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BLOG ADDRESS WILL CHANGE!!

Hi all –

I just attached a domain to this blog and the address will be http://www.jeninthemirror.org – change should take place sometime today!  I’m assuming that the address you know and all “follow” subscribers will just work auto-magically, but you never know when you mess with technical details that you only know enough to be dangerous with!

Thanks for following!  If you don’t see the change and/or stop getting notices – be sure to go to the new address and follow again from there.

Now – lemme get posting!

-Jen

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Second Update Post Surgery

Okay – this is a continuation of the physical details of going through the surgery.  The first update really just recounted details in getting to the surgery itself and so now we’ll pick up from the actual post-surgery.  These blogs, again, will be much more about reporting and less reflective, though I will report both physical and emotional process.  I want this information to be available to others who go through this!  And so – more impolite details…just warning you!

I have a couple flashes of the various stages of post-surgery.  I remember seeing Dr. Lenert briefly in the recovery room – just telling me that all had went well and that I’d lost 18.5 lbs that day.  Then she was headed down to my family.  They say that I came out of anesthesia quickly – which they had kept as close to waking as they could and did so successfully.  Nelson and my Mom came in for a few minutes – very relieved since the surgery had taken significantly longer than estimated.  In the weeks before, we had heard 8-9 hours, then 10 hours from Dr. Lenert in the pre-op appointment and 11.5 hours was the final number.  THEN the waiting for the recovery and room transfer, etc.  We had started our day at 4:45 to be at the hospital by 6:30 and it was past 10:00pm before Nelson and Mom were seeing me in my room.  Midnight before they were back home.

I didn’t have to deal with movement or food or really anything that first night.  I had the techs checking vitals and drains, the nurse giving me heparin shots.  And I had my morphine PCA – the little button for pain meds that I can click as often as I like but will only deliver every 8 minutes.  And so began a really interesting and really kind of wonderful night.  I would awake – feeling like I must have been asleep for hours, but it would only have been somewhere around 45 minutes.  I would click the pain button and get a spoon of ice chips and then fall into a bizarre sleep-wake state where there were tons of things going on – but I don’t remember any of them.  I only know that every time I would click the pain button within the 8 minutes again and hear the beep that said that nothing was delivered.  Then, as soon as I could get a true second dose, I would fall asleep for another 30-60 minutes.  Each time I woke up from those longer periods, I would feel these huge rushes of positive emotion.  Relief, accomplishment, excitement – all felt very deeply, not just thought.  I felt the 10 year task of losing 150 lbs and the hugeness of being on this end of it – and having coming through this surgery and all that was ahead of me.  I smiled a lot through those hours.

Then, things turned as we went towards morning.  I think because the night felt like it lasted a week – I finally began to wonder and worry about what was coming next.  When would I have to move and how would that go?  When would Mom and Nelson get there and could I wait until then to try anything?  I realized that while I had all these complete thoughts – my verbal communication was very poor.  The nurses would ask if I needed anything and I couldn’t think of what to say or what to ask – so I thought they weren’t communicating very well.  When I talked on the phone (including mom and Nelson to ask where they were!) – all I really could convey was scattered anxiety.  I ordered breakfast.  I think, in the end, we concluded that the Morphine was contributing a lot to this.  It definitely made me foggy and I know it helped with the pain, but it would fairly quickly make me anxious and unable to communicate well.  They wanted me to get through the lunch meal and keep that down before switching over to Percoset.

So, we endured the morning – me using as few pain clicks as I could.  The getting up was definitely a process, but it went without incident and we were all surprised to see that I stood straight right off – not hunched over as they said I likely would be from the abdominal tightening.  I got through lunch and was able to switch the pain meds – and that was a relief.

