tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68404382495678027622024-03-13T07:30:09.692-07:00FatBastid - a Voyage of Changemy life sucks because I am a fat bastid; this is my personal account of my decision to change it, and the impact my decision has on me and those around me.
This will be a blog full of ugly, hard truth...wear a cup.FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-3279750647160368692012-07-25T20:28:00.001-07:002013-01-01T15:52:14.715-08:00What a Year!One Year out from Surgery...130 pounds gone, health improved dramatically.<br />
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What a year this has been! Last year on this date, I was in the hospital, doped up and bloated, in pain and groggy from having a few ounces of tissue snipped out. The next few weeks, quite frankly, sucked! Liquid diets and pain pills, YAY! I was actually dreaming about cheeseburgers!<br />
Since that fateful day, I have seen some remarkable changes in my life. I have lost 130 pounds, an average of 10.8 pounds per month. My diabetes is gone, completely disappeared, as is my sleep apnea - no more Darth Vader sleep mask for me! I used to squeeze into 46 inch waist jeans, now my 34's are too dang loose. I have to keep drilling more holes in my belts, or my pants fall off as I swagger along. Yes, I swagger, I strut like a rooster, I act like a sexy, badass hunk of a man...I'm actually completely ordinary looking, but I feel awesome!<br />
I used to be, for all practical purposes, a fat, non-functional cripple, incapable of doing anything even remotely physical. These days, I run road races, work for hours in the yard, swim, lift weights, and this coming sunday, I am living a dream come true - I will make my first solo skydiving jump! I have made 3 jumps so far, all of them tandem jumps, with an instructor strapped to my back. I will have several hours of additional training, suit up and strap up, go for a plane ride, and beat the plane back down to the ground - awesome! I'm already stoked...<br />
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No, that's not me, but it will look something like that, except I'll have an instructor on either side of me, making sure I don't go splat. Think about it for a minute - going from a hobbling, lurching cripple, constantly in pain, walking with a cane and barely able to function at all, to a walking, running, lifting, working, swimming, skydiving birdman, in one year! I only have one regret - I regret I waited as long as I did, and I was such a miserable bastard to be around for so long...my family had to put up with entirely too much bullshit for far too long, because I was in such sorry-ass shape, so miserable and so sick. I can only hope they can forgive me for the pain I caused them.<br />
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EDIT....THIS is me!<br />
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and it was a nice, soft landing, too!<br />
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Time to get on with the rest of my life...the fat man is dead, the real me is here, and the voyage of change will continue - but this particular year of change has come to an end, and so has this blog. Time to jump, goggles on, stand in the door - GERONIMO!!!<br />
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<br />FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-19649766430285687022012-07-08T19:50:00.001-07:002012-07-08T19:52:21.532-07:00Geronimo! just about one year since my surgery, stuck at 230, so I'm down about 120 pounds...<br />
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I drove up to Lumberton to hang out at the drop zone, at <a href="http://www.goldcoastskydivers.com/" target="_blank">Gold Coast Skydiving</a>. I was just going to hang around, take a snapshot or 2, talk to the folks, and just be a spectator...until the lady behind the counter asked, "Are you ready to go skydiving?" and I said, "Sure!", which was kinda stupid, because I wasn't actually planning on going today...I was just gonna watch, right? Ten minutes later, I'm buckling into a harness and getting a safety briefing from the staff (great folks, by the way). I met the instructor who was going to jump me, a sharp young guy named Jesse. He explained it all again, we boarded the plane, and just as the plane started flying, the jokes started flying. I said something about the fall isn't what kills you, it's the sudden stop at the bottom, and the guy next to me said, "no, no, no...the sudden stop simply breaks all of your bones, it's the bounce that shoves all of the broken pieces into your vital organs, so if you do go splat, make sure you grab 2 handfuls of grass the first time you hit, that way you won't bounce, and you'll probably survive!" For some reason, this gallows humor was some of the funniest shit I've heard in a long time...<br />
