My Grandma, the appetite and one helluva choke

My Grandma’s not well. Not very well at all. I had been thinking about her for a couple of days. Normally, I get an update from mum as to how she’s faring. But on Friday I decided to give her a call. I was caught completely off guard when she answered the phone with the hoarsest of whispers.

No big deal? Well, it kinda is. 2 ½ years ago my Grandmother was diagnosed with bowel cancer (after it was thought she had a bowel obstruction). She underwent the grueling treatment of surgery and several cycles of chemotherapy. Following this treatment, she was declared to have a clean bill of health. Less than 6 months later she deteriorated and it was discovered that she had two metastases. Once again, she underwent chemotherapy treatment. Around about 6 months ago (maybe a little more), she bravely decided not to have anymore treatment following scans that showed that while the chemo was containing the size and spread of the tumors, it was not shrinking them. She felt her quality of life was compromised by frequent trips to the hospital and the way chemo made her feel post-treatment. It was difficult to accept but you can fully understand her decision.

This decision has meant that she is no longer around a specialist consultant or having regular, routine tests (blood and liver function). She is seen at home by her GP. But, it now is thought she may have a tumor in her throat (obviously not confirmed) and her liver function is completely shot. I have no idea whether the deterioration of her liver function is rapid or slow. Not knowing this information is making it exceptionally hard to make a decision of when to fly back to Oz. With deteriorating liver function, at some stage her level of consciousness is going to decrease … eventually leaving her in a coma. The rest of her vital organs will pack up following the cue from the liver. I’m so torn over what to do. When on earth do I make an emergency trip home? I dearly want to see her while she’s still conscious. A trip back home at this time is going to cripple me financially … but she is my Grandma. I love her more than she knows.

***
Strangely enough, the anxiety and stress I’ve been feeling over my Grandmother’s condition has lead to me having a poor appetite. This is a highly unusual occurrence for me. Normally, under stress or during a very emotional time, I would console myself with food. I have never understood when people have talked about losing their appetite in times of stress. But for the very first time it’s happened. Instead of squashing my emotions down with food, I let myself feel the grief and sadness. I cried. I cried loads in fact. I talked to at least half a dozen people at work (including the oncologist) rather than clamming up and assuring everyone I was fine.

***
Note: I'm about to disclose the rather unladylike occurences of my "Choke from Hell" . If you're squeamish, I’d strongly advise you to find some other light reading!

Yesterday was a jam packed day (which included a massage and pedicure … aah!). I didn’t really eat enough. When I finally got home and was starving. I thought a piece of ham and a square of chocolate would tide me over until I made dinner. Ha! I inhaled the piece of ham – it never even hit the sides going down. As soon as I swallowed the first mouthful I knew I was in trouble. I got a slightly slimey feeling in my mouth. I ignored it, finished the piece of ham (in two mouthfuls) and followed it with a piece of chocolate. You’d think I’d learn wouldn’t you?! Not so. I immediately could feel that something was stuck. I had pain in my chest. I was producing a ridiculous amount of slime. And then some more slime. And did I mention the slime?! I brought up over 2 cups of clear slime over 45 minutes but nothing was moving. I then started bringing up chocolate slime. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t stand. I certainly couldn’t lay down. The discomfort was incredible. I stood under a scalding hot shower for 50 minutes. At this point, it was 3 hours into the “Choke from Hell”. I got out of the shower, bawling my eyes out and still feeling that something was stuck in my stoma. I grabbed the phone ready to ring the administrator/doctor. But just as I got the phone, I was hit with a feeling that I needed to vomit. I leaned over the kitchen sink and violently hurled (eww! but it was the first receptacle I could get to!). I felt miserable. I couldn’t keep my own saliva down. If I took a sip or two of water – it would immediately come back up. I madly texted Rob. And Jaap (company administrator/doctor). And Em. I tried to call Sandra and C – but I only got voice mail for both of them! I felt so alone and scared. Rob felt helpless – not sure what to tell me. I began a series of volatile hurls – and it wasn’t just the contents from my pouch; there was also stuff from my stomach proper (as I could taste that awful metallic taste you get when you vomit). Em called me ... 30 seconds into the conversation I was bent over the toilet – unable to get the phone far enough away from me as I hurled, Em had the pleasure of living the experience with me. Jaap called on the mobile. Em hung on the landline. Jaap assured me that it would pass. He also informed me not to drink and vomit if I had to (not that I had a choice!). I asked about going to A&E. He told me that there was not a lot they would be able to do. I just had to hang in there. I went back to my call with Em. I still felt very ordinary but something had moved since the last vomit. Unfortunately, I got an attack of painful hiccups (which I had been getting on and off during the whole episode but these were particularly uncomfortable). 6 very long hours later the incident was over. I was exhausted. My eyes were blood shot. I had a red rash from my breast bone to my chin. I gingerly lay down at midnight with my head propped up on not one, not two but three pillows. My tummy was very tender and I could hear to making a racket. I had a fitful night’s sleep. The first glass of water I had this morning felt a bit heavy in my stomach. And I struggled to eat a single slice of toast 2 hours later. Things have since improved but I’m eating like a sparrow today … not such a bad thing I guess!

