Looking To The Future

Well, it's official. The old gallbladder has got to hit the skids.

Other than advising that it's best if the Big G and I part ways, the meeting with the surgeon didn't reveal anything I didn't already know. What it boils down to is, if I don't get this thing out sooner rather than later, I run the very real risk of a stone becoming lodged in the bile duct which would result in A) severe pain (uh, no thanks) and B) emergency surgery that would be more complicated than regular gallbladder surgery (uh, double no thanks).

Since I'm not really down with the idea of having more pain, I'm opting to play it safe and get this all put to bed before school lets out for the year. I'm certainly not thrilled with the prospect of being out of my classroom for a week, but I'm also not digging the idea of waiting another 2 whole months to resolve this issue.

The surgery will be on May 20, provided my upper GI doesn't reveal any other surprises. The way I look at it, I have one more month of living on the edge, so to speak. I can handle that. Bland eating has sort of become my thing, except for when I lose all sense of sanity and take a risk on eating something from my diet of yore. Hello, Gertrude Hawk Chocolate Mini Smidgens... (Hey, don't look at me. They were a gift from one of my students). Oh, but I am looking at you. Your size may be tiny, but you pack a hell of an indigestion punch. It's stupid, but I have been known to do it. Pull the trigger when I know what lies in the wake of doing just that. In a way, eating has kind of become a bit like playing Russian Roulette. If I eat this (fill in the blank), will I feel like crap in a couple of hours? Spin the Wheel of Indigestion and find out! What I do know is, I've had about 7 attacks within the past month, so as far as I'm concerned, the writing is on the wall. It's getting worse. Time to take permanent action. ASAP.

One of the interesting comments the surgeon made was in regard to LAGS (Life After Gallbladder Surgery - my stupid acronym, not his). He mentioned that people sometimes complain of weight gain. Upon hearing that fantastic news, I'm pretty sure I made an audible groan. He then assured me that there is no biological reason that people gain weight after this surgery. Your gallbladder is not responsible for weight control at all. However, when people experience attacks or symptoms such as mine,  they tend to adjust their eating -  usually for the better - because if they don't,  they suffer. Weight loss can be a pretty cool side effect of that change. My surgeon went on to explain that after surgery, many people simply resort back to their old ways of eating and therefore, boom - the weight comes back. This is EXACTLY what I said in my last post. It is what I fear the most. More than the surgery itself.

I'm not going to get all religious on you or anything, but I do believe that this issue became mine to deal with for a good reason. As I've said before, I silently wished that something would make me have to eat better/differently/more mindfully and sure enough, this problem of mine has done just that. I was on the fast train to a number on the scale from which I may not have recovered. It was a number that I swore I'd never reach - and yet.....it was there. Just 7 pounds away. I'll not yet reveal that number, but I will say that had the scale reached this number to which I am referring, it would have put me in a very, very dark place, mentally speaking. No joke. We're talking Tan Mom dark.

Oh, I'll show you dark.

Let's just say, I'm glad I didn't reach that point. With start of the new year and the increasing frequency of my attacks, something inside me pleaded for a change. It was now or never. I chose now.

As much as I hate that a health problem forced me to screw my head on straight, I don't discount its importance in this process. Obviously I wasn't willing to do it on my own. As much as I thought about it, I wasn't proactive in the least. Especially in the last couple of years.

So, I suppose I'll just thank the universe for hearing those whispered cries for help, no matter how bizarre, and giving me this reason for change - no matter how annoying and painful it's been. I'm sending one more request out there. Please keep me on track even when all of this medical stuff is behind me. Allow me to continue on the path to health and not forget the real reasons this is going to benefit my life when I reach my goal. Give me the strength to stay the course and keep treating myself with patience and kindness.

This will happen. It's my time.

Tales From The Scale

And maybe lose an ass cheek or two while you're at it.

The closer we get to the end of the school year, the faster time whizzes by. We're nearing the middle of April already which seems next to impossible, considering it felt like Christmas was just a few weeks ago. Admittedly that could have something to do with the fact that some of our Christmas decorations hung around just a tad, a-hem, longer than they should have. What I mean is, we may or may not still have a rather large pre-lit pinecone tree hanging out on our credenza in the dining room. And we may or may not also have some lights hanging from our trees outside.

Just don't pop over unannounced until, say about, June 17- ok? I may (or may not) have my shit together by then.

This past week was a little stressful. My hubs was out of town, report cards are due this Monday, and I've been experiencing a tremendous amount of anxiety when I eat because of - well... you know the sob story. Fact: When Josh travels, I don't eat well. I tend to fall back into my single-days mindset when cereal and any and all varieties of alcohol were perfectly acceptable dinnertime meals. I'll admit to having both types of those "dinners" that dominated my 20's and 30's while Josh was away. Corn Chex for dinner on Tuesday and a hot toddy on Wednesday. I don't recall what I ate on Thursday night, but suffice it to say it wasn't anything gracing the pages of Bon Appetite.

Um - now that I think about it, I do remember. It was a blackberry margarita. And some pretzels and a cheese stick. Ina Garten would not be impressed.