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The first guy to jump rolled up the door (they roll like a garage door), shook hands with those of us in the front of the line (a small palm slap and a knuckle bump) and simply stepped out the door like he was popping outside for a smoke. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen! I mean, the dude just smiled and hopped out of a plane at about 7,000 feet! He was quickly followed by another cool, casual dude...slap, bump, smile and wave, and the dude just<b><i> falls sideways</i></b> out the door! Awesome! The third guy was at least 75 years old, and looked as relaxed as a retired stock broker at the Clubhouse sipping a fine single malt scotch. He asked me, "How does my hair look? Does it look OK?" I said, "No, it looks awful!" Then I laughed and told him he was beautiful...palm slap, knuckle bump, smile and wave, and out he goes...<br />
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The guys to my right did their thing, then it was our turn...when you are doing a tandem jump, you have an experienced instructor strapped tightly to your back - he does all the work, and you just do a couple of small things to make his job easier, like pull your feet in tight, and try not to pee on him in catatonic fear. He will take care of the rest...what's odd though is, you jump from a kneeling position. You actually walk towards the door on your knees, with your instructor right behind you (naturally, he is strapped to you at four points). You walk up to the door on your knees, grab your harness at chest level (so you won't grab the door frame on your way out), and the instructor asks, "are you ready to skydive?" Only a total douchbag says "no" at this point, so you yell something brave-sounding like, "Hell yeah, let's rock!" (I'm sure my eyes were the size of silver dollars at this point) and the instructor rocks forward, rocks back, and out you both go...this is what is known as a triple oh-shit moment. You think, "Oh shit! I'm about to fall out of a plane at 14,000 feet!"... "Oh shit! I'm falling through the sky from 14,000 feet!" As you do a slow roll forward, you find yourself looking straight up... "Oh shit! There goes the plane I just fell out of!" That's three "Oh shit"s in about 3 seconds...then the instructor deploys the drogue chute, and you stabilize in the face-down position, and you think, "WOW! What a view!"<br />
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Here is something very important about freefall - when you are in a stable, face-down position at terminal velocity (120 MPH straight down), <u><i><b>you do not have a sensation of falling</b></i></u>. You simply feel like you are in an incredibly windy situation. It is not stomach-churning, you don't panic, and you don't feel the need to grab something...it is, however, incredibly LOUD! You fall for about 60 seconds, feeling the skin on your face quivering in the wind, looking around at the awesome view, feeling the instructor kicking your feet back into the proper position (almost everybody forgets about proper foot position), and then suddenly, you feel a tugging sensation, and your shoulders are pulled upright - the boss has just pulled the ripcord, allowing the chute to deploy, and you go from 120 MPH to about 20 MPH, and you are no longer falling, you are flying! Seriously, you are soaring through the air like a big-assed bird, the noise is gone, and the boss will ask, "You OK? How do you feel?" I told him I was great, that was awesome (that word keeps popping up, cuz it fits), and then he asks me if I want to do some spins? Well, hell yeah, I want to do spins! I have no idea what he means, but I'm game for it...and he pulls the right steering toggle, and we go on a wild-ass roller coaster ride, cork-screwing to the right for 2 or 3 circles. He asks if I want to go the other way..."Yeah, bro, that was awesome!" (there's that word again...) We rip 3 or 4 tight turns to the left, then we settle down, and he tells me about the landing.<br />
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Honestly, the only part that actually had me worried was the landing. Flight is optional, but landing is mandatory, and with my bum knee, I was a little worried about a hard landing doing some damage. No need for such concerns! The passenger in a tandem has one job on landing; don't let your feet hit the ground. Seriously, pull your feet up and don't let them hit first...I slid on the grass on my butt, he slid on the grass on his knees, and it was completely painless, exciting, thrilling, and safe...and awesome! I hooted and yelled, slapped the ground, laughed like a maniac, and cheered like a drunken soccer fan. I shook Jesse's hand about four times, slapped him on the back, told him, "I luv ya, bro!" and hooted at the sky some more...I'm sure the word "awesome" was shouted several times, by myself, and by others doing their first jump...what a fantastic day!<br />
