A Not-So-Brief Update

Thanks to those of you who keep coming by and keep encouraging me. I’ve been off the grid for a while here and everywhere else in my electronic and "real" life. It was so bad that one of my best friends called last week, asking me where on earth I was “You’re nowhere on the internet. I know that means Bad Things for you.” I’m so grateful for friends like that.

I wanted to wait until I had a great post for you all – you know, one wittily written and full of amazing insight. That just hasn’t happened, so I decided to post a little catch-up blurb instead.

I’ve been under amazing stress in my personal life. The stress is diminishing from its peak, but will still be high for a bit longer.

The good news is that I continue to lose and maintain my weight. For all you playing along at home, my weight is now 276.0. Not too shabby! Not the number I’d like to have 5 months post-op (29 pounds down since then, 36 pounds down from my highest in January 2007), but much better than the alternative of going higher and higher. In the past, stress has led me to eat and therefore gain weight. So I’m going to call this a victory.

In other victorious-ness, I have gotten back into exercise. I walked so much in China and wanted to keep the activity going when I got back. Curves is my workout of choice and I’ve been giving it all I’ve got every time I go. I can work up a real sweat there when I want to. Things always feel better when I work out, but it’s so hard to make it a priority. And with my fibromyalgia, my body often feels like crap. When I’m popping the vic0din and dealing with pain so bad I can hardly see straight (like I have been lately with all this stress), exercise has no natural appeal. I’m proud of myself for going anyway. I want to remember how much better I feel mentally and physically afterward. In a paradoxical effect, research (and personal experience) have shown that exercise really helps the fibro. It also provides a way to get out of the mental hamster wheel my brain loves to spin. Thanks also to Dagny for the exercise inspiration!

I did buy ice cream the other day, though, and have made a huge dent in it. Must. Stop. I’ve got to focus on the way I feel when I eat better and exercise. I can’t change my circumstances right now, but I can develop better ways to deal with stress. Two steps forward, one step back is still one step in the right direction.

I’ve cut waaaaaaay back on alcohol, too. I know that’s made a difference in my weight (and helped me find other ways to deal with stress…I’ve never been alcoholic and never drink to get drunk, but that pattern is in my family so it starts to scare me when I have a couple drinks “to relax”).

So much more to say, and hopefully I’ll find the time and inspiration soon.

Thanks again for your care and support. I love hearing from you, and reading your blogs for inspiration as I continue my long journey.

A Most Un-Ladylike Rant

there was no urge she could not suppress
From Anne Taintor

Why I am I not writing about my Lap-Band? Um, well, it’s because I’m FURIOUS. You see, I’m not so good at being furious. Even here on the internet, where the harshest yelling is just CAPS LOCK, I have a bit of trouble showing my anger. See, I was raised to be quiet, polite and unobtrusive. Even though it was okay for my dad to explode on a regular-yet-unpredictable basis, that kind of behavior was totally unacceptable from my pretty little head. I’ve worked through this with humor and with lots of therapy, but I still feel quite a bit uncomfortable about being angry. It isn’t ladylike. It isn’t prudent. It isn’t logical. Of course, if I had learned to yell or vent or anything instead of stuff my emotions I’d be a much healthier individual.

But since I still often try to tap-dance around the rage thing, I’ve tried to be nice here - to see the ways that I’m failing (and yes, there is always room to look at that area and make improvements). But I can no longer escape the reality of my overwhelming feelings. I’m absolutely furious at my clinic. My insurance claim was rejected again (remember the first 2 times it was rejected out of hand because my clinic NEVER BOTHERED TO SEND THE INFORMATION TO MY INSURANCE, even though I was told repeatedly they had). Now my clinic sent them 70 pages of faxes, but it’s not what my insurance needed, and from my review, much of what they sent was incorrect. For example, they say I have diabetes and hypertension. Um, huh? I have no idea where they pulled that information out of. Maybe all their clients develop diabetes from how incredibly sweet they are BEFORE surgery and then develop hypertension from how incompetent and unhelpful they are AFTER surgery?

I have spent HOURS on the phone and have gotten virtually nowhere. Now I’m being billed by the clinic AND the facility and everyone is treating me like I have leprosy. (Perhaps I do? Perhaps I should shower more often?) My clinic claims they’ve never had this much trouble with my insurance before. I find that incredibly hard to believe, seeing as how their incompetence so far has been stunning.

Add to the insurance woes the fact that I STILL DO NOT HAVE SUFFICIENT RESTRICTION and I’m a very very unhappy little girl. Yes, I’ve lost another few pounds. The scale is now bouncing between 276-279 and it’s that time of the month, so I’ll commit to a real number next Friday when things balance out with hormones and bloating and all that other TMI. I’ve also been under an incredible amount of emotional stress, so I should be glad that I’ve been able to lose weight under the circumstances (instead of gaining 20 pounds + like I have before). Unfortunately, the lack of restriction and inability to get in for fills in a timely fashion, combined with the possibility that I may end up with a $20,000 bill partly due to the incompetence of my clinic is only adding to my stress level.

So, 2 pounds in 6 weeks. I’m unhappy. I’m very frustrated. And I put off writing about it because it’s not very ladylike to rage and fume.

Here’s what I want to say: RUN. Don’t go to my clinic. They are so sweet and supportive BEFORE you have your surgery. THEN they jerk you around. You can’t get in for fills. When you do, they are way too conservative. It will take you 6 months to get to the right restriction, and they will lecture you on alternate visits about things you already know – one time they will commiserate with you and promise to get you at the right fill level, and the next visit they will shame you for creating all your own issues and tell you that you have to do all the work, not the Band. They will not file the proper documents with your insurance. They will write erroneous information in your file, causing your insurance to distrust you for being late, and for lying. They will tell you that every other insurance claim goes just fine and only you are being difficult. They will make you regret you ever bought their lies, had surgery, and got a freaking Lap-Band in the first place.

Henry's New Kitten

Henry and Jango
It's so cute to watch my boy hold his kitten so tenderly.

Hey - you've been on the ground for 3 hours after flying home from 10 days in China. Wouldn't this be a great time to adopt a kitten?!

Our babysitter's cat had kittens on Father's Day. Henry spent so much time with them and fell in love with them. I begged Dave to let us adopt one (yes, this is my fault). The babysitter's family kept him extra long so we wouldn't have to introduce him to the house while I was gone, but it made for a doozy of a day getting back!

Henry wanted a Star Wars name for his kitten. I thought of the punny Kit(ten) Fisto. The babysitter suggested Wicket the Ewok. I nixed Darth Vader, Darth Maul, and General Grevious. Our friend Shona suggested "Jango", after the nefarious Bounty Hunter Jango Fett. Another friend joked that we could call him Jango Pett. It was a name we could all love.

We love having Jango in the house. (Ok, we humans do. Our other two cats are not nearly as thrilled.) And Henry is being so responsible and loving. I'm so proud of him.

You can click here to see more photos of Henry-and-Jango cuteness.

pink toes home from China

pink toes home from China
Dusty, sore, chipped (on the Great Wall!), tanned, well-traveled, and home.