Apparently, I married Superman.
On Friday, Eric went in for a gallbladder-ectomy. We went into the surgery not knowing if it would be a long-term success or not (meaning, we didn't know if the nagging symptoms Eric was experiencing really related to the gallbladder), but all evidence was leading us to believe it certainly couldn't hurt. Surgery went great, and in fact, they found that the gallbladder was riddled with gall stones, so we are even more optimistic that this surgery will provide long-term relief to some of Eric's nagging symptoms since his initial gastric-sleeve surgery.
So anyway, surgery was on Friday. He came through it great - so much so that he got to enjoy a hospital meal of chicken tenders prior to check-out. Yesterday, while Eric was suppossed to be "taking it easy," he did four loads of laundry. Today, barely 48-hours post-op, Eric led worship and preached a full sermon. Apparenlty, gallbladder surgery is a lot easier than bariatric surgery!
Through all the ups and downs of the initial surgery and now this surgery, Eric continues to amaze me. He is determined. He is optimistic. He is grace-filled and humor-filled. When things haven't been easy, he has taken them in stride as a part of this life experience.
In so many ways, Eric is my hero. And while his name isn't Clark Kent and he doesn't sport a cape and tights, he is most certainly my Superman.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The Freebie Surgery
If I had ever heard the link between weight loss and gallbladder malfunction before, I forgot. Well, today I got official word that while I have a gallbladder, mine really isn't doing much and thus needs to come out. In one of those life-is-stranger-than-fiction moments, I'm consulting with the surgeon (my bariatric surgeon fortunately moonlights in gallbladder removal) in the exam room about my recent test results, when an office worker barges in and says, "we have an opening at 10:30 tomorrow". Since the scheduling department apparently knew before I did, I officially felt like I was the very last to know I needed surgery!
I'm not in an emergency situation, at least not yet. But I see no reason to wait for it to become one. I've had a couple of tests -- an ultrasound and a HIDA scan -- and we've determined that while I don't have gallstones, I do have a sludgy (I never knew that was a medical term) gallbladder that isn't functioning properly. My faulty gallbladder is likely responsible for at least some of the nausea while eating, struggle to keep food down afterward, and extremely varying pain under my right shoulder blade. Since a person can live just fine without a gallbladder, I think taking it out is the way to go. And given that this surgery is effectively paid for due to the cost of the last surgery, somehow this is a tad more palatable.
And so, I report at 8:30 tomorrow morning and hope to be in the OR by 10:30 for an hour-long surgery. I should go home in the afternoon and will have my fingers crossed that I'll feel able to cover at least most of my regular worship responsibilities this Sunday morning -- finding a fill-in preacher last minute on a holiday weekend isn't an easy task to pull off, although I shouldn't expect to be at usual speed for a week or so.
If you're keeping score, I'm in Molly's debt yet again. My high-maintenance quotient is off the charts. I can't wait to finally turn the corner into healthier days, and am praying tomorrow is the next important step. At least there are no blizzards in the forecast for this surgery!
I'm not in an emergency situation, at least not yet. But I see no reason to wait for it to become one. I've had a couple of tests -- an ultrasound and a HIDA scan -- and we've determined that while I don't have gallstones, I do have a sludgy (I never knew that was a medical term) gallbladder that isn't functioning properly. My faulty gallbladder is likely responsible for at least some of the nausea while eating, struggle to keep food down afterward, and extremely varying pain under my right shoulder blade. Since a person can live just fine without a gallbladder, I think taking it out is the way to go. And given that this surgery is effectively paid for due to the cost of the last surgery, somehow this is a tad more palatable.
And so, I report at 8:30 tomorrow morning and hope to be in the OR by 10:30 for an hour-long surgery. I should go home in the afternoon and will have my fingers crossed that I'll feel able to cover at least most of my regular worship responsibilities this Sunday morning -- finding a fill-in preacher last minute on a holiday weekend isn't an easy task to pull off, although I shouldn't expect to be at usual speed for a week or so.
If you're keeping score, I'm in Molly's debt yet again. My high-maintenance quotient is off the charts. I can't wait to finally turn the corner into healthier days, and am praying tomorrow is the next important step. At least there are no blizzards in the forecast for this surgery!
