| And so the fun begins... |
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| 02:02am 06/09/2008 |
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mood:  pensive
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My journey to a smaller pant (pants? pant? moose?)size began on Thursday. Sort of. I've been on the phone with my insurance company for weeks, and the library fax machine knows more about me than any other thing on earth. But on Thursday, I met with the surgeon. Well, first I met with his minions, and then I met with him.
I asked my mom to go with me and she agreed, which was a huge deal because the office lady said to reserve 4 hours for the appointment and my mom gets twitchy if it's a work day and she's not at work. But I guess she's feeling guilty about ditching me a couple of times already, so she went. I had to drive an hour to get to my parents' house (I live one city over)and since the appointment was at 8:00 AM, that meant I had to drag my ass out of bed at 5:30 in the morning. The fact that I managed to drive and was even semi-conscious while doing it is a testament to the efficacy of early morning Diet Coke convenience store runs.
Anyway, the morning started off badly because we got lost going to the clinic. I had gotten directions but they were unclear thanks to the fact that the clinic is part of a hospital that occupies 5 or more buildings over two blocks. I called the clinic for directions but got some mouth-breathers from an answering service who weren't able to locate the ass they were sitting on, let alone this clinic. We're 15 minutes late and my Mom's irritation is vibrating off of her.
We finally get there and wander around some more until we find the right office. (Hint: it's the one all the fat people are going into.)I'm already tense at this point because my Mom is pissed and I'm nervous about this appointment, so when we walk in and I'm struck with the sight of about 10 very fat people in a tiny waiting room, I almost burst into peals of laughter. I couldn't help it- it's so surreal. The waiting room was small and hot and there were only three benches, which might have seated everyone if everyone wasn't the size of a Mini Cooper. (Myself included). So, some of us fatties have to stand and believe me, we're not happy.
One by one people are called into the back. They disappear for about five minutes then reappear with a sheet of paper and leave the office, only to mysteriously return fifteen minutes later. When it's my turn, my mom and I are called into a small room where a friendly nurse attempts to take my blood pressure by way of a garrote-style cuff that cuts off all blood flow to my arm below the elbow. Of course, my blood pressure was off the charts, but I monitor my blood pressure daily and it's never that high. Perhaps the fact that the cuff was threatening my arm with its lethal grip had something to do with it. The lady weighed me, asked a few perfunctory questions and lo- I am handed my own sheet of paper and told that the surgeon's office is in the next building over and I have to walk over there, make my co-payment for this appointment and then come back.
It is then that I realize that the reason they tell you to block off 4 hours for the appointment isn't because complex medical diagnostic procedures are going to be performed, but because they are disorganized morons.
Indeed, the majority of the FIVE hours my Mom and I spend there are spent in the waiting room, sitting on tiny benches with Good Morning America blaring on a badly-tuned television. This is exactly what I need to feel better: the Republican convention and Kathie Lee Gifford. It's like I've died and gone to hell. All that was missing was Rachel Ray. And Mr. Farley, my elementary school PE coach.
Anyway, the rest of the appointment goes like this: I walk over to the next building, make my co-payment, return and attend a power point presentation about the surgery where the nurse (a patient herself) is brutally honest and the phrase "dumping syndrome" gets bandied about. Then my Mom and I wait about 45 minutes and then meet with a dietitian for about 10, wait another hour and are escorted into the examining room where we wait another 15 minutes before the surgeon comes in, confirms that, yes, I'm fat, and voila! We're nearly done. All that's left is to sign some paperwork and get my referral for a psych evaluation. (I will need counseling after this appointment).
Tragically, we meet a roadblock in the form of Lupe, the world's worst secretary. First, she ignores us for 10 minutes (we're standing at a window, staring at her)while she shuffles paperwork. (I work in public service, a brief "I'll be right with you" or some other sort of acknowledgment would have been appropriate and appreciated.) My Mom has almost vibrated herself into a seizure at this point, so she leans over me, reads Lupe's nametag and says "Ms. -----, what can we do to speed things up here?" in her scary Stentorian-lady voice. Lupe snaps to attention and spends the next 15 minutes asking me questions THAT I'VE ALREADY ANSWERED in my paperwork (which is, incidentally, right in front of her)and tapping things into a computer. She then makes what has to be the tenth copy of my insurance card and license and then spends so long shuffling and filing away papers in my file that I was convinced that her life was in jeopardy. "I'll take ways my Mom will kill Lupe for $1,000, Alex."