I want to thank Em for being a champion. She heard me hurl and audibly wince in pain with hiccups for an extened time but kept talking to me all the same. She stayed on the phone as long as it took … it made me feel that I was not alone.

And to Jaap … who got a frantic text at 9pm (11pm in the Netherlands where Jaap resides) on a Saturday night. He very kindly called almost immediately to talk me through what was happening … and offered me reassurance. He also shot me an email about foods that can reek havoc with the band and two text messages today to check up on me.

And of course, to Rob … who was quietly freaked out but managed to reassure me that it would pass. Who was the first to check up on me this morning. He admitted how helpless he feels when I have chokes and asked ever so nicely if I would cut my food up into very small pieces in Dubai … and in essence, not choke! LOL!

Here’s to 6 long hours and one very hard learned lesson!

Help me! I'm melting!

“Help me! I’m melting”, as the Wicked Witch so aptly put it. And so am I. Maybe not as spectacularly as the good witch herself but the lard is making it’s final exit (albeit gradually!). The process seems soooooo slooooowwww – especially for one who would opt for instant gratification over hard slog any day! And at times I struggle to accept that this transformation of my life will be a marathon not a sprint. But now even I can see that there are some results rearing their lovely heads. And I feel bloody chuffed, thanks for asking!

So, as my ticker illustrates, I’m now down to 86.5kgs (190lbs) when I am completely starkers! (according to my new scales). At the end of the day I’m only 0.3-0.5kg heavier than I am in the morning. Not bad, huh? A further loss of 1kg (2.2lbs) will mean I have lost 10% of my body weight since surgery. Research suggests that even a 10% loss of your original body weight will have immense positive effects on both your health and body. Nudge that weight loss up to another 1.5kgs and I will have lost 10kg (22lbs). Woohoo!

I measured my BMI and total body fat this morning as well. My BMI is now down to 33.8. The day before my surgery my BMI was a scary 37.2. Another 8.8 BMI points and will be borderline healthy. I figure that’s about another 20kgs. It’s a long way to Tipperary! Make that a bloody long way!

***
Two things occurred to me today:
1) My work pants are definitely getting looser. When I first started wearing them, the pockets bulged over my hips. The pockets didn’t sit flush. The waist band sat on my waist. And today? I was in the bathroom and noticed that my pockets no longer bulge and the waist band sits 2” below my belly button! Yesterday during a homevisit, I had to keep hoiking my pants up to preserve my modesty. Note to self: must buy a new pair of pants ASAP unless baring my underwear to the world is considered tasteful
2) My hips and knees no longer ache. I still get the occasional back ache but only after I do some hard core pilates focusing on my back and even then it’s only a little twingey

It’s all these little things that keep me focused. Small rewards, little gems - not necessarily associated with numbers on the scale. I am one happy possum!

French knickers

At 11:00am on the nose every day for the past week and a half my mobile phone trills a reminder. It reads:

“9.5kg in 8 weeks … YOU CAN DO IT!”

Cheesy – absolutely! Effective – you betcha! It seems to help keep me focused. I will admit that I do feel like I'm turning into a born again WW fanatic (defined as someone who turns into a food nazi and starts posting ridiculous Tony Robinson snippets all over the house) but you gotta do what you gotta do to keep the momentum going! As of tomorrow, I’m going to have to update it … as I have now bought a set of scales to weigh myself and as of this week, it's only 7 weeks to Dubai.

***
Yesterday I spotted some sexy French knickers in Dorothy Perkins that I am so going to buy. They’re gorgeous – completely lace with this little cut out above the bot-bot crack and above that a satin bow. I have never owned something so feminine before. I'm just so excited that I will be able to buy lingerie in a 'normal' size!

