Dances with DS

There was a time in my weightloss life when each week I hauled myself out of bed several pounds lighter. It was a strange, quite exciting and beautiful time in my life and at the same time it was filled with hesitancy and fears. I went through a stage of falling over my own feet regularly and banging my new bones on most things. The physical grace I expected when the weight came off did not seem forthcoming. Instead I developed a desperate lack of co ordination and I was off center and unbalanced. I also developed a temporary side effect of filthy explosive cussing ( even put myself to shame) and some mean bruises that hurt a lot. Then it ended and I became physically who I was always meant to be. And I stopped cussing so much. Now at very long last, I place my body well and I have some grace in my movement ( I like to believe!). Especially if I am not running over fields with dogpoopie bags in hand.
Right now I am experiencing much the same spinning world, except it is no longer underpinned by physical change. Much more by the changes I must implement to progress my creativity on both mental and emotional levels.
After the fact, I have heard my dad had undergone a surgery to remove cancer while I was attending to my mum in South Africa. It has been removed but the risks for return are pretty high it seems. Perhaps on some level in my recent morbidity I felt this coming. Not that I wasn’t floored by the news. The news was bad in itself but I have had to confront my ostrich like disposition regarding my broken & fragmented relationship with my father. I have had to go into deep places in my pysche and assess my true feelings and the truth is - that’s a quagmire. That’s sinking sand and old muddy waters, faded memories that reveal themselves like old sephia pictures in my head, ghostlike, and places that I would rather avoid. In these times the bigger picture wants to prevail and the higher spirit meet that picture, but the little self (and oh my god - it is so very little!)wants to batten down every hatch and continue to live in safe non vulnerable confinement.

The problem with me is that I think my soul has too many windows. I know I can duck, but I cannot hide. I know I can close my eyes and pretend quiet and solitude, but all the time I also know out of me - way beyond me there is another world that is potentially way more real than my dillusions comfy though they may be. And I know I am very possibly in for being bruised. When one leaves old business behind and begins the sloughing off of old dead cells of ones being - this is will almost inevitably be the birthing pang and baptism of fire of new possibilities that truly evaporating the ghosts of the past brings.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not a walking wounded victim of a distraught abandoned childhood. Long ago I cleaned out my festering muck and healed the rawness there. I even learned to live somewhat peacefully with the scars on my inner landscape up until now. Scars are numb. You don’t generally feel the little blighters.

I know, the outside of my body boasts as many scars as the inside of my being.

Who knows if it is possible to fully reconcile a broken past. To reconstruct old scars of unfinished business into clear energy. I know I can only hope that if I take the risk of being bruised and hurt when I hit unknown obstructions, eventually out of this I might finally be who I was truly meant to be emotionally. And let me count my blessings too - I know the fear of physical obstruction. How it materialised suddenly without warning, breaking my life down into nonoseconds of survival. And how I was not alone and left to die even though I feared so much I might be. I have survived that also and it has hugely & strangely enriched my life.
So I awoke to these thoughts this morning after a night of broken fitful sleep.

But also, I awoke to a room flooded with sunlight and warmth. A sunny day here! There is no time to ponder too much on morbid matters today and the headstuff - well it can wait. Who could linger there in internal worlds with a day like this!? I am about to seize it!

My tasks are many. I continue to sort out my garden. It has to be done and finished soon otherwise it will be too late for me to plant my spring bulbs. It’s hard graft … I live in a mini woodland of my own making. Once I enthusiastically planted trees all over my garden, Indian bean tree, birch, plum, cherry & apple and more. Now those little sappy twigs I planted are huge! They need pruning and shaping. Underneath them lies tree debris, hundreds of twigs and leaf fall is also beginning.

The load of ever-ironing is waiting and there is Petal and Zen Zen to be run over fields.

I have also become foster mother to 4 mice, one heavily preggers. Yes - you heard right. Even I am, thinking what possessed me!!! The thing is this - these mice were rescued by a young lady from an ice cream box where they’d been living out their miserably cramped days waiting to be feed to a pet snake.