The answer is: "It will soon be protruding from her eye." BUZZZ... "What is the letter opener, Alex."
Anyway. We finally get out of there about 1:30. We've been there since 8:15. My Mom drove me back to my car, practically forcing me to perform a tuck and roll out of her speeding car so she could get to work.
I have to admit that I was pretty sure about the lap band being the way to go before this appointment and now I'm not sure. I'm also a little apprehensive about the total life change this will require. I mean, despite the fact that I hate how I look, I've grown comfortable with it. What will my life be like when I'm no longer me? Wendy McClure of Television without Pity fame wrote a great book called 'I'm not the new me' that talks about this. I think I shall re-read it. Other questions involve how long I can afford to take off work, what my co-payment will be and the complications...Jesus, the complications. Dumping syndrome. It sounds as bad as it is.
Jeebus. There is much to consider and a psych evaluation to look forward to. I hate psych evals. I know I'm nuts, I don't need a PhD to tell me that. I know I have food issues. I know I have body issues.
Well, the first hurdle has been conquered. The next ones, the psych eval, the insurance approval and the surgery are that much closer.
Scary thought. |
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| I have decided that I am going to be hot in my 30s. |
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| 11:10am 22/08/2008 |
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I have decided that I am going to be hot in my 30s. Not hot like I am now, where I sweat like a horse in a glue factory, but actually hot in the aesthetic sense. I have also decided that I am not going to take more than 2 prescription medications, I am not going to have to continue buying my pants in "husky" sizes and I am not going to have to wear shorts under my skirts to avoid the dreaded "chub rub".
After talking to my doctor, I have decided to undergo bariatric surgery.
It was not a particularly proud moment, realizing that I now qualify.
I do want to address something here, with you, in case you're harboring, in the back of your mind, the little thought that I don't need bariatric surgery, that I just need to stop substituting food for love. I myself struggled with that thought. But here's
the deal: in order to be healthy, to not have high blood pressure or diabetes, to not have knee problems, or kidney failure, glaucoma, hair loss, swollen extemities, back problems, liver problems etc., I need to lose at least 100 pounds. And I know, from experience, that I just can't do that.
I can lose about 30 on my own, as long as something horrible happens to a loved one AND I have to fit into a bridesmaid dress, but beyond that...it's just not going to happen.
I have decided to undergo lap band surgery, which is less invasive and has a faster recovery rate. It also causes less weight-loss, but I don't see this surgery as THE answer to my weight problem. I see it as a tool to help me. I've joined a gym (and I actually go,
sometimes) and today, I had a salad with my lunch. I'm making some fundamental changes to how I live my life and this is just another change. Hopefully, it will be a good one.
I am going to do this mostly on my own...but I need a little help. From the doctors and the nutritionists and that guy at the gym who can't put his arms all the way down. And my family and friends. And possibly my cat. Come to think of it, he needs to go on a diet, too. He's getting a bit hefty and I'm pretty sure nothing on him is supposed to jiggle when he runs (if he runs-mostly to his food bowl).
Anyway, my most major hurdle is insurance. So far, my insurance company is on board- they've assigned me a caseworker. But, I believe I have to undergo a psychiatric evaluation before I get approved, so...maybe this is all a shot in the dark. (She's crazy...for Nutella!)
But, no matter what my insurance company decides, I have still decided that I will be hot in my 30s. I will age like a fine wine...or a particularly nice wheel of cheese, instead of my current path which, to stretch this metahor like my pants, will lead directly to the bargain bin-like an off-colored piece of meat, priced at $2.00 for a quick sale. |
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| 04:46pm 21/08/2007 |
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I am attempting to learn the magic of flickr. So, enjoy a picture of my kitty! In a bag!