So, the big question to address – what about the body!!  Did I see it?  What does it look like?  Well, we’ll report on this in stages.  In the hospital is a very different experience than home.  As first the doctor and then the resident/interns came in to check and change my dressing – there were various reactions.  Their reaction was very technical – they were pleased with the incisions and the state of them.  My mom and Nelson could see everything and it was hard to read their faces totally, but their general reaction (and Nelson’s verbal reaction to me) was that it was a huge change in the shape and they thought I would be really amazed.  I couldn’t see anything below seeing the breast shape and nipple and the skin in between the breasts.  And there were so many things to take in – the fact that the breasts were small cones – no sagging – not even softness, really – just triangles sticking out.  The fact that the meeting of incisions between my breasts is a mess that the doctor says will calm down – that’s always a complicated spot.  And just seeing stitching and bruising everywhere.  I think I kept myself pretty neutral for these viewings.  The most emotion was when the residents and interns whirl winded through their mid-day check and moved WAY too fast for me – taking of the binder and the bra and whipping dressings off and on.  It was good that they felt so confident about the incisions, but it ramped me way up and after that, I was determined to just have everything go at as calm a pace as it could.

And, in that mindset, we passed the rest of that day – getting up a couple more times and I decided to stay the second night.  I just went with the flow through that and into the morning and was ready to make the trip home and stay calm!  We were out by 10:00am – and getting into the car was nowhere near the difficult event that I had worried about.

That’s a good place to end this portion – hospital and surgery are done and the reality of home and recovery begin.  Let me know if you have questions that I haven’t addressed or if there are things you wanted me to talk more about!

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Layers of Demons

It’s hard to know where to start to explain the “demons” that have become apparent to me through this process.  They come in several forms – from little instincts that make me change my behavior to fully-integrated personality traits that started as good things but now really get in the way.  They have been the back-seat drivers of my life and, in some times, I think they outright took the wheel.

Until 6-7 months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to name anything that I would have called a demon.  I  wouldn’t have said that I had “a thing” either – emotional baggage, something to overcome that was holding me back.  I could easily joke about my propensity to be “a little intense” – over-controlling of logistics and details.  My penchant for doing 400% of the work until I couldn’t sustain it anymore.  My lack of delegation skills and pickiness about the small stuff.  Sure, it would cause working dreams and moments of exasperation among my friends, colleague and family.  Stress?  Yes.  Demons?  No.

Demons are way underneath all that.  For example – I carried around  disgust, infuriation and embarrassment about my weight and as those feelings became ingrained (became demons), I shoved forward everything that I wanted the world (and myself) to see instead – a bright, funny, kind, talented, competent, successful woman.  Now, I hope and trust that I am those things.  In fact, I need to say that it was my passionate focus on those things that built so much of who I am and who I want to remain.  It’s the ensuring and shoving and maintaining of those things that creates the problem.  I realize now my demons of disgust, infuriation, embarrassment (and more) – nearly had me convinced that it was how I acted in the world  – how I displayed those good qualities and how I convinced people of them – that were why people responded to me so well.  Being those things could make them overlook my physical body and the ways that I had failed there.  People loved me for the reasons that I made them love me.  And from here, the demons can choose lots of different places to go – that I need people to love me.  That it’s my strength and success that they love and therefore vulnerability and failure become opposite and now we’ve set up absolutes and black/white, good/bad parameters.  And we’ve set up doubt that it’s any other way.  That people could just love me – all of me and even the parts that I’ve locked away.  That Nelson married a woman that he loved – not parts of that woman.

There are many, many blogs that could come from here – and some of them will be written.  But here is the other thing about demons.  They live underneath and they can find many, many ways to stay in the shadows so that they can hang around.  When my demon of disgust was brought into the light in December – it took a big hit just by being seen and named.  And, as I’ve come to face this demon over the past many months, I’d like to think that I can say “thank you” for being a driver of “how I am” and then let it go.  I’m finding, though, that I have to be pretty deliberate and firm about that.  If I keep talking about it or get at ease with that word, “disgust” and use it lightly – that’s a way for that demon to stay around.  As I’ve been looking at my new body – all stitches and bruises – I find I have to bandy with that word.  Is my new body disgusting because it’s now unnatural?  Oh demon…good try!

I think this is a place for some wholesale attitude adjustment – not to shove those feelings down…but to make that demon unwelcome.  This change in my body has been fought for long and hard.  The methods that I used were researched, debated and decided upon with great care and enormous effort – never the easy way out.  The state of my body – with so much excess skin – was already “unnatural” and this surgery gives me the freedom to use and enjoy my body in the way that I have earned.  It is nothing but a positive!   Entertaining this demon of disgust – even arguing with it – keeps it in play.  Clearly, we have identified one antagonist who is not going to leave gracefully.  And it’s time here is done.  No more negotiating.

