Gastric Sleeve Bariatric Surgery - My Personal Journey

I don't have the excuse of always being overweight. I wasn't.

I was an active child, total tomboy. I never stayed in the house. I was too busy out fishing, catching frogs and investigating any bit of wooded property I could find. As I grew, I played basketball every year from 4th grade on up through high school. I was also a varsity cheerleader, surprising since I was so painfully shy. Of course, with a graduating class of less than a dozen students, I didn't have to try out for the honor of that title.

My family moved a lot. We lived in farm houses most of the time which meant there were always animals to play with. My favorite was the horses. I would ride from sun-up to sun-down. I must confess that I've even taken a nap a time or two on the back of a horse. I do not advise this. Teenagers do NOT know everything despite what I thought back then, like when I was 16 shown here riding a morgan mare named Hope.

It is amazing how fast it can creep up on you. Especially, if you are too busy wallowing in emotional distress to take notice.

I married my high school sweetheart when I was 19 years old. When I was 26 and the mother of three children, he died. In between that time, he was abusive - emotionally, verbally, physically and sexually. Ten years later, I made a doctor's appointment for what I thought was anxiety. My kids were concerned with my serious mood swings and frequent medical ailments. I felt like a worn down 100 year old woman already.

Instead of diagnosing anxiety, he diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). He told me it was the worst case he'd ever seen and was shocked I was alive. I gave him some short details of my experience and he literally had tears in his eyes. Over the next few appointments, I was on the highest dosage allowed with my prescription to treat my PTSD.

I've written a book on my life back then, hoping that I could help even just one person understand they are worth more and they can get out, they can have a happily ever after life. I'm living that now. Weight loss surgery was a valuable step for me. I ate my way through my emotions and, maybe more consciously than I'd like to admit, wanted to be fat as a disguise from those who had hurt me in the past. Though my abusive husband had died, he was not my only abuser.

In the meantime, I'm writing another lens on my experience with PTSD so I won't go into too much detail here. Just suffice to say, this had a big hand in why I became fat and maybe even why I needed the weight loss surgery tool to see me healthy again.

*My book has not yet been released. It is my hope that 2012 will see that book become available to help others.

You just don't look in the mirror one day and realize "Holy smokes, Batman! I'm FAT!" and call up a bariatric surgeon. First, you go through a lot of turmoil. Some of us take longer to take the plunge than others. I'm one who didn't take long once I realized dieting and exercise alone weren't cutting it for me.

I must stress that I tried a lot of different things to lose weight. None of them were working. I won't name them for fear of sounding like I'm bashing some of the big name weight loss programs out there. They may work for some. The point was, they weren't working for ME.

I was sinking deeper and deeper into depression over the wife and mother I'd become, or perceived I'd become. One that they wouldn't be proud to be seen with. Feeling I was cheating my husband out of an attractive wife. Just seeing him walk into a room makes me beam. I'm so proud to call him my husband! I wanted him to be able to feel the same about me. Instead, I was hiding more and more, even from him.

Still that wasn't enough to make me go under the knife.

What was? The day I went to a doctor's appointment and he announced that I was at risk of having a heart attack. My blood work tests came back alarming. He almost put me on heart pills but decided to monitor me for a little while instead for now.

I have a STRONG family history of heart attacks. By the age of 40-45 every family member I could count for a few generations on my Dad's side but two have had heart attacks or strokes. And, in fact, my cardiologist told me he felt I'd had a 'minor' heart attack myself already at 21 years young. I have constricting arteries and veins. Something he told me would warrant my avoiding caffeine, certain medications, being outside in the Michigan winters more than 10-15 minutes at a time and... becoming fat. Yeah, I blew the last one.

For me, an artery blockage as small as 20% can mean a heart attack whereas the average person needs about 80% if it were to constrict in that same area.

I was absolutely terrified of having a heart attack. I've seen my Dad have a heart attack right in my living room. I've seen him hospitalized for a few different heart attacks he had and various heart procedures. I did not want to be him!

I called a bariatric surgeon, the same one my sister had already signed up to have surgery with, within the same week of that doctor's appointment.

Not doing so, I felt, was just selfish when I had a family to consider.

Photo: Me standing with our oldest son after Army boot camp graduation. I was SO proud of him but so ashamed of myself.

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