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I’m doing my best to keep the lines of communication open with Tom about all aspects of this process and how it may (and already does) affect him. Although typically he tends to be the more open, extraverted, and needy of the two of us, he has been somewhat uncharacteristically quiet in the face of my decision (I think he secretly believes I won’t go through with it), and some attempts I make to engage him in discussion about it fall short of my idea of dialogue.
This is a difficult time for me because I don’t want to obsess about myself or this process and especially any worrisome aspects that may be involved, yet I want to ensure that we are a team, he is all right, and our relationship remains strong.
It’s a delicate process and I expect it’ll unfold and develop in its own way and time and, with due diligence, we’ll be OK – and he (who does occasionally refer to feeling “a wreck” about it) will also be OK. I hope.
I had a wonderful talk with my long-distance brother, Roy, about my plans. A brilliant and knowledgeable man, he was informative and supportive. It’s good to know he is on my side and he’ll be there - especially given our childhood rivalries and the typical distance between us. But, I must recall that in past times of need (e.g., when I had encephalitis) he was very there for me and, hopefully, he’d say vice-versa.
All right — this one is downright hysterical. So last night, rather than stare at each other in Barb’s and Rick’s absence, Tom and I invited my longtime size-zero friend Debbie over to stare at both of us instead. She is wonderful hang-loose company - you know, the kind with whom you can just watch TV, talk, snack, and vegetate. In fact, this has always been our favorite thing to do together, aside from travel in my younger, heartier single days when she and I used to do everything together. Now she is more like “Jackie” on the Roseanne show - blending in with Roseanne’s and Dan’s everyday routine, comfortable and familiar.
In any case, she was (of course) one of the first friends I’d told of my surgical plan. Although I thought I had explained somewhat what surgery entailed and eagerly shared what I was learning about various aspects of the process, I guess I’d never given her a quiz (like the one I’d had to take on-line!) to be sure she “got” it. So, here we are talking late last night about future plans, hopes, expectations, etc., and somehow she mentions her belief that I am likely to be much thinner soon. It takes me some time to understand and absorb what she was saying - only to realize that she actually believes that this bariatric process is going to unencumber me of my weight while on the operating table! I still can’t quite imagine exactly how (I think she’s been watching too much Sci Fi TV!), or just what she thought I’d come out of the O.R. looking like - but, COOL!
I was never so sorry to have to burst anyone’s bubble in my life!
Tonight Tom and I were scheduled to have our friends Barb and Rick over to reciprocate for a terrific time and meal shared at their house over Christmas. At that time, we feasted on a seven-course meal partly made and partly ordered, including the best French onion soup from a “famous for it” restaurant down the street from them and cake for dessert. We discussed concepts of obesity, diet and exercise and health throughout the meal, especially owing to the fact that Barb also struggles with weight problems, as does her grown daughter.
Even more interestingly, following dinner, they had presented us with our Christmas present - a gargantuan tower of Hickory Farms candy and snack items wrapped in about ten various-sized boxes stacked together in the shape of the Great Pyramid!
So, to get them back - I mean, reciprocate, dinner plans tonight were to include our favorite Mexican restaurant near our house, possibly complete with flavored Margaritas, and then our friends were to be treated to stories of my intentions for gastric bariatric surgery. I know this timing and dying art of overeating bad (or good, depending what basis you judge by!) food with good company is hokey - but really, where better?
Well, unfortunately (or fortunately) for them, they had to cancel - leaving Barb to be told on the phone instead. As I expected, she was intrigued, concerned, but very receptive to information about it, citing a wish for her daughter to possibly consider this for herself someday. She made clear her intention to watch closely how I fare to help determine the efficacy of this for her loved one - and I mostly feel proud and happy to provide some kind of template that may prove helpful to them.
In fact, journaling here provides me quiet hope that someday even others may read these “memoirs” and benefit in some way from this journey.
Tonight my husband and I had dinner with a single girlfriend of mine whose friendship dates back to graduate school (about 25 years ago). Although thin herself, she watches “Biggest Loser” religiously (while snacking!) and, I thought, understood the difficulties of the obese. I had purposely invited her tonight to talk to her - but was surprised at her response and chagrined at her apparent lack of support.
Her first reaction was that I hadn’t tried everything yet and that I haven’t even dieted for a while now. When I explained my lifelong struggles and the weary, hopeless state I now found myself in when it comes to traditional methods without the edge offered by bariatric surgery, she cited Biggest Loser’s methods instead and asked me if I’d considered changing my diet (again!) instead. When I told her I found this insulting, as if I’d neither thought of this before or tried it before, she said that her intention wasn’t to be insulting but that she felt there were better ways to lose weight. Sigh! And, as if this weren’t painful enough, throughout the evening she randomly added comments ranging from, “So, you’ll never get to eat ______ again?!” to “No more buffets for you!” to “Oh, geez, I bet we’ll have to limit what places we get to go to when we’re together like we had to in the past when you were on xyz diet(s)”.
My husband was noticed to go largely silent and, despite my best attempts to advocate and inform, my girlfriend never really relented and ultimately left with clear misgivings, prejudices, and preconceived notions about me, obesity, and bariatric surgery.
I know that she is a long-time, loyal, and caring friend, but I must admit that not only was I taken aback but deeply offended by her lack of even feigned support. Another note to self - further talks with her (and to Tom, etc.) are necessary.