She went out and on meagre student funds and a good heart, bought them a wonderful cage full of tunnels and boxes and things that make mice smile. She took them home and nurtured them with much care. However her father is not a well man mentally and this week he threw the mice cage onto the floor after a minor altercation about her not cleaning the cage at his demand - which came at 11 pm after she’d just got home late from work(have to say here the cage was not filthy by any means either.) He then proceeded to throw his entire family out of the house. The long and short of it is a very tearful and distraught child came to my house late in the night. Next day she discovered her mum had not left the house except for a short while. Her mum had gone back to rescue the mice. Bless her.
And so this lovely young lass had decided to take the mice to a pet shop rather than risk further trouble for her family. After some discussion we jointly decided that this might not be in the best interests of the mice and that instead I would foster them. And when she could she would visit them.

So we now have Smiler, Dave, Ian and Gizmo. Smiler is pregnant. We will need loving homes for mouse babies soon, so if you have children who need a special little pal or two please let me know. (my e-mail addy is: jane@weighloss-surgery.com)

I can assure you Smiler is an exceptional mouse, as mice go. Smiler has good genes. She is very house tidy and clean. She comes to recieve treats when called and she has a lot of character. She is exceptionally pretty. She is partly the golden colour of a wheat field with brightly sparkling little brown eyes full of depth and wisdom. Despite her awful start in life as potential snake fodder, she is a cheerful little soul who likes humans. Her whiskers are long and luxurious and her delicate little paws are the palest pink. Her babies will be wonderful little mice-beings too. They will be free to good homes with people who will give them a proper mouse start in life. In turn they will provide plenty of entertainment and will help any young or young person at heart remember that life is a zesty adventure and friends don’t just exist in the human world. :- D

I’ve been morbid lately and I can only say thank  heavens  it has nothing to do with morbid obesity (don’t you just hate that morbid!?).    I’m thinking that death is always untimely.  I think it has to do with a sort of psychological  fallout of a years worth of close shaves.   Too many  moments  of death and near death in my life.   The bowel obstruction, my mum on life support and at the foot of St Peters pearly gates 3 times in all.  My dad who required surgery while I was away  ( I  did not even know about this mainly because we have a very odd relationship that is usually ‘after the fact’…and I’ll probably only know of his death one day after the fact too :-(  )  On the WLSinfo site - death interjects from time to time affecting all of us.  Yesterday a close family friend lost her battle with cancer.   Today I hear an old friend of ours in SA  died in a car crash.

I’m   reeling a bit.   I’m feeling my body.   I’m knowing that death is  not logical, unfortunately. That it could creep up on one any minute and  this wonderful life could be over  and done with before one did everything  that was  required of one.    I fear  unfinished  business  and   as I believe in karma.  I have visions that mine will not be fully met…that I will one day have to depart suddenly and most of what I aspired to will be so very puny.  Being mortal is a disgusting thing.   If I get to visit God one day I think I will put it to the great being that he should rewrite this part of human life.   Reincarnation is too messy - why can’t we just live forever disease free?  It would save him a lot of time - no more answering and cataloging of a million prayers. It’s high time St Peter got his retirement package.  Also I would ask him if possible to change our digestive systems completely so we did not need to poo (whispers in a small voice ‘or fart’)ever again.

Seriously - it’s made me sit and think long and hard about what it was I was hoping to do this lifetime.  That’s not a funny question.  It’s flipping scary and I wish I never thought of it at all now.  In asking that I realise horribly that so far what I have done,  is basically a number of things badly.  It makes me ponder the greater picture of LIFE too. Should I evict myself from my suburban trusses and go to Africa and be with the orphaned aids children that so touch my heart to distraction?  The thing is I am just not that bold or saintly enough.  So I have to think what my ‘training’ in this lifetime has been (even if I did not frikking ask for it!) and how I can best serve others through that.  And if I am willing to put aside my selfish dreams and aspirations to heed that calling?

