My dad said that when I was in recovery, I was so excited because my stomach was flat. In fact, he says I told him I had abs. Now, I don't remember saying that, but hey...I remember spending that first five days in the hospital. The food was awful like usual but instead of having friends bring me food all the time, I had (in advance) told them to tell me no! Instead, I did have someone bring me two meals, but I was careful in what I selected and made sure it was as "clean" as I could.
Many of you know that the week following my surgery, I was put back in the hospital with some infection in my sutures new that had opened. I had four areas that opened - my back, right side, and two teeny spots in the front. The front spots were the first to heal, then the back and now finally the right side seems to be getting the hang of healing. During that stay I had to have a second surgery to clean out the wounds that had opened as they were highly infected.
Upon my release from the hospital, I was brought back to the emergency room the following day with a blood clot in my right arm. Apparently, during my second stay there was a blood clot around my PICC line but despite medications never really went away so when the PICC was removed it traveled to my arm. That led me to another week in the hospital. All in all for the surgery and subsequent stays I think I spent 24 days in the hospital. I am so thankful to my grandma, not only for her opening her home to me to recuperate, but because she came up to the hospital every single day to make sure I was not alone so my parents could work. I am so thankful to my mom who spent most nights up at the hospital with me so that I was not alone and would help me get in and out of bed during the night if needed. I am thankful for my friend Cynthia who stuck by me through the dressing changes when I was in agonizing pain and didn't complain when I squeezed her fingers to death. I am thankful for every single one of you that has helped either financially or prayerfully.
I have to remember where I came from Sometimes, and yesterday was a prime example, I get discouraged that I am not back in the gym yet. That I'm not working on my next fitness goal. To be completely transparent, part of me is scared. Scared I won't be able to do what I once did. Scared because I know I have to do more than I once did. I used the excuse of my excess skin for so long (and it was a valid excuse for not being able to do some things) but now...what's my excuse?
This journey is not only physical, it is mental and emotional too. I didn't realize quite how much until I went through it. I am so thankful for my friend Christine who has been through this surgery and kind of warned me what to expect. We had the same surgeon and even though I had more skin removed and have more weight to lose, she really has stepped up and encouraged me.
If you have a health decision to make and you haven't done it, I beg you not to wait. Especially if it is losing weight. It doesn't get easier with time. In fact it gets harder and slower.
So, remembering where I came from...two and a half years ago I was tipping the scales at 500 pounds or close to it. Today I'm half that and have the knowledge I need to be successful in losing the last 100 pounds. I know it will be tough. It will have pain. Bruises and battle scars. But each and every time I want to quit I will remember from where I came. I do not ever want to go back there. When my journey is complete, I would like to get my certification as a personal trainer and nutritionist - a far cry from where I ever thought I'd be.
God has been faithful to me throughout this journey, providing exactly what I need when I need it and most times more than I ever dreamed.
