2nd Fill

Today saw the removal of the forgotten stitch that was deep in my belly button. My surgeon was not there, so I got to see Mr Tasioulis, a very gregarious surgeon who removed the stitch without me feeling anything! He also gave me a fill of 2 ml. At first he was reluctant to give me a fill so soon after my first fill. However, when I explained my logic behind my request, he agreed to it.

So now I have a total of 4 ml in the lapband... if I don't see a difference in my eating ability, the next step is to get a barium X-ray to determine the location/condition of the band and if there is something wrong with it to arrange its removal/replacement. The acid test will be lunch: mashed potatoes and meat in lemon sauce...

Anyway, I weighed myself and realised that last time I had misread the scales so I have not lost all that tremendous amount of weight I thought (but did not really believe) I had. I have only lost 7.7 kgs since my operation which is nothing compared to other people. If I had dieted for 3 weeks I would have lost about 12 kgs or maybe a bit more. Anyway, I can't live life with ifs and buts. I'll just have to make an effort this week and see what happens.

Gripes

Just a quick note of my feelings these last few days: I found out the surgeon has forgotten to remove one of the deepest stitches in my belly button. It has gotten infected, of course. I can tell by the smell that is so characteristic of fungal infection of the belly button. My belly button is so small now that I can't clean it effectively or even dry it. I am worried how he will take out the stitch when I see him Monday. Will he have to slash my skin to get to it? Will it cause pain and discomfort? Of course I am not easy about it. Of course I am bloody worried about it!

I feel that I have made a big mistake. He's infected me with cellulitis in the lower belly. This wouldn't have happened if the theatre had been properly disinfected and they had followed strict procedures. I had cellulitis in the sheens and he knew that. He should have been 10x more careful. But what do I know? I am only a lay person. I have asked my friend Richard to research the subject for me but he is busy with his work so I guess I'll have to wait till I go back to England to go to the British Library and do my own bit of research.

This surgeon seems to care about operating as many people as possible regardless of their suitability. Heck, I've seen so many skinnies in his surgery who were up for the op! The more I read about the lapband procedures abroad, the more I know things are not 100% right here. And what about the scars he's left me with? My stitches took a lot of stress when I was coughing and coughing and the result is that the scars now look stretched. Horrible sight.

I am sorry, I am probably causing most of my anxiety and in a few days' time I will be all calm and collected again but right now I am feeling crap and wanted to record this for posterity. Maybe it is part of the course, maybe it is not. I have nothing to compare it with. But that £5000 that I spent to have the op and pay for my travelling and living costs whilst here is not money that I am likely to see again, is it? It was money earned with sweat and tears and I was willing to sacrifice it for the right purpose but was this the right thing to do?

I wish someone could understand my predicament and how I feel! It is awful. I don't wish this to anyone, not even my enemy.

I will stop now. I must force myself to sleep although sleep evades me lately. And I know that a couple of hours in bed will make my back ache so much that even shifting position will cause me to cry out loud. Baby is upstairs with her granny tonight as my electrical wiring got faulty and I was worried to let her sleep here.

Goodnight world. Let's hope tomorrow will be a brighter day.

Oops!

Bread. The killer. I ate some bread for lunch and it stuck in my stomach. Then I ate a whole half baguette sandwich for dinner. Tried to chew well and take my time. Hmm... Well, it didn't work. It got stuck again. We are talking about pain and discomfort that made me wince. My baby thought I was playing a game and copied my expression. I had to get up. I thought I was going to have my first food return. I didn't. But I learned a valuable lesson: don't push it, damn it! (And don't drink water when bread is stuck, because it makes things more sticky.)

Sigh

Apart from this, baby's dad made contact. Thank heavens he is alright! He was in the countryside, recuperating at relatives', no access to internet and no phone charger with him. Of course it was not possible for him to ring me from his relatives' home but at least he realised what hell he's put me through. I expect an extra special treat when we next meet - hopefully something that is not edible. Something sparkly would be nice... heheheh

Breaking point

I am at bursting point!

My daughter's father has gone missing. I don't know where he is, he won't answer his phone and he has not been online. Our last communication was on Wednesday, so it is 4 days without news. My e-mails, texts, voice mails remain unanswered. He had been very ill and I am worried sick he may be lying in hospital somewhere (or worse) and I'll never find out.

