Gastric bypass: Post-op life poses plenty of new challenges

[Guest guest]

Gastric bypass: Post-op life poses plenty of new challenges

Gastric-bypass surgery is a tool for losing weight, patients are

told, not a cure-all.

By NGUYEN HUY VU

The Orange County Register

In the world of journalism, a cardinal rule is to never miss a

deadline, but I am more than a day late turning in a story about

life after gastric bypass surgery.

There were a lot of pressing things to take care of. Really

important stuff like making sure my chair was in its optimal

ergonomic position and the pens on my desk were facing the same way,

and then reading and deleting all of my vital spam e-mails.

I had my stomach stitched down to the size of a shot glass three

months ago and have been avoiding the subject ever since.

The plan was to write an article to give people some advice about

what to do after the procedure and to describe how the surgery has

changed me. All I can think of is, " Please, whatever you do, don't

listen to me. "

I was quiet for most of the only group therapy session I attended. I

don't religiously follow my workout schedule and strict dietary

regimen. I feel constantly overloaded by the drastic changes in my

body and mind and how people deal with me. I'm smoking again.

The good news is that I'm 60 pounds lighter and I haven't felt this

physically good in years.

I lost nearly 30 pounds within four weeks of surgery, and the

majority of my wardrobe has long since gone to Goodwill and the

Salvation Army. I can buy clothes off the rack again. The last

remnant of my morbid obesity is a pair of pants neatly folded on an

impossibly high shelf in my closet.

I love the compliments about how great I look. I can gaze in the

mirror and see the form of my face again. I can a climb a flight of

stairs without any ankle or back pain. I can fit into an airplane

seat comfortably and not worry if my stomach will prop up against

the armrest.

But there are still bad days.

Like when I puked my guts out in the middle of a nice dinner while

my friends looked on with horror.

Or when I clutched my chest because it felt like my heart was going

to explode when I ate something too rich or sweet.

Or when I worry if the next thing I put in my mouth will wreak havoc

on my insides.

Or tug at folds of skin that dangle along my triceps, chin and inner

thighs.

Then there was the time I ran through the cavernous halls of a

furniture store and didn't make it in time to the bathroom. I sat

sheepishly silent on the passenger seat of my truck, wrapped in

paper towels, as my friend drove me home.

The last three months have been a struggle to keep myself together.

Balancing my work life, social life and family life - all without

food as my stress cushion.

And man, do I miss Col. , Burger King and 's. They've

had my back for as long as I can remember. I miss hitting up a

random drive-through after a long, grueling day at work and stuffing

my face with deep-fried tacos, taquitos and a gigantic Styrofoam cup

filled with sweet bubbly soda pop. I could actually feel the tension

and stress ooze out of me as the injection of grease and sugar

enveloped my body.

Sometimes my mind wanders and I wonder what it would be like to

reverse the procedure just so I could cram a dozen In-N-Out

hamburgers (animal-style, mind you) and a popcorn-bucket-size

portion of french fries into my gullet one last time.

So how am I dealing with stress these days? Not so well. My

personality has changed. I get easily aggravated at my family and

friends at a moment's notice. Their patience and love have helped me

through the most difficult time in my life.

With the exception of my diet restrictions, little about my

lifestyle has changed.

I still spend most days with my booty parked in front of a computer

monitor and evenings sitting with sources or at city council

meetings. There never seems to be enough time for a healthy meal or

to squeeze in a decent workout. I can go for several days without

hitting a gym.

I looked through some notes I took a few weeks ago to remember how I

have been feeling after the surgery, and the one thing that sticks

out is: " When will you feel comfortable in your own skin? "

At the end of the day, that's really the only question I'm concerned

with. At 218 pounds I still feel just as fat as I was three months

ago when I was hovering around 280. My body-mass index, according to

the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, is 38.6, a sharp

drop from 49.2, which means I'm still obese but just not as much of

a fatty.

OK, so my body isn't perfect after dropping 60 pounds. What about

when I reach the 80-pound mark? 100? 120? 150? The realization that

I may never be OK with the way I look creeps into my brain.

I thought I could get ready for the realities of the gastric-bypass

procedure by reading different studies, researching the latest

methods and interviewing doctors and post-op patients. I was wrong.

There is nothing you can do to fully prepare yourself emotionally

for all of these drastic changes. I cringe when I hear people saying

the surgery is taking the " easy " way out of the morbid-obesity

epidemic. It's not.

Don't get me wrong. Life after bariatric surgery is not all bad.

More often than not, I feel hopeful about my life. I do see a

positive transformation, but most of the progress has nothing to do

with shedding an ounce of weight.

Last week I stood in front of more than a thousand people and sang

on stage for the first time in many years. I no longer balk at the

prospect of going out to night clubs and bars with friends. I can

imagine myself meeting a nice girl and not feeling too self-

conscious to go and talk to her.

So maybe I can offer up some advice for people thinking of getting

the procedure or dealing with its aftereffects.

I know it sounds painfully cliché, but give yourself time to adjust

to the drastic physical and emotional changes. And try to be nice to

yourself. God knows you deserve it.

If you struggled with weight your whole life as I have, you've

punished yourself long enough.