Walking on Two Legs Again

It's hard to believe I haven't written in my blog for over a year, but such is the case. SO much has happened this past year, but I won't bore you with all the details. What I'd like to write about is what stands out in my mind the most - that I can remember, anyway.

It's been a year and a half since my bariatric surgery and I've lost 132 pounds so far. I'd like to lose more but it's slowed way down so I'll lose more, but at a much slower rate, which is ok too. I'm just glad I feel better and can do things I haven't done in a long time. That isn't to say I'm not in any pain - I am. And just as much as before I lost the weight. I have arthritis throughout my body that is degenerative, which means, it gets worse, not better. There are some things I can do that help with it, which I'm already starting to do. I started with my knees because I want so very much to walk again. You really can't appreciate that until you're unable to do something like you once did. It's very discouraging and frustrating, but I'm coming up slowly on the backside of that so the goal is in sight.

I had complete knee replacement on my left knee in April of this year. Both of my knees are bad but the surgeon said my left one was worse than the right, so we started with that one first. It was more painful than I imagined. It took awhile for the doctors to get the right amount of pain meds working, as I already take pain meds for all the other things wrong in my body and so I have a higher threshold level in the first place, but they finally did. The doctor did warn me that because of my diagnosis of chronic pain, and the meds I already take, that it may be more difficult for them to control this new pain with my knee. He was right. But eventually they did find the right ones at the right doses. Physical therapy, which starts almost immediately after surgery, brought on the pain even more. Most days, that brought on the worst pain I experienced, but it was needful because I had to bend and straighten my knee as far as I could, so it didn't freeze up on me and I wasn't able to correct that later. It's been 6 months since that surgery, and I can honestly say, I can walk on that leg without the pain in my knee any longer, except for some twitches if I move a certain way, or stand up and sit down. The surgeon assured me that that would correct itself in time too. He said that most patients take about a year to heal to the point where you not only don't feel the pain, you forget it was ever there. That'll be awesome!

On the other hand, my right knee, which WAS my good knee, is very painful now, because of putting all my weight on that one while I was recuperating. So now I have to do surgery on that knee, which to be honest, I'm dragging my feet on (literally, too). I'm a baby when it comes to pain. I prefer a painless life, but of course, that isn't reality, so another knee surgery I must have. Maybe in a few months. In the meantime, I am actually able to walk around more now than I have in several years. It's easier when I'm pushing something, like a grocery cart - but still, it's a most liberating feeling after all this time. When I walk into a store and I see a mobile cart sitting in the corner, I flip my nose up at it and proclaim, "I don't need you any longer, you wretched thing!" I hated backing up in it because it beeped really loud like a garbage truck, so everyone within a mile knew you were riding it. Sometimes, I drove all the way around the aisle, just to avoid backing up. That, and passing little 90-year-old ladies pushing a cart, made me feel very embarrassed using the mobile one. And then there were the "soccer moms" with the spandex, displaying a perfect physique, carrying a tribe of children in her arms, looking like she never had one of those in her belly, and who seemed to scowl at me from on high. Yes, I guess my pride gets the best of me at times, but it also spurred me on to getting the help I needed and finally joining the rest of the mostly "normal" world.

Ah yes, and then there was my birthday, on which I turned 60. Talk about surrealistic. That's a weird feeling that now I'm as old as I remember my mom to be when I thought SHE was old. Of course, now I realize she wasn't old at all - just a little past her prime - whatever prime means in that context. Leah threw a great birthday/going away party for me a week before my birthday, which was really cool, but a bit awkward, as I'm always uncomfortable being the center of attention. It was fun though and I appreciated Leah doing this for me.