I want to eat. My mother brought down enough food for 2 (or enough for the old me). I am struggling to stay by the laptop and not venture into the kitchen and devour the second portion. But how am I supposed to vent my frustration? Nobody's taught me that. My mom always fed me when I cried as a baby. She does the same with my daughter now and I argue with her because I can smell my daughter has soiled her nappy and realise her crying is for a nappy change - not food. Or she wants water, company, sleep... There are so many needs to fulfil and food is not the answer.

I am strong. I can deal with almost anything - uncertainty exempted.

The thought that something bad may have happened is tearing me to pieces. I yelled at him last time we chatted. I was tired and unable to tolerate things that would normally not bother me. The passion may have died a long time ago, but I do love and value him as a person.

I hope to have news soon.

Stitches Off!

Yes! The stitches are finally off, day 14 post-op. It hurt a bit as they had receeded into the skin but I was a brave girl and did not give my surgeon a hard time.


Before and after pics. The filling drum is located under the plaster. The yellowishness is just Betadine which the surgeon used to disinfect the area before removing the stitches.





I climbed on the scales and thought it read 155 kgs but it was probably 165 kgs and my eyes were playing up. Anyway, I have lost a bit more weight. (How much weight exactly is a thought that will torture me till I get to another set of scales to verify the result!)

The surgeon gave me my first fill as I had been able to eat anything I wanted in large quantities. It seems my stomach healed faster than normal and he thought it a good idea to give me 2 ml of saline. The injection did not hurt at all. I was told to stick with watery pureed food for at least 3 days so my lunch date with my friend had to be postponed for the mid to end of next week.

I felt so elated coming home today! I sang to my daughter and cuddled her and she was so happy she began dancing in her cot.

As I had missed breakfast, when I got home at 11 am I made myself a frappe (it is a cold coffee that looks very much like a Guiness; Greek people drink it a lot in summer.) I ate 2 tiny croissants and later on I drank another half glass of cold water and took 2 more croissants. After this I felt really full and the fullness lasted till 3 pm when I had 3/4 cup chocolate milk. Now it is 4.30 and I am feeling a little bit hungry but not desperately. I plan to eat some yoghurt for dinner and maybe put a peach in the blender with some fresh milk to supplement my protein intake. I want to do it right this week.

You know how sometimes we eat because we are worried about stuff and food becomes our only release? Well the past few days I had been worried sick about two of my good friends.

First one was coming to Athens for the open heart surgery of her 3.5 year old son who was born with a hole in his heart. She had waited a long time for this operation and even on the day they kept her waiting till late afternoon, but, thank God, all went fine and the boy is recovering.

My second friend was due to give early birth by caesarian. Fortunately things went well for her, too, even though the baby had to be taken into neonatal intensive care and be put on oxygen. I visited her this morning; she looked good for a woman who had given birth the day before. It was not possible to see her son and I did not want to stay too long and tire her.

Everything went well with the help of God and prayer. Thank you Sandra and Neil for adding your prayers to mine!

A Wise Woman

Nearly 3 years ago my then boyfriend took me to Wiltshire as there is a shop that sells clothes for large women in one of the White Horse villages. I can't remember the name of the village or the name of the shop but I will never forget the owner.



She was a grandmother, slim, active. She told me she used to be a big woman but one day she decided to do something about her weight when she realised she would not be around long to enjoy her grandchild. It was impossible to believe this lady was once fat. She told my boyfriend off for not encouraging me to lose weight and he was taken aback as nothing could be further from the truth.

Anyway, to make a long story short, this lady was more concerned about my health and future than selling clothes. She said something that I will never forget, something that now I tell other women I meet: "you will only lose weight when you truly want it, nobody can make you do it, just yourself".

How true that is!

That trip to Wiltshire was one of the most memorable moments in my life. We had the best time. My boyfriend had booked us into a manor hotel on top of a hill and the views over the valleys below were stupendous! There was a spa on site and I remember facing the long staircase to the swimming pool with dread. I was already using my walking stick then.












We saw many beautiful places like Bradford upon Avon as well as Stonehenge. My eyes filled with beauty and on our way back we made a stop at a postcard perfect village in the Cotswolds called Bibury. Bibury's highlights are a row of preserved stone houses as well as a trout farm where you can fish your own meal.












