Hypno-Bariatric Surgery

Supposedly there's a new trend going around.

Hypnotic bariatric surgery.

Well, they call it incision-free bariatric surgery. Basically it's hypnosis where they walk you through the surgical room, complete with the wonderful smells and horrible gown, as if you're going to have surgery. Only instead of getting cut open, you get a hypnotic treatment.

The price tag is significantly cheaper than the surgery...by a long shot...somewhere in the neighborhood of a thousand to two thousand dollars.

Me, I'm not a big believer in hypnosis. I think it's a lot of touchy feely theatrics to convince yourself that you have incentive to lose weight this time unlike all the other times you've failed to lose weight and keep it off. Well, the theatrics and the much lighter wallet.

Has it really come to this? Paying thousands of bucks to take a tour of a surgical room and have a nice nap while someone whispers into your ear that you shouldn't eat so much?

Am I missing something here? Has there been any empirical evidence that this (or any hypnosis, really) works? Or is it a matter of self-delusion and placebo effect?

One Year Followup

Today was my day to visit my surgeon/doctor in the bariatric department.

As I had already posted, April 7th was my one-year anniversary for the surgery. Now I periodically go in for followups.

So how I'd do? Well, he didn't give me huge kudos, but he didn't tell me how I screwed up either. He looked at some vitals and change in medications since last time, asked a couple questions (Pains? Digestive issues? Etc.,) and then said that it looked like I had plateaued. He asked about my eating habits, and my wife made sure I mentioned my snack of fruit/vegetables with peanut butter. To paraphrase:

"Okay," he said. "There's no problem with peanut butter. Or vegetables. But if you're going to break the plateau, you need to be careful about how much you eat. Patients sometimes learn to graze, and you can easily take in 3,000 calories a day just eating a little bit the entire day." Which, of course, will stymie the whole losing weight thing.

He suggested that something has to go. The snack, or a meal, but something had to be cut out. If I liked the snack, I could make it a meal.

Okay...

I said it was hard to not know what number I should be aiming for with my weight, since I've been stuck in the 270 to 275 range for the past couple months. He said, "Hang on..." and left the room, coming back a few moments later and saying, "230."

"230?"

"Three months out of surgery you should weigh 230. If you that number in two more years, you hit a home run."

I can do that. I'm sure of it. Two years to lose fifty pounds?

What I think I can do first is tweak my meal preps to trim excess calories there first. tweak here, tweak there. Trim calories. Trim some more. See what gradual changes add up to.

So now I'm super stoked about trying to lose weight until I hit my "target weight", not that I have one. The hard part will be adding in several small changes to tweak my caloric intake, then integrating them into a new habit, since it takes something like 21 days of consistently following a pattern to establish a new habit.

But the big thing to keep my eye on is that I now have a solid number, and a definite deadline by which to hit it!

The rest of the day was celebration. I had taken the day as a sick day, and my wife took the day to accompany me (I was going to the doctor and their lab for blood analysis and I didn't know how long it would take, so I took the day as a sick day. I was at the doctor. It counts.) We hit the Sam's Club, we hit the comic shop, the book store, and a few other errands. My wife even celebrated by giving me a couple of wonderful cards congratulating me on the progress I've made and giving me a $50 gift card to Barnes and Noble! I was really surprised by that. I couldn't even spend it when we stopped there because I really wanted to find something that just screamed, "IF YOU LEAVE WITHOUT BUYING ME YOUR PANTS WILL EXPLODE." Nothing screamed that to me. I'm saving it for a special occasion instead.

So that was my day. The doctor didn't yell at me, the lecture was set to minimum. I have to tune my eating habits a bit more. And I need to lose about fifty pounds. Not too shabby, all things considered!

Happy Anniversary to Me, Revisited

Yesterday was my anniversary of the operation. I was tired and said I'd post more about feelings on the whole operation journey today.

Perhaps weary is a better word instead of tired. I think there's a distinction between the terms.

So how does it feel to go from around 450 pounds to 270?

I don't know if I could ever put it into words that would properly convey what it's like for me. I've had to change so many habits and views in order to adapt to my weight changes and dietary restrictions that it's a very difficult thing to adequately put into terms that normals would understand.

The absolute most interesting thing in the surgery that I experienced only lasted a few weeks. Right after the surgery, as the stomach and intestine were healing, I had no hunger. Not just "not hungry", but my head was totally divorced from the feeling of wanting to eat.

I could look at the most sensational cakes, most mouth watering pizza, the most alluring tray of peanut butter and chocolate eggs and most aromatic array of deli delights, and fully experience all of the senses aside from taste in order to be drawn to these items, but I had absolutely no desire to eat them. Rather, I wanted to smell them. And I could smell them. I could pick out individual ingredients in mixtures of foods from smell, rather than just having the glut of a lump "food" hit my nose. I was surviving on a liquid diet of jello or some rather crappy broth and I didn't mind it one bit.