So today, as I sit here writing, I'm sitting in the living room of my new apartment in Stockton, California. On September 21st, Micah flew to Chicago to meet me and help me drive back to Stockton where I'm living now. It was a long, but nice road trip, being able to talk, laugh and sometimes yell at my youngest son. He has lived across the country from me for over 10 years, and I decided that it was time for me to move to where he is now, although that was a difficult decision because I have 2 other children and 6 1/2 grandchildren back in Madison. The perfect scenario would be to spend the summers in Madison and the winters in Stockton, but alas, that costs more than I could ever afford, so for now, this is the best solution. Micah and Jasmine have my 7th grandchild, Kennidee Rose, who I call Kenni, and she is a beautiful, spunky 1 year old, who I just adore. You tell her, "No, Kenni, don't touch the tv," and she turns around, looks at you and smiles and touches it anyway, and I have to cover my face while I laugh. Or she throws herself backwards when she wants to do something that she isn't able to do, and that also makes me laugh. Poor Micah. If there is a thing called "payback" for what you put your mother through, it could be with this child. She's a strong-willed and focused little girl, much like her daddy was. But then, look at how her daddy turned out - he's an Associate Pastor at a large church, with much respect from students at the college to older adults and his peers, and I am so proud of him. So you never know - Kenni may be a doctor, a scientist or a missionary - please, anything other than someone in politics.

Kenni hides nuts in her cheeks... ;)

I've attached a few pictures to this rather long blog today, and I apologize for that. I guess I'm just so happy to be writing again, that I got carried away.

When we arrived - first things first!!

She'd be a great captain if she could see over the wheel.

This was taken on a trip they recently went on.

Playing with her toys at her house.

Loves Mickey Mouse...

...but then a little scared when a certain character appears.

My apartment looking out into the courtyard which is lined with beautiful birch trees.

One half of my kitchen before my stuff was moved in.

The other half.

Looking out at my porch and courtyard from the living room.

A little too small yet to push the pedals, but she enjoys riding in it anyway.

Florida, Again

It's like walking into a furnace in the afternoons here. 98 degrees with high humidity.  My glasses fog up and I'm blind trying to see where I'm going, with them on or off. My trip down here was to spend time with my mom who turned 87 last Thursday. The time we've spent hasn't been what I expected, but then life rarely happens the way you expect it to.

She's fallen 4 times in 5 days and my brothers and I have decided that she needs assisted care and not independent living now. She is very depressed, confused and scared. I took her to the doctor yesterday and they are adjusting her medication and ordered a cat scan of her brain, as she hit her head a couple of times when she fell. This is a picture of her in her chair, not a seemingly happy, carefree person any longer. I asked her why she didn't smile and she said she didn't know I was taking her picture, although I told her twice what I was doing:

After the doctor, we went to Panera Bread to eat - I thought a change of scenery would be nice - but it was exhausting getting her in and out of the car. I have to push her in her walker because she can barely walk. She goes so slow that she almost looks like she's going backward. I'm not exaggerating. Walkers aren't meant for you to sit on while someone pushes you - it was very awkward to push and steer a thing like that and it's been this way all week. 

The other day, we went to my father's grave at the Sarasota National Cemetery, and finding his tombstone was a fiasco. We finally did - in the rain - with some help from one of the workers. Here are a couple photos from that:

After the cemetery, we went to the medical supply store and bought a scooter for her so she doesn't have to try and walk. After all week of showing her how to use it, she still doesn't fully understand. I'm hoping an assistant can load her off and on it and all she has to do is pull the lever. She drove it into the Chinese restaurant next to the store, ramming into a table and chairs, while I'm shouting, "Let go of the handle!" A little man came running around the counter and helped me put the furniture back in place. When we finally got back to her room that day, I was exhausted. I took a picture of her on her new scooter - this time she smiled:

Yesterday, we both sat on her small little (hard as a rock) couch, as I showed her pictures and videos on my phone. She fell asleep on my shoulder, talking to herself about what she was seeing in the room that wasn't there. She asked me what I was doing in the basement (the house I was raised in had a basement). I said, "I'm not in the basement, mom," and she quickly gathered her thoughts together and realized where she was. She was hallucinating and falling asleep at the same time. It breaks my heart to see her like this. It was all I could do to keep from crying.