***
I’m noticing that I’m starting to eat less … not necessarily because of the band (I’m yet to achieve proper restriction) but because I’m not as focused on food. Don’t get me wrong, bandsters … I don’t eat nearly as such as I use to but I can still eat way too much for someone who has a lap band. But I had a great food experience yesterday. I went to my favourite Italian restaurant and ordered what I have always have - spinach and ricotta ravioli. I ended up eating only half the portion. What's that about?! Prior to surgery, I would scrape the plate clean, wash it down with a diet coke chaser and follow it awfully closely with a warm chocolate pudding and a latte.

These days I’m trying to squish so much into a day that I barely have a moment to lust over food. My interest has waned. I eat to live, not live to eat. Since I’ve seriously hit the gym, added a few extra curricular activities to my week and thrown myself head long into my job, I’m feeling fulfilled. Ordinarily, on a day to day basis, I would cram food down my neck to combat feelings of boredom, loneliness, anger, frustration … etc ad nauseam. But it has dawned on me that I’m not medicating myself with food. I am finding other outlets for my emotions which is a massive, massive accomplishment.

***
Tomorrow is weigh day – nekked weigh day! Bottoms up to waiting with baited breath!

Operation Downsize

Time moves so swiftly. Too swiftly perhaps. I mean take the following for example:
• It’s been a year since I moved from Riyadh to London which essentially means one whole year that Rob and I have been living apart (not for much longer … fingers crossed!)
• It was 2 ½ months ago that I was nervously anticipating my surgery
• A whole week stole by before I realized I hadn’t blogged
• It’s nearly Christmas … again! (wasn’t it just yesterday?!)
• I have 7 short/long weeks until I head to Dubai. It’s going to be 7 agonizing long weeks in the respect that time drags whenever I anticipate seeing Rob again. Yet it will be 7 short weeks in that I have such a short time frame to reap the rewards in Operation Downsize.

Yup. I have renewed focus, commitment and determination to considerably downsize the lard before touch down in Dubai. Don’t get me wrong. In the beginning I was always hoping to lose a bucket of weight before Dubai … but as the fills weren’t really working out to plan in the respect of providing sufficient restriction and things in general were (as I saw it) grinding to a virtual halt, I kind of gave up the hope of a semi transformation.

But … I have jumped on and off a number of scales over the past week. The weight readings vary from 85-87.5kg. At best this means a loss of 10kg (22lbs) and at the very worse a loss of 7.5kgs (16.5lbs). Not bad considering I’m not sufficiently restricted. I have decided though that I need to invest in some digital bathroom scales. I know that many people say that you should stash your scales outta sight and judge your success by how your clothes fit, which is sensible enough but I need a single scale on which to weigh myself for Operation Downsize.

To add to the excitement of the scales is that I have lost 5 ½ inches off my stomach and 3 inches off my waist! And if that wasn’t inspiring enough, I yesterday discovered I was able to fit into a few bits and pieces in my wardrobe that I have either a) never been able to wear but bought because they were so gorgeous I couldn’t pass up buying them or b) I have only been able to wear a couple of times before I became a full blown lardy lard arse.

I discovered I was able to fit into a little black cocktail dress that I have never been able to wear. I wore it to a party last night combined with my strapless bra which up until a couple of months ago, I couldn’t wear as my breast-ages were so pendulous and the fat around my ribs too ample that it felt as though I was being cut in two if I wore it longer than 10 minutes. I even wore my 2 inch black heels that haven’t seen the light of a disco ball for 2 ½ years as they would kill the balls of my feet when I was standing due to my excess weight. I’m not tiny and not anywhere near my goal weight but gawd, as Kel Knight (Kath & Kim) would say I felt like a “foxy lady”!

The other bits and pieces of my new/old wardrobe include:
• A pair of dark wash jeans I bought 2 years ago (only worn a handful of times as they really cut into my waist and made me ultra aware of my dough like thighs)
• A dusky pink Victorian button up blouse (which I bought on a trip to see Rob but never wore as the buttons strained to stay done up over my boobs)
• A slew of underwear – from ultra white cotton briefs (never worn, hence, ultra white) to lacey boy leg panties to g-strings
• A gorgeous evening gown from Monsoon – a dusky pink; ruffled & boned bodice; strapless; A-line flowing skirt (3 layers of chiffon and satin); mid-calf length (I bought this dress almost 3 years ago for a song. I first saw it for 180 GBP. An end of season sale saw it reduced to 120 GBP. At the very end of the sale, it was reduced to 30 GBP. Naturally, at that price I bought it whether it bloody fitted me or not! Needless to say, it didn’t fit me and hasn’t until yesterday! Admittedly, I don’t feel dead comfortable in it. It still felt a little tight in the boob area and I could do with losing a few more inches in my tummy/hip area before I’d feel ready to wear it out in style. But I was able to get the zip completely done up! Woohoo!)