So if you hear me talk about disgust – feel free to get up in arms with and for me.  Help me turn that cold shoulder and don’t be too nice about it!  And for those of you in my life that are holding up this particular mirror – I am so grateful for you!

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First Update Post-Surgery

There are so many angles that I want to write about that it can be a little overwhelming about where to start at all.  So, let’s jump in with the easier – the more technical update.  It, of course, also has the most amount of pure detail – so may be a couple long posts!

The right place to start – well, I’m still here!  Of course we knew that this was the likely outcome – but this surgery, as with most, certainly had it’s one-liner of mortality and the signing of the Advance Directive and that should always catch one’s attention!  Actually, the Advance Directive is an amusing (if morbid) place to start.  We had assumed that we needed to have my signature witnessed at the hospital and missed the well-buried sentence of instruction that said that neither employees of the hospital nor family members could sign as witnesses.  The admissions employee who was helping us (who was already very distracted, angry at the couple who was admitted before me, and totally uncommunicative) – said that it was very normal to just go out into the waiting room and ask for a couple of witnesses to sign.

Okay, think about this – this a very legal document – the one that turns over durable power of attorney to my husband and states my position on life-continuing care should I be incapable of making decisions or communicating my wishes.  I throw myself at the corner of the waiting room with the most people – all of whom are there for surgical procedures and who knows what state they are in for themselves – I tell them that I need two witnesses to sign my Advance Directive – simply stating that this is my signature and that I am of sound mind which, really, how do they know!?  I tell them that family member and hospital employees can’t sign it and they told me that that this is what was often done – to ask you fine people if you would be willing.  They all stare at me.  I say, “Please” and someone invites me to explain it again.  And then two people are willing to sign – with addresses and everything!  It may be among the most ridiculous things I have ever had to do.

By the way, the phrasing that I formulated for the Advance Directive ended up being what I wanted with the help of my sister, Becca – who is the doctor in the family. I offer it in case it’s helpful to anyone else.  “I wish for any and all life-continuing efforts to be made unless or until there is no reasonable likelihood of the return of my cognitive functionality.”  That way I don’t need to talk about specifics like resuscitation, brain death, coma, etc.  and I was assured that Nelson would be the one to decide (in communication with my doctors) what defined “reasonable.”

So, I head up (rather abruptly) to the surgical reception area – on my own – and Nelson and Mom are told that they will be called up to see me before I’m taken in.  The first thing I’m asked is if I need a restroom and, already, things are complicated.  Because – I started my period late on Tuesday night – of course!  OF COURSE!!! I knew it was going to be close and I was worried about it, but REALLY!?  So – I’m sorry to drag you into this – but it’s definitely a factor.  You see – first off – all kinds of things happen for me during this time of the month – sometimes really bad pain, sometimes dizziness and energy issues (possibly it makes me borderline anemic), sometimes cramping and vomiting – none of these things are going to combine well with a lot of incision in and around my abdomen!  Not to mention how…erm…maneuverable I’m going to be to deal with those supplies.  The only good news here is that I’m likely to FINALLY have pain medication that can handle it!  So – the nurse says no problem –  they need to give me some mesh underwear and a pad and that’s what I’ll wear through surgery.  She also says that I’ll now just sign a document that says that I refuse a pregnancy test since I clearly won’t need one.

Mesh underwear.  This has got to be the next trend on the street and I will have been on the front cusp of stunning fashion!!  She hands me a square of mesh – alright, it’s a rectangle – but it doesn’t look like more than a single sheet.  She says that they are underwear.  I am dubious to say the least.  And she hands me a pad that could absorb the Potomac – these two things are supposed to go together.  I believe that this is quite funny.  Enough that I take the time to lay out the little rectangle of mesh to take a picture of it – had to be done.  You try “putting these on.” :

