my husband for a cup of tea (she ate the Belgian chocolates that I brought her!) and her daughter was not even aware of my having had the operation and noticed nothing different at all about me, other than I was looking pretty well…
Time to pop into the other next door neighbour my Belgian chocolates for her (she is 91 years old!) but I refrained from her offer for tea. I sat with her for about half an hour then went home, unpacked, put on a laundry and relaxed.
I felt a distinct need for “real food” and was delighted at my grinding/blending work, transforming my chicken breast into what looked like couscous (finest breadcrumbs). I added a little gravy to that, ground some vegetables and made some mashed potatoes. Enough leftovers were available for a second meal, for Wednesday.
Read my post, went online for a bit, gave myself my injection and took myself off to bed… My own bed, this time right next to my husband as opposed to the twin beds with bedding that separated us… I was able to sleep on both sides and resume my habits… I slept ‘til 3 am when I enjoyed a pee (the water drinking proved that everything was working well), and then until 9 am…
Post-Op +7 / Wednesday
This was my first morning at home with my husband, the children each in their direction for work or college. Porridge for breakfast (followed by an almost immediate visit to the loo – I was not successful and started to feel a little constipated). Tea and water to keep hydrated. Not as easy…
I had a lot of administrative catching up but took time to have a sleep. That was quite necessary and the brick had now shifted!
The scales that I had ordered from the internet whilst in Belgium arrived! How exciting! It is one of those into which you put your height, sex and level of exercise. It calculates your body fat, basal metabolic rate, water content and muscle percentage. The result was impressive: I had lost 8 pounds in one week exactly, my body fat had decreased by 3.5% and I could see that I needed to increase my water intake to be optimally well. Now time to get muscles as I obviously am lagging far behind… I created a chart and entered details for all the 5 members of our family. Once a week log only!
I was tired but elated and feeling very much my much younger self, the pre-fat one, the one that I have always felt on the inside. Morale was really strong and a friend said I looked “empowered”, which I certainly agree I felt!
A quiet time at home, cosy evening, I enjoyed the leftover chicken/vegetable/mash from last night, self-injected and off to bed…
I had an absolutely ghastly night. I was still stuck with that brick and for about 5 hours in the middle of the night was in agony, wondering whether it was going to go up or down. In the end, without cold sweats or palpitations (I just could not warm up and was shivering with cold), I had to retch and heave. I felt better having done that. Just before doing so, I was aware that my saliva was collecting in my mouth at the sides, in readiness of lubrication. From past experience I knew I was going to be sick and with these warning signals, took myself off to the bathroom downstairs and got there in time. 3 hours later a little of the yoghurt came back up (I had been “hungry” at midnight). In a flash of memory, I remembered that it might help to take a painkiller! I had not had any for a few days! That did the trick and thereafter I slept soundly. But it had been hell. I do not think it was “dumping” but instead the release of a locked air bubble right in the middle of my chest, where the “brick” had been. When I awoke Thursday morning, all pain and discomfort had totally vanished!
Post-Op +8 / Thursday
I was so very tired and groggy from last lousy night. I could just arouse myself and I knew I had to make a move because I had a few commitments out of the house. Another chance at beauty! I used my hair treatment bought in Brugge and felt the benefit. I loved the time under the shower. Still unsuccessful on the loo, though I had had porridge for breakfast.
Washed and dressed in readiness for the visit of my 87 year-old friend who came for coffee whilst I drank tea with her in the morning. She came to verify for herself how I looked and was delighted.
My husband, children and I drove into London to finish Christmas shopping. I am thankfully an organised shopper and knew exactly where we were heading and within an hour I had ticked off the last people on my list. Then my husband and I went to a posh jeweller to order wedding bands, new for our 25th wedding anniversary coming up soon. I took a ring from my old days as size guide though! It felt like a new volume in our marital lives, not just another chapter. A slimming, healthier me, an ever-loving husband, complicity (about the operation) and a peaceful horizon that we can see, having had a tumultuous ride due to circumstances in our happy lives together. Off to stay with an 84 year-old friend (yes, I do collect “little old ladies”!) where I was greeted with praise for my visible facial weight loss and a healthy bowl of nutritious, home cooked broth! Ah, real friends, who take you as you are and even allow you to go to sleep in their sofa! She pampered me and later my husband brought me home (for that “nasty” self-injection, which by now I can do blindfold!). Off to bed for a full, undisturbed night’s sleep, with happy dreams….