It was the most unusual sensation I ever had.

Of course as things healed up, my old hunger returned, my habit eating, all of that started to slowly creep back in. But for the first month of that recovery I had truly experienced how driven we are as a sentient being to the desires of chemical reactions in our heads and nerve triggers in the stomach and digestive system. If we could find a way to regain that sensation using just some miracle pill...wow.

I don't know if this is what it's like for normals; to see something that you absolutely love to eat, your favorite food, and have no desire whatsoever to taste it. To see it as an abstract thing that's just there instead of as a thing to be consumed.

I can't get clothes that fit. I guess I can, but they feel alien. I like my baggier clothes. I suppose part of me fears what would happen if I spent money on stuff that's supposed to be "my size." I guess it makes me look a little strange sometimes, with pants that flap in the breeze around my ankles. I sometimes wear socks covered in diabetic socks for additional cushioning in my shoes when the weather allows it. I still prefer going to the Salvation Army to look for pants that may fit me, and when I get shirts or items that my wife says are the "proper" fit, they feel too tight and constrictive, and I frequently worry that the seams are going to rip apart if I move the wrong way.

One change that has persisted involves how I view food and drink. I can't have anything that is primarily sugar or I risk getting very ill...I've pushed that boundary, barely, before, and it's not pleasant. I primarily wanted to see if the bariatric surgery had actually changed the way my stomach worked, and it did. I was told that I absorb sugars faster than before so I have to limit my sugar intake, and consequently most of my meals contain very little sugar and additives. Fortunately my own quirky nature means I don't mind having a repetitive diet while most people would balk at the notion of eating similar foodstuffs every day. Most bariatric patients have to carefully adapt to a "normal" diet, sans sugary stuff or carbonated stuff, in far smaller quantities. I just sort of adopted a few select items that I like and have those on a regular basis.

After the surgery I had to cut out the sweets, the carbonation, and in many cases the pre-packaged. I had to eat what health nuts always said was "healthier" for me, in portions we are supposed to eat but rarely do.

I also read about diets and the food industry. I started reading a lot. And it didn't paint a pretty picture.

The more I found out about what goes into fast food and prepackaged food, the less I really missed it. I didn't stop having the occasional hunger pang for it once in awhile, but I also know that it's not all that great for me if I did have it. You know, the zebra cakes, the cosmic brownies, the chain restaurant pizza, the huge portions of Mexican fare at Chevy's...mmm...fried artery clogging goodness! Unless you read the books that discuss what happens when you eat high fructose corn syrup or the burgers at various fast food joints doused in fats, artificial additives and sodium.

I'm still overweight. Probably still classified as obese. But I'm eating "healthier" than I ever have before.

I still see myself as the fat guy. I still avoid sitting in anything that doesn't look like it could support the weight of an F-150. I'll stand around sooner than sit on furniture risks a sudden snap or crack followed by the fat guy rolling on the ground like an abandoned turtle.

There are a few moments where I think I'm doing something that a year ago I wouldn't be doing. I remember walking the mall and feeling just plain wiped out afterwards; today, not so much. I am actually asking others to do more walking or moving around and they're griping that they don't want to.

I also tend to be a little more judgemental of people who indulge in the laziness that I use to wallow in. People who pull into a Quik-E-Mart and park as close to the door as possible, sometimes in spots that aren't even parking spots, so they don't have to cross any farther than they absolutely must to get to the doors. I wonder how many people are riding in those motorized carts at Wal-Mart because they couldn't be bothered to have listened to their doctor when they were told they needed to cut back on their food and lose weight. I see people eating the entire portion they're handed at restaurants and wonder if there are any ethical restaurant owners willing to feel even the slightest bit of remorse for their contribution to the obesity epidemic in America.

I am curious about people that are nearly too overweight to walk on their own power, or are in scooter carts, or have clear difficulty moving and yet are carrying pre-packaged fried fats or are indulging in a tray of fast food easily hitting a thousand calories in one meal. That was me...I could easily polish half a large pizza, if not the whole pizza, if I wanted to in one sitting. Although now if I ate two slices I'd probably regurgitate it or, not achieving that, lay in a puddle of pain for an hour or two as it slowly slithers through what's left of my stomach. Horrible agonizing pain. I guess I'm curious in that I'm fascinated with those people having been me at one point, so now I'm seeing myself through a slightly different set of eyes.

There's also the skin. I avoid seeing myself in the mirror as much as possible because I look horrible with the free-hanging skin. Large flaps hang under my arms, and my abdomen looks like it's melting in slow motion. If I move too quickly the flesh flops around and risks giving me a concussion. Consequently I keep a shirt on as much as possible, and usually try to wear shirts with sleeves long enough to contain my upper arms under fabric rather than leaving them free to slap around. The skin, along with the long thick scar in my midsection, are macabre reminders of my lifetime transgressions involving food and gluttony.

