Eating Disorder Not

So I saw the eating disorder specialist in a faraway North London Hospital and she spent all the time filling in information on her computer only to determine after one pertinent question that I do not have an eating disorder. (The question was 'do you binge eat often?')

My GP began weighing me up and asked me to keep a diary of my eating. Then she sat with me and told me what to swap with what. I did not like lots of her suggestions. She said to buy oily fish like salmon but salmon is too expensive. She said to forget about butter and sugar and use sweeteners instead and she told me to swap 1.5% fat milk with non-fat milk and white bread with brown bread or oats.

I tried to modify my diet and ended up GAINING weight whilst feeling bloated (my body swells up when eating fibres as it cannot break them down.)

The GP said she will re-refer me to UCLH and that their declining me surgery was not good enough, especially since they didn't back their decision up with hard facts. I feel it is a bit pointless to go down that route again but I cannot stop her. I asked her if she can arrange for someone to accompany me to the next meeting with UCLH because I say one thing, they understand another and it would be good to have an independent party present at the consultation but she said 'no, you'll go on your own.'

I feel like a child who's been told off and is about to throw a strop. LOL

Anyway, I have always maintained that the real problem is the lack of sleep but nobody would listen to me. I have read that you should sleep at least 6 hours uninterrupted for your body metabolism to work. I never sleep 6 hours non stop. I wake up 2-4 times in the night for toilet and sometimes I cannot go back to sleep because my brain fills with worries. It's been going on for so long, I have lost track of when it began.

Suddenly, without any prompting on my behalf, the GP decides to put me on a 'mild antidepressant' that would help me sleep, too. It's called Amitriptyline and they give it to children to wet their beds at night. I was doubtful it would have any effect on me but went along as she said it would be only for two weeks and then we'd review the situation.

Guess what? The drug is working. I do get a bit more sleep with the toilet trips reduced to 1-2. Had to take antibiotics, too, because I had a fall which resulted in my foot getting infected with cellulitis. So for two weeks I had to wake myself up twice at night to take my pills. But even so, I managed to sleep between doses - maybe 5-6 hours. At first I was reluctant to wake up in the morning, feeling tired and needing more sleep. I had a couple of migraines, too. My mouth and throat felt dry and painful. Now I am used to the medicine. I take it around 7 pm and by 10 pm I am falling asleep, sometimes even earlier than that.

The increased sleep has given me more energy so I have done more things around the house which I didn't do before, like empty the dishwasher myself and put the dishes away. Or tidy up the living room. Somehow I have also found the energy to walk in the hospital (instead of being wheeled around by a porter) - yes, it is a slow and painful walk, but I am walking the distance. The hospital receptionists keep encouraging me. 'You walking today? Good, good!'

Yesterday I walked in IKEA. It seemed a daunting task. All I wanted was to check out bedside tables as I need one for my daughter's room. I found the quickest route and hurried my daughter along as she stopped by the children's section to test their toys. My biggest problem is standing. I can hardly stand nowadays. I sat down twice to rest. I pushed my endurance limits. Then I almost gave up. I was tired and thirsty and my girl was hungry and thirsty. I thought I'd never be able to face walking through the furniture storage area. I had to drive the car from the disabled parking near the front entrance to the disabled parking near Returns. I thought someone would be kind enough to pick the unit up for me. I even queued up at the café to pick up a couple of hot dogs and drinks. Luckily we got the only two chairs available (IKEA seems to think it OK to make people eat up standing after a gruesome trail through their shop...) An assistant got the piece of furniture for us and put it through the till. He accompanied us to the car. By that time I was trembling and could hardly walk. But it was done. I had achieved my goal. I had the bedside table in the boot of the car! (Pity my strength did not last enough for me to buy the light and picture frames I needed, but never mind, that is for another trip.)

