Life after surgery isn't as easy as imagined

[Guest guest]

Robin Hinch: Life after surgery isn't as easy as imagined

By ROBIN HINCH

The Orange County Register

It's been three months since I had gastric-bypass surgery for weight

loss and I still laugh every day at what I eat.

At what I think I can eat, then at how little I can eat. At what I

think I want, then at how, after three bites, that once-coveted dish

repels me.

I can't believe that I stilltake a few bites too many or fail to eat

slowly enough.

Then I groan at the throbbing pain of overindulgence beneath my

breastbone and hope a) that I'm not stretching my small stomach

pouch and that I won't throw up.

Retribution for overeating is swift and hideous.

Quite frankly, I wasn't prepared for any of this.

Oh, sure, I went to the orientation meetings, the nutrition lesson,

the lecture by my surgeon.

And yes, they said you must eat slowly (a bite every 10 minutes), in

tiny amounts, and chew each bite to liquid.

But that was then - before surgery, when I could still pack away a

16-ounce T-bone, a butter-smothered baked potato and a big salad.

And it seems that when you have spent your life fighting obesity,

along with the ridicule and discrimination that go with it, there is

an unfortunate - but inevitable - disconnect between what you're

told about this potentially life- and soul-saving procedure and what

you hear.

" The key to success, " I now vaguely recall my surgeon telling a room

full of fat, pre-op hopefuls, " is eating slowly - an hour to eat

half a sandwich; two hours for a whole sandwich. "

Then he warned, " Remember, this is not a magic bullet. It is just a

tool. "

But here's what resonated in my head: " When the weight starts

falling off ... "

Never mind that the sentence ended with: " ... your hair may fall

out, " or, " ... you may suffer putrid gas. "

The operative words were, " Falling off. " Falling off!

I was in. With a rearranged stomach the size of a small egg, the

rest, I figured, would take care of itself.

I figured wrong.

Here are the things I didn't count on, and that I swear they really

didn't tell us about:

The utterly foul taste in the mouth that lasts a month or two. It's

ketosis, a byproduct of burning off body fat.

The inexplicable aversion to foods you once loved.

The inability to remember (believe?) how little (about a half-cup)

you can eat at one sitting.

The fact that eating so slowly leaves your meal stone cold after the

first two bites.

The pain upon overeating or eating too fast.

•The way your compulsive-overeater mind remains so disconnected from

your new, tiny-eater digestive system.

The complicated logistics of eating and drinking.

This one is vexing. You have to drink 64 ounces of liquid a day, but

you can't drink 30 minutes before or after eating or during a meal

(no milk with peanut butter and crackers, sigh). And since, at a

bite every 10 minutes, it takes an hour and a half to eat anything

of substance, there's little time in the day for drinking.

Just gulp down a big glass of water, you say? Not anymore. You will

never chug-a-lug a beverage again, no matter your thirst on a hot

summer day.

•And then there's the burden of protein.

This is a struggle from the start. At first, they recommend 40 grams

of protein a day. On the initial liquid diet, sipped in 1-ounce

increments, it's a challenge.

Later, when you're eating regular food, the requirement increases,

depending on height and weight. For me, at 5-foot-11, it's about 60

grams – a lot for my tiny stomach pouch.

But you need it to prevent the loss of muscle tissue during weight

loss.

Getting the protein in sounds easy. There are 23 grams in 3 ounces

of tuna, 26 grams in 3 ounces of most meats; 8 grams in a cup of

milk or a veggie burger; 14 grams in half a cup of cottage cheese; 7

grams in a stick of string cheese.

For a steak-lover like me, this should be a walk in the butcher

aisle.

But 3 ounces of meat look like Mount Rainier to me now. It's hard to

chew down to liquid and loses its flavor along the way. And it takes

90 minutes to eat it all.

God bless protein drinks, with which I start most days.

ly, the best part of my day is when I've met all my nutritional

requirements and I know I don't have to eat again until morning.

Some people think weight-loss surgery is the " easy way out. "

But believe me, it's not easy.

Your tiny stomach won't let you cheat. You can't decide to throw in

the towel or go hog wild at Thanksgiving. Your distressingly intact

overeater's psyche is gated off by a non eater's stomach.

Dr. LePort, director of the 8-year-old Center for Obesity at

Orange Coast Memorial Medical Center in Fountain Valley, says a few

patients have asked to have the surgery reversed (which is almost

never done). " I have to be able to eat, " they say.

" It's fairly common, in the first few weeks after surgery, for

people to think, 'Oh my gosh. What have I gotten myself into?' "

LePort said. " They eat to relieve stress or depression. We take away

the coping mechanism, but the stress remains. "

I've had a few of those moments.

At a potluck, where I would normally heap my plate. At a Persian

restaurant, where the food was so delectable that I wanted to dive

in and eat it all.

But they are rare. And the rewards of this new eating lifestyle are

great.

I've lost 74 pounds (with 120 to go), and two clothing sizes.

I move about more easily.

I used to dread walking the length of the newsroom to the restroom.

Now, my arthritic-knee pain mostly gone, I jump from my chair

without thinking about it.

My blood pressure and cholesterol are normal, and you can't believe

the money I save on food.

My food cravings are gone and my thoughts aren't dominated by what

I'm going to eat or cook.

In my heart, I know I can eat most anything, albeit wee wads of it,

and for me, it's far easier not to be able to eatthe food than not

to be able to haveit.

Would I do this again?

You bet.