My boyfriend said he had never seen me so elated as when I was feeding the swan and ducks or fishing trout. I spent 3 hours on my feet in that place and, although I was tired in the end, I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

This would have been the last time in my life that I would be able to stand for long periods of time or walk distances. My health deteriorated rapidly thereafter to the point that I could not get out of the car unassisted (he had to physically pull my feet out and support me to a standing position and it took a good 5 minutes before I was able to mobilise and that with a lot of pain, taking baby steps.)

I lost valuable time in my life, not through obstinance but through lack of information. It was not until the TV began showing programmes about people doing weight loss surgery that I realised there might be a way out for me. But my doctor was not convinced and then I got pregnant.

My baby helped me lose a significant amount of weight in the months that I was carrying her. I dropped from 192 kgs to 167 kgs - 423 lbs to 368 lbs - in 9.5 months. I could not believe my eyes when I asked the physios to take me to the scales after I had given birth. My cry of joy was heard all over the hospital.

I am writing this to remember. And to thank my daughter for coming into my life and brightening it up, despite the difficulties. I am doing it for her, because I want her to live a good life, not a life of regrets and self-imposed barriers.

Remember, Reader, if you are concerned about your weight and the way your life has turned out, only you can change it when you are good and ready for it!

On the other hand, there is no better time than now :)

Day 8 Post-Op

I am not even sure I should be counting the days post-op any more as I am as near to normal as ever. Back is aching, feet/sheens are swollen and appetite is back.

I hate myself for succumbing and eating when I should be careful, regardless of the band...

Today I had some sesame baguette with butter for breakfast. It was so delicious, I almost gulped it down without chewing and of course a bit of it got stuck in my throat. Just when I was thinking 'aren't I lucky I don't have vomitting!' Didn't vomit, but had to chase the bread with some pomegranate and grape juice and suffer pain on my oesophagus for a few minutes. I had two bowls of meat soup followed by a cup of ice cream for lunch. Oh and I did eat some more sesame bread (seems to be my downfall!)

The weather has changed to the better as the winds have died down and the heat has returned. This of course has turned my mind to the subject of holidays as I have been promising myself to make up for wasting yet another summer by taking a winter break.

I found info about the island of St Martin and spent hours and hours last night viewing pics and reading about it. It seems like a piece of Paradise dropped on Earth! How I'd love to go there but it is expensive and would I love it the same if I was there all on my own? But who knows what can happen till winter! :)

I am trying to 'see' myself thinner. I even went online and browsed clothes, thinking that perhaps by winter I will be size 26 (I am currently wearing 32/34).

I found some old photos as I was clearing up my bookcase today - pics of the time I was so much slimmer. I remember my parents bitching me about being fat then instead of being happy to have a healthy and happy daughter. Ah well... I also found my old Weight Watchers cards and believe it or not there was a time I was close to 100 kgs. Damn! If only people would have accepted me as I was then, how different my life would have been! But no use dwelling on the past when we have the future to look forward to, right?

OK I am just babbling now... but can someone please tell me off for eating without thought? I feel so guilty and yet I am making excuses for myself. I don't know if it is 'normal' behaviour or I am being just my old self. It would have been nice if there was a support group or support line I could ring and find out but these things are luxury in Greece.

Day 7 Post-Op

Recovering well. Mood is optimistic.

Doctor said yesterday that some people do get depressed after their surgery and have thoughts that what they did was a mistake but it soon passes. He disputed my theory that the antibiotic was getting stuck in the narrow part of the stomach, though. Oh well, 1 in 2 isn't too bad! LOL

My back is aching again. I think doing the housework AND taking my daughter on a buggy ride was a bit too much the other day. Still I am managing a stretch of 4.5 hours in bed every night before discomfort sets in. Then I do my usual: go to the sofa, put my feet up on the armchair, get a pile of cushions under my unsupported arm, stick a pillow behind my head and off I am in the Land of Nod. Couple of hours there, then back in bed, then back in sofa. I am sleeping a lot better than I have done in a very long time. And like I said for me it is important that most of the night is spend in bed as that is improving my circulation and is giving my spine a rest.

Today I mixed the clear meat soup with some mashed meat and vegs that I had frozen and added some lemon juice and an egg and it made a tasty thick soup which I ate adding some sesame french bread in it. OK nowhere in my instructions says 'bread' in this week but wet bread should be fine...