I was surprised with myself. Lately I haven't had much appetite. OK let's blame the antibiotics ruining my stomach. But is it that simple? Or is there a reaction happening in my body involving the part of my brain that controls hunger? In IKEA, I only ate a jumbo hot dog. No soft drink, no ice cream. I drank water. I felt so full from the first two bites. My gastric band is working as it is meant to. I had to eat slowly and put my food down between bites. It is the same gastric band. But I seem to be unable to circumnavigate its controls. Hurrah!

The GP found me to have lost weight. Of course I said it is probably that the scales used are calibrated differently, that the floor makes a difference to the reading and that the previous reading was incorrect as I was swollen - any excuse rather than believe that I have actually managed to reduce my food intake and increase my activity levels.

But I am not an angel, yet. When we got home, I became hungry around 5 pm and ate a couple of sandwich biscuits to stave my hunger. Later on I cooked some chicken livers and rice and had a bowl of food. I had a glass of mixed fruit juice, too. Much later, I finished up the packet of biscuits and ate a chocolate all on my own. That was sheer stupidity. I didn't need it, nor was I hungry. Maybe part of me is scared to give up snacking. Maybe I am testing myself. I wish I could understand me better.

This morning I had my milky coffee with two IKEA cinnamon buns. I cooked more and would have eaten a third one but my facilitator (my daughter) was busy eating her breakfast and I felt too ashamed to ask her to bring me the last bun. It was for the best. I didn't need it. I am full and satisfied. I am glad I managed to resist the temptation.

I must end my confession here as I need to get ready to go out. Some medicines to pick up and a chance to be out in the fresh air for both of us. We would have gone swimming only it is risky as my daughter had fever last night.

Oh yes, I forgot to tell you! I registered for the gym/pool. It is a specialist centre for people with disabilities (but open to able bodied people, too) so much more accessible than other places and only 10 minutes drive at the most from home.

---

To Marci: I got your note, thank you. I have been too preoccupied with things to concentrate on updating my blog, or contacting people via email. It is sweet of you to remember me and care about my progress. I hope you are doing well, yourself. Kisses.

Easter 2011

Was in Greece. My relative took me to see my surgeon for a refill. He gave me 1.5 mls. Got home, burped a lot, and in the night I began having reflux which kept me awake. Got in touch, he said take omeprazole (Losec) and come see me if it doesn't go away. Having no one who could drive me to the hospital and not really being able to afford the taxi fares, I waited for a few days and in the end my friend Dafni drove me there to have a negative adjustment. The surgeon told me he was going to take out 1.5 mls. I argued that this is what he had filled the band with and he said 'no, I had given you 2 mls actually.'

This made me so angry! Why would he do this when all medical literature suggests that adjustments have to be small and gradual? Of course I would have had reflux! But you don't know the rest of the story. When I complained of the reflux, he told me the band must have slipped, come have a gastroscopy (which translates to money). I refused. Then he said that I really ought to have a sleeve gastrectomy (because that is the operation that is fashionable at the moment and of course it would bring him loads of money.)

Anyway, back in the UK now and I can eat as much as I used to eat because in actual fact he's taken away all the fluid he had injected, no matter what he is saying. If he had left me with 0.5 ml, I'd feel the restriction, but I have no restriction.

I was taken for a fool so many times! They don't care about me as a person and my health and happiness. All they care about is money. They are ruthless. I know for a fact that a sleeve gastrectomy would not work on me and it has too many risks to make it the option of choice.

Don't really have much hope for the future. I am meeting a specialist in eating disorders at a hospital in London in June. But time is not on my side.

And In Others We See Ourselves

There is this guy who I met online. He is a big lad, bit younger than me, so instantly I have two reasons not to want to get involved with him. However, he has the sweetest smiling eyes and a rich inner world that it would be a pity to miss just because I am looking at the cover and get caught up in details. (We expect others to accept us as we are, but we rarely afford others the same courtesy, which is probably why most of us spend their lives alone.)

Anyway, we have become friends and are supporting each other in our efforts. What is amazing, however, is how much of me I see in him. By helping him, I feel I am helping myself. I can understand myself better via him. Isn't that strange?

