Recent stuff

Yeah, yeah, it's Mother's Day. Not my favorite. My blog about it last year says all I have to say on that subject. I should be doing something productive today, but I got sick this week and have taken it easy all weekend. Mr. Salted and I watched "Whip It" last night and enjoyed it, which surprised me; I wasn't all that enamored of the book, but the movie had a great cast. We were in the mood for something fairly light, and it sufficed. It was fun to see Betty White on Saturday Night Live last night, too. Mr. Salted's mother has Alzheimer's disease and lives in a facility out of state, so this isn't his favorite day, either. I called my grandmother and sent her a card. She is doing as well as can be expected, and my uncles are taking care of her, which has been such a load off my shoulders. I call her about once a week, and send her a lot of little cards that don't say much.

I got a job with a very well-regarded Internet company. It starts in the next few weeks--I've accepted the position and done the paperwork with the staffing agency, but it was a mass hire (400+ people) and something like 80 of them will start each week, so I haven't gotten my firm start date as of yet. It's just a contract job for a minimum of one year (maximum of two) but it's also a foot in the door and I'm really happy to have it. I really enjoyed working in the tech industry in the past and that's where I'd like the rest of my career to be.

On that note, I took my first continuing-ed class on the way to a Technical Writing Certificate Wednesday. It was a level 2 Microsoft Word 2007 class, and a good way to dip my foot back in the educational pool. I'm a fairly adept Word user, but got to learn about all kinds of cool stuff the software can do now. It's come a long way since 1995, when the kids at my university were teaching it to me in the computer lab--I was six to eight years older than they were, and at times like that I felt as though they thought of me as a pet ("look at the old person learning computers!"). I still had an electric typewriter, and it was 1996. Ah, good times.

So the Word 2007 class was cool--I think there were eight people in it. I was neither the oldest nor the youngest there, and it was fun talking to the other people there about how they used Word and what they did for a living. I like continuing ed--it's geared toward working people (read: grounded in reality). The classes are small and the atmosphere is very laid-back. I take a Visio class this coming week. That one meets twice for four hours, which will be a lot easier than meeting once for eight--that was a bit of a marathon, and I think that's how I ended up sick. I think it was just that and the finally getting a job and my body just said, Okay, you're down now, REST.

My weight hasn't really changed much. I stay between 205 and 208. I think I worked out once this week, and my eating is fine, nothing out of the ordinary. I went through my clothes today and things are still shifting around, albeit slowly. I have a couple of things that fit with no X in the size, which is nothing short of amazing! Most of my stuff is 18s but some of the 16s fit or nearly fit. My stomach remains my biggest (literally and figuratively) nemesis. I can literally get all of me except my stomach into a pair of size 14 jeans. I want to know why they can't just do a tummy tuck NOW. Hmpf.

Weighing in on bathroom scales

For my entire adult life, I did not keep a bathroom scale in my house. A little over a year ago, my husband and I actually bought one--but only to weigh our luggage so it would comply with international air travel guidelines for a trip we were taking. The bathroom scale lives in the closet the rest of the time. I'm not even tempted to use it.

20+ years ago, when I was in the throes of an active eating disorder, I let the number on the scale control my life far too much. You weigh less in the morning, and your weight can fluctuate by several pounds on any given day for any number of reasons. I allowed that number to not only ruin my day or give me false hope, but to define my worth as a human being. For many years, I stated I would take my life if I reached 200 pounds, and at the time, I actually believed that I meant it (which is frightening).

For me personally, I find it more constructive to assess (a)how I feel physically and (b) how my clothes fit. I know when I'm making healthy diet and exercise choices and when I'm not. I don't even want to think about what the scale number is most of the time--it can be overwhelming and ultimately just lead to discouragement.

Oh, doctors

I am really picky about doctors. I love the joke about the only difference between God and a doctor (God doesn't think he's a doctor). I've "fired" a lot of doctors over the past ten years--most of my life, I didn't have health insurance, so I guess I am just drunk with power. Seriously, if a doctor doesn't listen, I'm gone. But if a doctor is great, I will recommend him or her to everyone I know. I drive three hours one way to stay with a primary care provider I've had for ten years, because she is the best doctor I've ever had, bar none. And who knows how many referrals I've given her--I've lost count!