I also made some chicken soup using a whole skinned chicken with one onion and lots of water. I didn't put any salt in as I had none downstairs but when I tasted the soup it tasted just fine and I could have sworn it contained salt!

I am drinking water as per my doctor's advice. I have 2 x 750 mls bottles which I keep in the fridge. Last night I drank most of the one bottle and this afternoon I have drank about half of the other bottle. Slowly I hope to be able to drink both bottles in one day and more.

Day 6 Post-Op

Today saw the removal of 4 of the 6 gauges. Surgeon said I am healing well and asked me to go next week to have the stitches removed. He normally uses absorbable stitches, but because I am so big, he felt it was better to be safe than sorry. Fair enough! Also he told me that in two weeks' time I should go to have my first fill. He warned me that as the days go by, my appetite will increase and I should not let that worry me as it is natural.

His scales showed me to be 167.4 kgs which means I have lost 6.2 kgs from Saturday or 5.4 kgs from 4th July. (Post surgical weight goes up due to swelling.) I don't know why I was disappointed with the weight loss. I felt like I had lost closer to 10 but thinking about it 5 kgs is not bad, is it? And the loss shows on my face: my cheeks have become less puffy and the same can noted all over my body; it looks more contoured instead of angled - smoother.

Bad news is that cellulitis has struck my lower belly and that is why it has been so swollen and painful. Damn cellulitis! For those who don't know what it is, it is an inflammation of the skin cells that makes them retain water and swell. It is caused by staphylococcus or streptococcus bacteria entering the skin through a cut and antibiotics are not very good at treating it (as I have painfully found out since last year when the problem with my sheens became an issue). But I am not going to cry or give up! God is great and with His help everything will be alright.


This picture was taken yesterday morning when my two good friends came to visit me. Angela is the one holding my daughter. The older lady is Val. She is in her 90s and has been very famous in Athens as an amateur singer/performer. We had many years of fun as members of the same musical society and I was privileged to have been not only a co-performer with them, but their director as well.

Day 5 Post-Op

Another night with coughing fits but much better overall. Earlier in the evening I had a lot of heaviness in my belly and it felt rock hard. Fortunately I had a Ponstan handy (painkiller) and that sorted things out. Friends thought that I had gotten too stressed about stuff and that had an impact on the way I felt.

Today I woke up feeling good and optimistic. I opened up windows and curtains and mom was surprised to find me busy doing housework. It is true, under different circumstances I wouldn't have bothered as the weight sort of drags you down and you can't do much even when you want to. But I am not the same person now, am I? :)

I must thank my friends for supporting me last night with phonecalls and messages - you know who you are; you are wonderful and I love you and I am grateful to you for being there for me.

Time to eat something (probably the 2/3 of total yoghurt left from last night) and then enjoy a good shower before going upstairs to see my daughter. It's lunchtime and all I have had to drink since 8 am were two small glasses of chocolate milk. I feel more in control today but that could change when I see what my mom has cooked... LOL

I hope to take my daughter for a ride in her buggy later on. Never done that (except whilst walking hospital corridors or supermarket aisles.) Part of me wonders why I want to do it but I know that as the pounds are dropping, I will be gaining in energy and there is nothing wrong with trying a bit more activity each and every day.

Day 4 Post-Op

Had a much better night's sleep and a lot less pain and wind expulsion. Seems that 2/3 of a carton of yoghurt was an ideal quantity to stave my hunger without causing heaviness. However, I had a very strange sensation in my head and it felt like I had very high blood pressure. I found my pills and took one before going to bed as I had forgotten to take it in the morning of Day 3.

I had quite a coughing fit in the night whilst on the sofa and blew my nose well several times. It seems I have a little cold.

This morning I managed to have a good shower but lost one of the dressings in the process. I am waiting to ring the consultant to ask him whether I should replace it or leave the stitches covered by just the strips of adhesive tape till I see him.

So far I have had 1/3 of yoghurt, a small glass of juice and about 200 mls of chocolate milk. I got thirsty last night and noticed that now I can injest bigger gulps of liquid without as much pain.

I have done my injection and have taken the antibiotic and blood pressure pill. Only 2 more antibiotic pills to go!