So – then – it’s a series of preparations – get into the gown and socks – see the anesthesiologist – who is fantastic.  I have to have the singer conversation with him – please use as small a tube as you can and be extra careful – and he gets that completely.  He asks who I recommend for listening and I say the first name that comes to mind – Eva Cassidy – and when he comes back in, he’s already gone to look her up and has the information for “Songbird” in his hand – I was very impressed!  I asked him about some of the things I’ve heard – that prolonged anesthesia can lead to depression and had greater risk with great amount of time.  He’s very soothing about this – first off, saying that the whole swing of emotions is possible – including all the happy ones.  Then using a driving analogy for risk.  First you look at you as the vehicle – if you have a lot of risk factors (age, health, smoking, etc) – you are rather like a moped and if you are young, strong, healthier – you’re more like a hummer.  Then you look at the level of the surgery – major surgery being brain, heart, internal organs, etc..  I may not be a hummer, but I’m at least an SUV (and my doctor would say hummer) and this surgery is a city street, not the beltway.  The length is due to the complexity and the amount of surface work, but it’s not very invasive – so he’s very reassuring.

Then, Mom and Nelson are invited in (after an hour of waiting) and then Doctor Lenert and her crew.  And here’s where it really get interesting and so surreal – the marking!

She asks if I mind if I want to have the room be private – but really, Mom and Nelson have seen everything there is to see and it’s a teaching hospital, so we’ve had the bevy of students, interns, residents and such…I just don’t care now!  Especially since we’re there to change it – if I was in for another surgery and so self-conscious about the extra weight, it would be different.  (By the way – little flash forward…I’m thinking that will be different again once I’ve recovered into this new body.  I think I’ll want my privacy back!)  But – for this…heck no…just do what you need.  So, she gets out her purple sharpie and starts going to town.  I mean…GOING to town!  We start with a few center lines and the lower incision line, but then there is a grid of sorts for reference purposes and then a little specific compass for the nipple shape – something for her to trace and shape the areola and then get the angle of the breast. They talked about where the fold of the breast should be compared to where it was and as I sat there, my breasts looked like they could just keep going down to my knees – they were so LONG!  And then she starts putting her initials everywhere (JL) and I gotta laugh!  Turns out she’s required to by the hospital!  So – after being her coloring book (she definitely was one who stayed in the lines as a kid) – the anesthesiologist was back offering to be my personal bar-tended and announced that happy hour had begun.  I said my good-byes, they wheeled  me away and I don’t remember anything else until I saw her again in the recovery room.  11 and a half hours later!  And she told me I lost 18.5 lbs that day and all went well.

That’s a good place to stop for this update and then we’ll start tackling post-surgery.

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Just a Wake Up…

We are down to no days to go…only 6 hours sleep and a wake up…and the surgery adventure begins!!  After coming through a landslide of extensive to-do lists (oh, you will get to know my penchant for a good list well!!), culminating events (usually involving a swirl of emotions and send-offs), intimidating pre-op exams, a brush with pre-surgery illness and a huge roller coaster of emotions (both mine and everyone around me) – I have landed in a place of readiness.

Does this mean that I know what is about to happen?  Not really.  Probably not at all.  But I’m as ready as I can be to go into it.

Does this mean that I am no longer nervous?  No.  Nervous!  But also excited to be here – finally!

Does this mean that I have a grand plan for my post-surgery time?  Nope!  I have a good set of guidelines, one of which is too avoid a specific grand plan.

Does this mean that I have control-freaked my way into a private utopia where only crossed “t”s and dotted “i”s dwell in perfect harmony and it is a beautiful site to behold?  Oh you damn well betcha!!!!

I mean, please, I can’t abandon all my old ways!  There’s no need to chastise me – just nod, smile and tell me I’m cute.  Please?

To document a few things about the lead-up to surgery:

I had the pre-op with my primary care physician first who did a bunch of bloodwork, an EKG and assessed my general health then cleared me for surgery.  In his words, this surgery is not quite on the low-risk list (I think because of the length and the amount of incision), but not on the high risk list of brain and heart surgery, etc.  The biggest concerns are infection and bleeding and both are well managed before and throughout the process.  He said that I could not be in better health going into the surgery and so my risk should be very low.