Before I left, I took a picture of us together. When she looked at the photo, she didn't realize the person in it was her. Here it is:

My trip ends today, and I fly out of Tampa in a few hours. I hate leaving her like this, but I really have no choice. At least for now, she's not in a nursing home. 

Watching your loved ones get old, feeble and closer to death, is so incredibly difficult. All you can think of is the past when we were all so young and healthy and strong and of course, we're no longer like that. Now it slams us right in the face how life and age has changed us.

My mom was always quite independent when she was raising us. And because of that, she's having a lot of difficulty accepting the inevitable. I'm having difficulty accepting it as well. I don't want the woman who raised me to leave, just as I didn't want my father to leave. But that's what this circle of life is all about, I guess. It's something I'll never get used to, but seeing I have no choice, I have to deal with it.

And so with a heavy heart, (but anxious to see my kids, grandkids and Bobby), I'm gone as quickly as I arrived. Life goes on and things will keep changing as we age. It's just the way it is. 

If you still have one or both of your parents, hug them and tell them you love them as often as you can. I only wish I had this concept down when I was younger. I was too busy concerned about myself and my children and I've lost many years where things could have been different...

Grade School, Revisited

Last Thursday, I had the opportunity to go to school and spend the day with Ashanti.  Her school is very big, so I took my scooter, knowing I wouldn't be able to walk as far as I needed to.  She attends (and Leah works at) Leopold School in Madison.

The first thing I noticed was the smell.  It brought me back to my grade school, Thomas A. Edison in either Morton Grove or Skokie - I can't remember.  I guess all grade schools have that familiar smell, although what it is, I couldn't say.  Rolling down the hall to Shanti's class was very exciting, as all their artwork was posted on the walls and I loved it.  If I had gone to college, I would have liked to have been an art teacher - my favorite subject and past time.  However, as it was, I hated school and barely graduated high school, so my work life was boring and mediocre and not at all fulfilling.  I was a really foolish young person.  My dad would have put me through the Art Institute of Chicago, one of the most prestigious schools in the country -- but I could't envision my life down the road, much less one day to the next.

We started in Shanti's main class - or homeroom, I would call it.  It was very cute with signs, instructions and lessons pasted all over the walls.  The kids sat two to four at miniature tables on miniature chairs - as well as I - and my behind was pretty sore by the end of the day.  Shanti was so excited I was there, which made me feel very special.  I loved being a small part of her day and was very proud as she introduced me to all her teachers and friends as her Grandma.  Many of her friends in other classrooms kept asking her, "Is that your Grandma?" and she would cheerfully answer, "Yes!"  I imagine they were a bit confused as to why she would have a "white" Grandma and she was "brown."  You gotta love 'em.

Leah warned me in the car that the kids swear, kick, run and act crazy and that I shouldn't lose my temper or try to correct any of them while I was there.  She knows me too well.  I have a short fuse with naughty behavior.  I was actually waiting for one of the kids in Shanti's class to explode, but it never happened.  I think they were trying to figure out who I was and it diverted their behavior for the day.  One little guy had to be escorted out of the room at one point, but came back a short time later.  I was totally amazed how different the classes were than when I was in school.  Most of the time, it seemed like kids were all over the place, walking, talking and doing what they wanted to do, regardless of what their teachers were instructing them to do.  All we had to do was talk or laugh out loud and I had one teacher that would tape our mouths shut or slap our hand with a ruler.  Of course that was a different era, but very few of the kids, if any, ever acted out like kids do today.  We were immediately sent to the principal's office and suspended or expelled, depending on the "violation."  I remember one teacher in junior high, that was particularly volatile.  Somehow we found out that if you throw a coin up to the ceiling that it would stick, so when he was at the blackboard teaching with his back turned, we would throw our coins up to the ceiling, which of course, was hilarious to us.  When he finally realized what we were doing, he threw a couple boys with their desks against the wall, in a rage.  The teachers today seem to have a whole lot less control than when I was in school. I really give them a lot of credit - I would never be able to do what they do.