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The change in my life is so dramatic, so profound, that I simply cannot find words to describe it...I went from being a fat cripple, barely capable of walking, to a running, weight-lifting, skydiving, <i><b>living</b></i> being...I am so grateful, and so humbled, by the second chance I have been given, that again, words fail me...<br />
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I do have a problem though...how am I going to pay for free-fall lessons? They don't give that stuff away, ya know? <br />
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Blue Skies!<br />
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<br />FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-61538625589191021812012-06-26T16:35:00.001-07:002012-06-26T17:18:37.409-07:00In Training... A few weeks ago, my best bud sent me a note, telling me there was a 5K race coming up - the Bridgefest in Bay St Louis. We would start the race at the east end of the Bay Bridge, run across the bridge into Old Towne in Bay St Louis, and finish in the middle of the festival itself...I had managed to stagger through a 5K run just about a week before, but it was painfully slow, and downright painful. Lot's of walking breaks, lot's of foot-soreness. I knew I was not actually ready for a 5K race, even a race I had no hope in hell of winning (let's not be delusional here - I don't think I will ever come in first)...so naturally, I said, "Hell Yeah, lets do it!" Race day comes along, I crawl out of bed, down a couple of Ibuprofen, choke down some Powerade, sugar-free, of course, and get ready to race. I started well back in the pack of about 300 or so. The horn sounded, and the crowd started shuffling along to the starting gate. I clicked my stopwatch when I went thru the gate, and started my great journey...I jogged along with Robbie at my side for a few minutes. I told him I didn't want him to pace me, but run his own race...I was soon by myself in a sea of equally slow strangers, and that was fine with me.<br />
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I talked to myself, making bargains with my inner child, the whiny little brat; "Quit complaining, see that sign post? We'll walk a little when we get to it." We would reach the sign post, and I would say, "Nah, just a little bit farther, see the next sign post? We'll keep running to that one..." I did take several walking breaks, but only long enough to catch my breath. I would walk when I noticed my form was starting to go bad, when I would start to heel-strike, or drag my toes along the road. Those were signs that I was truly fatigued and actually needed a short break. I never stopped moving, and actually felt some competitive spirit rising in me. "I wonder if I can catch that chick up there. She looks like she's getting tired - that Grammaw just dropped her, maybe I can too." I passed a few folks, they passed me back, I pushed myself as hard as I could, and eventually I saw the finish chute. I did my best to finish in good form, no staggering, up on the toes with arms pumping, and I think I did OK...nobody laughed and pointed, so it must not have been too bad...<br />
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I powered thru the chute as fast as I could, but I was completely drained by that point. I got my finish time, remembered to click my own stopwatch, and met Robbie at the gate -he wasn't even sweating, the damn show-off! He helped me post my name on the finish board. I don't know what place I finished, but it wasn't last, and it sure as hell wasn't near the top - and I couldn't have cared less, because I Had Done It! I had actually finished a 5K race with a not-too-terrible personal time of less than 44 minutes. The time wasn't the important thing. What mattered was that I had kept going, believed in myself, refused to quit, and accomplished my goal. In that respect, I won!<br />
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I am now running about 5 days a week, at least a mile and a half at a time, with one 5K run per week minimum. I'm still way too slow, but I'm walking less and less, and starting to pick up short bursts of speed every once in a while. I am actually getting out of bed early to go running before work - shocking, but true. I think I can safely say that my old life is over. The fat, shuffling cripple is dead, and the new me is here to stay. Instead of limping with a cane, I strut like a rooster, and tell myself that I am one sexy, badass hunk of a man, which isn't true, but that's OK...it feels good to feel good, ya know? I have set fitness goals for myself, some easy, some pretty dang tough, all of them doable with determination and drive, sweat and stubbornness.<br />