Then came the pre-op with the surgeon – mostly me asking a huge amount of questions and then signing the informed consents forms.  The nurse went through how the drains will work and how I will need to care and record them – it shouldn’t be messy or anything, but I have to say I’m a little squeamish about that.  And the care of the incisions (of which there are miles) is just going to take patience and layers of process.  Every day, we take off the binder and surgical bra and all the dressing, rinse in the shower, apply antibiotic, dress with pads, then underwear/bra, then protective tank top, then the abdominal binder – and all this with 6 drain tubes to manage.  Then, I believe, it will likely be time for a midnight snack and up and do it again?!

Some sobering realities from the surgeon – binder and bra are worn 24/7 for 6 weeks.  Won’t drive for 3+ (until I’m comfortable making a sudden move).  Drains may be in for 3 or more weeks – at least some of them.  It’s going to hurt to stand straight and I’m not going to want to, but then my back will start to hurt, so I’ll decide that I’d better work on standing up straight.

Switching over to the emotional lead-up…it so hard to not be struck by the bigness, risk, and just the mortality of a 10-hour surgery.  Combine that with the fact that this is a finishing move on a 10-year epic march and coming out of the most vulnerable state that I have ever been in – physically or emotionally – over the last 7 months…well, it’s hard for me not to be struck by that and it’s impossible that all those around me won’t respond from that place.  I have had just a staggering amount of emotion focused on me.  Mostly in love, care, support , hope and appreciation.  Also tinged with fear and risk and what ifs.  So many amazing things have been said to me and there are so many people sending their thoughts and energy in my direction it’s impossible not to think that it makes a difference!

Part of my being ready, though, was also to have to make a small climb out of the bigness of all this emotion.  Let the excitement back in and breathe a little lighter than it feels in the middle of that.  I can’t take the worry away from you all, but I can learn how to lean on where it comes from rather than let it stack my own worries higher.

And somehow, as I write this last thing before trying for 5 1/2 hours sleep – sitting in my all-clean bed, with my clean clothes and my Hibiclens antiseptically scrubbed body – looking at my completely checked and allocated to-do list – thinking about all the conversations and exchanges with my community of people — somehow, I know that I have become ready.   I am in a state of readiness.  Doesn’t matter what for.  Ready is ready.

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Big Picture Meets Holy Crap

So we are “4 days and a wake up” as my partner says from surgery.  And there is very much a balance of emotions going on here.

In the big picture, I am very excited.  Yes, I’m a little wary – or maybe just anticipating – of the emotional process that I know will come with this, but I’m so hopeful (and pretty sure) that I can finally meet this time and this change with immense joy and go forward with that underneath any challenge.

In the local picture, I don’t have the right word for it yet – but I don’t think it’s excitement, except that I’m excited that the event is finally here after so long in preparation for it.  I’m intimidated thinking about the care and pain that will be there in the weeks after surgery.  I know that I’ll just go through it and I’m not worried about that, but I’m nervous about it.  Is there a difference…yes, I think there is.

The mortality risk of the surgery is just a one liner for me.  It’s there and you can be sure that I’ll be telling my family and friends that I love them and there will be that moment as I’m wheeled away to the operating room.  But I’m not spending time with that possibility.

I’m trying so hard to get myself into a place where I can embrace this 8 weeks of a different time.  I have a list of things that is all about my normal hodge podge of life elements – my conducting jobs, teaching studios, the small business with my partner, the care of our household, the keeping of connections with my community of friends and family – and I want to do well enough on that list that I don’t have the list of to-dos waiting for me.  Either they get done and can be picked up in August or they don’t get done and that’s okay.

And then I have the things that I do want to be a part of this different time of life.  Writing, relaxing into being less extroverted for awhile, releasing worries about how things and people are doing without me (hmm…that’s a whole blog topic of it’s own).  This is a virtual list at the moment – and I think that’s where it should remain because I don’t want this to become the new “should” list.  I simply want, at the end of this period of time, to be able to feel that I did manage to:

  • recover well
  • be off the grid and get a sense of refreshment in coming back on
  • spend my time differently, including trying my hand at more introspective things (writing and songwriting) that I have professed wanting to do for a long time
  • assess or be prepared to assess how I want to spend my time and energy in my professional and personal life.

This last one – I think it’s more about the mentality to be prepared to assess that.  From a more relaxed place and with fresh perspective.  I don’t actually want to spend these 8 weeks in active, analytical assessment.  That’s too close to my norm.