My one gripe today is that my bellybutton has migrated south and is just over my pubic area! I am sure this is not the way my belly was pre-op. I have some pictures saved which I am going to consult to see whether it is true or not. Anyway, my lower belly feels hard and difficult to manage. I hate the feeling of my belly sitting on a chair before my bum reaches it :(

What have I done to myself, oh God! How could I let Your creation get into this state?

---

I am very depressed. I went upstairs to see my daughter and began crying for no reason. I feel so miserable! Must be the lack of nutrients causing a chemical imbalance in my brain.

My daughter was very naughty. She's gotten used to getting her own way with her gran and cries if you tell her off. But what do you do when a toddler keeps throwing food out of her playpen onto the freshly cleaned floor? [ignore it, yes, I read the book... just let me call the author here and see how she reacts!]

I fed her some cod in breadcrumbs that my mom had cooked for lunch. It was an inspiration as I had eaten most of the crumbs (chewing slowly) off one piece and it was an easy way to hide the traces. I know... I am awful! But it is very hard to control myself sometimes. Will I ever gain control over my desires? *sigh*

Had some ice cream, too. And some water an hour later. The instructions given to me say you must not take liquids with your food.

I came downstairs to some bad news: the consultant in the UK has refused to treat me on my return. He said that since I had my surgery done privately, the only way to see me is as a private patient.

More depression and tears. I am all out of money. So that means I won't get followed up properly (I have doubts about my surgery and sometimes feel as if I have done a very big mistake in my haste to lose weight).

The poor die every day, mom says, the rich only once...

I put a post on a forum about this and some people responded with unsympathetic comments. I'd like to see them in my shoes one day... Life has shown me that what goes around, comes around!

I had some meat broth that I cooked at lunchtime. Coughing has recommenced. I don't know what to do. I just wish I felt better, that is all.

I am so lonely...

Day 3 Post-Op

Had a cup of watermelon and melon juice squeezed out of the fruit itself so I could take my antibiotic. I hate the feeling of the pill getting stuck in my stomach. Did my injection. Mom brought me some special plasters (waterproof) to put over dressings to enable me to shower. Very expensive at 2 euro a piece and I need 6 pieces so each shower will be costing me 12 euro (about 8 quid). Arggh! At least it won’t be forever.

I had very strong burping last night and it was so painful! I just hope it will all settle down soon. Today my shoulders/neck are painfree.

Mom summoned me upstairs as my daughter was misbehaving. As soon as I went there and smelled the food and saw the fridge laden with goodies, my will was bent. I opened the fridge and snacked on whatever was there: salami (I spat it out as it is impossible to chew well), seafood pieces (I chewed them well), ham. In the stove there was a big pot of basmati rice with chicken pieces. I fished some pieces out and put them on a little plate with two spoons of Total yoghurt. Mmm, what divine lunch! Then I had some chocolate and vanilla ice cream and because my daughter was jealous I went and took a second portion and shared it with her. A few hours later, exhausted from trying to keep up with a toddler, I tried to feed her some custard but she was not much interested in it as she was tired. Mom put her to bed at 5 pm and I snacked on some more chicken. I hated myself for having such low self control but loved the texture and taste of the chicken cubes as they melted in my mouth.

I came down to my flat and poured myself some pomegranate and grape juice without bits. For some reason, it is more painful to injest liquids than solids. I was led to believe it would be the other way round. However, I must remember the target of 2.5 litres of fluid a day (yeah, right!) My only consolation in this period of recovery is the Internet. My belly aches still as it is drawn downwards by gravity and the stitches are being stretched. Getting kicked by my daughter did not help either….

I had a mixed bowel movement much to my relief. I stole a glance to the mirror to see if my body was changing. Perhaps it is too early yet. But should I be worried for my earlier feeding frenzy? I am not supposed to eat anything solid at this stage, what am I doing? Have I spent all that money for nothing? Have I put myself under the knife for nothing? I am a bit disappointed in myself and my only excuse was that I was starving.

So the desire to eat the food remains... I must remember that.

It is 8.30 pm and I just warmed myself a cup of chicken broth which I am sipping slowly. I took my antibiotic and I can feel it is stuck in the narrow part of the stomach. It is hurting my insides. I wish I could pulverise the pill but it comes with strict instructions not to do so. *sigh* Still I only have to be on antibiotics for another few days.