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| Better You Than Me |
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| 05:12pm 13/07/2007 |
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mood: thoughtful music: Muse
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My uncle has threatened to show some of my writing to a published author friend of his. However, since most of my writing up to this point has been fanfiction, I decided to try my hand at writing something that doesn't involve ninjas or death gods. So, without further ado, here's my first non-anime related short story in almost ten years...Any opinions?
( Read more... ) |
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| 02:39am 13/10/2006 |
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mood: contemplative music: Sudden, insatiable urge for disco
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*poke*poke*
I think this journal might be dead. But who has time for updates when you're living la biblioteca loca at the fourth largest library in the state of New Mexico? Not me, my friends. I'm to busy trying to keep the stupidity at work from leaking out and...I don't know, covering baby seals with its black, oily funk. |
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| What?! What?! |
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| 04:27pm 22/06/2006 |
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mood:  confused music: Soul Coughing, El Oso
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Okay, I know this entry has nothing really to do with fanfiction, per se...but I just had to put it somewhere.
I was cataloging a science fiction book this afternoon when I realized that this book was published by a vanity press. I didn't want to immediately judge the quality of said tome, but then I read the back...
*Note: I typed it exactly as it appeared on the back, wierdness, comma-less-ness, and all.
Kidnapped by futuristic people from a thousand years beyond, Brad Jensen an alcoholic Los Angeles cop finds himself with a new job - to save the world from extinction. Torn between the loves of his wife, and a chic Intelligence officer in the Israeli secret police and a beautiful doctor who is part of a top-secret task force, he walks through the future forgetting he really should be dead! He must stay sane and sound as he confronts Sadaam Hussein and the New Iraquis in their plans to conquer the great divides of space, including Earth!! To be defeated would be the end of a civilized way of life. He knew he had to literally reach within himself to find the total Herculean strength in order for his seed of life to save a race from oblivion! Could the Universe ill afford to wait? He dared not think so!
Uhhhhhh....
Hold on, my brain just up and fizzled away. Come back, brain!
Now, I have a few questions for you vain author:
1. How exactly did an alcoholic L.A. cop end up torn between three women? Does this man have a chocolate flavored wee-wee that dispenses candy?
2. Sane and sound or safe and sound? Actually, reading some of this book, I'm betting sane.
3. Why was Saddam Hussein randomly thrown in here? Was MSNBC on in the background while you wrote? And furthermore, HOW DID SADDAM SURVIVE FOR 1,000 YEARS?! Or is this a Saddam-bot or a bio-engineered Sadaam?
4. What are the New Iraquis? Are they like New Kids? Do they dance?
5. When Brad "literally" reached into himself, did it hurt?
6. Did I really read "seed of life"? Does this mean that Brad, the alcoholic, time-travelling, Saddam Hussein and the New Iraqui-battling, woman juggling L.A. cop "literally" reached inside himself to become a sperm donor? Did he have to impregnate everyone in the future?
7. Can the Universe ill afford to wait?
Well, since my brain's done gone, I'm done gone, too. I have to finish cataloging this masterpiece of American Science Fiction, this new Asimov. Alas!
**ADDITION***
People...the race of people in this book are called Peeonchin. PEE ON CHIN!!!! I know this is supposed to be a satire, but as a rule, I tend to believe that satires should be written well enough as to highlight the absurdities of the genre they are ripping on, instead of written so poorly that I laugh because of unintended irony and spelling errors. Plus...PEEONCHIN! |
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| It's not dead, but it is writing... |
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| 03:51pm 24/01/2006 |
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mood:  chipper music: Someone is using a papercutter...