So the “Holy Crap” feeling of entering into the surgery is both physical and emotional and coming so much from just not knowing what it’s going to be like and how it’s all going to play out.  And I think that’s just where it needs to be.  I’m not going to know until I know and there’s no use in borrowing worry about that or trying to plan or predict it.

Right?!!  Right.

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My Surgery

As you know, this blog is starting up as I head into reconstructive surgery.  The phrase that I’ve taken to using is “major reconstructive surgery made necessary by successful weight loss.”  This seems to calm people’s reactions when they hear “major surgery.”

So, what’s going to happen?  Warning – I’m going to tell you in detail and I’m not going to waste time being euphemistic about it.  It’s graphic and you should choose if it’s TMI for you.

There are two parts to this surgery – a belt lipectomy and a double mastopexy. Let’s start with the first, which is the bigger procedure.

A belt lipectomy is a lower body lift.  Sounds so simple!  Well, on me – they are doing a lot more than lifting, let me tell you!  After 150 lbs lost, I have a major pouch of skin and surface (subcutaneous) fat around my whole body.  In the front (it’s called a panniculus here), it hangs down to the tops of my thighs and it’s thicker than I can hold with my hands.  They will remove this – it is maybe 15 lbs all on it’s own! – and, with an incision that goes 360 around my body (right at the top of the legs/hips), they will pull everything together – that will flatten my stomach (first time that I’ll ever have that in my life that I remember!) and lift the buttocks and thighs somewhat (won’t affect the inner thighs).  They will also make a vertical incision down my middle front and go in and tighten the abdominal wall of muscle that has stretched out with all the excess.  They don’t actually cut and tighten – just tighten.  And, in all of this, they will cut out, reposition and reattach my navel.  Very weird to think about it!  That will be a major part of the recovery – learning to stand/lay straight again which will stretch those abdominal muscles.

Then the mastopexy – this is a breast reconstruction.  It’s a double mastopexy, well, because I have two of them.  Just to be clear!  Currently, they hang down near my belly button and are very thin and loose.  The surgery will take much of the fat from the bottom and move it to the top, pull them up into more appropriate breast positions, then cut out, reposition and reattach the nipples.  Technically, and certainly in bra size, this will reduce them, but it’s mostly about moving things around to be more…erm….shapely than about removing a lot of mass.  There just isn’t that much excess mass – it’s all about where it is!

The interesting, weird, personal thing about the mastopexy is that I have to say what I’d like to end up with.  The cup size, etc.  I could chose to get implants (not going to), be busty (had enough of that in my life) – I have to say!  And I’m not one who has ever thought about cosmetic surgery or has a real accurate picture of what size I prefer.  The best that I could come up with at first when the surgeon asked me was that I really just wanted them to look like breasts – you know – breasts!  Have some round to them.  Proportionate.  Perhaps a smidge perky!  Dare I say cup-able?!!  Breasts!!!!

Well, I guess I’m out there now.  If you wondered how plain-spoken this blog would be.  It’s plain. And that’s what I wanted more of when I was surfing for other’s experience, so it’s what I’m going to give.

Okay – those are the procedures.  All together, it’s an 8-10 hour surgery.  I’ll spend perhaps only one night in the hospital – with a possible option for a second.  The recovery will be lengthy and multi-faceted.  I’ll come home with 6 drains that we’ll have to record and empty 2x/day and they’ll come out gradually as they can – perhaps over 3 weeks.  There will be a lot of bruising and swelling and I think it will take a few hours each day just to clean and care for the incisions – ointment, protection, layers of binder/bra and clothing to keep everything safe and comfortable.  I likely won’t feel really at all functional for 4 weeks – no driving, no lifting, only walking as much as I can and in circles so I don’t get stuck too far away and run out of steam.  I’ll wear an abdominal binder and surgical bra for at least 6 weeks and still no lifting, but shopping may be able to happen as the swelling is finally down and we’ll know my true size.  Somewhere around 8 weeks, I should have the all clear to resume life as normal.

I’ll be using this blog a lot, I hope – and it’s my intention to have a very, very different period of time this summer.  Obviously taking the time and energy to recover, but then taking the rest of the time to really break my patterns.  I want to write – blog and songwrite – relax, read, reassess – you get the picture.  I want to be without “shoulds” as much as I can.  I’m pretty sure that will get harder as I feel better – but I’m determined to relax.  I WILL RELAX!!  Okay, relax, Jen…<sheesh> this is complicated!