Today I forgot to take my blood pressure pill. Sometimes I am totally unable to take care of myself. *double sigh* At least I transferred my blog entries and I can now start giving the link to friends. I wonder whether I have gone into too much detail but I want to remember the details. They are important to me. Now all that is left is to upload the pic of my belly with the dressings in the shape of a cross. Not sure how to do that but tomorrow is another day. Anyway I promised to ring my friend whose young son will be undergoing open heart surgery in two weeks' time.

I hope tonight I can sleep through. I hope my mind will be free of thoughts and worries. I hope my stomach will not feel like it is made of lead. I hope tomorrow I will feel perky and willing to do a bit of tidying up in the flat. I hope I can make this operation work for me.

Oh God, how I wish to be well, please help me be strong!

Day 2 Post-Op

Sunday morning I woke up feeling still stiff, had a sip of water and slowly drank 2 fingers of cocoa milk which caused too much burping. Took my antibiotic and painkiller. Mom brought down some chicken broth. I had a cup of it around 11.30 am but it brought strong burping. Was hungry/thirsty though so gave myself another cup about an hour and a half later. Put on compression stockings with difficulty due to limited movement of my belly which is in the way, experiencing ringing in my ears. Realised that my blood pressure must be up so hurried to take my pill.

Have lots of flatulence and feel the need to use the toilet but can’t put pressure on muscles. I am hoping antibiotic will damage intestinal flora and cause some diarrhoea. Can’t take shower as pharmacy did not stock special sticky plasters to cover wounds. Gave myself fraxiparin injection to prevent blood clots.

General feeling today is of mild depression. Like I don’t know what will happen from now on. I am hoping for the best but really can’t predict the future. Glad my sheens are slimmer but calves are still swollen, maybe the stockings are not well designed.

Mom said I look slimmer on the face. No wonder, without food for 2 days! She is struggling with baby and all her other commitments and said I should be thanking God she is around to help me. I am.

Going to get another cup of soup as it is easier to drink than plain water or cocoa milk. At least it should contain some more nutrients. I remind myself of the big gulps of drinks I used to take… LOL nowadays it is sip, rest, sip… Two hours for a cup of soup today compared with two hours for a couple of fingers of milk yesterday.

Afternoon I am feeling better muscle-wise but belly feels hanging low and swollen. Managed to go outdoors for a while and sit in garden to watch my daughter play in her paddling pool. I switched on the sprinkler system to water the lawn a bit. It felt good to be outdoors.

My urine is still dark in colour, hopefully not through bleeding. Had light diarrhoea earlier. Wind expulsion continues. Had some melted ice cream without much trouble. I tried to eat some crème caramel for dinner but it wouldn’t go down so I stopped after 2-3 spoons.

Had lot of heaviness in stomach at night and woke up with pounding in my head. Went to sofa and was unable to fall back to sleep from 1 am till 5 am. Then I went back to bed and slept for an hour or so, then back to sofa. I was experiencing the most annoying coughing all night and had to hold my belly to prevent the stitches from bursting. Managed to sleep another couple of hours in the sofa eventually.

Day 1 Post-Op

By evening, my upper body began aching a lot, especially shoulders, neck and the six entry wounds of the laparoscopy. Sitting down/getting up was a task as my heavy belly was pulling me downwards. Took painkiller and went to bed around 9 pm after eating a pot of crème caramel. Took photos of my belly and stitches for memory. Read a bit then fell asleep for about 4 hours. Got up for toilet and then thoughts flooded my brain and was unable to go back to sleep.

Nevertheless, for first time in months if not years, I had no back pain after rising from bed! Perhaps even losing a tiny bit of weight helps? Or is it the painkillers than numb some sensation? A mosquito was buzzing around my head in the living room where I had transfered to the sofa, but I had no strength to do anything about it. I finally slept for a couple of hours, woke up, and went back to bed for another couple of hours after a brief stint on the internet.

Operation Day

I was told to report to the Athens Medical Centre, Psychikon clinic reception at 7 am. I was there at 6.40. Earlier on I had bid my family farewell not knowing whether I would see them again but hoping that I would.

The taxi sped through the quiet roads and got me there in record time. I climbed the few marble steps to the glass entrance doors and walked in the clinic. A man was sitting behind reception and looked terribly alarmed as I was approaching. I realised he was not the receptionist but the night guard so I did not pose any difficult questions to him. I sat on the backless leather sofa and observed the cleaner in her pretty pink-orange uniform as she was mopping the floors. She did an excellent job and that put my mind at ease.