Here's a sad story. Veggies and I pretty much parted ways this past week. As a matter of fact, if clean eating is the equivalent of a G-rated movie, I was pretty much gobbling up triple-X porn this week. That's not to say I scarfed down Burger King and cheesesteaks and chocolate cake and butter sandwiches, for God's sake. But for a girl who has been trying to avoid excessive carbs for the last 10 weeks, I did a total 180 and ate those suckers like it was my job. Bagels, bread, cereal, rice....you name it, I ate it. That's become "bad-eating" for me these days.

Ironically enough, carbs are the one thing that don't send me into heinous gallbladder attack mode. Or at least this is what I thought until yesterday when I had my second attack in two days and had really only had carbs and nary a trace of fat all day. Frankly, I'm done guessing what will cause the pain - I just want the damn good-for-nothing organ out of my body. Even though this whole issue has made me really adjust my eating (mostly for the better), I am tired of not knowing what is going to happen each and every time I put something in my mouth.

I don't know if you guys are sick of reading about this problem, but I sure am sick of writing about it.

So...in addition to living in Carbtown this week, I didn't do much in the way of exercise either. Not even yoga, which always makes me feel a tad bit guilty. Simply put, I just didn't feel great this week so I skipped it. You don't need to tell me. As far as weight loss role models go, I know I kind of suck right now.

Is it any wonder the scale didn't budge? Nope. Not really. You don't load your body up with enough carbs to get you through a marathon and expect your scale to reward you. It doesn't work that way, and I am fully aware of that. As a matter of fact, I was floored I didn't see a gain. Not to jinx myself, but in the 11 weeks I've been working at this new lifestyle gig, I haven't had a gain at all. I've had exactly two weeks where the scale didn't move, and that's nothing short of amazing. This whole process feels slow as hell, but for the first time in all of the attempts I've made at this weight-loss thing, I don't feel like it is impossible. I've sort of resolved myself to be one of those people that takes the long and winding back country roads to their goal weight, versus hitting the Autobahn.

There is something that has been weighing on my mind, however. Even though I complain a whole lot about this gallbladder issue, I do realize that it is a major reason why I have been so much better about my eating than I was in the past. There is a small part of me that is afraid that if I do end up having surgery to get it out, and I start to feel better, I will somehow forget the benefits I have seen with this new way of eating. Without having that fear of food causing me pain to stop my inclination to eat poorly, will I be foolishly tempted to revert back to my old ways? It's a frightening prospect, but a serious question I need to ask myself.

I'd like to think I'm smarter than that. I'm close to losing 20 pounds and that is a great start. But I want more. I've made some decent changes to my diet and I am happy about that. But I still have miles to go to get to a true place of comfortability with it all. Exercise has not become the BFF that I wanted it to be at this stage in the game. While I love the fact that I have found yoga, I need to do more. The only way that is going to happen is if I make it a priority. At some point, the changes to my diet won't be enough. I'll need to attack this thing with everything I've got - mentally and physically.

Now that Josh is back home and report cards have been put to bed, I feel better about the week ahead. I'm going to make sure veggies make a come back this week, as well as bid adieu to a few of those carbs I've gotten a bit too chummy with. I am eager to see how my meeting unfolds with the surgeon on Wednesday. Then it's lights out for my upper GI on Friday. It should be a week for resolutions, or at least a few answers as to what happens next.

Stay tuned!

Post Traumatic Dessert Disorder

I have some mixed emotions this week.

On Monday, I was told that my gallbladder has become a nice comfy habitat for some pretty badass stones. It's a glaring reminder that my fat-fueled diet over the years is not without consequence. This sit-up-and-take-notice diagnosis has become a catalyst for changing my relationship with food even more than when I began this weight loss trek ten weeks ago.

I lost 3.25 lbs. this week. This is certainly reason to celebrate in my book. Not only am I happy that I lost that much chunk from my trunk, but for the first time in ten weeks, I really, truly, honestly, without question know why I lost it. Simply put, this past week I was more in tune with what I put in my mouth than I probably ever have been in 43 years. I'm sorry, but that kind of blows my mind, considering how many freaking diets I have been on in my lifetime. If you're wondering what took me so long to finally figure out that I need to account for every morsel that crosses my lips, read on.

You see, I'm kind of an idiot.

After I left the hospital on Monday, I met one of my best friends, Aimee, and her son for lunch at Bonefish Grill.  I hadn't had a crumb to eat all day. I gave some serious thought as to what I should eat, given my recent dose of not so great news from the ultrasound tech. After carefully perusing the menu, I settled on a lunch combo with 2 soft filet mignon baja tacos and half a caesar salad. The tacos had literally the smallest chunks of meat in them I've ever seen, and they were topped with diced mango, shredded cabbage and a lime crema sauce. The caesar salad was not overly slathered with dressing. If anything, it was a little dry for my taste, but hey - I'm dieting - so it's not like I was going to ask for more. Croutons were minimal. All in all, it was a simple, yet, tasty meal. However, compared to the Lean Cusines that have become my usual go-to lunch fare, it was downright gourmet.

