Socks -- An Unexpected Benefit

He has always worn Gold Toe brand support hose.  They are a pretty premium men's sock, and they are made to provide some pretty intense compression.  They are advertised for the treatment of varicose veins, edema, and post surgical circulatory support. 

In the bad old days, before His bypass surgery, when He still weighed something over 300 pounds, when moving and bending were just too physically taxing for Him to attempt -- He'd pull those moster socks off and toss them in the hamper; always inside out.  ALWAYS.  It was just too difficult for Him to work them off His legs and off His feet without turning them completely inside out. 

We'd do the laundry, and then there remained the chore of turning all those compression socks back inside out so they could be mated and put away.  I know I never thought much about it.  It just was the way it was. 

Last weekend, wading through a pile of laundry, I got about 3/4 of the way through the pile of socks when it hit me -- they were all RIGHT SIDE OUT!  Wow!  Turns out that, having lost 142 pounds, taking off His socks is no longer a huge ordeal.  He can easily slide them down and pull them off, and they almost always end up right side out. 

I know it seems like a small thing.  It is a small thing, but it is one more small and unexpected benefit from all the changes that we've been through.

"After" Photos -- Nine Months

We have passed the nine-month mark since the bariatric surgeries (which happened back on March 23). It has been an amazing and wild ride to this point, and I don't think we really ever quite had a picture of where we would be at this point.

One of the things that has characterized our passage through this transition has been the sheer size of the physical change. Both Master and T have gone through many, many, many wardrobe changes as the pounds have fallen away. We've hauled bags and bags and bags and bags of discarded, too big clothing to our local Goodwill. Too, we've bought our share of "replacement" items from Goodwill. Master has laughingly remarked that He mostly just rents clothes from Goodwill -- keeping them for a few weeks and then returning them to rent others. Whatever we call it, that process has kept them both looking pretty decent, and has saved us a small fortune.

One bit of foresight on my part was that, as He began to shrink, I put away a pair of the largest size pants so that "someday" we could take one of those amazing "after" pictures that you sometimes see -- the skinny new body in the former fat pants. We also managed to hold onto the shirt jacket that He wore home from the hospital right after the surgery -- mostly because He just liked it so well that He was never quite willing to turn it loose. T manged to hang onto a couple of great big shirts (one of which was too small for her when she had her surgery), to help remind her of the size that was.

Today, we pulled out the camera and took some of those "after" photos. Perhaps as clearly as any other images, these photos give a clear impression of the radical change that has happened in our lives in 2009.

Here is Master --

And Here is T --

GOAL ATTAINED !! THE HARD WAY

The last 4 days, as I've been home from the hospital, I've lost weight steadily. I suspect this is my body's reflecting the weight loss I experienced during the six days I was NPO during my post surgical hospitalization. When I came home I was still swollen and had a good bit of edemous tissue. As those fluids have mobilized and been eliminated, my weight is dropping steadily. Ironically, these last few days at home, I am eating greater quantities of food with greater comfort than I have at any time since my gastric bypass last March. I am trying to be less restrictive in that my weight is down further.

At any rate, the weight of 165 pounds...the weight that sounded so ridiculously unattainable when my bariatric surgeon established it as my goal weight last spring....materialized when I stepped on my scale this morning. I would certainly not suggest the process I have undergone in losing this last six pounds or so for anyone, and certainly not for myself, but reality is that as of this morning my weight is 165 pounds. My next challenge I think is to work at stemming any further weight loss. You would never have convinced me a year ago that those words would ever describe a weight control objective for me.

So I am celebrating, somewhat with awe and somewhat with concern, having reached my original weight goal of 165 pounds.

I feel better and stronger each day as I rebound from my surgery. My pain is less and my strength and stamina are steadily increasing as I progress. I hope I will soon be back to feeling really healthy in time to enjoy the December holidays.

Thank you again to all of you who have traveled this journey with us and provided us such wonderful support and caring. You have made this outcome so much more attainable because of the gifts you shared with us here.

All the best,

Tom

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined

Frankenstein?

This was our first day at home. Our alarm clock went off first thing this morning, at 5:45, just as it does every single school day. That was an opportunity to "sleep in" actually since my usual get-up time while we were staying in the hospital was 4:30 AM.

Generally, here at home, I pile out of bed first and head off to shower and get dressed. Then I scramble out to the kitchen to make breakfast, lunch, and get us both ready to go. Of course, today and for the next bit of time, He doesn't need His lunch packed, and He isn't getting ready to "go" anywhere. So, this morning, as I was in the bathroom getting ready to go, He came in to pee and weigh and survey the damage. There were no full length mirrors in the hospital room -- just the one small mirror over the sink.

He is a "sight." He has a fairly long mid-line incision and 10 trocar incisions that were made to allow attachment of the mesh for the hernia repair. There are also two punctures where the surgical drains were installed in His abdomen. He has a pretty impressive hematoma on His belly, and enormous and ugly bruising on His hips that is the result of the heparin injections that they gave in the belly every day as a preventative for blood clotting. Standing there in the bathroom, checking it out, He said, "we ought to take some pictures of this."

