Now, where did I leave off?  I believe I had just gotten out of surgery and was about to head into my first night in the hospital.

THE FIRST NIGHT

When Martine (my hospital roommate) arrived back after her surgery, she was feeling pretty miserable.  After her husband and son got to see her she asked them to leave as she wasn’t feeling up to having them around, and didn’t want her son to see her so miserable.  Xander took that as his cue to leave as well, so it was just us two freshly operated girls left alone in our room.

We spent a little while telling each other what we were feeling, comparing to see if we were feeling the same things.  It was all pretty standard, we were sore and having a lot of pain from the gas working its way out of our system.  We knew we were in for a long night!

As it turned out, we both had very different ways of dealing with the pain.  Martine was very shifty and had a hard time getting comfortable, which wasn’t helped by the fact that her bed appeared to be broken and was on a slant.  She also seemed to be a lot more affected by the IV than I was, and made a lot of trips back and forth to the toilet through the night.

Me?  Well, I had other plans… I quickly realized that the more I moved the more it hurt, and came to the conclusion that the only solution was to just not move.  At all.  EVER.  I got my bed in a good position with my back raised slightly and my knees bent and I stayed like that, arms at my side, perfectly still.  My back got stiff, but that hurt far less than the rest of me hurt when I tried to shift to get more comfortable. There WAS no more comfortable, that was it and I was set to stay like that through the night.

At one point the nurse came in to help Martine go to the toilet and she came by my bed and asked how I was doing.  I told her I was doing fine and there were no problems.  Then we had a conversation that went a little bit like this…

Her:  Have you been to the toilet yet?
Me: No…
Her:  Did you want to try?
Me: No thank you, I’m fine.
Her:  Are you sure?
Me (still not moving): Yup, very sure.
Her:  You should probably try…
Me: No really, I’m fine.
Her: Let’s get you up and have you try to go to the toilet.
Me: Ok…

I didn’t even need to pee, but I was too weak to fight back and of course the minute I got on my feet the gas pain made it feel like someone was stabbing me in the shoulder.  This was no fun, no fun at all… and I was going through all of this for nothing because I didn’t even need to go.

She helped me sit down on the toilet and then went back outside to give me some privacy.

Then she stood there, for about five minutes… while I pissed like a racehorse.

Ok, I guess she knew what she was doing.  Apparently I was about two minutes from wetting the bed and I didn’t even know it.

The rest of the night Martine and I were pretty much wide awake.  We got our little bottle of painkillers attached to our IV every six hours, but they would wear off after four hours, so we’d spend the last two hours feeling pretty rotten.  Martine continued to shift, curse her bed and make trips to the toilet and I, once again, laid perfectly still.

A few times she would shout “What is wrong with you, why aren’t you moving?!” and “You are like a dead person!!” and she was right, even I was shocked by how many hours would go by without me moving a single muscle.  Still, it worked for me.

The great thing about rooming with Martine was that she was totally on the ball and had absolutely no qualms about ringing for the nurse.  If our pain meds were due at 4am, boy she was on that buzzer by 4:02am!  I was not one to ring the nurses but I was often able to piggyback off her calls.  When they’d check on her they’d check on me too, which made it even easier for me to just lay there and do nothing!

I spent a lot of the time I was laying there trying to stay positive.  I kept repeating in my mind that the pain was only temporary, I could do it.  I envisioned knee high boots, crossing my legs, being happy and healthy… and most of all, a baby in my arms.  All the reasons I was having the surgery to begin with.

I don’t want to sound all hippy dippy but the lack of movement plus an entire night of forced positive thinking really did help me get through that first night.  Don’t get me wrong, it was still somewhat hellish but it wasn’t nearly the kind of hell it could have been if I hadn’t spent it the way I did.

MORNING FINALLY ARRIVES

Even though we were up the entire night, it doesn’t feel like it was that long.  Maybe it was because I was roomed with someone I knew beforehand and since we were both awake we talked a fair bit.  In any case it was long and painful but the minutes didn’t go by like hours or anything, at least not for me.   When morning came and the nurses started buzzing around more I tried to remember something a post-op friend had told me before I went in for the surgery.  “GET UP AND GET MOVING!”  Well, judging by the night before you can imagine how I felt about that idea but hey, she’d been there so she must know what she was talking about.  I got up and put my robe and started walking the hall.  It was quite busy as we were in the maternity ward, people were all a buzz with their balloons and stuffed animals.  I could say I wasn’t a bit jealous but who would I be kidding, I wished more than anything that I was there for the same reason as they all were, but hopefully my time would come.

I walked the full length of our hall, then up another hall and by the time I got back to my bed I was pretty much worn out.  I just got back on the bed and the stabbing pains in my shoulders were starting to subside when the nurse walked in and asked me if I’d like to have a shower and get dressed.  Truth be told at that very moment I just wanted to assume the mummy position again but I decided that if they thought I was ready, I was ready!

The young nurse in training helped me get my clothes off and I stepped into our big private shower.  I was still attached to the IV so the pole had to stay outside the shower, which limited my movement.  She left the bathroom so I could shower in peace, telling me she’d be outside if I needed her.

OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  EEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!

That was pretty much my immediate response once she was out the door, because as it turns out the shower runs on sensors. One for the normal shower head and one for the million little massage jets all over the shower.   I guess when I turned around to try to pull my IV pole closer to the shower doors, my arse must have swiped across the sensor for the jets and suddenly I was being pummeled by ice cold water from every direction. Not only that but the top jets were somehow turned upward and were shooting straight up and over the top of the shower into the rest of the bathroom.

I had no idea what was happening, my stomach was killing me because the immediate reaction to such cold water is to clench every muscle in your body as tight as humanly possible.  Oh this was no fun, no fun at all!!!  I screamed for help.

Once the whole sensor thing was explained to me and I fixed the temperature of the water, it was much better. I was able to relax, scrub off a lot of that weird yellow stuff they’d swabbed all over me and feel a bit more like a normal person.  When I got out of the shower I got dried off and the nurse helped me put a normal shirt on over the IV.  Normal clothes, this was a definite improvement from the ass hanging out gown I’d been previously wearing.

By the time I was showered and dressed and came back out into the room Xander had arrived and was standing with a bit of a shocked look on his face.  I think that like me, he had been expecting me to still be doing my dead man float impression on the bed (he knows me so well!)  but no, HA!  I was little miss up and at ‘em!

THE FAST TRACK

It was around this time when things felt like they started moving at lightning speed.  The nurses came in and told me that I could probably go home the next afternoon (this was a bit of a shock as I was expecting four days in the hospital and I had only been operated on the day before)… they told me if I wanted to stay that I could but they thought I’d be ready to go.  I was a little afraid of the thought of going home and having to do everything on my own and learn how to live with my new little stomach, but the idea of going home appealed to me far more than that, so I told them I wanted to go.

Later in the morning I was given a big bottle of water and was told to start sipping it, as well as a little tub of fat free / sugar free yogurt.  I didn’t eat a lot of the yogurt, because I had no idea how much I COULD eat just yet, but I tried and it went ok.

