Plans re: plastic surgery

I wasn't real clear on how I planned to proceed when it came to the plastic surgery. I'm going to get a medical necessity letter from both the surgical center and my primary care physician. The surgeon said the best-case scenario is that insurance may (very big may) pay for a tuck/skin removal of the lower abdomen, but not the upper abdomen. If the two are done separately--and they can be--that would require two procedures and could result in more scarring, weird skin lumps and bumps, etc. There are worse things; (a) I'm not a model, and (b) if I can get insurance to pay for any of this, of course, that's the route I will take because it makes the most sense financially. I hate to think of incurring more debt. However, if we end up having to private pay the $9K, it would eliminate the hospital stay and include the liposuction, body sculpting, etc. (Mr. Salted's reaction almost made me weep. I said "nine thousand" and he didn't even blink. "We can do that," he said. "We'll find a way. It's like a car loan. We knew this would happen. You're worth it, you know." ??????)

I know insurance will cover the breast reduction--I have all that documentation--and I can take care of that at some point when this is all done. The stomach is bothering me a lot more.

Interesting day

This morning, I interviewed for the aforementioned temporary receptionist job. I think the interview went well, but I've had interviews go well and haven't gotten the job before. It's not my dream job, but I could definitely do it for a couple of months, which is how long the assignment would last. It's more money than unemployment, and I could go back on unemployment when it ended if I hadn't found something else by then.

This afternoon, I had my plastic surgery consultation. It occurred to me that there was a striking similarity between the two experiences: both required me to be naked (literally or figuratively) in front of a stranger who had something I need. I can't say I liked the feeling either time; and frankly, I think the plastic surgery consultation made me more nervous than the interview, maybe because it required actual physical nudity. The surgeon is from the same center that did my bariatric procedure.

It's a good thing I'm so dissociated from my body. I didn't get drawn on with a Sharpie--I guess they only do that on TV--but there was some of "if we do this, then this will be gone" while he lifted things and looked at things. "Wow, you will love it when this is gone," he said, "you won't believe how much it will improve your mobility." We talked about recovery times and insurance and what if they pay for this and not that. He commended me for my progress thus far and was very upbeat and positive. He only handles the stomach stuff--someone else would have to do the breast reduction. He said he could remove five liters from my abdominal area. Five liters as in two two-liter bottles of soda and then a one-liter bottle and what that would weigh. Insert gasp here. Private pay including liposuction and body sculpting mojo with upper and lower abdomen included: $9,000.

Sigh.

But it would be so amazing to not have that appendage hanging off the front of me that ruins the way I look.

Once upon a time...

...I used to write in this blog. I knew it had been a while, but somehow three months went by.

I'm still going to school, and I was let go from my job at Voldemort.com. They imposed a production quota, I couldn't make it. Neither could a whole bunch of other people. Whatever. The whole experience was a big letdown, even for a job I knew was temporary.

I didn't disappear from Blog World because I've been slacking off--quite the opposite. I'm plugging away at the swimming and the protein and the rest of it, all the bloodwork numbers are improving, I'm becoming more toned, my sizes are getting smaller (albeit at a glacial pace), and...I'm not losing any weight. This plateau has lasted many, many months. The nurse-practitioner who I see for the Berkeley Heart Labs has me on phentermine (they took phen-fen off the market, removed the bad fen, kept the good fen, what does it spell? PHENtermine!) temporarily to get me off the plateau. I've been on it a month. Not losing. Grrrrrr.

I went to a neurologist about my migraines and he has me off caffeine and aspartame and on magnesium and Topamax, which has improved them quite a bit.

I am seeing a plastic surgeon for a free consultation in a couple of weeks. Though my two-year surgiversary isn't until August of 2011, I know I will have to fight insurance for months and why not lay the groundwork now while I have all this free time? (I would get a tummy tuck tomorrow if I could get it paid for.)

I'm trying to decide whether to delete this blog or not. I still might. I don't feel like I have much to say anymore.

