It took me a month to get my Upper GI results faxed to the surgeon’s office.  I must have called at least a dozen times:  Gave them all the information, blah blah blah and, “Ok, we’ll get that right out.” Or, “I’ll fax that off to ‘em right now.”  And nothing.  In fact it was made extremely clear that the results had to be faxed to the surgeon’s office in Fresno.  They even bothered to make a copy of this request for their records.

Salinas Valley Imaging Center is notorious for communication breakdown.  You have to ask everyone you meet from the doctor to the janitor, to please send the results to my physician, and in most cases that still doesn’t work.  

So what the hell am I supposed to do?  The office gal in Fresno told me to just keep trying and tell ‘em it’s important.  Well I’ve been doing that and I’m a lil tired of trying; this approach is clearly not working.  Then I thought of a plan and wrote down my lil spiel so I wouldn’t falter halfway into the conversation.

Here’s what I said:

Hi there!  My name is Erica and I work for the Advanced Bariatric Center over in Fresno for Dr. Felix and Dr. Swartz.  One of our patients Elizabeth Brooke Lee had an Upper GI performed on December the 6th at your office, and it’s imperative we receive those results so that Dr. Swartz may determine what options are best for her and that the patient can continue in her quest for surgery. 

Our fax number is area code 559-446-6288  and that’s attention to Erica.

Not ten minutes later Erica called me to say they just faxed the results over.  I was rather proud of myself.

Not surprisingly I was feeling a little overwhelmed and seriously wigging out.  Then I recalled this silly tiara Mother got me, saying this will have to do until I can get you a real one.  I saw it setting there on the kitchen counter.  Well why not?  And a perfect day for it!  I clipped it in my hair and asked Mother what she thought, she said, “It looks natural, like you were born to wear it.”

It was kinda fun riding through traffic and getting strange looks; I’d holler out, “Yes, I am wearing a tiara.”  Then they’d avert their eyes.  While walking towards the doctors office we passed by people who stopped and blinked a few times to which I once again replied, “Why yes, I am wearing tiara.”  They scurried off.

And into the surgeon’s office I go. I had a mixture of smiles, adverted eyes and who the hell does she think she is looks; all quite fun.

We meet with Dr. Swartz who just had to comment on my headgear; I told him that I just wanted to feel special.  Then we got down to business:

My Upper GI results showed I have a one ounce pouch, but since they’re using liquid it’s not totally accurate.  Still I can eat the same amount as Mother so I can’t possibly have over a two to three ounce pouch.  On that note, Dr. Swartz would prefer to the leave the pouch area alone; if there’s not a significant stretch or capacity then it’s certainly not worth all the risks involved with resizing one’s pouch.

So here’s the plan:  I already have 150 cm bypass plus the 30 bypassing the duodenum; this leaves me with about 7 to 10 feet of small intestines that are absorbing.  If we guesstimate I have 8 ½ feet that gives me a 250 cm common channel.  He wants to bypass another 125 cm (give or take) and leave me with 125 common channel.  Most duodenal switch patients have a 100 cm common channel, but I’ve seen many in the 80, 75 and sometimes 60 cm range.

The surgery should only take about an hour, can be performed laparoscopically and I only have to stay one to two nights in the hospital.  I’ll be on liquids for the first 24 hours, but I won’t have to go through the whole liquid, mush and soft foods stage since the pouch and stoma will stay completely untouched.

Hurray!  No Strictures!

I want Dr. Swartz to do my surgery, but since Felix did my original he felt he needed to consult.  So Dr. Felix came but was already enamored by my tiara and respected my authoratay.  He did start off by asking, “Now do you understand the procedure and everything to expect.”  And before I could even open my mouth Dr. Swartz hopped right in and said, “She understands it completely; she understands it all.”  So between that and my tiara Dr. Felix kinda let his guard down and was rather fun and pleasant.

I was so thrilled I left my tiara on for the rest of the day: shopping, going out to eat.  I learned wearing a tiara is a lot like Xanax.  It makes for one smashing security blanket.

I guess I never quite understood the full extent of my fear till it was lifted off me. I’ve been out and about more in just the past few days than I have for the past six weeks.  Not only was I sashaying along the aisles of stores, but also accosting strangers and askin ‘em how this hat looked on me, askin folks about their cats,  helping a guy pick out a mp3 player for his son and flirting with the cute fisherman guy at the farmer’s market.

Physically I’m the same person I was six weeks ago, but amazingly as I walked by folks they’d actually turn around to look at me.  A few even looked down my shirt; if his wife hadn’t been there at the time I woulda thanked him.  

I’m cranky, I’m cold, the idiotic rooster is crowing and it’s only a quarter till four, does anyone remember if I took my Effexor yesterday, I’ve been up since one, my back hurts…  Wait, I could turn my nifty chair on.  Well yeah that does help a lil bit.  Anyways I have an appointment for 3:30 this afternoon with Dr. Swartz and that other guy to discuss all my options for a revision, i.e. how bloody dangerous it is and every single solitary thing that can possibly go wrong.  Booyeah!  

Now it’s very important I refrain from kicking Dr. Felix in the nuts, and since there’s an excellent chance I won’t be sleeping anytime between now and then, it’s fair to say a lil Xanax will be needed.

But!

This is a very important meeting and I need to stay lucid, and annoy the shit out of Dr. Felix by keeping my vast vocabulary intact.

What to do?

This time I’m not starving myself for the weigh in.  Yes, I weigh lots.  We all know that, and the glaring precise numbers aren’t really a necessity at the moment.  In fact the last time I was forced onna scale the Lifeline helicopter had to be brought in, and it wasn’t for me. 