Slowly people began arriving - kitchen staff, laboratory staff, administrative staff. A lady with her sister and husband came and sat near me. I overheard her asking about my doctor. She was also having the lap band surgery today.

My aunt Maria arrived and kissed me hello. My mom had arranged for her to stand by me as she had to stay home and look after my daughter. Maria and I don't look eye to eye for many different reasons.

I booked myself in and went to have my first tests. An electrocardiogram (ECG) and a full blood count plus INR (a special test that shows you how fast your blood is clotting).

We went downstairs for a chest X-ray and after that I was shown into my room. It was a 3-bed room and I was amazed at how tiny it was. There were no privacy affording curtains separating the beds. The WC/shower room was small but adequate. My bed was by the large window overlooking at the high rise blocks of flats across the street. There were some plants on a planter running the full length of the window drawing one's eye to the world outside.

The lady occupying the first bed had done a lap band revision surgery the day before. She had suffered slippage last October and had not lost any weight since but had suffered with vomiting and malaise. 'I didn't want to tell you as I didn't want to worry you,' she told me. Then she gave me some advice based on her experience.

The anaesthetist came to see me. He was a pleasant fellow who checked my medical history and gave the all clear to proceed. A nurse brought me a blue paper gown to wear and told me to remove everything removable (glasses, watch, jewellery, contact lenses, false teeth etc) and stay just in my knickers and gown.

I waited for hours for my turn to come. My consultant had ordered a triplex scan of the veins in the legs to check their condition as there was a doubt that I had a blood clot from the time I had been treated in the UK. The scan was very thorough (in contrast with the ones I had in Britain which were very quick and superficial) and the radiographer pronounced my veins clear but told me I had to look after my valves.

Upstairs, back in my room, the waiting continued. My mother arrived with the money and made the payment. Then, wishing me good luck, she hurried to return home.

Another anaesthetist came to see me. He promised me it would not be long now. Finally around 12.45 the stretcher came to pick me up. I climbed on it and got transferred to the theatres.

They wheeled me into a tiny room that looked like a closet. I objected to its size. 'I thought the waiting area was small,' I murmured, 'but this takes the biscuit!' Then I realised I was being wheeled backwards and found myself in a larger room under a set of big circular lights. I was asked to transfer to the operating table. Someone put a cap on my hair whilst someone else drew my arms outwards and secured them to two supports. The anaesthetist cannulated my left arm (a cannula is the flexible tube with the little taps that goes into your vein so they can feed it with a drip and use it to administer injections without having to pierce you again.) Some ECG pads were stuck on my chest and a pulse clip was attached to one of my fingers. The see-through oxygen mask was placed over my mouth and nose and I was instructed to take 5 deep breaths before breating normally.

'Have a good rest!' the anaesthetist said as he injected his blend of drugs inside my vein. The ceiling shook and the ceiling tiles began merging. 'I don't like this feeling,' I commented.

Later on I heard someone asking me to take a deep breath. I felt nauseous and panicky. They must have tried to move me to a stretcher and I must have cried out with pain. 'Stop screaming!' they kept telling me, 'you are scaring the other patients!' I wish I could have communicated to them how much my back hurt but my voice took a bit of time coming back to me. My vision did not return till I was back in my bed. I was thirsty, my tonsils were sore and I felt that I had a cut on my upper lip corner. My aunt was nowhere to be seen. She had spent the entire morning being sociable with people in other wards and forgetting about her niece in need.

I felt so hot! Was it just the sun shining in through the window or did I have a fever? It was 3 pm now. I had to contain myself with the wet gauge till they brought me some chamomile tea. My stomach had been empty for so many hours (last meal had been at 8 pm Friday night) but I didn't feel hungry. The nurse came to lift me up and I felt slightly wobbly on my legs but I managed to get to the toilet unaided. My knickers were soiled with Betadine and blood so I had to have them removed. A nurse cleaned me up using wet wipes.

I wanted to sleep so badly but the new occupant of the far bed was a gypsy girl and her entire family had come to support her. She had lap band plus tummy tuck in one go (2000 euro more than what I had paid). She was in great pain but the nurses could not do anything further to help her and kept telling her to be patient. The entire family possessed polyphonic mobile phones that kept ringing, playing gypsy tunes. It was havoc.