Bright spot: sometimes I can feel muscle in my legs now.

I've lost some weight. I'm pretty sure I should lose more. I've been fortunate in that side effects have been minimal; sometimes, yeah, I have discomfort after meals. It's a new signal to say, "Hey, Jackass, stop eating!" It doesn't happen often and it's minimal, lasting all of five to ten minutes. And it is less pain and more discomfort, and as long as it's just discomfort I guess I'm doing okay.

I'm still unsure of myself at times. I'm still having issues with my own image, and I am deathly afraid of regaining the weight. I've failed to lose weight too many times to think that this is a permanent fix.

I'll know more after my one-year followup next week...

Happy Anniversary to Me!

One year ago I was waking up in my hospital bed with a giant incision held together with giant staples.

I woke up in the morning one year ago in a hotel room, suffering from the after affects of a laxative meant to clear out my digestive system after a wonderful liquid diet regimen. Then I rolled into the hospital around five, was pushed into the operating room around eight. Many hours later I was waking up in recovery and forgetting how to breath.

I stayed up most of the night just bleeding. Bleeding and bleeding. Not much fun. But I did learn that the food network kept replaying the same few cake-backing episodes, which was good because I'd watch five minutes, doze off, and wake up an hour later right around the time the episode was repeated right near the point where I dozed off. That was pretty surreal after it happens four or five times.

When I finally decided to get serious about pre-op dieting, I weighed 458 pounds, and that was taken in January. The day I went in for surgery I weighed 376 pounds.

This morning after a lazy long vacation for the "Easter break" at my in-laws, I weighed 276.5 pounds.

If I am doing my math correctly, that means that I've lost nearly 100 pounds since my surgery and nearly 180 pounds overall.

Further estimates would say that I've lost 40% of my weight overall and about 26% since my surgery.

Depending on the weight charts you use I think I've lost somewhere in the neighborhood of 66% of my excess weight. I haven't talked to my doctor about it yet because my one-year followup is scheduled for next week (yipes!) and supposedly you're aiming to lose 75% of your excess bodyweight post-bariatric surgery. If I'm right and I've only lost about 60-some percent, then I'm either still off or there's more weight to lose down the road.

I don't know if I should expect to be chastised next week or congratulated. To be honest I'm nervous about hearing the doctor's assessment. I can picture him telling me that he's disappointed in my lack of progress or that I'm not doing something right.

It has certainly been quite the interesting trip. It's getting rather late here because to celebrate my anniversary my wife took me to my favorite restaurant since my surgery: Panera Bread. My wife, son and I had a lovely evening out shopping at Barnes and Noble, Target, Walmart, and Panera; my daughter decided she'd rather spend her time doing something else, but my four year old son told me to have a happy anniversary, so it wasn't so bad. Right now he's in love with a new Bakugan that Daddy helped pay for him as a treat.

Maybe tomorrow or in the near future I'll sit down and go over some thoughts about how things have changed and what has happened since and because of the surgery. So many things have changed, many other things have stayed the same. It's weird to look back on the journal and the blog to see how things have altered through the months following the surgery.

I was determined to put something up on the anniversary of my alterations. I got up the numbers. And later on I'll try posting something about the feelings from the surgery and further thoughts on the enormity of the changes that have occurred. No pun intended.

One year ago I was waking up soaking in my own blood. Today I'm reminded of that every time my skin wobbles and flaps, or I look down at the horrible rigid scar tissue. My branding for life to act as a reminder why I cannot and should not ever eat cake again, or what too much McDonald's can do to you, or what our fast food nation and culture of pre-packaged convenience foods have encouraged the population to indulge in.

Today I'm waking up in an alien body that doesn't quite fit anymore, and feeling more than a little weird when I can walk more than three hundred paces and not feel like I can't get enough air into my lungs. Our "local" Panera Bread is at one end of a strip mall anchored on the other side by a Target. My wife drove the car from Panera to Target while my son and I walked; we were about halfway there when my son spotted Mommy driving by in the car.

"Oh no!" he shouted. "Mommy is going to beat us!"

He took off in a fast trot down the sidewalk. I started jogging alongside him. Soon we were running, a still overweight thirty-something and his four year old son running down the sidewalk to get to the store entrance before Mommy did. We got there with time to spare; Mommy had just parked the car and was opening the door when we stopped at the front entrance. My son was beaming a huge smile, declaring to Mommy as she walked up that we had beaten her to the door. I was silently smiling because I could still breathe without gasping like a fish.

That was my night, one year after my surgery.