I actually had a dream where somebody emailed me and said that they were happy to announce that they wouldn't be in town the same day.

I have six bottles of vodka in the pantry; maybe I should take one for the road.

I have an overwhelming need to drive a pick axe into Amy Williams’ smug face.  S’pose that’s just the crankiness and vulnerability talking.  Still, I know someone who’ll do it just for a six pack.  Actually that’s no fun.  Death is too easy.  I say cut her off at the knees, force her to be short and gain all her weight back.

I was gonna tattle on her to Dr. Swartz, so’s he could go to the head honchos as they do pay to be on their site.  Unfortunately $3500 isn’t much clout up against two million dollars.  Still, I think I’ll tell him anyway that it’s nothing but a money grubbing corporation using obesity support as a smoke screen.  He’s a rather intuitive guy though and probably already realizes that, but at least he does think highly of Mother and I and maybe he’ll totally agree that they suck ass just to make me feel better.

I haven’t even packed yet, although it’s not as if ya have to pack much for Fresno.  Seriously, we shoulda bought a second home there over a year ago.  Real estate has already soared over there; we coulda made a killing by renting a place out.  We have a friend who bought a place over in Clovis about six months ago; 4000 sq feet, swimming pool and the house is already appraising at least more than $100,000 from what he paid for it.  He said we oughta come over and visit; maybe I should spend my recovery time at his house.  

Damnit!  If I’d been thinking I woulda got us a room at the new casino just 20 miles up the road.  However, Mother’s promised me a lil getaway down to Cambria where we can tour the wineries Sideways style.  Because (knock on wood) her old boss may have found her a job, and we may not have to do the whole court battle thing – which noone was lookin forward to.  

And after this goddamn surgery and I lose 100 pounds, I’m goin to Vegas to get plastered and lose my virginity with the first good lookin guy I see.  Then I’ll marry him and get it annulled the next morning, come back and tell everyone I’m a widower.  

Well I guess I should go bathe and put on a mildly good impression, but I ain’t shavin my legs.

This is a question that’s always lurking in the shadows, and sticking its tongue out on occasion.  It’s kinda caused me to have doubts as to whether I’m really committed to this surgery, or am just wasting everyone's time and money.  I was committed during my first surgery, but after the stricture and an incredibly disappointing loss of only 14 pounds my first month; I just said screw it.

But this is why God invented Mothers.  Mother reminded me that during my previous weight loss, I exercised all the time – at least three hours a day!  I would run up and down the stairs, we had a weight set and not to mention a 4000 sq ft house at the time that I always kept immaculate.  I was like a football player or Olympic athlete and still only ate 1200 calories a day.

I believe my blood tests more than prove that I’m absorbing much more than your normal bypass patient.  Vitamin b12 can only be absorbed in either the duodenum or the jejunum (I can’t remember) and of course under the tongue.  If I’ve taken this supplement a dozen times since surgery I’d be surprised, and yet all my blood tests show my B12 is in perfect range.  If that’s not evidence, then I dunno what is

I get to see both surgeons on Tuesday to talk about the revision.  My only problem is Dr. Felix will be present and I must keep myself from saying every five minutes, “I’m gonna kick you in the nuts!”  

It’s hard for yours truly to be on her best behavior.  I’ll try, but I’m hoping Dr. Swartz has already intervened and said, “If you treat her like every other moo cow patient that lumbers through this slaughter house.  She’s liable to kick you in the nuts.”

Dr. Felix is a spectacular surgeon, it’s just that he’s uppity and lumps all patients together; never bothering with individuality.  Isn’t that what we call Communism?  The truth is Dr. Felix, although highly skilled at his job and doesn’t enjoy killing folks, is just a bully.  And baby if you wanna go that route I can bring ya to your knees.  I ain’t skeert of bullies cuz I am.  Master of Bullidom!

I kinda drug my feet over getting this appointment set up.  Mind you surgeons aren’t in this business to kill folks, but even though my initial surgery (ignoring the later complications) went off without a hitch; I swore I’d never have surgery again.  I was honestly amazed at my stamina after a major operation.  But it’s the whole concept of someone fiddling around with your innards, and you have absolutely no control over the situation.  

Control is such a major issue in anxiety, panic attacks and eating disorders such as bulimia; you feel you’ve lost complete control over your life or a strong presence seems to be dictating your life for you.  This leads to panic attacks, irrational fears and sometimes agoraphobia.  In a bulimic’s case they vomit up their food because this is the one thing they have complete control over in their life.

Anyway I got sidetracked, where was I?  So yeah, I’m off to Fresno on Tuesday.

But just like an alcoholic charged with vehicular manslaughter whose plea is, “But it’s a disease!”  My surgeon told me to take it easy over the holidays.  So I surrounded myself with vodka, wine, and champagne, Ritz Cracker Cookies, Russian Tea Cakes, truffles, a bed pan, the remote control, warmie blankie, cats and a well formed butt groove on the couch.  Consequently it shouldn’t come as much of a shock that I gained 15 pounds.  Still it was rather distressing when I saw a reflection inna glass door of Jabba the Hut covered with lil fluffy blue clouds (presumably a night shirt).  Mother claimed the reflection from that particular glass door is very distorted, but when you have a person who can once again wear high heels for the first time in ten years and just purchased a push-up bra; then there’s an excellent possibility they’re just trying to make you feel better.

So today was supposed to be the start of, “I’m gonna stop eating crap and get back to eating healthier.”  But then my period started, and all women should be allowed to drink alcohol on the first day of their period – keeps the cramps and massacres to a minimum.