I remember being a kid on medical coupons, sitting in the waiting room for hours until they got good and ready to see me, even if I had an appointment. That tends to give a person an attitude to begin with (not that I have any shortage of it). I'm sure they still do that every day to poor people, and it makes me furious, but if I start talking about what's wrong with the health care system as a whole, I could be here all day.

A watershed moment for me was when I was sitting on a doctor's table with a broken ankle at the age of sixteen. The bone had not yet been set, and I weighed a great deal less than I do as I write this. This doctor looked at me and told me I needed to lose weight. I snarled as if possessed, "Why don't you set my broken bone first and then we'll talk?" That was the end of my passivity with medical professionals of any stripe.

Let's see. There was the doctor who insisted on giving me a pregnancy test before I was even sexually active, which was highly embarrassing for a kid, but in the shadow of the aforementioned 3 cup sizes in a summer, reason left a lot of people I encountered--male and female. There was the urgent care clinic doctor who griped at me about my weight even though I was just trying to get antibiotics for strep throat and go home. Even my favorite doctor popped off once, saying only "you need to lose weight" before she looked at my chart--I had lost 40 pounds since the previous visit, and I wasn't quiet about it. She never did it again. She has never shined me on about my weight and the problems it can and has caused, but we discuss it like rational human beings. She knows I'm intelligent, I know she's intelligent, there's a two-way street there. (Too many doctors act like you've never looked in a mirror and they are giving you some brand-new insight into yourself, as if a light shone down from above and the angels sang: AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! You are fat!!! Light bulb!!!!!)

So my favorite doctor recommended gastric-bypass surgery for me when I first started seeing her. I couldn't afford it, and that was my reason for a long time. I had a good job with excellent insurance when I had to have my hysterectomy five years ago, and she suggested I have gastric-bypass surgery done at the same time. I refused; I was just dealing with too much at once, and in retrospect, I still stand by that decision. The recovery from a full abdominal hysterectomy was so long and so difficult for me, even at the young age of 32. I was home for six weeks, and didn't have any stamina at all for about a year. At first, I had to take a nap after walking to the mailbox, I was just so tired.

I knew weight-loss surgery was no walk in the park. I was never going to have gastric-bypass surgery; there were so, so many horror stories. I remember reading once back then that you had a 1 in 4 chance of dying during surgery and a 1 in 4 chance of dying within a year of surgery. I probably misunderstood those numbers (not good odds!), but they scared the stuffing out of me. I knew people that had done the stomach-stapling surgery when I was a kid who had had all kinds of complications. Even five years ago, my understanding was still that they would have to cut you completely open, which is why my doctor suggested that I have it at the same time as the other procedure.

Last year, I had an initial consultation with a sleep doctor who had that tactful technique of so many health professionals I cited above; before we talked about anything else, he blurted out, "You would be a candidate for bariatric surgery." (REALLY? What a shocker. Can I have that in writing?) Annoyed and half-crazed with lack of sleep (my specific sleep issues will play a part later in this blog, to be sure), I feigned patience and told him it was just not in the cards right now, as my current insurance wouldn't cover it, I didn't have five figures in cash lying around, and if I did, I'd pay my student loans off with it. I said something vague about the lap band--that I was looking into it. Needing no further encouragement, he pounced on it like a dime-eyed cat with a catnip mouse.

"Gastric bypass would be better for you," he persisted. "You'd lose more weight in less time."

I don't have a lot of patience to begin with, and what I was faking was completely gone. "Gastric bypass," I replied curtly, "sounds like something some Nazi thought up." I realize that is a rather offensive way to put it, but I was offended, too, and he dropped the subject, which was all I was trying to accomplish.

Gastric bypass, as I understood it at that time, did sound like something some Nazi thought up. Cut a person open, re-route stuff, permanently alter other stuff, it just didn't sound like anything any human being should do to another. It still doesn't sound like the most fun anyone's ever had. I know you can't eat more than a few bites, the food to be thoroughly chewed or it can get stuck, you can throw up a lot, etc. What other people did was their own business, but for me? Never.

Lap band sounded better to me--adjustable, reversible, not so extreme--and I kept reading about other weight-loss surgeries, like the stomach-sleeve gastrectomy. The Realize band started to be advertised on TV a lot recently, and it sounds good. One benefit of dragging my feet all this time is that technology and knowledge keeps improving, and I can continue to learn more and more. There has also been documented medical proof that my weight stays in a certain range despite a number of different eating plans and exercise programs.