Post-Op +9 / Friday
As you can see from the previous days, eating and appetite have not become a habit. I feel content and do not “need” to eat. Not that I am “full” or anything, just not hungry. What worries me more is not really drinking as I should… My pals on the Forum have all written everywhere to sip, sip and sip that water and their words of experience resonate in my head. So I am making a concerted effort to do so. The effort pays off as I feel less light-headed and more “alive” and less tired. I have a doctor’s appointment to verify my stitches and take my plasters off. As I was self-pay and my doctor is national health, I was dreading the possible lecture, but thankfully my regular practitioner was not there on Fridays. Instead, I met the magically delightful, young lady doctor with whom I had an instant bond. I was her first “live” case of RNY bypass – she had only come across the situation in medical school text books! Having read Dr. Dillemans’ (my surgeon) letter to his colleague, she was ready to ask me all sorts of questions and put me on the scales – I had lost another two pounds since Wednesday! Yippee! She asked me to make an appointment to see her in one month (for her interest rather than my need). Luckily she is within walking distance and now I have an extra incentive to be diligent about my eating and sipping! Meeting this particular doctor (mind you, only 15 minutes!) is already making a lot of difference to me. Not all doctors who are government funded like to have self-pay patients: if you can afford to go privately, then surely you could afford a private doctor, so don’t waste my precious time and limited resources. This doctor’s view is however in line with mine. As I inherited a little after my Mother’s death this summer, I had the chance of a lifetime to afford something like my WLS. I feel that by going privately I was getting what I wanted exactly for myself whilst not burdening the national resources for this kind of money. I was so focused on everything leading up to and the actual surgery that I have underestimated the post-operative maintenance care impact. Of course I have researched and considered, but now, when faced with the real-Life situation, I was ill-prepared it seems.
Should anything “go wrong” from now on, I now know I have a doctor whom I can trust and who is supportive of my action (and who openly voiced her admiration for my “guts to go ahead with your decision”. My advice to anybody about to have this surgery is make sure you have a doctor who supports you entirely in your decision. If you were to have gallstones, kidney stones or whatever else wrong, it is far less stressful with an understanding and sympathetic doctor when you are already suffering.
Elated, and with my prescription for a month’s worth of anti-ulcer tablets, I went and did a grocery shop with my husband at our local supermarket, much better aware of what kind of foods suit my new life. I took the time to show him where they are on the shelves and found alternatives should anything be out of stock. I have now a basket in our refrigerator marked “Mamma’s: don’t touch or at least please ask first!”. There are there soya yoghurts (the family has loads of other choices elsewhere in the fridge, smooth vs “with bits” orange juice (they can have the juice “with bits” but I shouldn’t), organic humous, organic cottage cheese, organic eggs, fruit purees… They understand the limitation of my choices (for the moment), and somehow, this involves the “children” in my recovery process…
Tonight I ate a piece of chicken. I took pea size bites and, according to my husband, chewed each morsel about 16 times, grinding it to a paste before swallowing. All very scientific!
Self-injection, tablet, off to sleep…
Post-Op +10 / Saturday
A normal day, a fresh start, breakfast and a successful trip to the loo (smooth, consistent, non-smelly, appropriate content). So, it feels as though I am starting to get my stomach and bowels into a routine. My back aches less, also thanks in part to my husband giving me little massages every now and then, including my feet (to aid circulation). I feel I have recovered enough solidity to venture out for a decent walk tomorrow in the park with my husband and the two dogs (he will take their leads as they get very excited to be near rabbits and deer and pull like crazy!).
The “10 day out” feels like a landmark. I can now eat, sleep, be awake, and conduct my day in a normal, comfortable fashion, to about 85% of my original strength and ability. Strong enough to do housework, laundry, ironing, go up and down the stairs and carry a moderate amount of loads. From previous experience, I am giving myself 6 weeks off driving but if need be, am perfectly ready.
XOXOXO XOXO XO XOXOXO
So, here my Friends, endeth my overly long chronicle! I rate improvement on a half-daily basis, all in all pain subsides very quickly from memory and there is no need to have any pain when you think of all the medication available. I am recovering well and progressively. What I find difficult is timing myself not to drink 30 minutes either side of a meal. No doubt I’ll find my rhythm soon! I feel better for eating my main meal in the middle of the day rather than in the evening. No food too close to bedtime. Take time to make time. Rest, even half an hour can make all the difference. Use all the good creams you can find and really coat your face and body in them – you’ll be grateful later. Importantly, when all the focus is on you the fabulous, brave patient, remember to praise your supporting team to others! You wouldn’t be nearly as strong and successful without them!
Best and warmest wishes for your own journey. It is magical, sometimes painful and this time I’ll write “When there is no pain, there is no loss!!!”. We are all here to support you, encourage you, and listen to any concerns you may have, however trivial you may think they are, because in this situation, there is never an unnecessary question!
Good luck and happy Life.
Cheers!
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The world is my oyster...
oysters are an acquired taste...
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What a great post
Great Post!!!
This photo was taken in April this year, I was around 135 lbs. I want to look like that again 
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