Had I stopped there, with the meal alone, it would have been a perfectly delightful lunch. Good company, good food. I should have been happy with that. More importantly, I should have been satisfied.

When you are dieting, it often feels like you are living a double life. Or maybe being on a diet is more akin to having schizophrenia. Either way, one day, you are Weight Loss Warrior, wearing the red cape, carrying a sword and all of that mumbo jumbo, standing high on a mountain top (or soap box), feeling totally superior because you have just slain the biggest Craving Beast to confront you yet. You feel absolutely 100% freaking invincible. There is NOTHING that will ever come between you and your weight loss goals again. You HAVE this. You KNOW you are winning the battle and you want to shout it from the rooftops.

Screw you, Sugar Addiction! You're my bitch now.

It's no lie. I love being Weight Loss Warrior. That chick has her shit together. She knows what she wants and is doing whatever she needs to in order to make it happen. Chocolate cake and cheese steaks be damned.

But there's another personality that emerges from time to time. She's quite different. Her name is Weight Loss Wimp. And being her? Is not so much fun. Weight Loss Wimp hates having to watch what she eats and is always thinking of excuses as to why she should be allowed to jam some crap down her gullet, no matter that she knows full well what it does to her. She often can't see the forest for the trees and is angry that seemingly everyone else around her is eating whatever the hell they want, so why can't she? The big picture is lost on her. Excuses are the name of the game. That piece of pie? She pretends it won't hurt her. But we all know the ending to that story, don't we?

You glorious confection. Come to Mama. Get in ma belly...

I HATE being Weight Loss Wimp. She makes me feel weak and out of control. When she emerges, the finish line to this tedious, excruciating at times, weight loss marathon seems to move so much father away and I feel my grasp on this whole thing loosening.

Luckily, Weight Loss Wimp doesn't visit that often anymore. She used to show up more than I care to admit, but I think she finally understands she has worn out her welcome. But rest assured, I know that she is always there, lurking around the nearest corner, waiting for an opportunity to come out and once again show her ugly pie-smeared face. Funny thing? She always brings her own fork and spoon.

The last time she showed up was Monday. Flashback to that nice Bonefish lunch with my friend. After our entrees were consumed, it should have been the end of the food portion of our meal, save for maybe a cup of coffee. We could have easily just carried on with our conversation, sipped our sodas, and waited for the check. Except then the devil waitress showed up with the damn dessert menu.

I've always been powerless to the lure of sugary delights. Had my mom known better, she could have made Dessert my middle name, as opposed to the over used choice from the 70's, Ann. So when that bubbly, smiling, waitress showed up waving that hard bound list of mouth-watering treats, Weight Loss Wimp couldn't show up with her fat caboose fast enough. After all, it had been weeks since I had had any real dessert. This one time would be ok, wouldn't it? Didn't I deserve this as a reward for being so good???????????

Using food as a reward when you are admittedly fat but are finally making an effort to lose weight is such an eff'd up way of thinking - I gotta tell you. I know, because that has been my ass backwards mindset for years. But with a diagnosis of gallstones, surely the lesson has been learned.....???

IDIOT ALERT! IDIOT ALERT! DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO IT!! DON'T DO IT!!! DON'T ORDER THE KEY LIME PIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Who knew something so small could hold such power?

Gulp. I did it. I ordered the stupid pie. The creamy, fattening, rich as a Rockefeller pie.

My gallbladder revolted hours later. As it should. I am an idiot. I'll never do it again. Pinky swear.

In the days following, I have been hypervigilant about my eating. I haven't had an attack since Monday and I attribute that entirely to the careful selections of food I have made since then. I'm through with taking risks. Those attacks are simply not worth the pain. Everything that passes the lips, passes the gums, look out stomach, here it comes, has been analyzed for gallbladder attack potential. Admittedly, I'm not reaching out very far on the culinary branches of the food tree these days, but until I get some real relief and more answers as to how to permanently fix what's broken, I'm ok with that.

I have a consultation with a surgeon on April 15 and my upper GI is still happening on the 17th. The next two weeks will be similar to this one in terms of staying on track with my unadventurous meals, but thems the breaks. I'll not be lamenting the lack of dessert in my life any longer either because frankly, anything that makes me feel that lousy is not worth getting upset about.

So while I celebrate the loss this week, I understand that it is because my diet has become rather radical. I'm sticking to a small group of safe foods in order to stay attack-free. Is this the way I want to live the rest of my life? With huge restrictions all of the time? Not especially. What I want is the ability to have a balance, and right now, that simply can't be. There is no room for anything "dangerous" in my diet right now and I'm not going to say that fact isn't hard for me swallow. It is. Keep in mind, what's happening to me is exactly what I wished for oh so long ago (like an idiot). That I would develop an issue to keep me from all of the things making me heavy....Well, I got my wish. Thanks, Fat Genie.

Until next time....have a joyous Easter and for God's sake, will someone please eat a Cadbury Creme Egg or two in my honor? I'd be forever grateful.