That’s me and my little tub of yogurt.  Yes, I know I look REALLY horrible and weird but give me a break, I’d just been operated on, was totally drugged up, and spent the entire night painfully awake JUST to get up and be attacked by a shower.  How would YOU look?

A few hours later after they saw that the water was going ok, they took out my IV and that really gave me a lot more freedom to get up and move around without worrying about that pole.

The only annoying thing left was the drain on my left side.  There was a baggie attached to the left side of my upper stomach, with a tube going along inside me to allow any fluids from the area of the operation to drain out.  The night before the bag had gotten quite full and that hung heavy which was very uncomfortable.  I got lucky and later that afternoon the drain was removed as well.  I was now totally free of all ‘attachments’ and while it was painful to get up and out of bed, no longer having the drain or the IV pole felt great.  I was able to walk the halls a little bit more with Xander, which we were told we had to do at least twice a day.

All in all I’d say this was probably the most painful day of all, the day after my surgery.  The gas pain was at its strongest and that, more than any pain I had gotten from the incisions or surgery itself, continued to be the worst pain of the entire process.   Thankfully, in the next 3-4 days it would go away completely.

THE SECOND NIGHT

Xander and Martine’s husband and son left shortly after dinner, leaving Martine and I on our own for the rest of the night.  We were both quite tired and were ok until our two hour mark would come before we could get our painkillers.  Martine was still on an IV so she got hers from the nurses, but my IV was gone so I was able to take my painkillers on my own, which were two pills that melted in my mouth.  I watched the clock like a hawk and every six hours on the dot I’d pop those pills like my life depended on it.

I spent the evening going back and forth between watching TV shows on my laptop and chatting with Martine.  By 9pm or 10pm we both got into bed for the night and like the night before, she had her routine of trying to get comfortable and going for a pee, while I nestled in and played dead.

At one point during the night I became extremely nauseated.  I wasn’t sure what was going on but I was absolutely miserable.  This would be the one and only time I would ever ring the nurses, which would make Martine exclaim “WOW It must be bad if YOU are pressing the button!”, and it was.  Unfortunately the nurse said there wasn’t a lot they could do but if it got worse to ring them.  I didn’t bother and just made a point of laying even more still.  Yeah, that’s my go to thing for nausea too.

Overall the night was fairly uneventful, it hurt, I felt a little sick, it sucked but I got through it.

BYEBYE NOW!

Imagine my shock when the nurse comes in the next morning and tells me I am good to go between 9am-10pm.  I was operated on Wednesday afternoon and thought I would be there until Saturday afternoon. Then I thought I was leaving Friday afternoon, a day early.  Now they tell me that I’m good to go early Friday morning, 1.5 days earlier than I was meant to.  I had to phone Xander who was taking his sweet time coming to the hospital as he figured I was there till later in the afternoon at the least.  Our original plan was that we’d spend the night at his hotel and then head home on Saturday morning.  He was shocked when I phoned to tell him to come to the hospital right away and we were both thankful when the hotel didn’t charge us for the night that we weren’t going to stay.

While I was waiting for him the nurse brought me tea with a little pudding cup and yogurt.  Again, I barely ate a quarter of each, still incredibly afraid of my lack of feeling in my stomach. I had no idea how much I could eat, how full I was getting as I ate… my body felt totally foreign to me and it was such a scary feeling.

My doctor came to visit before I left and said he was pleased with my progress.  His assistant was there earlier and gave me the medications (a pill I have to take each morning to protect my stomach and a needle I had to give myself each day against thrombosis… they tried to tell me to go to the doctor and have them do the needle but I’m an old pro when it comes to needles!).

I also got a pretty cool letter to carry around so if I ever decide to eat at a restaurant here in the Netherlands and try to order a child’s menu, if I show them this letter they are legally not allowed to refuse me.  Granted, I won’t be going out to eat anytime soon, nor would I probably order a child’s plate as it’s usually just chicken nuggets or something anyway, but it’s cool to have all the same.

The morning went by really quickly.  I was busy getting my stuff together, getting my bandages changed and trying to take in all the info from the doctors and nurses.  I was also having some last minute chatting with Martine, who was finally able to drink after a very long two days.   She was staying until Saturday afternoon and would spend the rest of her time in the hospital having that big beautiful room all to herself!

Before I knew it, it was time to go…

One last hospital photo for the road!

Xander wheeled me out of the hospital and carefully got me in the car and prepared for the 2.5 hour drive back to Rotterdam.  One of the best tips I could have gotten was to bring my own pillow to the hospital.  It not only made me a lot more comfortable in bed than the hospital pillows but it was great for in the car.  I put the pillow across my belly and then put the seatbelt around it, so that it wasn’t pressing on me directly.  I found that hugging the pillow made me a lot more comfortable while we were making the trip home, especially on those ridiculously damaged Belgian roads.

So that was it, in a flash my operation and my time in the hospital had come to an end.  Now it was up to me to move on to my new life and try to make the best of this chance I’d been given, which I found both exciting and utterly frightening at the same time.

Related posts:

1. My Gastric Bypass: The Surgery
2. Dr. Oz on Gastric Bypass
3. .. and STAY OUT!

FIRST: THE JOURNEY & CHECKING IN

Xander and I left Rotterdam in the early in the evening on Tuesday January 17th to head for Brugge, Belgium.  We decided that instead of doing the 2.5 hour drive the morning of my surgery to check in at the hospital at 10:30am, that we would take our time and drive down the evening before, spend the night in the hotel where he would be staying and then take our time in the morning. This was the best decision we could have made because it gave me a chance to just relax.  Had we gotten up and been trying to navigate our way through Antwerp during rush hour, we both would have been stressed and that wouldn’t have done me any good going into the surgery.  We got to the hotel that evening, curled up in bed and watched a movie and just took it easy.

The next morning we got up and took our time.  The hospital was only a few minutes away so I laid in bed with my laptop watching some shows while trying not to think about things too much.  Then we got up and took my “before” photos (which I will share at some point, but not quite yet) and got ready to head out.  I was nervous but not nearly as nervous as I was expecting to be.  I was actually a little excited as I would be meeting two other women for the first time after communicating on our clinic’s forums and Facebook messages.  We were all there for the same surgery and were glad that we had new friends to go through the experience with.

They had both arrived before we did so their numbers were called first.  Each of them told me their room numbers before heading up and when my number was called to check in, I was thrilled to find out that I would be sharing a room with one of them!  I was, however, a bit confused as we were on the 7th floor and from what I’ve heard all bariatric patients stay either on the 3rd or 11th floor.

When I got to the room I realized what was going on, and what a pleasant surprise it was!  Due to the hospital being so busy, myself and Martine were placed in the maternity ward in one of the most beautiful with lots of space and even our own kitchenettes!

You’ll have to forgive the quality of the photos, I had only my mobile phone with me.

This was my bed for the duration of my stay.  At the bottom of the photo you can see the dining table that was a part of my kitchenette.  My roommate’s side of the room was a mirror image of mine, with her bed facing me on the opposite side of the room and her kitchenette to the left of my bed (and mine to the left of hers).  It was such a great setup and with a long curtain to section off the room we had the choice of having it open and chatting or being able to close it to have a bit of privacy during the night or times when we just weren’t particularly in the mood to be social (which didn’t happen much at all really, we quite enjoyed each other’s company!)