Part of why I sabotage myself is because deep down I can’t attain that ideal of perfection in what I do. I still have confidence issues - I think I am slow at learning ( I am), which I feel embarressed about because I am a proud git.   So as a result I do pretty much diddly squat. I think I might have been barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps the important thing is that even if it has been a half baked effort it has been something at least.

Sooooo  it is time for me to take stock.  It is time to clarify my life.  It is time to consolidate and work with renewed energy and vision and beat the untimely moment that surely awaits me.
Petal & Zen-zen continue to fill my life.  Having Petal is not far from having a toddler.  It’s constant vigilence, constant feeding, discipline and constant loving. Oh , but she is worth it!  I have never laughed so much at a dogs antics.    Took petal to the puppy socialisation club this week which is run once a week in the evening, by our local Vet. It’s wild. A mass of puppy bodies entangled on the floor and much crazy dippy playing.   After the class ended Petal decided she did not want to go home.  She did a roundabout turn near the door to the now empty seating arrangement - all skippety hoppity, prancey prancey and took her place beside the chair we had been sitting on. Then she realised the party was over…she faced the side and with one ear front and one ear back, hung her head, looked down over her long snout and shot us one of those loooong very hangdog looks out the corner of her eye!   The facilitators and the trainer and Matt & I nearly peed ourselves laughing. It was so clear what she was saying:  ‘I don’t understand …why do we have to end the party so early!’
We tried to tempt her out with a treat to no avail. In the end Jackies ( the facilitators) heart melted and she carried her out for us!
Petal does win hearts.  Rough men with builders bum (jeans that show the crack - arghhhh!)get glazed looks in world weary faces and smile broadly as they recall childhood english bull terriers.  One chap nearly drove into another car when he saw her. I don’t even think he noticed, lol.  Yesterday a woman walking her dog yelled out from the other side of the road that she was ‘too cute!’….we should have called her ‘2cute’ it’s a comment we hear all the time!

As for me - I am running everyday.  It sort of happened spontaneously. Generally I avoid exercise like the plague (which is partly why I opted for la DS - less need than other surgeries I had hoped, in the longerterm). Petal gets cabin fever on rainy days and so the walks must be intensive to restore peace to our lives later in the day - else it is maniac mayhem in Colman place. Much nipping at poor traumatized Zen Zen, much gnawing on furniture or shoes and much leaf tasting. Much pestering.  So I started to run so that Petal could exhaust herself.  And I have discovered that I actually like running. That it has a sweetness to it when I think of how once, not long ago I could barely walk without extreme exhaustion and pain.  I call Petals name and we bolt full tilt  accross the field, my hair flying, dogpoopie bag flapping in hand, leaping puppy behind me, poodly creature (that’s Zen-zen) veering  to the right  - I must look a right sight!
I weighed myself this morning - another pound off.  But I suspect now it is this running malarkey.  I hope so. I hope it is not an ill omen of some kind.  Anyway - today I am doubling up on my lattes.  I have taken to using the light carnation milk instead of the very rich full cream in them. The protein loss is negligable. I also add a few drops of real vanilla essence and it is a delicious drink.  I plan a sweet snack a day for a few weeks. It’s quite fun to have such license.  I had chocolate cake in the fridge yesterday and forgot all about it!   Today I have homemade rich creamy chocolate mousse with toffee sauce in my fridge waiting for later.  If I remember I might have that piece of cake as well later in the evening.

Last night Petal was playing around the house and suddenly we heard gagging sounds.  Poor little thing was in great distress, foaming at the mouth and choking and very very afraid. As was I.  After a few minutes - it seemed like much longer - she managed to swallow whatever it was that had got stuck.  Then my fears set in - what if it was a piece of slate from the garden, or a leaf, a piece of plastic…all items I have removed from her mouth over the past few months ( I might add with her vigorously protesting my efforts to ruin her fun!).