He sent me a photo of him taken at a flattering angle :) I saw the position of his hands and instantly knew he was hiding a big round belly. You can't kid a kidder, as they say! Then I saw some more pics of him on Facebook. He had no idea that his mum had them in her profile and I would never had seen them if he hadn't identified one lady in his profile as 'mum' when making a comment.

I think he was surprised that he had been caught out. Today I went to look at the pics again and noticed he's erased all comments. I felt a bit upset about that. Erasing things smacks of duplicity. Hiding things. Covering one's tracks. Ensuring nobody ever again finds out. Maybe I am naive to let my profile stand as it is, especially since there have been some very depressed comments that I've made in my status. What would people who do not know me make of it? I wonder.

Anyway, this guy is at a very vulnerable position right now and has idolised me. This is not good. He needs to stand on his own two feet and not rely on others for his happiness (says she who has always allowed others to control her happiness!)

I can give him friendship and advice/support but I am not ready to fall in love again. I don't believe in love. I believe in cold, hard facts. Pacts. Contracts. Balancing scales. And of course I still want the best for myself and my daughter.

A Year On

I was reminded of my blog by a comment from an anonymous reader. So much has happened in a year. I spent the worst winter of my life. My health hit rock-bottom and hospital visits became routine.

Got pneumonia (misdiagnosed as swine flu). Spent 9 or more hours at the A&E and left without a diagnosis, but my GP sorted me out with antibiotics, bless her. Then I had a car crash and my beautiful Renault Laguna was written off. It wasn't my fault. The bike rider was young and inexperienced and I just happened to be in front of him. I learned about the British legal system the hard way. Never, ever give a statement to the police! Never ever fight your case because you'll end up paying much more and get more points. Now I have a criminal record because I was convicted of 'driving without due care and attention' due to a Jewish lady giving false witness. Fantastic, eh? Another gruesome day in my life waiting at the Magistrates' Court all day. Defendants get to sit in hard metal seats in the corridor whereas witnesses get to sit in nice quiet rooms with upholstered armchairs. Not a water fountain anywhere. At least the toilet was clean.

But even the car accident, disrupting as it may have been, could not compare to my GP telling me just before Christmas that they thought I had cancer. I was given a series of tests and eventually was put under the care of the Hematology Dept. at UCLH. Needles, blood tests, PET scans. The last scan was a horrible experience. I had to lie down on a narrow ledge for over an hour and be totally still whilst my body went through the tunnel. I never lie down! My body just can't handle being horizontal or still for more than 5 minutes. So I was in tremendous pain and was crying for the last 15 minutes of the scan, so much that the people had to come in and hold me still and try to keep my spirits up. The scan did not show an uptake of glucose (apparently if you have blood cancer, the cells feed on the glucose and you can see them).

I so needed my family these trying months! But being alone, just me and my kid, my only consolation was food. So I put an incredible amount of weight on in a short period of time. My last weigh in was 188 kgs, I think. So now I am fatter than I was before I did my gastric band operation. But most people who did their banding around the same time as me have also put on weight. Not all of them of course, maybe a couple of people have succeeded, but the rest are struggling. So even an operation is not the end of this journey.

Talking of operations I went to UCLH and saw Mr Adamo who is now the Head of Bariatrics (or so he thinks). He put me in the trouble of visiting him for nothing. Says he sent me a letter to say they won't operate on me but I never got that letter. As I found out later, Mr Adamo only sent the letter to my GP - so disorganised they are at the Bariatrics! What upset me the most was this man's arrogance. He thinks he is God. He just dismissed me without even giving me a reason. I was sat in the wheelchair crying my eyes out thinking that they are leaving me no other option but to fall prey to Greek surgeons in my despair.