One thing I thought was so sweet is that the teacher in homeroom had the kids sit in a circle as she explained things and asked questions.  At one point, each child shook the child's hand next to them, and said "Good morning, so and so," and the other child would answer back with the same, as they went all around the circle.  I thought that was very cool.  They're learning manners and politeness in this class and that really impressed me.

I had lunch in the lunchroom with Shanti and her friends and that was interesting.  The lunchroom monitors were like little Nazis, screaming in the microphone to "Stop talking! Zero for noise!" etc., etc., and no one was really paying attention to them, including me. We were eating, for pete's sake.  How do they expect little people to be quiet at their lunch tables?  I asked the little girls, "Is she always that mean?"  They all shook their head "yes."  It was probably a good thing we only had 10 minutes to eat.  I scarfed down my soup and it was time to get out of there and go out for recess.  We had recess twice in the day which was fun getting out in the beautiful weather.  They could run, scream, yell, jump and play to their heart's content for a little while, burning off some of the energy they had.  One thing I did notice, which was no doubt the same when I was their age, was their inability to sit still.  Every one of them, squirmed in their seat, got up, got down, got up, got down to do this and that.  It was pretty funny.  All that energy packed in a tiny body.  Boy, I wish I had that energy today....

Although I was looking forward to the bell ringing at the end of the day, so I could go home and sit in a big-person's chair, I had a lot of fun.  It made me feel great to see Shanti so happy that I was there.  I wish I had the chance to do this when my children were small, but of course I always had to work.  The only times I was at their school during the day, was to discipline them - never to enjoy seeing what they were doing, and because of that, they were never glad to see me either.  If you're a parent or grandparent or even an aunt or uncle, you might want to try to do this sometime with your little person.  The impression it makes is a lasting one, for them and for you.

Goodbye, Insulin!

I finally moved into a normal, one-bedroom apartment in the same building, on May 1st.  The rent is much higher, but I was going crazy in that matchbox of a room they call an efficiency.  I'm still unpacking but taking my time as there really is no rush.  I found some of my mother's stuff in one of the boxes - old pictures of her, my dad, my brothers and I.  I also found a couple letters my dad had written to my mom while he was in the Marine Corps, dated in 1946, before they were married.  I read them and saw my dad in a different light than I had known him my whole life.  He was still sarcastic, as he was telling my mom that she was "stupid for quitting college," (which I didn't know about), but also tender in a way I had never known him.  He was describing basic training to her and the fact that he wouldn't send her a picture because they had shaved his head.  Reading the letters made me cry and I realized how much I miss him.

I also found cards, poems and stories that I had written when I was about 8 or 9 years old, that my mom had saved all these years.  I read them and tried to recollect writing them, but I couldn't.  There were also a few letters/cards from Danny and Richard that were written when they were very young.  I packed all of this in a good box and will be storing it for my kids to find one day.  History fascinates me, especially personal history, and maybe my kids will feel the same when they find this long after I'm gone.

It's been approximately 8 weeks since my surgery and I am feeling much better.  I am eating regular food now except for raw vegetables, which I'll be able to eat in June.  It is odd that I can only eat a very small portion of food, and if I eat too fast or too much, I will throw it up.  It's taking me a bit to figure this all out.  When I get hungry, I think I can eat more than I can, and I pay for it afterward.  To avoid that unpleasantness, I am learning how to eat slowly and in very small portions.  From the time I started cutting out sweets, coffee and pop, sometime in early February, I think, I've lost 65 pounds.  I think it's going rather slow, but I'm not exercising like I should.  My lower back and knees are still very painful and I can only stand or walk just so far, then I have to sit down.  The doctor told me that "the damage has already been done," and will always be there, but it should get better with more weight loss.  As for the diabetes, that is completely gone!  I am no longer taking insulin or Metformin.  My blood sugar has been normal since the surgery, which is a miracle.  My doctor also decreased my blood pressure medicine and removed a few others altogether.  I've already given away half of my clothes and fitting into ones I haven't worn in years.  I've got a long way to go, but I'm on the right track and it is a great feeling.