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My Thing

Everybody has their thing – their something to overcome – their baggage.  It was undeniable through the first 20 years of my adult life that my “thing” was my weight.  And I believed, even before I started losing the weight, that I had overcome it in so many ways – that it hadn’t won.

Physically, it was a debate – clearly I had a problem, but I had not given up.  There were plenty of times of despair and great frustration, but I always imagined the success of losing it and so, I had not lost the physical battle.

Emotionally – wow, did I believe that I had won – big time!  That I had conquered the ways in which my weight could hurt me or hold me back. I believed myself to be the picture of emotional strength and health – a confident, public performer and teacher, connected with my emotional body and the friend/partner that could be leaned on and counted on for good emotional advice.  Equipoise – don’t get me started!  I’ll do a whole ‘nother blog on the concept of equipoise and how I leapt on it as the perfect definition for me.  (Here…I’ll at least give you the definition:  the ability to serenely monitor the movements of one’s own mind and correct for biases and shortcomings.  HINT:  it’s the serenely part that is the real hang-up here!)

In fact, my thing – my weight – had won in a very big way and with masterful disguise.  Hiding behind all this confidence and health like the Wizard of Oz in the cockpit of the space shuttle.  Sophisticated monitors for every thing – how people responded to me and ensuring that I projected all my good traits, instructing every move I made and how it presented my body, tracking every reflective surface…on and on.  I’ve learned there is a term for this – hyper vigilance.

And now, here I am at the end of the physical battle.  I have won definitively, thank you very much!  Isn’t there a podium to stand on and a personal anthem to be sung?  For all that hope, did I ever really think that I would get here?  That I would hear words like “normal weight” or “little?”  That I would sit in every chair with my legs curled around me?  I’m not sure…I’m not sure how confident I was that I would actually be here.

And the emotional battle – well, that has just begun.  I didn’t know there was a battle to be fought and man, did the other side get a surprise round.  Knocked me flat and took the breath right out of me.  But I have gotten to my feet and I’m fighting.  And what my opponent may not realize is that it has trained me very well – I am a fierce fighter.  Stubborn, resourceful and smart. And I’m coming for you.

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A Full Life

Life is so very, very full right now.  That’s how I need to start this blog.  I’m aware of this full feeling every waking moment.  In the space of just a few months, the major plot lines of my life have all decided to come together for a pow-wow.  Some of them have teamed up and decided that they tell the next part of the story together.  Some long established antagonists have been told that their part in the story is done and now they are deciding whether or not to leave gracefully.

For those of you just meeting me with this blog – welcome!   And, holy heck, how do I tell you where I’m starting from?!  Well, first – I’ll send you to my “What’s This All About” page that gives the best summary I can:  https://rodgersbeach.wordpress.com/about/.

Eventually, I intend this blog to be about anything in this full life that I want to talk about.  But we’ll start with what’s right in front of me – a major reconstructive surgery after 150 lbs of weight loss over the last 10 years!  That happens 3 weeks from today and I’ll use this blog as I go through this huge milestone.

I have a lot to say about how I got to 320lbs, how I was able to turn and face it, and all that journey has done for me and to me.  The hardest part has actually come as I got to be the smallest I’ve ever been in my adolescent and adult life – when I thought it would be all about joy.  My weight did a number on me that somehow I had managed to live around and above for 25+ years.  The demons it created (see aforementioned antagonists) have helped shape many things about my personality and drive that I love and rely on, but it is time for them to stop helping and say goodbye.  They apparently feel quite at home, though, and insisting that I at least pay the moving expenses.

It’s my hope that by sharing my stories in this form, I will add to the voices that are out there for those who are looking for them.  I certainly was!  I don’t intend to pull any punches.  I’m going to talk about the details of the surgery and the recovery.  I’m going to talk about my feelings and the elements of my life.  I’m going to both rail against the misconceptions and endorse the truths that I’ve found for me along the way.

I’m grateful for you listening and I hope that we’ll have some forum here to engage.  I welcome that!