So, after feeling like sex on legs last night, I am determined to get into the high 70kg bracket before Dubai. That’s seven weeks to get from 85-87kg to ... fingers crossed ... 79.8-79.9kgs. It’s a lofty goal, yes but dammit I’m going to give it a bloody good go! I have dubbed this grand effort “Operation Downsize”. I'm going to stick to the plan I already bashed out in the last entry.

In parting all I have to say is: Go, you good thing!

You want me to what?!

Gawd, do I have a bloody funny story for you! It’s dead ridiculous actually. On Friday after work, I rocked up at the gym raring to do some brisk laps in the pool. The pool at the gym is rather small (making an understatement). It's 25m with four lanes. The gym offers swimming lessons to wee kiddies in the afternoons (3-5:30pm) which takes up one lane of the pool. Then there are two un-cordoned lanes for people to faff around in. That leaves ONE lane dedicated to people who are serious about swimming. I would normally rock up to swim at around 5:45pm, by which time the swimming lessons are over. Which means there are then lanes free for swimmers – one which can be used to swim any style and the other is for front stroke only. Sooo … I turn up this day when there is only one lane free. I sigh to myself as soon as I spot that there are three women already swimming laps. BUT … they are all swimming breast stroke at an incredibly slow pace. In bikinis. What the?! I jumped into the pool and began swimming laps … continuously. Meanwhile, the afore mentioned women were resting after every lap. Ahem? But just as I’d come up to the wall to turn, one of these bloody women who were resting, would decide to launch off at that exact moment. No wuckers, I would think to myself, I’ll just nip around you. At one point, I was overtaking one woman as another was coming in the opposite direction. As any serious swimmer knows, in a tight squeeze, you can fit three in a lane. It certainly doesn't leave anyone room but it enables faster swimmers to keep their pace while slower swimmers can ... well, do not much! LOL! Any hoo, we all passed by fine - admittedly it was a squeeze but no one collided. I think it was about four laps later, I was turning at the wall to head up the pool when this woman grabbed my arm (half drowning me, mind you!) and said in her posh, irritating voice, “I can’t believe it! Why do you have to swim so fast, weaving in and out of people. Why can’t you swim slow and wait behind the person in front of you?”. I looked at her with mouth agape. “You want me to what? Swim slow in a lap pool? The lane is for lap not leisure swimmers, madam”. I turned on my heel and continued my lap. What a moose! I detest women who go to the gym and pretend to exercise. It’s a pet hate which I will never be able to reconcile myself to!

***
I pampered myself like a goddess this week. I exercised like I promised myself. My spa appointment was AMAZING! A full body brush, a salt scrub, an energizing shower and a massaged with essential oils made relaxed me to the core and my skin felt sooo silky! I purchased a body fat monitor (gauges your total body fat and BMI). And my treat to see the “Vegemite Tale$” in the West End last night rounded off the week nicely!

***
If you’re bored to tears by lists and anal plans may I suggest a change of web site immediately?! Because yesterday I mapped out a total body plan for the next 8 weeks (leading up to the Dubai trip) which I’m about to scratch out for you.

EXERCISE:
AIM: For 5-6 days of activity; short 1/2hr moderate pace walk on day off (Sunday)

• Gym x 3-4 per week (including weights/pump, pilates, body combat, swimming, rowing and cross training)
• Bikram yoga x 1-2 per week
• Belly/salsa dancing x 1 per week

EATING:
AIM: For calorie intake of 1200-1400
• Eat high protein food
• Eat three meals with 1-2 snacks
• Have 1-2 more fills
• Use WW points record book and supermarket/eating out guide
• Dinner out: no more than once/twice per week
• Chocolate: 1-2 per week
• Coffee: no more than 3 skinny lattes per week

WEIGHT/MEASUREMENTS:
The following will be recorded on a weekly basis:
• Weight (at approx 10am on a Tuesday)
• Measurements (full body)
• BMI (with body fat monitor)

CARING FOR SELF:
• Massage once every three weeks (lymphatic drainage)
• Body brush x 2-3 per week
• Body scrub x 1 per week
• Facial once a month
• Pedicure once a month

Right! I’m off to apply some elbow grease to my plight. Here’s to hoping I get results!