This was my kitchenette and closet area.  There was a small fridge, sink with cold water, coffee maker and microwave.  You can see my TV above but I didn’t use that a lot as I had my laptop with TV shows I’d downloaded and saved to watch while I was there.   I specifically saved shows that I loved most so that it would help me pass the time.  Xander loved having the kitchenette while he was there as he could make himself coffee and keep stuff he swiped from the hotel buffet in my little fridge.

This little glass room was just to the right of my bed, which ordinarily is used for keeping the babies in.  Apparently that’s not how it is done in the Netherlands. According to Martine they are kept by your bed after giving birth, but maybe this is meant to give the mothers a chance to have some quiet and get some rest… I’m not sure.

Martine and I both took the fact that we were placed in the maternity ward together as a sign, as we both were having the surgery to lose weight because we were having difficulty getting pregnant.  We liked to think that the universe was trying to tell us something.

As you can see we also had a very comfortable reclining chair next to our beds, which our husbands made good use of!

I didn’t take photos of the room in its entirety because Martine and her family were on the other side and I wanted to respect their privacy.  It was a beautiful, big room though and we were both so happy to have it all to ourselves!

We also had our own big private bathroom, which a lot of rooms don’t have. On other floors there are shared showers in the hall, but we had our own shower cabin with massage jets and the whole nine yards.  I’m wishing I’d taken photos of that now in hindsight.

This was the view out of our window.  As you can see the weather was rather crap for some of our stay, but we did see some sun.  Not that it mattered, neither one of us spent that much time hanging around looking out the window!

THE WAIT

We arrived in the room at I guess between 11:00 – 11:30 am and we were both a bit nervous.  When the nurses came in to check our blood pressure and everything I made sure to tell them how dreadfully nauseated I was after my gallbladder surgery.  They marked it down and told me they would make sure to let them know so that they could try to prevent it this time around.  When they came back around noon I also asked if they knew when I’d be operated on and they said I would be going in at 3:50pm in the afternoon.  I groaned because I was already starving and dying of thirst, having not eaten since 6pm the night before and not being able to even drink water after 8am that morning.   I can’t even imagine how Martine felt when they told her she wouldn’t be operated on until 7:30pm that evening!  Well, no I could imagine because she groaned loudly and said exactly how she felt about it! haha

I had over three hours to kill in that hospital room before my surgery and I tried my best to keep my nerves at bay.  I unpacked my suitcase, took some photos and sat on my bed doing some deep breathing.  I really wanted to go into this with a positive attitude and made a point of reminding myself again and again that it was all temporary, that it was all going to go by in a flash and it was just a tiny blip in this entire process.  This really did help from keeping that agonizing fear of the pain and unknown from sending me into a total tailspin.

TIME TO GO

As luck would have it, I didn’t end up spending over three hours trying to calm myself at all because no sooner did the nurses leave, but then they were right back again with a gown telling me to get changed and get in the bed, because my time had come!  The nerves came over me like a tidal wave but I had no time to worry about it… I went in the bathroom and stripped off to get into my gown.  What the heck was going on?  Why was I being taken down a half hour later rather than 3.5 hours like they said?  When I asked later I was told it was because the surgeon’s plans often change due to people not realizing things like they can’t smoke or drink before the surgery.

I got in the bed and the two young nurses came to wheel me out.  I could tell that Xander was trying not to cry but after a quick kiss they wheeled me out of there before either of us really had a chance to get emotional.  They were very sweet on the way down to the surgery, making small talk and trying to keep my mind off things.  I was feeling surprisingly calm at that point though as I knew it was too late to turn back and was trying to keep a steady stream of positive thoughts going through my head.  I was happy to be going in sooner rather than later, as it was less time for me to sit around letting the tension build.

They took me down to what I can only assume was the basement and left my bed in a corner.  I was all by myself in this weird space with a TV and some children’s DVD’s, a door that had plastic and orange construction tape all around it.  Definitely a change from the beautifully modern hospital that sat above it… and I must admit, not the best view when waiting to go into surgery.  It felt more like I was being taken down to a dungeon somewhere rather than a surgery theater.

A woman came along and spoke very quickly with a mask over her mouth, which was a bit of a problem for me.  I can get by decently in Dutch but in Belgium the language is different and it takes a massive amount more concentration for me to follow, especially in a situation like that where my mind has so many thoughts going through it at once.  She asked me (the same as 3-4 people before her) my name, what I was there for and if I’d eaten or had anything to drink that day.  She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry and a real no nonsense type so I just answered and then hoped she’d go away.

Soon after another lady arrived with a different bed and asked me to scoot over to that one.  The first lady said something to her and then I heard (like the sound of angels singing!!) the second lady exclaiming in a British accent “Oh you speak English!!”.  HAAAAALLELUJAH!!  Turns out she is British and an expat like me.  I could have kissed her!   She explained that she was the anesthetic nurse and would be assisting in my surgery.  She did all of the prep work, asked me a lot of questions and got me ready for when the anesthetist showed up.  We chatted a lot which, again, did a lot to help settle my nerves.   She asked if Dr. Dillemans (my surgeon) had been to see me yet and I told her he hadn’t, so she got on the phone and told him to get his butt down there.  The nurses had already explained his insane schedule so I wasn’t all that surprised.

It wasn’t long after that the anesthetist showed up and asked me the same round of questions.  I figured if I was going to keep answering their questions repeatedly I’d repeatedly tell them about how sick I was at my last surgery.  He told me that I would be given something before I woke up and that it would all be good.  He also agreed that the amount of pain meds that I was given after my gallbladder surgery may have attributed to the amount of nausea I had.  I was determined that when I woke up this time that I would take a beat and give myself time to come to my senses before giving any indication of my pain levels.  When I had my gallbladder surgery it was my first ever, so when I woke up I was terrified of the pain I was feeling and kept asking for more and more pain relief… to the point of them having to all the anesthetist back as they’d already surpassed what the nurses were allowed to give me.

Once they had my IV in and were done asking me all those questions for the millionth time, they hung around chatting and joking with me until Dr. Dillemans arrived.  I particularly liked their jokes about how if I found him handsome it was probably just the drugs!  You see, Dr. Dillemans has a bit of a reputation for being quite the charmer!

Next thing I knew, he had arrived… he called me Sarah which made me give a big inner “PFFF” (Sarah, Tammy… I guess all those North American names are the same to them), told me I was in good hands, patted my hand and then it was a total blur.  They were putting a mask over my face, telling me to breathe deeply and that it might make me dizzy, putting a needle in my arm, with stuff that burned like a mofo going in my hand and up to my elbow and then… LIGHTS OUT!!

WAKING UP

The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room.  Much like when I had my previous operation, I woke up feeling like I was under a truck.  I was very groggy, my entire body was trembling, like big huge shakes (especially my legs) and the first thought to go through my mind was “PAIN DRUGS PAIN GIVE ME DRUGS” but thankfully I remembered not to say it out loud.  The nurse was very friendly and told me that the surgery went great and asked me how I was feeling.  I responded that I didn’t know yet, that I would need a minute.  She pulled the blanket down and unfolded my arms which were crossed over my upper belly, explaining not to hold them there because the pressure would cause me pain.  I had just woken up and assumed someone had placed my arms there as I wasn’t able to really move them on my own yet.