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Hey-o! If you are interested in reading all my Ace of Cups drabbles from the seriously addicting anime series Bleach, and you are a fan of the Ichigo/Rukia pairing, then check out my Memories section where they are all housed. Read them in date order. For some wierd reason, the first entry, 05-10-24: ichi_ruki: Ace of Cups 1 and 2 is at the bottom of the list when it should be on top, that one is the first, the rest can be read in the order they're posted. Whee! |
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| Drab-tastic! Hmm, that doesn't sound very good, actually. |
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| 03:39pm 24/10/2005 |
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mood: amused music: Sound of babies crying
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Okay, I was inspired by the ichi_ruki 100 themes entry for 'Ace of Cups', to come up with a sub-theme, based on the tarot interpretation for 'Ace of Cups'. I'm using it for Bleach fics featuring Ichi/Ruki, but I suppose it could work anywhere romance is rampant. Wooo! Check it out...
Ace of Cups: Themes (broken up into sections)
A. Using emotional force
1. Getting in touch with your feelings
2. Letting your heart lead the way
3. Empathizing with others
4. Expressing deep feelings
5. Responding viscerally
B. Developing intuition
6.Trusting your inner voice
7.Responding to messages from within
8.Experiencing direct knowing
9.Enhancing your psychic awareness
10. Getting in tune with yourself
11. Going with your gut reaction
C. Experiencing intimacy
12. Feeling an attraction grow
13. Falling in love
14. Establishing a bond with another
15. Developing a relationship
16. Getting close to someone
17. Going to a deeper level
D. Proceeding with love
18. Expressing affection
19. Opening yourself to others
20. Responding sympathetically
21. Letting your love light shine
22. Giving to those in need
23. Getting rid of negativity
24. Forgiving and forgetting |
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| This entry is bananas! |
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| 03:27am 23/10/2005 |
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mood:  accomplished music: Coldplay/A Rush of Blood to the Head
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I was on this mad fantasy kick a while back, due to reading David Eddings. I was also watching Gundam Wing. One thing led to another and, voila! A fantasy epic starring all of our favorite GW people! I only completed about four chapters. So, for your reading pleasure...Chapter 1! As with all of these stories, it has no title.
( Read more... ) |
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| I need to remember this! |
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| 04:50am 14/10/2005 |
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mood:  moody music: Coldplay
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Okay, this has no fic to is, but I just thought of it and need to preserve it so that I may one day use it.
"She cracked him open like an egg, his messy insides spilling out for everyone to see."
That could either be a very emo sentence or a very violent one. Hmmm.
Argh! I must stop listening to Coldplay! It makes me moody! |
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| Something of the Naruto persuasion |
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| 12:37am 11/10/2005 |
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mood: accomplished music: Shakira/Fijacion Oral
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And another! I'm on a roll! If only I was on the kind of roll that involved actually finishing something! Oooh! Anyway, this was a story I began when I thought to myself, "That Sasuke is a bastard. Sakura could do better." So, my attempt at a Sakura/Naruto romance. Hmm.
( Read more... ) |
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| Hmmm. Something Fruity. |
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| 11:13pm 10/10/2005 |
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mood: mischievous music: Shakira/Fajion Oral
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Apparently, I was thinking about writing a Fruits Basket story. But then I read the most current translations and believe me, nothing in my f'd up little mind could beat what the original manga-ka is doing. But still, here, for your perusal, my brief attempt at beginning a Fruits Basket story...
( Read more... ) |
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| Now why didn't I ever finish this? |
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| 06:40pm 07/10/2005 |
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mood: accomplished music: Coldplay/Parachutes
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This was a sort of Rurouni Kenshin/Peacemaker Kurogane story. I started it over a year ago and never got past this. One of my main problems is that I get leery when introducing new characters to a story. I am really paranoid about 'Mary Sue-itis'. The character of 'Shinju' has gone through many changes and will probably go through many more. We'll see.
( Read more... ) |
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| Well now, this is different. |
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| 10:26am 06/10/2005 |
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mood: intrigued by the possibilities music: Carmina Burana
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Hmmm. So I've finally been caught in the Live Journal snare. What I would like to do with this account is use it strictly as a burial ground for fics I started and never finished. I'd like to get people's opinions on them, but it would be cruel to post them on ff.net if I don't really intend on finishing them. But hey, who knows? Maybe I'll get inspired to actually finish one of these, resurrect it, as it were. |
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gemchansan's journal