Today has been a bit worrisome. Will the offending object come out?  Each poop is scrutinised - deep flipping joy.  So far no blood and she seems her usual little happy busybody self.  So fingers crossed things stay okay.

Inbetween dogpoo gazing I am trying to get Pete’s suitcase sorted for his impending trip.  I need to sow the lawn over but it is miserable weather so I go out in short bursts to rake and scarify the existing sorry story of a lawn.

I weighed in at 8 stone 9 today…just watching it. I don’t really understand that, as I had a wee blowout with a packet - yes - an entire packet of chocolate biscuits yesterday. The day before I had indulged in more kit kats than is healthy to divulge. (Hangs head in shame.)  I’m consoling myself with the fact that I need to keep this weight constant right now. My guilt always dies hard.
I have also seen something quite interesting.  Several months ago on the skin on my breastbone ( it’s a lovely bone I only discovered a few years ago for the first time but I digress)… a strange mark began to grow. Panicking that it might be a skin cancer I saw my GP who laughed at me and then further mortified me by stating it was an age spot.

What?  I’m only 42 years young or something.  (never sure of my own age).

Anyway my non medical opinion differed I thought it was deficiency related. Everything in my life is either def related or about to become def related.

Anyway the thing was growing at knots and had it continued I might have looked permanently suntanned.   Then I changed 2 things.  I started to wap myself with 1000mgs of Vit C each day (only for the past 3 days so far) and over the past month I significantly increased calcium intake and a bit more Vit D (though not nearly enough yet).   Suddenly this thing is shrinking and fading.  I’ll take a pic of it for the record. We might have a new symptom of something lacking here - or it might just be a coincidence.  Either way - can’t hurt to record the evidence.

Also - the travel saints have been watching over my child.  She’d been planning a trip to Cancun in Mexico for ages & planned to leave for there few days ago.  Then, after some thought she decided to change her plans and go to San Fransisco instead.  Today I heard there is a stage 5 hurricane heading straight for Cancun.  They are evacuating the place. I get shivers thinking about it - just a different decision and she’d have been there already.  I need to write the kid and tell her to ALWAYS stay with that little inner  voice of hers.

We just had a sad and tragic death of a young DS  patient here in the UK.   I won’t bother to post up the link  to the paper that covered it because I have never read  so much innaccurate  drivel on the DS  surgery  technically.

Seems her death was caused by a number of factors, poor aftercare and apparently a CC of 30cms.   There’s no doubt it was a highly malabsorptive surgery, but was it a DS?   I don’t think so.

I have heard from time to time of other patients who believe they have a DS reporting CC’s of 35 cms and tbh it scares me. Firstly I am scared for the ramifications of such a small CC for them as individuals. Secondly, when deaths occur, when severe malnutrition kicks in the DS get’s a very bad press. On the other end of the scale stomachs are sometimes made too large to begin with and I have read of CC’s of 120cm’s.  The end result - regains and unhappy bunnies.
So what is a DS then?

Some highly experienced surgeons such as Hess & Partners do gauge the correct length of the limbs but they have worked out strong foundations for doing this and I don’t believe they go below the classic BPD length of 50cms. Mid measurements are 75cm’s & their upper parameter is 100cms. They wrote a paper on it - well worth reading if you have decided a DS is for you.

Look at their stomach volume measurements as well.

There is good data from them that their measurements work with minimal failure rates.

Speaking of data on this subject - we could do with more.  I feel that defining what a DS actually is can only be done in technical speak.

Of course there will occassionally be carefully considered sound medical reasons for why a tum is cut smaller than the average (such in my case due to polyps).  Or perhaps why the limbs should be shorter or longer. But patients need this info if they are to work with the modifications effectively and prevent tragedy or disappointment longerterm.

DS patients - get your measurements from your surgeon.  Know thyself! If you are seeing a surgeon starting out doing the DS discuss such issues with him.  The experience to truly design your DS around your body might not be there yet but working to an average set of measurements will still give you  a real chance for a successful outcome.