She told me to try to take some nice deep breaths so I said I would and she went off to check on someone else.  As I laid there I slowly tried to inhale, remembering that I’d heard that the deep breaths will help work that dreadful gas (that they pump into you to blow up the cavity in your belly so they can work) out of your system.  It hurt like a SOB but I kept trying to make one deep breath after another.

I looked slowly from side to side, taking in what was going on around me.  I was in a long room filled with beds, which opened up into the hallway they wheeled me through from the dungeon corridor to the surgery.  The place was chalk full of patients, with beds even lined up along the hallway.  I was lucky and had the nurses station right at the foot of my bed so I at least had something to watch while getting myself together.

There was an older man on my left hand side who didn’t seem to be dealing with things very well. He kept trying to pull things out and move around and get up and there was a nurse with him constantly talking to him and trying to keep him calm.  My brain wasn’t together enough to even try to figure out what either of them were saying but I really wondered who he was and what he had done to him.  Whatever it was, he was not a happy camper at all.

After laying there a while and waking up a bit more, much as I suspected, the pain was bad but bearable.  Once I got over that initial shock after just waking up it was ok.  So when the nurse came back to check on me I told her I was fine and just continued to lay there.  It wasn’t long before I saw her pointing to me and the two young nurses were back again to take me back to my room.

When I arrived back in my room Xander was there and was eager to see me.  I think he was surprised at how alert I was because I was so out of it after my last surgery that I ended up just asking him to leave.  I noticed that Martine and her bed were gone and they told me that she was brought down shortly before and was being operated on just after me.  I was glad for her that she was also getting it over with because sitting there waiting until 7:30pm wasn’t going to be any fun at all.

I had a chance to lay there and really assess how I was feeling.  The most annoying pain after any laparoscopic surgery, from what I can tell from my two experiences with it, is the gas I mentioned.  As this gas is working its way up out of your body it irritates the CRAP out of the nerves in your shoulders.   So while I did have a fair amount of pain in my upper abdomen, what I remember being most painful was the jabbing pains in my shoulders.  My upper belly felt very sore and tight but it was more of a deep constant pain.  The shoulders didn’t hurt constantly but rather when I moved and then settled again it felt like someone was stabbing me in the shoulder and chest, and THAT was bloody annoying.

While I was laying there Xander took this photo of me to send to my mother to let her know I got out of surgery, was alert and doing fine.  Well first he took this one:

… but he said I looked psycho with my weird wave and green crap all over my face (apparently the green crap is stuff they put down into your stomach to check for leaks after the surgery).

He mom-thumbed (licking his thumb and trying to wipe the green stuff off) me before taking the non psycho wave photo, but I mean really… neither photo is anything to write home about.   I look pretty darn hideous in both… but hey, I’m trying to keep it real here.

So that was it, my surgery was over.  It was all said and done!!  Now the real fun was about to begin… starting with the rest of my hospital stay, more on that soon!

Related posts:

1. Dr. Oz on Gastric Bypass
2. My Mini Surgery!
3. Confessions of a Fat Girl: The Last Resort

For now, I just want to share some videos that I found really interesting.  Everyone seems to rave about this Dr. Oz, so when I came across these videos today, I just had to share.  In the videos he explains exactly what Gastric Bypass surgery is, why it’s not a cop out or the easy way, why it has such a bad stigma and why more people who are eligible for the surgery and would benefit from it aren’t doing it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not like YAY! Everyone run out and have surgery RIGHT NOW!! but I have had a lot of people who are considering surgery asking me questions over the past few months, and while everyone in my life has been incredibly supportive, I know not everyone is as lucky as I have been in that regard.

Weight Loss Surgery DOES have a stigma attached to it, and I think it’s sad that it stops many people (the way it almost stopped me) from getting the help they need.  People are ashamed, afraid of what their friends and family will think of them and instead of getting help and getting their health under control, they just continue to spiral.

AGAIN, I’m not saying this surgery is the answer for everyone…  just that I wish there wasn’t such a horrible stigma to it.  As I said, I have wonderful friends and family and I STILL worried, because people, in general, feel and think so many bad things about weight loss surgery… so imagine what it’s like for the person who doesn’t have the kind of support in their lives that I have had…

Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Getting: Part 1
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Getting: Part 2
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Having: Part 3
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Having: Part 4
Dr. Oz The Underperformed Surgery You Should Be Having: Part 5

I guess I’m just hoping that by being open about this myself, and sharing videos like these, that if people who read this have someone in their lives who is considering this surgery, they will stop and think before making comments about the easy way, the lazy way, or immediately start in with the horror stories they’ve heard.  There is so much to it than that and those things really aren’t what that person needs.  Concern is fine, that’s just showing you care.  The rest, it’s just unnecessary.

Related posts:

1. My Gastric Bypass: The Surgery

We just spent the past week and a half in the south of France visiting my in-laws, where we were pretty busy most of the time.  They needed some trees cut down on their property and we were put to work.  It was wonderful!  We spent a fair bit of time outdoors, we were active and busy and spent a lot of time hanging out and chatting with the family.  We didn’t really have a lot of time to think about what was coming up. It was the perfect distraction.

Now that has all changed.  I am back in the Netherlands, finishing up a few last minute things before we leave, and the nerves have crept up on me.  Over the course of this morning I’ve felt my heart starting to beat in my throat, my stomach is doing flip flops and I feel dizzy from all of the thoughts that are fighting for attention in my head at the moment.

I’m nervous, and even though I’ve done my best to be prepared, it just never feels like enough.  I’m afraid.  I’m so incredibly afraid I can hardly think.  I’m afraid of the pain I’m going to feel when I wake up from surgery, I’m afraid of the pain I’m going to feel mentally when the thing I’ve been trying to prepare myself for for months finally becomes a reality.  I’m afraid of the changes I’ll need to make, of the learning curve that comes along with a surgery like this and of those moments that I know are inevitable where I will eat something that seems harmless and then suffer for it.

I’m afraid that I will be the one freak of nature who has surgery like this and then somehow just doesn’t lose weight.  That the wall that I’ve built up in my mind is real. The one that tells me that I’ll never know what it’s like to weigh less than 200 lbs, that even with the surgery, I’ll never know what it feels like to be NORMAL.

There are so many things I’m afraid of at the moment, I couldn’t even list them all.  It’s a giant tangle up there, in my brain, and I know it’s normal and I just have to work through it, but that doesn’t make it any less stressful.

One thing I’ve vowed to do is to try to stay positive through all of this.  I believe that if I can just stay positive, remember all the reasons I’m doing this and try to look forward to the positive changes, that I will recover more quickly and feel more peace during this process.  Of course, this goes totally against my nature as I’m a worrier and a glass is half empty type, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?

So this saying is going to be my mantra for the next while.

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s learning to dance in the rain.

What does that mean for me?  Well… it means that I can’t just sit here and be nervous and let it take over me, I need to remind myself of why I’m doing this, all the benefits I hope to get out of it and what a positive change this is going to be in my life.