So if you wonder whether I think the surgery was worth it, my answer is, absolutely yes.  The 2-week liquid diet, the nasty drink before surgery, the pain of the sutures, having to eat baby food, the feelings of nausea and even vomiting is all worth it, if it means gaining my health back.  I know I won't feel or look like I was when I was young, but just to feel better is worth it all.  We really don't appreciate how important our health is until something happens or we just grow old and body parts stop working or not working as well as they once did.  My only regret is not recognizing this so many years ago.

Honor

Today I joined hundreds of others at church for the 100th birthday celebration of Irv Mandley.  The fellowship hall was packed with family and friends from around the country.  It was really incredible to see so many who love and honor this true man of God.  My personal history with Bro. and Sis. Mandley goes back 33 years ago, when I first came into the church.

Sis. Mandley was the first person to come and visit me in the hospital after giving birth to Leah.  She became my "mother in the Lord," and saw me through some of the most difficult times in my life.   She and Bro. Mandley would come to my apartment on Simpson Street and help clean or do whatever was needed to be done before Leah was born.  She even got down on her hands and knees one day to wash the kitchen floor - I never will forget that.  They drove me to appointments or wherever I needed to go and would regularly invite my children and I over for meals.  When I had to travel to Minnesota to get married, she was one of just a few who never gave up on me.  She gave me Sis. Luke's corsage to wear and baked a cake for the wedding.  They have stood by, defended and scolded me when I needed it.  They really have been my "parents" in Madison all these years.

Bro. Mandley was always right beside her, saying very little, but supporting her and all of her endeavors.  He was always a quiet, gentle man and I wasn't used to that, as my dad was the opposite.  I eventually understood that he was simply shy.  I kissed the top of his fuzzy head today and felt a surge of love for him.  I had never done that before, and today it just felt right.

The two of them together taught me more about what it is to be a Christian than anyone else. They helped, fed, clothed, counseled, taught and ministered to so many people that it would be impossible to number.  And yet very rarely did they ever receive public recognition for how they lived - but I'm sure they would insist that it should be that way anyhow.  In my eyes, these people are the unsung heroes to my family and so many countless others.

So today, I want to "give honor to whom honor is due," in my very small way through this blog.  I am eternally grateful for the life lessons of love they have imparted to my children and I.  I am so thankful that God saw fit to pair us up as a "family" so many years ago.

Surgery

It's hard to believe that tomorrow I will be having gastric bypass surgery.  A lot of things have been running through my mind during this two week liquid diet.  Will it be really painful afterward?  Will I actually wake up from the anesthesia?  How will I cope from that moment on?  And I'm sure everyone who goes through this has the same questions, excitement and fears.  I am so looking forward to better health and doing all the things I'm unable to do now with my children and grandchildren.  That, in itself, is all the motivation I need.

I was watching a show on TV last night about a 600 pound woman who couldn't do anything for herself - she was bedridden.  She had a husband and a young son, and was traveling to a different state to have bariatric surgery, as that was the only doctor she could find who would operate on a person her size.  It was really interesting but sad as I watched her not follow the program the doctor ordered and she only lost about 30 pounds.  A woman her size should have lost over 300 pounds in the year they followed her, but she continually had her husband bringing her junk food to the hospital.  She whined and cried that it was too hard for her and that their scales must have been wrong.  She acted like a "victim" and it honestly was annoying.  What was really disturbing was the fact that she had a little boy, and that alone should have given her the incentive to do it for him.  I thought, "How selfish she is that all she could think about was herself and not her family."  Overeating is an addiction - I know that better than anyone - but it's also one that can be overcome with the right tools and desire.  She will most probably not live to see her son grow up.  I've watched many of these shows and it occurred to me none of these people were around my age - they die young, sadly leaving children, family and friends behind.

