As you might have gathered from my previous posts, life has been a little rocky for the last 10 months or so. From dealing with a critical incident where I may have lost my husband (and I still have lost him in some ways as he's never been the same, oh the joys of PTSD), adding to that stressors of my own workplace and a series of assaults that left me with anxiety and panic disorder, I've been feeling a distinct lack of control over my own life. So in December 2014, I made a decision that I hope will help me take back that control. I'm booked in to get a Gastric Sleeve.
Also known by the medical fraternity as a Sleeve Gastrectomy, it's a procedure that will permanently reduce the size of my stomach from by potentially 90% and help me tackle with the obesity problem I've been fighting since my late teens. From when I was about 16, I had my last growth spurt, and as many girls do, I went out instead of up. I gained about 10kg and went from a size 12 to a 16 in the period of six weeks over the school break between Grade 11 and 12, in no small part assisted by having a boyfriend who had a car at worked for a pizza takeaway (and no one makes a triple cheese, double anchovy pizza like Brian did). While I didn't gain any more weight while at school, once I graduated and started working in an office in the city centre, I went from 2 x 20min brisk walks five days a week, to dragging myself out of bed at 5am and crawling back into it at 8pm exhausted, to do it all again he next day. As tends to happen when you're time poor and on public transport for four hours a day, the easy take away foods became my staple. I was old enough to drink which added additional unneeded calories, and by the time I started university 12 months later, I had ballooned out to 110kgs and a size 20.
For the past 10 years or so, I've been a relatively stable 94 kgs. I've tried numerous diets over the years, lost 12.5 kg with Weight Watchers, 10 kgs with Lite N' Easy, but the weight always crept back on. And unfortunately at 165 cms tall, and a central weight carrying body type, a typical apple shape, it's taken its toll on my health. At 21 years old, I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes and High blood pressure - conditions practically unheard of in people in their early 20's. In the years after, I also developed high cholesterol, fatty liver, polycystic ovaries and sleep apnoea (thankfully that was only due to having massive tonsils, not due to my weight, and resolved when I had those huge mongrels removed in 2013). All these issues have ultimately also impacted my fertility, and as a result my husband and I have suffered two early pregnancy miscarriages. Two was enough for me, and for a long time now I think I've been too scared to try again. To try and drop all the weight again, to go onto insulin, testing blood sugars 6 times a day just to have it all fall apart again? I played the ostrich, kept my head in the sand, focused on buying a house instead, adopting my fur baby family and avoiding friends with small children as often as I was able to. I kept telling myself we couldn't afford it, the mortgage needed to be 20% paid off before we should try again, that if it was meant to happen, it would have by now.
No more. The past year has pulled up all my failings and shoved them in my face. I could have lost my husband. I could have lost the one person who has suffered with me, who silently stood by and never criticised me, who has never spoken about his dreams of being a father because he understood my pain and fear of failing the most basic function of a human being, reproduction. And it's not fair, to him or me, for that to continue being the elephant in the room. I've made the decision, made the appointment, paid the surgeon, and in two weeks, I will have procedure that will assist me to permanently drop 30% of my body weight and forever improve my quality of life. While there are some people who have told me that I'm not fat enough, I should trying harder to diet and exercise, that I need better self control, even those who say I'm perfect just the way I am, they must understand this - diet and exercise is great. It works for many people, people who have motivation, self control and lack a pathological self sabotaging personality type. I know and understand my shortcomings, my health outlook and shortened life expectancy. My generation is potentially the first to die before their parents due to obesity. I have tried the other ways: I've dieted, starved, adopted 'lifestyle changes', exercised until I burned and couldn't move for two days. I've been there. I've done that. I did not come by this decision lightly. It's scaring the crap out of my to be absolutely honest. But this is it. This is my decision. Here's to facing the fear, to hoping; here's to hard work, babies and living past 60. Cross your fingers for me, my new life starts at 31 :-)