I can’t just lay in the hospital and wait for the pain to pass, I need to remind myself that the pain is just temporary, that in the grand scheme of things it will be nothing but a tiny blip in this entire journey.

I need to remember that there will be a day when this weight is gone… there may also be a day when I finally have a baby in my arms and if not, that I will maybe finally come out from under this cloud that being overweight has kept hanging over me.

A day or two of pain is worth it, right?  A small price to pay to get a second chance.  It’s a price I’m certainly willing to pay if it means getting a new start in a healthier and more energetic body.  A body that may be able to get pregnant, carry a child and give me the chance to be a mother.  If not a mother than someone who is active and ready to get out there and LIVE life rather than watching it pass me by.

So that’s why I’m here, my first step in killing these nerves with kindness, if you will.  Instead of thinking about all of the things I’m afraid of, I want to think about what I’m looking forward to.  The positive changes I’m hoping this surgery will help me achieve.

• First and foremost, it will come as no surprise… the hope of finally having a child.  Not only having one, but being fit enough to have a healthy pregnancy and to be able to give a child the happy and active childhood they deserve.
• If I’m lucky enough to get pregnant, to have the pregnant body I’ve always dreamed of having.  The majority of the time I’ve been trying to get pregnant I’ve weight between 250-300 lbs.  I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t feel a little sad about the thought of missing out on that true baby bump.  I knew that if I had gotten pregnant it probably wouldn’t have even been noticeable until I was really far along. I’d spend the majority of the pregnancy just looking fatter.  Yeah ok, this one is a little vain but these are my dreams.  I just love the idea of being pregnant and LOOKING pregnant.  I want to wear maternity clothes, fit into pregnancy t-shirts with stupid sayings like “baby on board”.  I’ve waited so long for this, if it happens I can’t help but dream of it being… perfect.
• Being thin and fit enough to wear a baby.  As a bigger woman, when I see others walking around with babies on their chests in carriers, all I think is how sore my back would get and how incredibly hot it would be.  Maybe those things happen for thinner women too, but I’m betting it’s less severe.  I want to wear my baby around, I want to be able to shop while feeling them sleeping against me.  I want to be thin enough to actually fit into one of those carriers without the baby being squished to death.
• I want a lot of non-baby things too… I want to go to any café and plunk myself down on the terrace without worrying if my ass will fit in their little plastic or metal chairs.
• To have pants last more than a few months because my thighs aren’t constantly rubbing together and threatening to catch fire.
• To not avoid going out and doing things in the summer because I’m ashamed of how hot, red and sweaty I get while trying to lug my body around in the heat.
• To wear cute summer clothes that I feel make me feel nice and look nice, rather than just WHAT FITS and doesn’t show off too much of my flab.
• Maybe finally feeling comfortable in shorts after many years of either wearing nothing but long pants, or suffering the embarrassment of everyone seeing my legs. To wear them and not think anything of it… and be comfortable.
• To try activities I haven’t done in such a long time because I either felt too big or the equipment needed wouldn’t fit.  I’d love to go skiing again, when my legs might possibly fit in boots without losing feeling in my toes.  I want to ice skate again without that constant fear of “the bigger they are the harder they fall”.  I SO want to go horseback riding again, which was always my biggest passion, but have always been afraid to ask my horseback riding friends back home to take me riding because I felt too fat even for a horse to carry.
• I want to try NEW activities that I’ve avoided doing because they were too difficult for me, like roller blading or windsurfing!
• I want to wear a swimsuit on the beach and walk from my towel to the shore without worrying who is looking at my massive thighs or other wobbly bits.
• To walk by a group of teenagers and have their chuckles, snickers and laugh not even register with me because it no longer even crosses my mind that they may be laughing at me.
• To wear regular sized clothes and have a whole new world of clothing opened up to me, rather than sticking to the same one or two plus sized clothing stores where I just buy what fits, rather than what I really like… and not paying a fortune for it.
• I want to see what I really look like under here.  I’ve spent almost 37 years never knowing what I look like at a ‘normal’ weight. I know what I look like overweight, I know what I look like obese, and I know what I look like super obese… but I have no idea what I was meant to look like.  What I look like as just a regular person at a healthy weight.  Will I look younger?  Will I look older?  Will I be pretty?  I want to know.
• I want to get on the scale, and see a weight below 200 lbs, what a moment that will be for me!
• To feel my husband not just get his arms around me, but completely wrap me in them, without both of us trying to work around my belly.
• To sleep well, without the constant tossing and turning to try to get comfortable, and morning backaches.
• To travel by plane or by train and be able to sit comfortably (even with the tray down) rather than just kind of fitting, or not fitting at all!
• I want to be able to cross my legs like other women.  Just cross them and have my leg dangle comfortably there without having to stick my toe behind something to keep it crossed.
• To not always be one of the biggest people in the room, if not the biggest overall.
• Most of all, I just want to be the me I’ve always imagined and hoped I’d be.  Better, happier and healthier.

 There are probably an awful lot of other things but these are the first ones that come to mind.  Of course, the surgery isn’t going to many any of this happen like magic, a lot of it will take hard work on my part… but they are all possibilities.  I need to remember that and try to see the surgery as a door opening up to a whole new world.  That is how I will find success here, by not beating myself up about what I consider to be failures in the past and working towards the future. A POSITIVE future.

This will probably be my last post before I leave, so wish me luck!  I’ll be back with an update when I’m home again, hopefully on Saturday or Sunday!

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My husband and I have been watching a new series called Homeland, which is great and I will probably write more about it later, and it also stars Claire Danes.  We end up commenting multiple times during each episode about what an unbelievably good actress she is, and then I remembered the movie I had seen and mentioned it to Xander.  I insisted that he watch it because I thought he’d really enjoy it too, and I was right.  He was as amazed as I was by both Claire Danes’ portrayal of Temple as we were by Temple’s incredible story itself.

As you can see from the trailer, Temple Grandin is Autistic.  When she is young her mother is concerned by the fact that she still hasn’t spoken at four years of age, and that she is very distant physically.  The doctor tells her that Temple is Autistic and that they usually recommend that children with Autism are placed in an institution as there is nothing that can be done for them.  What’s worse is, at her insistence, he also gives his opinion on what causes Autism in children… which is that they weren’t given affection by their mother at a crucial moment in time.  This was only after he suggested that maybe she should have her husband to come in so he could explain it to him.  This was one of the most glaring examples in the movie of how drastically times have changed, and thank god for that!

It’s at that time that Temple’s mother decides that she isn’t going to let the fact that Temple is Autistic get in the way.  She keeps working with her until she speaks, when she speaks she is sent to school, she has to work and even goes on to university.  Her mother makes sure that no matter what happens and who she comes across in life, she never forgets that she is DIFFERENT, NOT LESS!

While spending the summer working on her aunt’s farm, she realizes that she is especially in tune with animals, and this is what sets her path to a fantastic career in animal handling. Teaching farmers and ranch hands all over the world how to treat animals more humanely and even redesigning a lot of their butcheries and other facilities.  She is fully aware of the fact that cattle are butchered and has no problem with that but she feels that if cattle are raised for the purpose of nourishment for us, that they should be given some respect.