I mean, we all eventually die of something, but why not live life to the fullest while we can?  Time has gotten a lot shorter, the older I get.  It seems like I was just a young mom yesterday.  And if something is holding me back from living a full life, such as an addiction or something harmful to myself or others, it doesn't make sense to hold onto it.  I'm really only hurting myself.  But we do - we hold onto things that are not good for us all the time.  It's really uncanny.  I hope I'm not coming across as judgmental here at all - I've been overweight all my life, and I know just how difficult it is to stop an addiction.  It's taken this long for me to finally try to get back on track.  I think we actually appreciate life much more as we age, because we realize that we're closer to the end than the beginning.  That's true for me, anyway.

So onward and upward, as they say.  This liquid diet hasn't been as difficult as I imagined, but I am looking forward to some baby food soon.  Or maybe not - the thought of it is kind of disgusting.  It will be several weeks before I can graduate to soft food.  In the meantime, everything will have to be pureed.  Yuck.  But this too shall pass.  We shall see.  I hope and pray I can be successful through it all.  And if I don't make it through surgery, hey!  I'll have a perfect body where I'm going so it will be all good!

Finally!

I've waited more than 10 years for what is finally coming to reality now.  In early December, I began the long process of preparing for bariatric surgery, namely Gastric Bypass, at the University of Wisconsin Hospital.  I've dieted what seems like my whole life and I've had many successes, but definitely more failures.  My personal feeling is that obesity is an addiction, just as drugs and alcohol are for many.  That may not be a popular opinion, but after all these years, it certainly defines my life of a yoyo'ing weight and the inability to lose the weight and keep it off.  This surgery will give me the tool with which I can do both.  The surgeon creates a stomach that is about the size of an egg, bypassing the "real" stomach.  This allows the new stomach to hold very little food which in turn helps you lose weight.

I began this process by meeting with the surgeon, nutritionist, psychologist and taking mandatory classes that explain everything from before the surgery, until months following.  I've had to have an endoscopy, blood tests, stress tests and an ultrasound of my heart.  I've had to meet with a cardiologist to determine that my heart looks good.  Then I had to meet with the psychologist and nutritionist again to verify that I was doing what I was supposed to do.  I quit drinking pop (diet), coffee (the hardest), drinking from a straw, eating sweets and spreading my toast with margarine or butter.  As a result of just doing those things and without really trying, I lost 13 pounds.  Amazing.

So I finally spoke with the lady who schedules the surgeries and she scheduled mine for March 21.  I would have liked it sooner, but this was the soonest I could get in, and I still have several appointments that I need to go to.  I have to see the surgeon again, see the physician's assistant to talk about my medications and supplements (which I have to take for the rest of my life), see the nutritionist to talk about the fast, get more blood tests, take another class and meet with the anesthesiologist.

I begin the two week (yes, 14 days) fast on March 7, and this should be interesting.  I will only be able to drink protein shakes (that do NOT taste like a "shake"), water, sugar-free drinks, sugar-free jello and broth.  Well, broth is gross so I won't be drinking/eating that, so I will have to stock up on the jello.  I already bought the protein shakes that should last me 2 weeks.  The purpose of the fast is to shrink my liver, which is what everyone has to do that has this surgery - at least at the UW.

I'm ready - more than ready - to start all of this.  Even the fast, though I know that will be really difficult.  I've waited so long for this and it's finally going to happen.  I'm so excited and a little bit nervous - not about the surgery, but how I will manage after the surgery.  It's actually a life-changing process and even though I'm thoroughly ready for the change, it still holds some unknowns.  But the unknown isn't necessarily negative.  It's all in how one perceives it.

And I choose to look forward to the day I can walk a dog and play with my grandchildren without the aid of a cane, walking through a store without using a scooter and physically feeling much, much better.  Life is too short, and at 58, it's getting a lot shorter.  I'd say it's about time I get myself on a healthy track and I thank God that I have the opportunity to do this now.