Part IX - Two Months Post-Op

Weight: 289             Weight Loss: 71 pounds

In many ways February is a difficult month and much longer than the 28 days usually assigned to it. I start the second month post-op weighing 302.5, a terrific loss from the 360 I had weighed just before the operation. Then, for more than three weeks, my weight varies from 302 to 304.5. I follow the diet regimen of protein only with only a couple of minor exceptions. One day we visit a friend's home for luncheon. I add one stalk of asparagus and a small piece of French bread with butter on it. A night or two before the end of the second month, we go out to dinner where I eat a small piece of grilled pepper and one of grilled squash. I also enjoy a slice of home made bread with butter from one of those tiny loaves of fresh bread they put on the table on a bread board with a knife. I tolerate the added foods just fine, having no difficulty with eating or digesting it. During the first three weeks, my weight never budges..

This doesn't mean that nothing is happening with me. The small opening (Seroma) in my incision continues to heal, although slowly. The top part finally closes and then hardens. As of this writing, the lower and larger hole is finally hardening and will soon disappear. Once it's gone, I'll be able to start swimming again. Meanwhile, throughout the month my shape changes remarkably. My clothes begin to fall off me. One day we try on all my shorts and trousers. We decide to give the ones with 54 inch waists, trousers that were too tight for me in December, to Goodwill. Irene takes in the ones with 52 inch waists, sometimes putting two or three darts in them. I take my belts to a shoemaker who lops three inches off and moves the buckles. My socks pull on much more easily and my shoes are becoming too loose. Intellectually I understand that the plateau I'm on allows my body shape and metabolism to catch up with all the weight I've lost. I know, in my head, that I can't continue losing weight at the rate of fifty pounds a month. Nevertheless, it's difficult to get on the scale and not see any movement. (I know, I know - I shouldn't weigh every day. But when you're expectations get so high, it's really difficult not to take a peek.)

One day we drive to Fort Myers to attend a meeting of one of Marema's support groups. We go to both the information meeting and the resource group. There are probably fifty or more people there, fat people looking for the solution. Newly thin or thinner people eager to talk about problems they've had and solutions they've found. The information meeting, conducted by Dr. Perez, one of the surgeons, is slick and professional. It features lots of illustrations, references to research, and information about the risks and expectations of bariatric surgery. Perez' presentation doesn't paper over any of the problems while still making the risk seem worth taking. Since I'm no longer feeling any pain and have lost a lot of weight, I feel pretty self-righteous.

When the resource meeting starts we move the chairs into a circle. There are so many people there the moderator asks each person to stand up and talk about themselves for a couple of minutes. I ask about plateaus, and one woman says, "I'm the plateau queen. I had one plateau that lasted over six weeks. Just stick with the program and the weight will start coming off again." Since she's at goal weight and looks pretty darn good, I feel comforted. A pretty, but still heavy, young blonde woman whom we met in November, a few weeks after her surgery, is there. She's just reached 100 pounds lost and I hardly recognize her when we first see her. A local TV station is running a feature on her and she wants all of us to see it. When people are given the floor and asked to talk about themselves they can go on at some length. After a while people's recitals start becoming somewhat tedious and we decide to drive home. It's late. On the way home we decide we probably won't go back to any more support group meetings. They're really too big to provide much help.

The weather in Florida this February and early March is chilly, wet, and very windy. It discourages getting outside and exercising. The Olympics contribute and I give myself permission to exercise less than I ought to. I suspect this might contribute to my staying on the plateau. In mid-February I start riding my bike when the weather is fair. I much prefer the bike to walking. I feel fewer sore joints. Our Canadian friends, Dwaine and Cairine Eamer, spend a lot of Olympic time with us watching hockey and curling. I read and Irene knits and my weight stays put. In late February I take advantage of a break in the weather and go out back of the trailer and hit some practice golf balls. I'm a long way from being strong enough to take on a golf course. Irene encourages me to exercise more and always goes along when I agree to get out.

Towards the end of February my weight starts coming down again. I can't think of anything that precipitated falling off the plateau, but it felt wonderful I drop below 300 pounds for the first time in at least fifteen years and keep on dropping. By the two month anniversary I've lost 13.5 pounds for the month. I feel stronger and better. My clothes fit better. I'm sleeping less and planning activities I haven't felt like engaging in for years. On the last day of the month I go to the driving range for half an hour. Maybe I'll play nine holes next week.