Another major thing that takes place for her is when she sees her uncle and the other farm hands using a press machine to calm cattle for getting their injections.  She is a bit shocked by how it calms the cattle and begins to wonder if the same would work for her, as being hugged by humans is scary but she still craves that feeling of pressure that comes from a hug.  During one of her emotional breakdowns she runs out to the yard and climbs into the contraption, begging her aunt to close it on her.  Her aunt, frightened and emotional herself, finally gives in and is amazed to see an instant calming effect take place.  Temple then immediately sets out to build her squeeze machine, which she keeps with her from that moment on, making a massive difference for her in day to day life.

The squeeze machine designed by Temple Grandin

There really isn’t enough I can say to stress what a wonderfully heart warming and educational film this is. With the real Temple Grandin working together with the makers of the movie, it gives you the most amazing insight into what it’s like in the Autistic mind, which is something I found utterly fascinating!

When I think of the fact that this woman could have possibly been stuck in an institution, never to be heard or seen from again, it makes me so sad.  Sad not only because we very nearly missed out on this wonderful woman and the difference she has made in the world, but also because it makes me wonder what other amazing minds the world has missed out on because their parents were afraid to go against the grain.

This movie shows us that it’s true what they say about it taking a village to raise a child.  Everyone we come in contact with can play even the smallest role in who we become as people and what we achieve.  If it weren’t for Temple’s mother, aunt, high school science teacher and all the other people who recognized greatness in her and encouraged her, who knows where she would have ended up.

The real Temple Grandin (left) with Claire Danes in character during the filming.

Temple Grandin is now a doctor of animal science and professor at Colorado State University.  She is a bestselling author, a consultant to the livestock industry on animal behavior, and the inventor of the squeeze machine.  She is also very active in he Autism community, trying to raise awareness and urging people to look deeper and try to work with Autistic children, for who knows what they may be capable if the right person comes along and finds what makes them tick.

Check out the video below to see Temple Grandin on Ted Talks discussing how the world needs all types of different minds. It is really worth watching and makes you think about the education system today and how many kids pass through without anyone ever taking the time to really see where they could excel if given the chance.

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I thought I was imagining things. Then I thought that my phone just took really crappy photos… but that’s not the case. Facebook is killing my mobile photos and I want to know why!

I have a HTC Desire and other than a few small things (like the constant messages about running out of internal storage) I can’t complain.  I don’t do as much with it as a lot of people, I rarely phone but I do msg people and upload photos to Facebook and all the usual stuff.

Just the other day I had uploaded a photo and was thinking what shitty photos my phone takes, but then I took a photo at sunset today and on my phone it looked nice and colorful, but when I uploaded it to Facebook it was completely dull. What the heck is going on?!

I decided to hold up my camera to the photo on my laptop screen and take a photo with my point and shoot camera.  See the difference?  I took the photo in the first place because when I went to the balcony to check something, I was stopped in my tracks by the beautiful blue and orange-ish pink colors in the sky.  I took a photo and quickly uploaded it to Facebook and what I ended up seeing on my screen was the photo on the right.  The colors in this photo aren’t exactly right, as it’s a photo of a photo of a photo, but you can definitely see the difference between what I took on my phone and what I got once it was uploaded to Facebook….

Again, I ask W.T.H????

I’ve had this problem previously between Photoshop and Flickr, and it turned out that it was a setting that I had to change in the color settings.  I had it to one setting but I had to set it to something else that was better for uploading photos to the web, and the problem was solved.  I can’t figure it out with my phone though. Am I doomed to upload washed out photos from my mobile?!

I was going to ask this on Facebook but then I realized that the color would just be washed out again upon uploading it and the difference might not be visible.  Although, I generally don’t have as MUCH of a problem anymore when uploading photos from my cameras (used to be gawdawful but it has improved)… now it it just seems to be the mobile uploads that are completely washed out after uploading.

Does anyone know why this might be happening or how I can fix it?  I know it’s just mobile photos but I just can’t stand not having the same photo show up as the one I took and wanted to share in the first place. Help!

*Edit* Here is another photo comparison of a screenshot of a photo after it was uploaded and a photo of what it looks like on the phone.  Man oh man this is bugging me.

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(The following photos are screenshots from the website, not photos I have taken – I wish!)

Basically, you just click on the circle to see the view from the rooftop of that building. You can use your mouse to pull the view from side to side or up and down.

It really is such a cool idea and put together so nicely! So if you would like to take a tour of this wonderful city that I live in click here!

I’m quite curious how they got access to all these rooftops. Is it just a matter of going in and asking someone?  I’d love to be able to get up in some of these locations, especially for some night time photography.  I’ll have to look into this sometime!

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Movies and TV are no exception, I cry for everything.  I cry during romantic comedies, I cry when people achieve greatness, I cry when someone crosses a finish line or fails to do so, I cry when the wind blows…

I don’t know if it’s my emotional state with my recent weight gain or perhaps my anxiety with my upcoming surgery, but MAN, it’s worse than ever!

On Christmas Day Xander and I got up and went to see the 9:30am showing of New Year’s Eve, which we loved… but I was already a mess of tears before the dang movie even started!  I cried through every single one of the trailers. No lie.  I was really starting to question my sanity by the time the movie started.  Watch these and let me know if you tear up at all.

I didn’t even re-watch them because I know if I do I’ll be a blubbering idiot again.

I so want to see these movies, and at the same time I really really don’t, because I know what will happen. I’ll be sitting in the theater trying to inconspicuously wipe my eyes and letting my nose dribble past the point of no return for fear of giving that loud “HEY EVERYONE, I’M CRYING LIKE A NUTCASE!” sniff.

I’m not just trying to be funny here, I really do wonder if I am on Insano Island all on my own here, or if they really are doing something different lately with the trailers in order to trigger a more emotional response.  Do any of you feel this as well?

This is probably one of those times where I’d be happy to just let you amuse me by agreeing with me regardless.

Maybe I’ll just watch them at home, where I’m free to wail and wipe my nose on my sleeve in peace.

P.S. I also cried the entire way through the New Year’s Eve movie…

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Ok, well it looks like this is becoming a bit of a series, this whole Confessions thing.  I’ve been trying to be as honest and open as possible about my efforts to lose weight, as well as about my issues with infertility.  I think the greater part of my reason for it is because it makes me feel better to get it all out.  I also continue to do it because I know that there are other people out there, like me, who find it helpful when others open up about their experiences. If reading my story can help inform someone or, at the very least, let them know they aren’t alone, then that’s a great reason too.

Anyway, let’s get down to the reason why I’m writing today.  There’s no leading up to this and I’ve found that the best way to do it is the tried and true ripping off the bandaid approach.

I am going to have weight loss surgery.  On January 18th, 2012 I am having gastric bypass surgery, which is shown in the video below, for those who don’t know what it is.

Ok, now it’s out there, there is no turning back.  I know some of you already know this, but many don’t and I’m sure for those people it has come as a bit of a shock to your system but that’s ok.  It was a bit of a shock to mine as well!