So, bleary-eyed and sleepy-headed, I wandered off to find the camera and snap a few shots of the damage. They are not terrific -- I wasn't entirely awake yet, but perhaps they will give you some idea of what it is He's been through this last 8 days.

swan

Transfusion Day

Today, our team of doctors is stymied. They simply cannot figure out what is going on with Him, and I suspect that they are having some fairly heated doctor conversations about what to do with Him -- some arguing more aggressive approaches, and others advocating for restraint and patience. It seems that the latest x-rays are still showing some distension of the small intestine, and that could indicate another obstruction -- although the CT scan didn't show anything to be concerned about in that way.

But He continues to have significant nausea, and while He is having bowel movements, they are very watery and, this morning, essentially clear. Without being able to get a fix on what is happening, our doctors are opting for keeping the nasal tube in place. None of us are anxious to have to have that re-inserted again, so there's no sense of urgency to get it out before it is really time.

Another concern is that His blood counts, both red cells and white cells are low, and they can't figure out why. There is no blood in His stools; no blood in His vomit; no obvious hematomas that are not accounted for and entirely expected as a result of the surgery. Still, the counts are low.

So, today, He is receiving two units of blood. So far, that is going well. We are aware of the risks of transfusion, but we just don't feel likf there are good options.

swan

Alligators

I remember that during my college years, we were fond of telling one another that "when you are up to your ass in alligators, it is difficult to remember that you were originally trying to drain the swamp."

That is kind of the way this is beginning to feel... A swamp full of alligators, and it is probably alligator mating season. The alligators (problems and challenges) are big and they are all over the place -- refusing to stay in their own separate little ponds.

This morning, after a very difficult and miserable night, "crazy" doctor Hamid came bursting into the room well before the sun was up. The good (but crazy) Dr. Hamid (who we think might be the head resident) seems to have a penchant for drama, and a lack of gentleness in terms of his approach. Looking at Master's chart, I guess he decided that he was, "worried." He ordered another CT scan with contrast, and stood in the middle of Master's hospital room talking about the potential for another yet more surgery. And then, he swept out of the room to go spread terror and chaos somewhere else. At least I am guessing that's where he was headed.

Master and I were shocked, frightened, left with a million questions. We huddled next to each other in the pre-dawn chill and darkness, and held each other's hands, barely daring to breathe.

The nurses came in and put the contrast solution through the NG tube, and they told us that the people from the radiology department would be up to get Him in about 20 minutes. An hour and forty-five minutes later, after battling for well over an hour to keep the contrast down in spite of severe nausea, they finally came to get Him. He was gone for a very long time it seemed.

We were told that "as soon as the doctors had a chance to review the results of the CT scan, they would be in to talk to us." It was over two hours when our nurse finally called someone to see what she could find out for us.

It turns out that the CT scan doesn't show anything alarming. Just the ileus that we already are dealing with. There is no additional blockage, and no internal bleeding. Blood work shows that His blood count is low, but is holding steady. We still have not seen a doctor as I write this at 2:20 in the afternoon.

Master is still struggling with nausea, although it may be some better this afternoon. He is feeling tired and stressed and frightened. He has been incredibly strong and very brave in the face of a major surgery, and some wickedly nasty procedures.

Right now, we are daring to hope that a couple of days will resolve the ileus and He'll start to feel better. I know and believe that we WILL be heading home together sometime in the next few days... if only we can stay out of the clutches of all the many alligators.

swan

Ileus

Today has been a very difficult day.
Yesterday, the naso-gastric tube to Master's stomach fell out. The doctors had contemplated taking it out anyway, but it came out entirely on its own. That seemed like a good thing at the time, and during the balance of the day, they removed the catheter. This morning, they discontinued the IV pain medication, and He was allowed to begin taking clear liquids by mouth. By mid-day, He was begining to belch, hiccup, and vomit up significant quantities of liquid. The nurses tried administering a couple of different nausea medications along with Nexium. Those medications helped for very short periods of time, but each time, the vomiting resumed within the hour.
Finally, at about 9:00 this evening, the night nurse decided to call in the doctors, and they ordered some x-rays. That showed an ileus. An ileus is a paralysis of the bowel -- without the normal peristalsis, nothing passes through the digestive tract and pressure builds up in the stomach. It seems that this is a fairly common aftermath of handling the bowel during abdominal surgery.
Sigh.
So. Tonight, they have reinserted the naso-gastric tube. Once it was in place, the pump immediately suctioned 700 cc's of fluid from His stomach. He is disappointed as this will surely keep Him in the hospital for another 2-4 days. On the upside, He is not vomiting anymore, and we didn't end up going home without anyone knowing about this issue -- a sure recipe for making another midnight run to the emergency room.
He's tired. I'm tired. Our spirits are a bit low. Hopefully, soon, we'll be able to settle down for the night and try and sleep. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a bit better.
swan