Pre-Op Ramblings – Part Twelve

Adjustable_Gastric_Band

Since I’m not currently working and have pretty much put my life on hold until I’ve had surgery, I decided to take part in a study to help find out more about the differences between Gastric Bypass and Gastric Band. A few weeks ago I went back to Musgrove Park for the first appointment. After a lot of questions and a huge amount of blood tests (on the Hancock scale it was well on its way to an armful), my details were entered into an online form and my fate was decided by a virtual coin toss.

And I’m now on the waiting list for…. Gastric Band. Of the two operations this one involves less time on the operating table and less time in hospital. It’s adjustable and if things go dreadfully wrong, it can be removed.

Hah. After months of being told that Bypass was my only option because I was at too high a risk of regain, the lovely folks at Taunton thought otherwise and since they’re experts in their field I’m happy to accept their opinion. So, what happens now? I wait for my letter. That could be a couple of months yet. But all the preliminary stuff is over. The decision has been made, everyone’s happy, I just need to wait for my date.

Pre-Op Ramblings – Part Eleven

Live from a moment of downtime, it’s Pre-Op Ramblings…

I’m not too chipper at the moment. The (mostly self-inflicted) pressure to get fit has been getting to me. I’m tired, grumpy, and lacking motivation for even the most basic things. I’m fine messing around at home, but pull me away from my haven and it’s a different story.

I did, for a while, really enjoy the gym and exercise classes. But once I’d signed up for a membership paid by monthly direct debit it became worse than a commitment, it became an obligation. I had to go at least twice a week or else I was wasting money. But to be honest, the novelty had worn. I was tired of trying to keep up with everyone else and failing. I was tired of being the one who had to do most of the Boxfit session sitting down. I was tired of being “the brave one”.

Meanwhile, the Race For Life looms over me like a grinning pink lycra-clad loon with too much make-up. The idea of battling through crowds and having waves of whooping pink girlies pile past me as I struggle to get to the first kilometre mark fills me with dread. I suspect that, as was once the case with food, I have bitten off far more than I can chew.

I realised where I’ve been going wrong with exercise. I’ve been doing what I thought would impress other people, not what’s right for me. I’ve been trying hard to impress the decision makers, the funders, the surgeons and the other professionals. But only I know how I feel, and I’ve got a good handle now on knowing when I’m full and when I’m working hard. I don’t need validation anymore, which is good because that’s getting bloody tiring. So, over the past few days I have re-evaluating everything to try and find a more suitable playground between the outer edges of my comfort zone and the inner edge of insanity. I want to be aware that I’m doing something positive, but not to the point where I’m putting myself at any risk of injury or committing to things I stand no chance of sticking to.

I don’t think this will ever be set in stone. It’s going to change by the day. My willpower is malleable. It’s not definite and absolute and just because I don’t feel up for doing something one day doesn’t mean I won’t be another. I don’t know whether I’ll make it to the finish (or even the start) line for the Race For Life. I don’t know when I’ll set foot in the leisure centre again, but what I do know is every day I will consider how I feel physically and mentally and push myself accordingly. One day at a time.