If you had asked me this time last year where I’d be right now, I would have said that I’d have all of my weight off and be about to start IVF.  I was after losing 85 pounds, feeling great and was well on my way to reaching my goals.  I would have puffed my chest out and exclaimed that NOTHING was getting in my way, I was a woman on a mission and I was kicking ass and taking names.

That was before this happened, before the fertility treatments began, before the hormones, stress, and disappointment that came along with the six months of fertility treatments.  I had totally underestimated the toll that would take on me and how difficult it would make losing weight.  Hell, how difficult it would be to keep the weight I’d already lost off… because I am an emotional eater and this was one of the most emotional experiences I have been through.  I wish I didn’t, and I’ve tried to change it over the years, but food has always equaled comfort for me.  So when I was loaded with hormones and dying with anticipation and anxiety over whether I had gotten pregnant that month, I ate.  When I realized I wasn’t pregnant again that month, I was sad, angry, and disappointed…. so I ate.

In the last year I have tried time and time again to get back on track and find that strength I had the year before.  I’d do detox after detox, tried having my doctor send me to another dietitian and still I couldn’t seem to make it happen.  Instead of continuing to lose the weight, I gained back half of what I lost and it felt horrible.

The thing is, I know many people feel that if you want something badly enough you just do it.  How I wish it were that simple, and I think if it were the world wouldn’t have the obesity problems it has today.  Nobody WANTS to be overweight, nobody wants to have the health issues that come along with it or to be made fun of and have their self esteem trampled into the dirt.  Nobody wants that.

In my experience (and I fully admit this may just be me) I have found that the more I had riding on this, the more difficult it became.  My biological clock has been ticking VERY loudly and not only my chances of having children, but also my husband’s, relied on me losing weight.  That’s a lot of pressure and that pressure and stress turned out to not be a motivation for me, but an obstacle.  It was constantly there nagging at me and stressing me out.

Weight loss surgery was first suggested to me by my gynecologist in 2006 and let me tell you, I did NOT take kindly to that suggestion at all.  I was furious that she would even suggest that to me because I’d started losing weight on my own and was convinced that I could get it done.  That was one of many times in the past six years when I was convinced I was going to get it done on my own.

Over the years I’ve tried the general eat less move more method, Weight Watchers, Low Carbing and everything in between.  Generally I’d lose 25-30 lbs and then whatever would happen, whether it was a family member dying back home, other family issues, winter blues or whatever, I would then turn around and gain it back… and then some.  Which lead to the great scale disaster of 2008, when I stepped on and realized I weighed over 300 lbs.

How fucking embarrassing it still is to say that.

As I said, I thought the recent 85 lb weight loss was really going to be it, as I’d gone further than I ever have, but it wasn’t, and what can I do about it now after letting another year slip by and gaining half of it back?

The weight loss surgery was given to me as an option by both my fertility specialist and my family doctor over the years. They didn’t really push it on me, rather just let me know it was there.  Every time I’d hold my hand up and tell them no.  I mean weight loss surgery?!   Were they out of their freaking minds?!!  When I declined they would do whatever they could, whether it was sending me to a weight loss program that paid for a gym membership, or to a new dietitian, they really did try to help motivate me and give me what I needed to try to lose the weight.

Looking back, I think the one thing we should have done, but didn’t, was see a therapist about WHY I am an emotional eater, and try to solve those problems. I think that would have gone a long way to helping me finally beat this issue once and for all.  Oh but we all know about hindsight…

After recent talks with my doctor, and the new dietitian (who I absolutely ADORE) together we have come to the following conclusions:

1. I will be 37 years old in a few months, and once I hit 40 any chances I have of having IVF are over.

2. After 35 years of age, the success rate with IVF pretty much drops by half every year.

3. After the re-gain, for me to now get to the HIGHEST weight acceptable for IVF (which also means the weight that gives me the lowest chance of success) it would take me 12-15 months.  I would still be considered overweight, still be hovering around the 200 lb mark and while I would be ALLOWED to have IVF by slipping in under the line… when taking my age and weight into consideration, my chances of getting pregnant would be very very low.

4. In that 12-15 months, with the surgery, I could not only get to a weight to be allowed to have IVF but surpass that and reach a much lower and healthier weight.  This would not only increase my chances of conceiving greatly, but put me in a much better position for a healthy pregnancy if I’m lucky enough to have one at all.

5. If, heaven forbid, the IVF doesn’t work, I won’t still be seriously overweight, emotional and trying to move on. I will hopefully have much fitter body, better outlook on life and feel more energetic and motivated to move on with life, free of FAT and INFERTILITY, for the first time in as long as I can remember.

6. I HAVE tried on my own, for YEARS. I have done the work, I’ve fought the fight and really made an honest to goodness effort to do this on my own, that is something nobody will ever be able to accuse me of, not trying my hardest on my own.  As much as I’d like to THINK I could get this done on my own over the next year, I thought that last year as well and I was in a much better position then.  I was 40 lbs lighter than I am now and felt a million times better.

7. If I don’t decide to take this leap now, and a year from now haven’t managed to get the weight off on my own, it may be too late.  As my doctors said, I’m at a critical point now in regards to my weight and age.  If I turn down the surgery now, and in a year still haven’t gotten the weight off, I risk missing my window completely… because when factoring in waiting and recovery periods with the surgery, it will be too late.  I wouldn’t be able to get it all done in time to still slip in under the age limit for the IVF.

This is not a decision I’ve made lightly, nor is it something I am taking lightly.  I don’t view the surgery as a fix for anything and I’m fully aware that unless I DO sort out my issues with food and do the work that I’ll eventually just gain all the weight back.  I know all the risks and rewards and have basically dedicated the past few months of my life to this.  I’ve been gathering info on the different surgeries available, visiting the clinic, speaking and visiting with people who have had or are going to have surgery, learning more about food and eating after the surgery and talking extensively about this with my close family and friends.

I have also been working hard to set up a support system for myself.  I’ve been trying to get to know other people who have been or are being treated by the same clinic, I’ve gone to one of their meetings and that was incredibly helpful and gave me a lot of insight.  I have a few friends who have done this and they’ve been wonderfully supportive and I’m currently working on getting set up with a therapist (outside of the one I see in the after care program from the clinic) to really dig deep and help me once and for all put an end to my dysfunctional relationship with food.

Basically, if I’m going to take this drastic step, I feel like I have to really do the work to make sure it sticks, because it’s really not a place I ever thought I’d be in my life.  Weight loss surgery was something I never thought I’d even consider because I had a lot of the same opinions other people who have never faced it have… it’s the easy way out, the lazy way out, weight loss surgery is for losers who can’t be arsed to do it on their own.

Boy, let me tell you… has my opinion changed since I have had to stare this beast face to face.  It’s anything but easy.  In fact, it’s going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  It’s a massive life change, it’s going to be painful at times, sad at times and I’m sure there will be a few screaming fits in the mix along the way… but I’m hopeful that one day it will be worth it.

I won’t lie, I’m scared to death.  I’m scared of the surgery, the time in the hospital, making the huge changes that are required, how people are going to react to me doing this, of possibly gaining the weight back someday, of complications or crappy side effects (like losing hair, ugh!) and a million other things.