Anyway, I am not moaning. I am alive and whilst I breathe, there is hope of a better future. My daughter is growing and I have written two books (well one was written years ago but had a touch-up this winter.) I haven't submitted them to a publisher, yet, because I don't have the confidence. The more I read books written by master storytellers, the more I cringe at my efforts :) But one day... maybe... who knows?

The Evil Eye

Bruce split up with me on Friday :( Although I had the feeling he'd do that, it came out of the blue. He has not offered a satisfactory explanation (the things he said that would bother him in the long run were all things that he knew of right from the start).

I have been feeling very down. A wasted weekend in the solitude of my four walls. My aches have returned. My will to live is diminishing.

I have been eating... not proud of it, but what do you do when there is nothing else to hold on to?

That man promised so many things and I foolishly believed him. I suppose it was just another ploy to get to a vulnerable female. Who knows what secrets he's been hiding! It does not matter that I was going to end it because his stinginess and bad breath annoyed me - it is no consolation.

Still, my sixth sense tells me that he is going to regret it. He will suffer with loneliness more than I will.

Now I've got to pick myself up again. Hard to do with all life's stresses. *sigh*

Men are like buses...

and it seems that I've finally found the right bus stop because a Streetcar Named Desire... erm... Bruce has stopped and picked me up! Literally!! :)

We've been dating for nearly 3 weeks and it is amazing how a positive mental attitude and good will can help sort out obstacles.

Although the name may sound familiar to you, I assure you he is not my Homestart volunteer. My Bruce responded to an advert I had placed online and things progressed pretty fast from there. Soon we were meeting at a pub and he was not shocked by my size or disability. We felt at ease with each other and arranged to meet again. The rest is history, as they say! :)

It is sometimes scary to think how easy it is to stop being miserable and lonely. I am reminded of my friend who had been to one of those therapy sessions where they had a blanket over their shoulders representing their worries and stresses. When the group leader told them to throw away their blanket, most people held on to it.

I feel relieved and free at last. I managed to break up with my daughter's dad. That relationship was going nowhere. He had not been a good dad plus four years down the line he was still refusing to acknowledge his child. Perhaps my luck has changed because I have finally done right by us. Maybe the universe is once again in balance... who knows.

The other Bruce (my volunteer) had been on holiday whilst all this was happening and could not believe his eyes when he next saw me. I was full of smiles, dressed nicely, nails done and makeup on, just as I should have been had I not been perpetually depressed the past 2 years.

No idea if this will last, but there is no harm in living life a bit, is there! :)

Stumbling block?

I am not happy this week. I weighed myself on Monday and found out I had put on some weight - the scales said 2-3 kgs. I was so upset, I didn't even log my weight in. I don't know if it is because I ate a bit more last week - mainly some chocolates. I did calculate the points and I was over by a bit but that does not make sense. My feeling is that the weight gain was due to the massive weight loss of the previous week which was untrue as I was dehydrated by the fever and emanciated by the belly troubles. Still, no matter how I try to explain it, the issue is I am heavier this week.

Something else that upset me is that I got a letter from the orthopaedic hospital and they don't seem willing to operate on my knees, no matter how much weight I've lost till now. They said that I'd need to lose more weight... no idea how much, no inkling when they will see me to re-evaluate the situation.

Seems like none of my problems are getting solved and to top it all up my neighbour moved and now my daughter has no one to play with (and I get no peace in the afternoons when she is back from nursery).

The solitude/loneliness is unbearable. Been having dark thoughts again. I hate being depressed. But sometimes I say 'if no one cares about me, why should I care?'

On the other hand, Bruce, my volunteer, offered to spend more time with me as opposed to time with my daughter because he recognises that I am the one who needs help more.

What can I say.

I haven't created any new pieces of artwork but managed to sell a few items on ebay (mainly clothes). Keeps me busy...

If anyone is interested, there are two Easter eggs on ebay, made of papier mache, they are hollow inside so you can fill them with sweets and give to your favourite child. I can post internationally, so if you want, by all means do bid! (I am art_by_zontania on ebay.)

Back to my complicated existence now.