First, a gratuitous kitty picture…
Zoe has decided that my heating pad is the best place to sleep – whether or not it’s actually on. The poor heating pad is near the end of it’s life so I may have to buy us each one. Or I may buy her one of those heated cat beds but what are the chances that she will sleep on something I buy specifically for her? She has gotten a lot more stripey, don’t you think? Still colored like a siamese but stripey all over except her tummy.
So….. catching up. About three weeks ago I suddenly developed heartburn and that is a bad thing with the lap-band. I haven’t been in for a lap-band check in a long time. I feel so humiliated. I lost a lot of weight, I’ve gained a lot back. It doesn’t seem like it should be so hard. Millions – if not billions – of people manage to eat fairly reasonably and stay at a good, even if not perfect, weight. I go to the trouble, pain, expense and risk of having actual surgery and I still gain weight back. I feel like a failure, not just because of the weight – but a failure as a human being. And please don’t give me excuses. Other people can do it, the fact that I always go back to old behaviors is my own fault.
At any rate, I finally went in and I’m having reflux which is what happens when the band is too tight. It doesn’t feel too tight. I kept waiting for it to feel too tight since I’ve gained weight. I figured I would have to go in and have it unfilled some but then, I also figured that tomorrow, or next week, or at some mysterious point I would get back on track and lose the weight again then I would need to have the band filled (or tightened). I guess, looking back, that I may not have noticed it getting tight since there are so many foods I can’t eat because of digestive issues. Many of my trigger foods are the foods that would be very hard to eat with a tight band. Soft foods? No problem.
Normally, filling or unfilling the band is easy. There’s a little port sewn onto my stomach muscle and a needle is inserted to inject or withdraw fluid from the band. But, my port has flipped. Wendy-the-always-encouraging tells me this just happens. It can happen very early on after surgery or later but it’s just one of those things. I’m pretty sure it’s my fault. It must be. I’m the one not using this expensive tool the way it should be used. But the upshot is that the needle can’t be inserted in the port to withdraw some fluid and it will require surgery to fix the port.
I see the surgeon this Tuesday to get more information and decide what to do and when to do it. It depresses me greatly. Fortunately, it’s outpatient surgery. I have a friend who can take me on her day off if we can schedule it that day. I can’t tell Dad because I cannot deal with him – he would argue about how he could drive me and how he has to be there, and then forget all about it. And I can just imagine trying to get him out of the house since you know it’s going to be scheduled at some god awful time in the morning. So, at the most, I’m going to tell him that I am having a test and a friend is going with me. Or maybe just that I’m going to Springfield for the day. It does have to be done, tight bands can lead to big problems. And I never know what’s going to irritate it. I ate yogurt for my snack Thursday night and somehow triggered massive amounts of pain. Yogurt? Seriously?
I was going to catch up on more stuff but I’ve already been wordy enough. It is ultimately not that big a deal but it’s stressing me out big time. If it weren’t for Dad, it’d mostly just be the humiliation of the thing but dealing with Dad complicates everything.