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Bariatric Surgery Finally Arrives Part 7

Along with major complications

By Joan GershmanPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 5 min read
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Bariatric Surgery Finally Arrives Part 7
Photo by Olga Guryanova on Unsplash

Part 1 - Introduction - The Life that Led Me to Bariatric Surgery

Part 2 -The Road to Bariatric Surgery - Full of Potholes

Part 3 -Struggling Through the Pre-Surgery Medical Clearances

Part 4 - Failing the Psychological Exam

Part 5- Pre-Surgery Education Class - The Fattest One in the Room

Part 6 - Starving for Surgery

The big day is finally here! A lifetime of compulsive overeating, humiliation, degradation, and depression, six months of medical tests, education classes, nutrition appointments, support group meetings, and diet attempts – all about to end in one hour.

Did you know that 21st-century hospital beds secretly function as scales? That’s cruelty at its finest in my opinion. No chance of cheating. No time to remove the earrings (How Much Do Earrings Weigh?). I weighed in at a couple of pounds over my required 5% loss of body weight, but it wasn’t enough to disqualify me.

I was lying on the gurney in the pre-op area gazing up at the concerned face of my son, when my surgeon arrived at my side and said, “Just so you know, if I encounter too much scar tissue from your old abdominal surgery, I will not continue.”

“WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?”, I screamed. I was FRANTIC. “We talked about this. You said you would do open abdominal surgery if you couldn’t navigate laparoscopically. You HAVE to do this surgery!!!!” I was shrieking at him by this time.

My obese life flashed across my brain. After all I had been through – a lifetime of obesity, as well as the six months of preparation, the idea of not having the surgery was untenable to me. I was hysterical right there on the gurney. “You HAVE to do this surgery. You HAVE to!”

“No”, he calmly stated. “What I HAVE to do is save your life. If it’s too dangerous to proceed, I will not do it.”

“No, no, no”, just kill me NOW”, I cried. Literally. Honestly, that’s what I said and that’s how I felt. I would rather have died than face another lifetime of obesity.

“Don’t worry”, he said. “I’m the best there is at this type of surgery.”

I was later to find out just how skillful he was.

And that was my state of mind as I was wheeled into the OR at 12 pm. This was supposed to be a 45-60 minute procedure.

I opened my eyes to see a clock on the wall in front of me. 2:45 pm. Even in my foggy, anesthesia doped up condition, I knew that didn’t seem right. It was at least an hour later than it should have been. Panic set in immediately. Did he do it? Did he do it? That was the only thought in my mind.

I turned my head to see Joel’s smiling face, and right behind him, my surgeon. The first words out of his mouth were, “Well, you certainly gave us a run for our money.” Not the words you want to hear after a surgical procedure.

He repaired the hiatal hernia he had found during the endoscopy. No problem. However, apparently, not only had he encountered more scar tissue than he bargained for but there was a mesh issue.

20 years ago, the standard repair treatment for the strangulated hernia I had was to place mesh across my bowel to keep my insides intact. Over time, the mesh and bowel had gotten completely tangled up. He had to remove all of the tangled mesh from my bowel – laparoscopically. A monumental task requiring precision-like skill. In the process, he nicked my bowel and had to repair that.

After being told all of this, my only question was – “Did you do it? Did you do the sleeve gastrectomy?”

“Yes”, he said, then proceeded to extoll his virtues as the only surgeon who could have successfully handled such a complex procedure laparoscopically. I didn’t care how much he bragged. I was elated. I was going to lose weight. I was going to be normal.

Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been released the next day, but he ordered an extra night’s stay because of the complexity of the surgery.

That extra day allowed me to be privy to the hospital gossip. He and his superior surgical skills were the talk of the bariatric wing of the hospital. When it became apparent that my surgery was going to be extraordinary, interns, nurses, and anyone available on the bariatric team was called in to observe. I was told by every nurse who attended me that no one could believe how skillful he was; how no other surgeon could have done what he had done laparoscopically.

It was then that I understood how damn lucky I was. In less skillful hands, I may have had to undergo the open procedure, which I knew from the experience of 20 years ago was extremely dangerous. I could have died.

I could not have known then that I would face a more deadly situation less than three months later.

For now, all I knew or cared about was that the surgery was successful. 2/3 of my stomach, along with a good portion of my hunger hormones had been removed. I was about to embark on a new life.

Next: Overjoyed – Liquids, pureed baby food, and NO HUNGER

diet
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About the Creator

Joan Gershman

Retired - Speech/language therapist, Special Education Asst, English teacher

Websites: www.thealzheimerspouse.com; talktimewithjoan.com

Whimsical essays, short stories -funny, serious, and thought-provoking

Weightloss Series

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