That said though, I am confident in my decision and I know that this is the right choice for me at this time.  It wasn’t six years ago, it wasn’t four years ago and it wasn’t this time last year… but it is now.  I will be operated on by Dr. Bruno Dillemans in Brugge Belgium, who is one of the top bariatric surgeons in the world, so that is very comforting.  The reason the surgery is taking place in Belgium is because I am having it done via a private clinic outside Amsterdam, rather than one of the hospitals in Rotterdam.  The waiting period for the surgery at the hospitals in Rotterdam is between 9-12 months, which when you factor in the 12 months I’ll need to set aside after the surgery for the weight loss, is too long in my situation.  Thankfully my insurance company forwarded me to this clinic which has only a 3 month waiting period.   The super surgeon is an added bonus.

I have waited until almost the last minute to write about this because I wanted to tell the people who are closest to me and I wanted to give myself time to process it and be confident and secure enough to deal with everyone’s questions and reactions.  I was very insecure about this in the beginning, I felt like a total failure and like I WAS giving up, but I don’t feel that way anymore.  I know that if all I wanted was an easy or lazy way out I would have jumped at the chance one of the many times it was mentioned to me over the last six years.  I also don’t think I have failed, I managed to lose 85 lbs, which is something a lot of people can’t do at all, let alone with as much riding on it as I have had.  I have tried my hardest to do this on my own and I no longer see this as a failure, rather just choosing another path that gives me the greatest chance of achieving my goals.

Another reason I feel comfortable enough to be open about this now is because of how unbelievably supportive and understanding my close friends and family have been.  In the beginning I was terrified to tell people for fear of how they’d react but everyone has been so understanding and supportive.  Sure, they are worried for me as it is a major surgery and a life changing event, but like me they are hopeful that whether the IVF works or not, that in the end this will all lead to me having a healthier, happier and more productive life.  Even those that I thought would have a sort of *shock horror* response have not had that at all, quite the opposite actually and their support has meant the world to me.

I will have the surgery on January 18th and I’ve been sure to make no big plans for the first few months of the year, as there is quite a long recovery period and I won’t be working on a lot of calories in the beginning so I won’t have a lot of energy. So for those nearby please don’t be offended if I am a bit scarce for a while, hopefully I’ll be back in action soon!  You are all welcome to come by for a visit though!!

Well, that’s all my news!  I’m going to stop now as this has, in true Canadutch style, turned into a total novel.  I know I’ll re-read this and there will be 100 little bits of info I’d wish I’d included but I’m going to try to restrain myself!

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We actually visited the area twice, but the first day it was too cloudy and they said we wouldn’t be able to see anything, so we moved on and visited some caves in the area.  The next day it was still partially cloudy but it was our last chance so we went up anyway.

You can see the clouds in the above photo that I took on the day that we ended up leaving.  We sort of suspected that it might be too cloudy as the entire campground was in the middle of a cloud when we woke up, but we hoped it would clear up by the time we got there.  No such luck.

The next day things were a lot more clear and I was so excited when we were driving up the mountain and could see our first glimpse of the peak!

We had to ride to the peak in one of these, it was pretty full and got really warm but what a great view along the way!

Oh, I also have to mention the guys who work these things. Don’t even try to ask them questions, don’t try to socialize and well, basically don’t try to make any use of them at all.  From what we could tell they were a very small step up from trained monkeys who are there to bring you to the top and back without dying… beyond that, they are absolutely useless.  On the first day we visited we tried to talk to them to ask about the conditions at the top and if it was worth going up, and even though my husband made the effort to speak to them in French, all we got was a few grunts in return.  Our experience of trying to be friendly with them the following day was met with the same kind of reception.

So if you are looking for information, a smile or a friendly face, don’t look there.  Visit the ticket office which is not in the same building, but down and off to the side of the lift area.  They will tell you whatever you need to know and sell you your tickets.

When I looked out and took this photo I wasn’t sure that I could believe my eyes, were those little specs along the path actually people?!

Sure enough, it was, and they were looking pretty darn tired.  The man was trekking along with his nordic walking sticks and the woman was being dragged along behind him by holding onto his backpack.  The boy looked like he was completely out of juice and was being pulled along by his mother.

I had to give them credit, I’d never have attempted that walk!  I wish I could have gotten better photos to show just how long and steep that path is.

This lake was visible just before we reached the peak.  To give you an idea of the scale of everything, there were people walking along those paths as well, they are just so small you can hardly see them!  Tiny little specs along the path!!

Then we finally reached the top, which was amazing. The sky was so blue and the weather was beautiful, although quite windy!  There was a fair few people there but it wasn’t packed to the point of being uncomfortable.  There were people eating at the restaurants, sitting out having picnics and lots and lots of photographers.  More than once I found myself suffering from varying degrees of lens envy while standing shoulder to shoulder with other photographers up there.

One piece of advice I would give anyone that was visiting the area, is to pack a lunch.  The restaurants were busy and somewhat expensive, but there was plenty of areas to sit and eat a packed lunch.  We found ourselves wishing we had done so as it was coming along lunchtime when we were there and we were both starving.  We had food in our cooler in the car but we didn’t think to bring it up with us, so we took the edge off with a chocolate bar from a vending machine and then went in search of a place to stop and eat once were back on the ground again.

The view from the top was even better than on the ride up there.  It was a bit of a hazy day so we couldn’t see as far as you can on some of the more crisp and clear winter days but I’m still so glad that we made the effort to go back.  Like with most things, the photos really don’t do it justice, it’s something you have to see for yourself.

Seriously, I can’t even imagine what kind of view you get when it’s totally clear, it must be amazing. I’d love to visit sometime in the winter but just the thought of driving up into those mountains at that time of year frightens the crap out of me.

Oh, and a funny thing about visiting that area, there are always animals just roaming free.  You’ll see a lot more of them in photos from other areas we visited but for some reason at the Pic du Midi it seemed to be donkeys!

They just hung around the parking lot and socialized with the visitors, from what I could tell they often got quite lucky as well, most of the tourists found them VERY cute and shared their lunches.  I get the feeling that these are some seriously well fed donkeys.

Another interesting thing we noticed is how early people start arriving to watch the Tour de France.  If you look in this photo, you can see all the white motor homes lined up along the road on the bottom right of the photo.  We spent the rest of the day driving through the mountains along the same path that the Tour de France was going go through three days later.  Anywhere that had enough space was covered in trailers and people waiting to get their view of the bikers, it was crazy!

One last piece of advice… if you want information on what you are seeing or what is inside the Pic Du Midi, I’d suggest picking up a little booklet somewhere or printing off info online. I was somewhat disappointed to go through the place and find that there were no translations available.  All of the boards, videos and information are in French and apparently everyone else is out of luck.

Some things don’t really require you having to read anything though, like this miniature version of the Pic du Midi, which I found pretty cool!

If you are every lucky enough to be able to visit the Pyrenees, I’d definitely make the Pic du Midi one of your main destinations, especially if you have a really nice clear day.  I know if I ever return I’ll be going up again, without a doubt!

For more info you can visit their website, again… only available in French, but Google translate is your friend!

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