I couldn’t do anything the night before
surgery besides reflect on one of my fine childhood
memories. I was 9-years-old when I just knew Santa
Claus was going to bring me the hottest toy of
the year — a hand-held, battery-operated
Pac-Man game. Not many of my friends had one because
it had just been released and it was too expensive
for most.
I didn’t sleep well that night. I woke
up every 20 minutes or so to check the Christmas
tree because I knew that my game was sitting there
waiting to be set free from its foil wrapping.
I wanted my game.
Well, I hardly slept the night of Sept. 19, 2006,
because of the gift I was going to receive the
next day. Only this was not a game, this was a
medical device that would eventually let me live
long enough to see my kids graduate from high
school.
I didn’t have to check into the hospital
until 8:30 that morning, two hours before my scheduled
bariatric weight-loss surgery. I got up for the
last time at 5 that morning because my nerves
were killing me. All week I had joked with my
wife, Marissa, that I would die on the operating
table because of my size.
It was no longer a joke. I was scared for my
life. I surfed the Internet for a couple of hours,
researching death statistics during weight loss
surgery. It was less than 5 percent, and I just
knew I was in the minority. After all, I was already
in a small group of 500-pounders that did not
have any health problems except excess weight.
It wasn’t long before the family was up
and getting ready to make the trip to the hospital.
When the door shut behind me, I promised myself
that it would not be the last time I walked through
it.
My wife’s parents took our two boys to
breakfast while we made our way to the hospital.
After a brief check-in, we made our way to the
family waiting room where I tried to calm down
so that my doctor would not have a heart attack
patient on his hands.
Right on time, I was called to the surgery pre-op
room, and thankfully, they allowed my wife to
join me. I just knew this was our last hour together,
and I was not ready to see the greatest woman
I have ever known walk away for the last time.
Just as my spirits were at their lowest, I got
the best pick-me-up news. Two days prior to surgery,
I had lost 17 pounds on my pre-surgery liquid
diet. When Judy Spira, my nurse and dietitian,
came to see me for a final review of the procedure,
she put me on the scale. I had lost another seven
pounds, for a total of 24 pounds. Wow!
I developed an appreciation for scales for the
first time. After some high-fives from the nurses,
I was ready.
I made my way back to my bed where I was joined
by our boys, Brad and Drew, and my in-laws. In
10 minutes I was rolled away. My vitals were taken
by a nurse who is a Lap-Band success story, losing
more than 100 pounds. That was encouraging to
hear.
Dr. Mosier made his way in to make sure I was
ready. After a few directions, I told him something
I say a lot: “Put me in coach, I’m
ready.”
I was slapped with a little anesthesia. Ten seconds
later, I was gone.
The typical Lap-Band surgery is approximately
45 minutes — I wasn’t as lucky. I
was under the knife, so to speak, for two hours.
Mosier said my surgery would be lengthy for two
reasons:
n He takes a little more time because he wants
to make absolutely sure the Lap-Band is on for
good, even if he has to take it off and put it
back on;
n Because of my size, I was a much higher risk
for problems and there was more tissue to work
around.
The surgery is done with either one large incision
or laparoscopically, depending on the build of
the patient. Fortunately, my gut was kind to me
and Mosier was able to save my life laparoscopically.
He made four small incisions and one that was
considerably larger. My pre-op liquid diet, which
was to shrink my liver to have better access to
the stomach, was a huge success as he had little
trouble with the organs.
The Lap-Band was fastened around the upper part
of my stomach to create a pouch the size of an
egg. The rest of the lower stomach will stay in
its normal position. The access port for adjusting
the band was placed under my skin and just below
the left side of my chest.
I realized I made it through this experience
alive when I was in recovery and had three nurses
screaming my name. I must have been out like a
light. My blood pressure was dangerously low,
so I was there until they got it back on track.
About 1 in the afternoon, I needed a drink —
anything. They wheeled me to x-ray where I got
to drink some barium. Yuck! It tasted like paste,
but it was to show the doctor that the Lap-Band
was in place and doing its job.
Finally, I was taken to my room where I would
stay for three days, but it felt more like a week.
The first day I could hardly remember anything.
I was finally awake long enough to get my hands
on a cup of crushed ice. As for a meal, I passed
on the first day because I wasn’t hungry.
In fact, I was not hungry for the first five
days. But I knew I had to get something down to
stay hydrated and nourished. It’s important
to follow the eating and drinking instructions
starting right after the surgery to allow the
new stomach structure to heal completely.
The first night was the worst. I have a high
pain tolerance, but I gave in at 4 the next morning
when my wife saw my tears of pain. It didn’t
take long before the morphine was shot into my
IV. I hate that feeling, but I sure felt good.
The second day was a tad better.
My doctor told me know how well things went.
The nursing care was great. My single room was
perfect and my three daily meals of jello, broth
and juice were delicious. But I was ready to go
home. I had survived my biggest worry.
I spent most of my third day sitting in a chair
and was then given my release.
As my family packed my things, I immediately
started thinking about my new life. I was given
the tool to save my life, and now it was my turn
to use it to my advantage.
It took a lot of research, discussions and embarrassment
to go through with this, but paying for this surgery
was the best purchase we have ever made.
According to every doctor I talked to before
making this decision, overcoming morbid obesity
can extend a person’s life an average of
20 years. I did the simple math and discovered
it cost me approximately $2 a day to live an extra
20 years with my Lap-Band.
What would your life be worth to you if you had
to pay for it? Is it worth $2 a day? To me, that
is a ridiculously small price to pay, and I left
that hospital with a smile and couldn’t
wait to get home to see my boys. I was given another
chance at life, only this time, I’m going
to be a loser – the happiest loser my wife
and kids have ever known.
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