My first pre-op fatty therapy group was not what I expected.
What I expected was a bunch of fatties being forced to share their feelings
about their fat and the surgery; instead it was an informative session about
the surgery. One thing I do not understand is why they don’t tell people
everything upfront, no matter how many questions you ask you will get a different
answer or the generic “Well it is different for everyone.” bullshit. Are they
just that desperate for people to get this surgery?
When I entered to room the other pre-op fatties were all
happy to be there and excited to learn. It was like a classroom full of young
hopefuls and me. I did not want to engage with anyone, share about anything let
alone listen to nonsense. I was lucky; it was an informative session on the
same stuff they have been telling us our whole lives: no soda, no rice, no
sweets, eat low fat, portion control. Can you feel the massive eye roll? The
only important thing I did learn is
when they remove the piece of your stomach and stitch up the new smaller
section, the stitches do not dissolve, they are permanent. The sutures will be holding your stomach together for
the rest of your life, nothing like getting your head cracked open and having
stitches bond the hole then dissolve. At my next appointment I will inquire if
that means you are at risk of a leak or bursting your stitches for the rest of
your life. With certain discomfort I am going to assume the answer is yes. Just
another scary bit of information they lacked to mention.
The bariatric clinical team reminds me of a book I once read
called Geek Love by Katherine Dunn.
Without giving too much away (because everyone should really read this book) it
is the story of a family of freaks who run a traveling sideshow circus. Eventually
one of the children, Arturo –who has stumps that look like fins where his arms
and legs should be—develops a cult leader mentality. Arturo’s followers believe
they can find happiness and inner peace by being like him. The Arturans have
body parts amputated until they are nothing but a stump and through that they
find Peace, Isolation and Purity (PIP) the mantra of Arturism. Every time I am
at Bellevue and I see a post op
patient talking about how great their life is now and how truly miserable they
were before, I feel like I am getting sucked into a Kool-Aid warp. Especially
now that I am in the introductory portion of bariatric cult member status, they
are slowly revealing things that would have initially made me say no to this
surgery but now they have me on this Kool-Aid fence where fat equals misery and
death and weight loss equals a bright shiny new start. I am being brainwashed. My stomach won’t
listen but my head will. Only one can win.
One of the larger influences on getting this surgery and the
struggle between my brain and my stomach are doctors, not because what they say
is positive, informative or even encouraging but because the majority of them
cannot see past the fat. If I go in for an annual Pap Smear they want to
discuss my weight and not my vagina. Every time I go to the doctor for a sinus
infection they want to tell me how concerned they are about my weight, do they
care that I am oozing mucus and there is booger crust forming around my eyes
because it cannot escape my nose? NO. Because I am fat I cannot get the real
medical attention I need. If I have pink eye, the flu, a yeast infection,
seasonal allergies, had a house fall on me the response from a doctor is
usually, “Can we talk about your weight?” If there is any truth in there being
no such thing as a healthy over weight person, it is because they cannot get
the medical attention they deserve.
The more I talk about this the angrier I get so I am going
to wrap up. I will be back next week after my pre-op support group and personal
pre-op therapy appointment. The fatty therapist suggested my partner come to
these two appointments with me so he can also learn more about the “changes” I will
be going through. Another massive eye roll.
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