I stood with the sun against my back, starring intently at the large, looming shadow before me. Lifting up my arms like wings, my lips twist up in disgust. I am an apple with appendages. Cracking a joke on myself, I taunt my husband with another 'fat girl' remark. He gets annoyed with me and then takes my hand as we walk across the parking lot toward the double doors.
Inside, the receptionist is nice. She's use to fat people (I tell myself), so either she's looking at me with non-judgemental or apathetic eyes. Either way, I don't care. This is why I am here.
Twenty minutes later we sitting opposite of Dr. Wasser. A handsome, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and the first thing I note to myself is that he is not overweight. That would just be odd.
He explains that besides a blood clot to the lung, my surgery holds little to no risks. I can feel TJ's hand tighten. He's never been under anesthesia and it's the only part of this whole process I know he dreads. I make a note to myself to offer him a nudge of reassurance later; the pre-op speech is typical, almost scripted. In other words, I will be fine. Just as I always have and now will continue to be … especially once 80-100 pounds of me are history.
Dr. Wasser and TJ begin to discuss the plastic model of a stomach sitting on he desk between them. They fiddle with the lap band used to demonstrate how the device works and how the 'pillows' are filled, the port is positioned, the stomach eventually shrinks up a bit over time, and so forth. I nod and smile with my best active listening gestures, but inside my thoughts are waving through fears, what-ifs, and excitement.
I was glad the doctor took the time to show us the stomach model, but I could tell he was in a hurry to keep his morning going. I hope his semi-rush-like ways are different in the operating room and that I am more then just 'next'. He'd know me as a person if I had attended one of his support group meetings. Perhaps I will look up the date of the next meeting and find my way over there. Who knows, maybe I'll meet some other gals jumping on the December 'band'wagon.
As we walked back towards TJ's truck I re-examined my shadow. She is still round like an apple with appendages, but what I notice this time is the large, looming and muscular shape beside me reaching out his hand for mine. Smiling to myself, I know everything is going to be ok. Even his shadow looks at me with the utmost love and respect. Over the next several weeks and months I will be sending us on a journey; a self-inflicted, purposeful, and life-saving journey. I may not like my shadow today, but the one beside me loves me just the way I am. He must really like apples.
Inside, the receptionist is nice. She's use to fat people (I tell myself), so either she's looking at me with non-judgemental or apathetic eyes. Either way, I don't care. This is why I am here.
Twenty minutes later we sitting opposite of Dr. Wasser. A handsome, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and the first thing I note to myself is that he is not overweight. That would just be odd.
He explains that besides a blood clot to the lung, my surgery holds little to no risks. I can feel TJ's hand tighten. He's never been under anesthesia and it's the only part of this whole process I know he dreads. I make a note to myself to offer him a nudge of reassurance later; the pre-op speech is typical, almost scripted. In other words, I will be fine. Just as I always have and now will continue to be … especially once 80-100 pounds of me are history.
Dr. Wasser and TJ begin to discuss the plastic model of a stomach sitting on he desk between them. They fiddle with the lap band used to demonstrate how the device works and how the 'pillows' are filled, the port is positioned, the stomach eventually shrinks up a bit over time, and so forth. I nod and smile with my best active listening gestures, but inside my thoughts are waving through fears, what-ifs, and excitement.
I was glad the doctor took the time to show us the stomach model, but I could tell he was in a hurry to keep his morning going. I hope his semi-rush-like ways are different in the operating room and that I am more then just 'next'. He'd know me as a person if I had attended one of his support group meetings. Perhaps I will look up the date of the next meeting and find my way over there. Who knows, maybe I'll meet some other gals jumping on the December 'band'wagon.
As we walked back towards TJ's truck I re-examined my shadow. She is still round like an apple with appendages, but what I notice this time is the large, looming and muscular shape beside me reaching out his hand for mine. Smiling to myself, I know everything is going to be ok. Even his shadow looks at me with the utmost love and respect. Over the next several weeks and months I will be sending us on a journey; a self-inflicted, purposeful, and life-saving journey. I may not like my shadow today, but the one beside me loves me just the way I am. He must really like apples.
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