I had my first visit to the Fill Station today. I was just a tiny bit nervous ... okay, okay .. I lie … I was uber nervous. My friend and I being the brave, independent souls that we are, agreed to provide moral support to each other during the The Fill ordeal. The whole experience was a comedy of errors. Public transport was on the blink – 5 tube lines were not operating due to maintenance work. The day was perfect to be venturing outdoors – windy, rainy and overcast. I was starving as I’d only eaten ½ cup of yoghurt for breakfast. My friend was running late for her appointment (our appointments were an hour apart, hers being the first); she attempted to call the number we had be given if we were to find ourselves running late. Of course there was no answer other than that of the surgery’s answering machine. We jumped a cab from the tube station to the doctor’s surgery. We clambered out of the cab to be greeted by a rather empty parking lot and an even emptier looking building. Hmmm. Strange. We rang the bell marked “Surgery”. At first there was no response. Definitely dodgey. An unkempt, middle-aged woman finally bustled to the door rabbiting on about the door being unlocked and were we there to see Dr (mumble mumble). What? Ummm … yes? My friend and I stole a glance at each other when she finally said in an intelligible voice, “Oh, the doctor isn’t here yet. I’ll just call him.” So much for busting our arse to get there on time. She rang the doctor to inform him that we had arrived. After contacting the doctor, she informed us that the doctor’s schedule hadn’t had my friend’s appointment time listed. His first appointment was supposedly mine at 11am. My friend and I raised an eyebrow at each other. Ooooh, boy … what have we got ourselves into? Some kind of back yard operation? Under our breaths, we discussed how dodgey the whole set up was (I somehow think there may be a change in our Fill Station doctor). I mean, for crying out loud, we were given our appointments three days after our surgeries … that was 6 weeks ago!
Here we were paying this fool 90 GBP for the pleasure of being messed around and punctured with a large hypodermic needle. What absolute value for money, I say. When the doctor finally appeared, he bustled in and was just about to scoot past us when he took it upon himself to pause to explain his late arrival (I didn’t have you on my list … I’ll be two minutes). Mmm hmm. Whatever. Let’s just get this over and done with, buddy. My friend was summoned to the treatment room; with her lovely lovely assistant in tow. I think the doctor was actually pleased to get two appointments done at once for the financial reimbursement of two.
Apparently introducing yourself is so yesterday. In lieu of an introduction he launched into asking us a barrage of questions about our recovery, food intake and exercise. We obediently rattled off answers. I reported feeling extremely hungry over the past week or two. I explained that I had felt restriction for the first 3-4 weeks following surgery and hadn’t felt compelled to eat or snack but that my appetite had recently returned to normal. He then went off on a self-righteous tangent stating that it would take willpower not to indulge my cravings and the band would not fix the problem. Listen here, you wanker. I was not talking about cravings. I was merely stating that I feel hungry and I was keen to have a fill to re-gain that feeling of being satiated after eating.
We both had questions for him; most of which he had difficulty answering. He would often start talking about something completely unrelated or talk over the top of us in a bid to bamboozle us into forgetting what we had asked about. Bloody tool.
We then stepped onto the surgery scales and had our BMIs measured. I officially lost 4kgs during my healing phase, 2 points off my BMI and 3 inches off my waist. I hoped for a much more impressive loss but at this time I’ll take whatever I can get.
The fill itself was quite uneventful. I had been nervous for no reason. The doctor told us that we would feel a prick as the needle pierced the skin but it would be less painful than a blood test. To be honest, I didn’t even feel the needle go in. He planned to put in a 4cc fill but he apparently felt some resistance after 3.75cc. So, 3.75cc it was to be. I had to drink a glass of water to ensure that I could swallow and keep fluids down. I ended up burping my way through a glass of water and had an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. But I deduced it was because I was bloody hungry rather than because I’d had an over fill. We were then told it would be 12 weeks until our next appointment, fills and emergency treatment could only be done on Saturdays (and of course, we’ll only ever have an emergency on a Saturday, won’t we?!) and that we would have to be on fluids for 5 days! Bugger off! It’s starting to feel like the only reason I’m going to lose weight with this bloody band is because of the amount of time I’m either on soft, mushy food or fluids.
I AM GETTING SO SICK OF WAITING. I just so desperately want to get on with this weight loss caper but it feels like I’m always bloody waiting. Waiting for surgery. Waiting for 6 weeks till I could have my first fill. Waiting 5 days till I can eat following the fill. What happens if I don’t feel any restriction when I start eating next week? I then have to wait for a Saturday to get an adjustment. Waiting, waiting and oh, what a surprise, some more bloody waiting. Sigh.
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