Monday, 17th June 2013

“I want a gastric band.” “No you don’t.” The slight edge in my tone would have betrayed how I was taken aback, “I think I do.” “No, it won’t work for you. You’ll fail because you’ll cheat.” “This guy’s not selling this real well!” “You’ll go to the fridge and there’ll be healthy food and there’ll be soft, easy to eat food like milkshake or yoghurt or ice cream, and because it’s harder to eat the healthy food, you’ll go for the easy food.” I hadn’t really considered that. “What you want is a gastric sleeve.” I think my voice went up an octave, and it’s possible my eyes resembled dinner plates, “But that’s not reversible!” “Why would you want to reverse it?” I hadn’t really considered that either. But what I did know was that once two thirds of my stomach had been pulled out through my belly button there was no going back. The thought of not being able to change my mind later scared the heck out of me. A gastric band can be adjusted, and even removed. Even a gastric bypass is apparently reversible, but a teeny weeny tummy is for life, though I had to concede that constantly changing my mind was possibly one of the main reasons I was here, “You have a point.” The specialist launched into his sales pitch. I was shown photo after photo of his success stories. It all felt like a bit of a hard sell. I walked out of his rooms feeling disheartened. I had planned on a simple lap band, and I was being pushed in a direction I wasn’t prepared to go. That’s when I went into my crocheting frenzy… It’s hard to recall everything that happened over the next three and a half weeks, but during that time I researched, read, thought, and crocheted. To be fair, I’d caught a crocheting bug some weeks earlier. I had always loved those loose style beanies that you see young people with dreadlocks wearing. I probably wanted something a little more stylish, but the loose cross between beret and beanie was what I was after. I think I made about nine beanies/berets with a matching scarf or shawl for most of them. It was just another manifestation of my tendency towards extreme behaviour; the same tendency that saw me work hard, study hard, play hard, and eat, and eat, and eat… But it helped me manage my stress. I would go to work during the day, then come home and crochet. While I was doing this I was thinking, processing if you like. In the three and a half weeks between specialist appointments I visited a dietitian and a gastric sleeve support group. At the afternoon with the support group I met one lady who had complications when her surgeon hadn’t noticed the scar tissue from previous stomach stapling and now she has virtually no stomach. I met another lady who, after complication upon complication, and regular hospitalisations, now fed through a tube. You’d think this would be enough to put me off forever, but the overwhelming message I got from everyone there was “Just do it! It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever done.” The most enthusiastic supporters of the surgery were the two ladies I mentioned above. That day I had bought a supply of Optifast. I think I had already made up my mind, and the visit with the support group had just reinforced my decision. The following Friday I went back to the specialist. I was a little more prepared this time, and had a list of questions including: “Have you ever had a patient die?” “I won’t have any tubes down my throat when I wake up, will I?” The answer to both those questions was, “No.” So I asked, “If I decide to go ahead with this, when can you do me? “Well, you’ll have to be on Optifast for two weeks…” “I started last Monday.” “OK, how about next Saturday?” “Holy crap!”, but I tried to sound resolute, “OK.” And that was that!