I will clearly need some guidance in the management of external and internal reactions. Admittedly my girlfriend’s reaction, although understandable and maybe even typical in some ways, does raise some questions for me (What can I really eat? What will life be like?) that are troubling and reflect likely changes in all of life’s dynamics and in important relationships currently spent with food as a centerpiece.
Today I had to work a long day as we had a 5:00 staff meeting after normal work hours. I have been aware and had reinforced at the meeting that our little “Health Care Center” is both facing a Medicaid Audit and about to transition to an alternative operating mode (possibly by March 1st, we’re told in the meeting). It is not exactly clear what this will entail, but secretly I sit wondering, at each timeframe referenced, where I’d be at that point in my journey. Mostly I worry about when I would need to take off, and especially if this would interfere with my supervision of my student (whose last week is in early May) or the “feelings management” clients group we hope to co-lead thru early spring.
Finally, unable to contain my feelings and at a timely point in the meeting, I reveal my intentions to my bosses and co-workers - five social workers, a mental health counselor, and one psychologist. Two already knew about it, and I prefaced what I said with this, as they are my good female friends when not at work.
Interestingly, colleagues said little, other than Zoe’s offer of “support” and my supervisor’s (Mary Ellen’s) congratulations, reinforcing of my need to do what is healthy and necessary for me, and offer to take on my student if I must leave before her tenure.
Although the otherwise silence was awkward, I can certainly understand the muting effect that such a pronouncement can have. And exactly WHAT are people (even those trained in human wisdom) supposed to say? “You are fat!” “Good luck,” “Good for you,” and “Way to lose, girl!”
Another day, another indulgence. I’m now having an even more odd reaction to meals eaten out, as I imagine each as my last opportunity to fully enjoy large quantities and varieties of favorite items.Of all places, my husband and I took our good friends Zoe and Dennis to the Casino buffet (you see, we had free points that needed to be used up!) for the feast of the century. Dennis struggles with weight issues, and can rival me in both appetite and sad tales of prejudice and woe related to emotional baggage and effect on self-esteem. Truth be told, his wife Zoe confided in me earlier this week that she hoped I’d tell Dennis my intentions, to get him thinking too of the possibility of bariatric surgery to address his problem. Not surprisingly, although supportive and respectful to my stories, Dennis exhibited some defensiveness and anger when Zoe tried to draw such connections for him. Sadly, I think I understand both sides.
Oh, and God, the buffet was good! It’s hard to imagine how life would be without such shameful indulgences. Does this mean I’m not really ready, or is this a normal reaction? Dare I assume the psychologist can help me understand this better?
Well, I set about making more necessary calls today. The first was to the Bariatric Center to schedule the requisite two-hour (and that’s before he discovers I’m nuts!) assessment to ensure that I’m not deluded (enough) to undergo surgery and its aftermath without knowing full well what I am getting myself into. I also talked briefly with a woman who answered me with the expected steps and timeframe until surgery. She explained that it goes like this: send in paperwork; see primary care physician and psychologist and have them send in paperwork; maybe get insurance approval from having done all this; consult with Bariatric doctor; await surgery date (2-3 months after); and, finally, attend exercise/nutrition class nine days before surgery. Also, I left a message and got a follow-up telephone call from the woman at the Bariatric Center identified as the one who could help me complete my diet history. I brought what I had written to work today in hopes of reviewing this with her, then feared all day that it would accidently get mixed up with my client notes or other work papers and end up for all the world (well, co-workers anyway) to see.
I think most non-fat people would find 100 pounds fluctuations in weight over a five-year period not just appalling, but probably fictitious. Unless you’ve been there, the idea of losing and gaining your maid of honor (well mine anyway - my 100-pound, size-zero best friend) a few times, is ludicrous.
Oh, and I told another friend and co-worker (and skinny person), married to a man with lifelong struggles with his weight, about the operation. Wow - what an amazing and supportive reaction! I could cry remembering words like “Great!,” “Good for you!,” “I’ll support you,” and “I can only imagine, by knowing my husband and you, how hard it’s been for you to be overweight.” And my favorite: “I’ve done nothing to deserve my thinness except draw the better straw….” No - “Have you tried (fill in the blank)?,” “Are you sure?” (Of course NOT!), “Isn’t that dangerous?,” or “That sounds gross and unnatural!”
Not that I expect any of my wonderful and beloved friends to sound like this. Maybe these are manifestations of my own thoughts. Gross indeed!
 Donna (Broad in Buffalo) before surgery I’ve always been fat. As I write this, I struggle to catch my breath after walking to retrieve paper and pen to write my memoirs.
Why write about such an embarrassing, grotesque matter at all? Because I am about to embark on what I hope to be a life-altering, skinny-making experience called Bariatric Surgery - i.e., make my stomach the size of a peanut so hereafter I eat like a size 2, not 26/28.
In sharing my early thoughts with my husband, his reaction both hurt and didn’t really surprise me. An exact quote is: “My first wife died at that hospital” (when I gave the broad brush, including the name of the center and hospital that the local bariatric surgeon works out of). Upon further discussion, I know him and understand deeply his concerns at many levels including fear of “losing you,” worry that “you’re doing this for me,” and that he’ll lose his eating partner (something we do well together). Normal worries shared by me - but not appreciated in stereo. Clearly we have lots more talking to do if/as I get approved and time goes by.
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February 9th, 2009 | 
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