Anyway…on the home front things are just busy.  Which is good. Petal continues to make me laugh and fill my day and Zenni is starting to chill out more.  The garden is starting to look beautiful again.  It’s huge work and strenous but I am up to it and pretty fit.

Matt is home from Uni and it’s wonderful to have him home but let’s say nowt about the pile of clothes that need cleaning.

The Japanese screen is on standby - I can’t find the time right now, but it really keeps calling my name.

My mum seems to have turned the corner (fingers crossed & I am not giving up hope this is at last true!) - she did have a bowel obstruction but it was not mechanical.  It resolved with her fasting and with hospital administered laxatives.  I’m thinking of her and in contact with her every day.

…is biting at my ankles again. And to be honest my heart too.

My mum is back in hospital with a suspected bowel obstruction.  I’m very afraid and very worried. The ward sister says she thinks it has resolved….mmmmm, I am not so sure.
I spoke with her today she sounds very exhausted. Says her abdomen is tender and swollen. Not good.

We discussed her getting a CT scan.  You know I feel like mouthing off no end about this - why oh why  is this not the first course of action where possible symptoms exist?  Why run risks?

I’m not medical so probably I don’t understand.

But what I do understand is how awfully painful an obstruction is - and how terrifying the very notion of it is. And how dangerous it is.   And I know no patient should live with those factors for more than a couple of hours maximum.  It does terrible things to one.

Anyway I am almost too stressed to rant.  My suitcase is packed.  I am in contact with my mum and the hospital and if the locum surgeon won’t do a scan I shall call him personally.

Please pray  or send pos thoughts for my mum who has been through so much in such a short space of time.

This morning I braved my trusty old scale again.  I’m holding firm at 8 stone 11.   That’s okay.   I’m  eating well and have increased my portions  somewhat.

Life on the Colman front is busy.  Very busy. Petal continues to make me laugh.  And it is not far off from having a toddler in the house again. Everything is investigated.  Everything is tasted.  I have never put my fingers into a dogs mouth so much in my life. I fish out threads, leaves, soggy paper.  I have a fear she will obstruct her bowel.   Mind you I just have obsessions with bowel obstructions anyway. It’s a hangover of mine still.  I think I need psychology.

I’m also busy restoring some antiques.  One is particularly challenging. It is an early 19th century Japanese Silk Screen.  It has the most awesome piece of embroidery I think I have ever seen of a magnificent eagle sitting in pine branches watching small birds flying beneath it.  The work is just incredible - even the texture of the eagles feathers is there.  I gaze at it in awe throughout the day and wonder whose hands and imagination created this work of art.  I picked it up for a fiver at my local auction house. No one else bid on it.  Unsuprisingly.  The problem is this - the silk is almost completely split and deteriorated on most of the panels.  The embroidery is still intact despite all of this damage, it hangs in a torn limbo.  When Pete went to collect it the auctioneer commented ‘your wife must have a helluva imagination’.  He’s right - I do!

I can see it in my head - restored. It’s worthy of hanging in a foyer somewhere where it can be seen and appreciated by lot’s of people.  I love textiles and collect them, pieces like this are very rare. I seldom see such pieces.

Now begins the conservation research.  I will preserve as much of the split silk as possible godswilling.  It is touch and go admittedly as the silk almost disintegates on touch.  I might be forced to preserve the embroidery by backing it onto new silk.  But I believe in giving it my best shot to try to restore the piece as carefully as possible and that means conserving it’s history.  Think I will upload photo’s here of the restoration as it is quite a big work and if I can do it it might be nice for those who do  similar work  to see my results (if there are any!).

The other project is simpler - sympathetic restoration of an old deeds box. It’s mostly a clean up job and a coat of lacquer.

I’m in the garden today as well, mowing the lawn, cleaning up flower beds.  I don’t stop!  But I love it - I love it so much.  I love being able to be physical.  This morning I ran down to the local shops. Yup - RAN.  Still makes my smile that this DS has turned around my life so much.  It just goes on getting better.