Another job

Right now, I am working full time, going to school, and swimming laps three times a week. It feels like there is a lot on my plate. School seems really intense because the classes tend to meet only 2-5 times, but for 3-8 hours each time and sometimes after I've already worked a full day. I have had to get up at the crack of dawn every weekend day to get a good lap swim time. (I'm resisting the 5 AM swims on weekdays, but I might have to try those out, too, just to see what works best with everything else I have scheduled.) I'm trying out different Y facilities and different times to see what works the best with my other obligations, but those super-early weekend mornings have been the times when I could have my own lane and of course, those are the best swims. I had a great swim today--a lane all to myself for fifty full minutes. I can't do a flip turn, but starting today, I decided to never let my feet touch the bottom of the pool and at least grab the side and push off and keep going at the end of every lap. It definitely kicked the workout up a notch. Thus far, I remain the fattest person in the pool every time and I watch many wheels turn when I can swim faster or longer than many others who are present--and frankly, I'm starting to get a kick out of it, unless it's one of those jerks that look at me like I smell bad (and funny thing, those jerks are never the ones who drag their happy asses out of bed for the early-morning sessions). The staffer who opened the facility door this morning said, "Good morning, folks! I see all the SERIOUS people are here." It was just a joke, but one that made me feel really good.

What seems to be helping me stick to my routine isn't only the financial consideration of the Y dues being auto-deducted as I wrote about last time, but the fact that I think of this as another job--something I have to schedule in three times every week, no matter where I have to drive or what time I have to go.

My weight is changing in fractions of pounds, but not by much at all. I am trying not to focus on this, and I am still in the frustrating stage where my skin is getting looser and the skin on my stomach is preventing me from wearing smaller pants. The loose-skin-creeping-down-the-thighs thing is still happening too and really sticks in my craw. Swimming is great because of the toning aspect, so I'm glad it's my exercise of choice, but having ugly loose skin where I didn't even seem to have excess fat before is *really* damn annoying. I think about plastic surgery all the time and then I feel shallow for thinking about it all the time. I even think about having it on my eye bags and then I feel incredibly shallow and vain for thinking about it. I was telling a friend of mine about this the other day and I said, "I don't know why I keep harping on it. It isn't going to make me young."

"Is it really about being young?" he asked.

"No," I responded, "it's about me not feeling repulsive." The depth of honesty in that response surprised even me. (And that's what it IS about.) This amazing discussion followed about how I had always felt like people only tolerated the way I looked because I was a good person (and then I don't feel like a good person some of the time, either). I own just how incredibly screwed up that sounds--because it is. (It's not fun to feel it, either, believe me.) I have hunches where it all originated--I've read things, I've had therapy. One of my friends is convinced I have body dysmorphic disorder, but it goes far beyond body image and weight--when I feel sick/vulnerable, I feel ugly. I blogged about it at some length in "Compliments" (September 2009). It would be nice not to care about all that or have it be a factor or even a passing thought, but I do and it is. All I can do is keep going and, I guess, cut myself slack for unnecessary mental gymnastics. If only they burned calories.

6-month follow-up with bariatric surgeon

It was today, and it was uneventful. Their scale is five pounds heavier than the one at home, and their new nurse said, "You've lost 45 pounds?" and I refrained from saying, "Re-do the math, Zippy". I've lost about 70, about 90 since my highest weight.

The doc wasn't concerned about my plateau and said I was about where he would want me to be. He also amended his previous statement that I could start planning plastic surgery a year out from the gastric bypass procedure and that he expected it would take me 18 months to two years to lose the optimum amount of weight. That wasn't entirely unexpected, but it made me think I might have to start fixing my career problems or lack thereof sooner rather than later. Sigh.

I had a nice afternoon visiting with an old friend of mine, and we had lunch at a restaurant called California Pizza Kitchen. I must put in a plug for them, as they have a menu of small entrees that are the perfect size for post-WLS folks!! They're very reasonable as well. I had "the Wedge Salad", which was a simple one--lettuce, blue cheese dressing, bacon and tomatoes, and it was only $4.95. The rest of their menu looked great as well. Check them out!