Despite the difficult night, I was grateful I wasn't in as bad state as this girl was. The morning arrived and I had some more chamomile tea and the doctor came to check up on me.

My mom arrived to take me home. I opted to stay downstairs in the basement flat to avoid temptations and to get the rest I so badly needed. My mother had thoughtfully stocked my fridge with yoghurt, juice and custard pudding.

Recovery had begun but it was not how I had expected it to be...

Prologue or Who Am I

My name is insignificant but my story is not.

At 39 years old, weighing 173 kgs (381 lbs; 27 st.), with heaps of health problems and a one-year old daughter, something had to be done. I had long lost my mobility and was registered disabled. I was unable to work, unable to go out and enjoy life and unable to get medical or practical help from the State. All the doctors who had seen me had dismissed me proclaiming there was nothing they could do until I had lost a significant amount of weight.

Just before Easter 2006 I got seriously ill and was transported to my local A&E (ER for the American friends) via ambulance. I had my baby daughter with me. It then became apparent that, unless I was well, I could not take care of her. After suffering the humiliation of vomiting all over my clothes and shoes as I sat helpless on the A&E bed with my daughter crying woefully next to me, my head thumping from the worst migraine anyone's ever experienced, I had to give my daughter up to my sister's care until I got better. That week I spent in hospital was very emotional but upon discharge I was determined to change my life.

I booked our passage to Greece, which is my homeland. I needed a rest and time to get better. Whilst a guest of my mother's, I came across a manicurist whose cousin had done the lap band surgery. 'Fancy that!' I exclaimed, 'I am waiting to see a consultant in London about the very same thing!' The manicurist put me in contact with her cousin and I got the details of the surgeon who had operated on her. Having nothing to lose, one afternoon I picked up the phone and made enquiries. My heart was beating fast and my pulse was racing. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. It was the single bravest thing I had ever done in my life!

When mom got home I hurried to tell her the news full of joy but she was not supportive. I told my younger brother but he was not impressed, either. I felt deflated and depressed. Always, whenever I had wanted to do something important, they posed objections. But would it really be better to stay fat? I had so much trouble with my knees and was unable to walk indoors. I was getting some injections straight into my joint and each cost me 100 euro. Was that the only future I had to look forward to?

I rang my aunt Nina and she agreed to come with me to see the consultant. The rest is history. I saw him, asked him the questions, he was impressed by my medical knowledge. I spoke to other patients of his in the waiting room, saw their scars, heard their stories and left feeling reassured that there was a way out of my problematic life.

Later on I arranged to see another consultant, this time at the big hospital Hygeia. He was abrupt and rough with me and I was not impressed at all. He insisted the only surgery I should be having at my weight was gastric bypass. I refused it because I knew the dangers it carried. I needed something less drastic, less invasive, completely reversible and non mutilating. The seeds of doubt had been planted in my mind, however...

Finally, the evening before my departure for England I saw another consultant who shed lots of light in the haze of information I held. He was young, agreeable, informative, kept eye contact, was gentle, was not trying to avoid answering questions - I was besotted! But he wanted 2000 euro more for the same operation, even if he realised that I am not a rich woman, not in employment and have no private insurance.

I went back to England hoping that the NHS would approve me having the surgery abroad if it could not be held in the UK in good time. But the British consultant I saw at the Royal Free wanted to do an open surgery with bypass on me. I was heartbroken. Why did these surgeons insist on doing something mutilating? Hadn't I already done enough harm to my body without inflicting greater harm to it? He gave me the name of another consultant at the Whittington Hospital who was doing the kind of operation I wanted to do. I spent the following weeks trying to arrange a consultation but to no avail. Finally I decided I was wasting my time in England and made myself another ticket for Greece, determined to have my surgery there.

It was hard to make up my mind which of the two surgeons to select. The first one seemed to be a bit in a hurry to perform as many surgeries as possible but he had more experience, had dealt with more morbidly obese patients and was cheaper. The second one I felt I could trust implicitly but raising another 2,500 euro (after the first surgeon dropped his financial demands by 500 euro) would have been so hard. I decided to go with the first surgeon and met him on 4th July to make the necessary arrangements. He gave me advice on my anticoagulation treatment (as I was on warfarin since April) and pencilled me in for 7th July 2006.

I left his surgery feeling elated and a bit apprehensive.

My journey had began!