Friday, May 20, 2011
93,280
I never knew there was no such thing as an overweight New Yorker. A couple weeks ago I was in New York City for a few days as a chaperon of sorts for a Central Methodist University mission trip experience designed as a discernment opportunity for college-age participants to ponder what might be the Christian community's response to immigration. Each day brought a new venue, a new opportunity, a new sight to visit, a new day trip to take, a new conversation to participate within. It was a fabulous experience, envisioned and flawlessly executed by my friend Lucas, the CMU chaplain. And the experience involved lots and lots of walking -- to and from our home base in Greenwich Village, to any number of the church-related institutions we visited each day, through Central Park, to Times Square and a Broadway Show (The Lion King -- awesome!), to Ground Zero and back, around Liberty and Ellis Islands, to and from seemingly a thousand different restaurants and hot dog carts and the famed Magnolia Bakery just up the street. All in all, according to the trusty pedometer I kept in my pants pocket, I walked 93,280 steps in about 100 hours spent in New York.
When I uploaded the rather sophisticated pedometer to the laptop when I got home, taking into account my height and weight, the program calculated that I had walked 43 miles! My mother put it in best perspective: I had walked a marathon and a half! PLEASE hear me say I don't see that as terribly heroic. There are surely New Yorkers who walk further than that weekly; indeed, many of our college student participants' late-night city wanderings probably resulted in twice the steps I walked. But it was a monumental achievement for me. No way could I have done that three and a half months ago when this journey began.
Generally speaking, I am starting to feel like I'm adjusting to this new normal. Food is staying down better, and I've been green-lighted to start weening off the prescription (Reglan) that has helped reawaken my stomach post-surgery. I still find myself staring at the stranger I see in the mirror, and get a chuckle out of the fact that at a recent encounter with a few old friends I hadn't seen in a while, I had to reintroduce myself to some. Neither the surgeon or excellent family practice physician have gotten to the bottom of the sometimes serious pain I'm experiencing under my right shoulder blade -- I had an ultrasound of my gallbladder just prior to the NYC trip and will undergo another test next week to determine whether the gallbladder is even functioning at all. If it's not, well ... at least thanks to the insurance out-of-pocket having been met, the next surgery is a freebie.
Still, there are a few hopes not fully realized, yet. I try not to get overly wrapped up in how much weight loss to go, although I'd be lying if I said I didn't stand on the scales more mornings than not -- I have goals no matter how much I pretend I don't. I tried on suit coats (off the rack!) this morning and discovered that I'm six sizes down from where I was, and yet my new-found vanity kept from seriously considering a purchase -- that suit will look a lot better in one more size smaller! Yet, I still haven't had to take a diabetes pill since the night before surgery, and the doctor just told me I needed to eat more salt due to my now too-low blood pressure.
It's just that I never had the goal of walking a marathon and a half.
When I uploaded the rather sophisticated pedometer to the laptop when I got home, taking into account my height and weight, the program calculated that I had walked 43 miles! My mother put it in best perspective: I had walked a marathon and a half! PLEASE hear me say I don't see that as terribly heroic. There are surely New Yorkers who walk further than that weekly; indeed, many of our college student participants' late-night city wanderings probably resulted in twice the steps I walked. But it was a monumental achievement for me. No way could I have done that three and a half months ago when this journey began.
Generally speaking, I am starting to feel like I'm adjusting to this new normal. Food is staying down better, and I've been green-lighted to start weening off the prescription (Reglan) that has helped reawaken my stomach post-surgery. I still find myself staring at the stranger I see in the mirror, and get a chuckle out of the fact that at a recent encounter with a few old friends I hadn't seen in a while, I had to reintroduce myself to some. Neither the surgeon or excellent family practice physician have gotten to the bottom of the sometimes serious pain I'm experiencing under my right shoulder blade -- I had an ultrasound of my gallbladder just prior to the NYC trip and will undergo another test next week to determine whether the gallbladder is even functioning at all. If it's not, well ... at least thanks to the insurance out-of-pocket having been met, the next surgery is a freebie.
Still, there are a few hopes not fully realized, yet. I try not to get overly wrapped up in how much weight loss to go, although I'd be lying if I said I didn't stand on the scales more mornings than not -- I have goals no matter how much I pretend I don't. I tried on suit coats (off the rack!) this morning and discovered that I'm six sizes down from where I was, and yet my new-found vanity kept from seriously considering a purchase -- that suit will look a lot better in one more size smaller! Yet, I still haven't had to take a diabetes pill since the night before surgery, and the doctor just told me I needed to eat more salt due to my now too-low blood pressure.
It's just that I never had the goal of walking a marathon and a half.
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