First Visit to Surgeon's Office

This was probably the hardest doctor's visit I have had since beginning the program.  Not sure what I was expecting but the deluge of emotions was not high on my lift of feelings when I headed out that morning to my appointment.

OCTOBER 2008 - My First Surgical Visit

Paperwork in hand, I drove to San Diego to see the surgeon.  I spent the majority of the visit wth the bariatric nurse...she had me filling out paperwork, asking questions, taking measurements, weight, all the lovely stuff one needs. My stress level was off the charts.

I realize it's a liability thing but she kept saying "if you qualify", "if we perform the surgery", if, if, if....everytime she said it I wanted to cry.  I couldn't understand why it was still an "if". Over 300 lbs and I may not qualify?  that just didn't sound right and that was all I could think about...."IF".

We went over the list of appointments I had to make. She explained the testing and why I had to see so many doctors before surgery would be scheduled. And the kicker, I had to lose 10% - 15% of my body weight!  When she told me that, I all but shut down my mind to her. She was talking and I wanted to just break down and cry. How could I possibly lose 30 lbs?  If I could lose 30 lbs, I could lose 50 lbs or 100 lbs and I wouldn't need surgery. I felt lost, alone, and knew I was going to fail.

The surgeon came into the room and the 3 of us chatted for a few minutes. He explained something about a study he was doing and would I mind being a part of it. I had no problems with that...be happy to.  What would it matter if he took an extra sample from me? So the appointment was going to take a few more minutes while I was "prepped" for the study.

I was a bit more calm after seeing him. He wanted me in his study, so that had to mean I was to have the surgery...right?  I thought it logical.  I was able to ask questions. He explained in detail the process and gave me 3 options. Without hesitation, I knew I wanted the Roux-en-Y. He wrote it down, smiled, looked me square in the eyes and said something like, "It's great to meet you. You'll do just fine". I needed that.

After he left the room another doctor came and got me, took me to another room to prep me. Blood pressure, a quick check up, and then....good grief...did she really tell me to stick my hand in a bucket of ice water for 5 minutes? I hate the cold. This was not thrilling me. Had the doc said the study included this, I would have smiled and said..no thanks. I'm not a penguin. I HATE COLD.

I had already agreed so I forced a smile and told her I would try but no guarantees. And I did try. Every 20 seconds or so, my hand would slowwwwwwly find it's way to the top of the bucket for fresh, warm air, then I'd stick it back in again. Over and over for what seemed 30 minutes.  I finally said..I'm sorry, I can't do this. It's just too cold. How long has it been? I was so deflated when she said, "almost 2 minutes". I felt like such a wuss but didn't really care. I wanted the ice gone.  She made a few notes as I slipped my hand under my right armpit and stood up.

Walking out of the office I passed the waiting room, the papers in one hand, my heart in the other. As I walked out the door the flood of emotions came out. Every fear, every bit of tension, every ounce of who I am came out. I cried.