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I'll keep y'all posted about how it goes...FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-31473878011238222002012-05-19T17:01:00.000-07:002012-05-19T21:08:20.456-07:00Then...and Nowalmost 10 months out, down 121 pounds, actually enjoying life...<br />
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Ran a race today, only one mile, but had alot of fun. They haven't posted all of the times yet, but I know my time is somewhere in the middle of the pack of the one-milers, which means I run on average like the other new runners, the moms with small children, and the small children themselves...I got dropped by a 4 year old girl - AGAIN! One of these days I'm gonna kick her tiny little butt. So embarrassing. (Not really, its actually kinda funny).... I look back at old pictures, and the change is just ridiculous. To go from the sick fat bastard on the left, to the entirely ordinary looking guy on the right, is just a whole new life. Call me Walt 2.0<br />
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Old Walt 1.0 profile pic...<br />
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and Walt 2.0 profile pic...<br />
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yeah, a big improvement, if I do say so myself.<br />
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I now have about 3 months to get ready for a 5K race here in Pass Christian, the Summer Beach Run on August 4th...August. Ya think it might be kinda hot? Meh, I can hack it!<br />
<br />FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-31283969877804116752012-05-08T19:42:00.000-07:002012-05-08T19:51:22.933-07:00Just a quick Update...May 8, a little more than 9 months after surgery, down 119 pounds...<br />
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I'm still working to rebuild the rusty old hulk that is my body. I'm lifting weights, riding bikes, and running 6 or 7 days a week. I rest by doing something different, that I haven't done for a while - example, the other day, I went swimming instead of running. Some might say I am a bit obsessed with my fitness, I would say they are right. My horrible fitness level ruled my life for years and made me a miserable son of a bitch, now it's time for some payback! Yesterday, I went for a one mile run around noon, missed my turn-around point, and just said "screw it" and kept going. Wanna know why? Because I CAN keep going now. If concentrating a large part of my time on my own health makes me a selfish bastard, so be it. I like to think that being healthier will make me a nicer person to be around, if for no other reason than the fact that I no longer hate myself, how I feel, and how I look.<br />
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Since I got my guts trimmed, I have more than tripled my upper body strength, lowered my blood pressure and blood sugar, greatly improved my cholesterol, dropped 14 inches around my waist (size Medium shorts!), and I can run 2 miles (with a bit of walking here and there)...last year, I could barely walk with a cane, hated everything about my body, and I was always taking pain medication. I don't even know that fat, miserable son of a bitch anymore, and I am so glad he is gone. Anyone who can't understand my new interest in my health will just have to step back and let it be...<br />
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On the other hand, I will try to be a little more attentive to the people in my life, because they deserve it for putting up with the old me, until the new me came along. If I seem to have ignored you, it wasn't intentional...FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-70682695573845385052012-03-01T17:01:00.003-08:002012-03-09T12:37:42.632-08:00Trials and Tribulations...<span style="font-size: large;">March 1, 2012, seven months, stuck at 243 pounds while my knee heals...dammit!<br />
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Rebuilding the Wreck<br />
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Have you ever seen these shows about people who rebuild old cars? They go find some rusty old car, hiding in a barn somewhere like it is ashamed to be seen. The car guy finds this old rust bucket and says, "Oh my God! This is a 1967 Buggernaut Coupe, built in Luxembourg by Dummass Motorwerks! It's a classic!" He's hopping up and down, all grins and excitement, and then the camera swings to the car, and it's a disaster! The tires rotted out during the Clinton administration, one headlight is hanging loose in it's socket, a chicken is roosting on the roof, and the whole thing is so dirty, you can't tell what the original color used to be. The car guy lifts the hood, and when the dust cloud settles, he gets all excited again, "Yes! It has the original 9 cylinder engine with the turbo charger and the titanium spark plugs! Awesome!" And you are wondering how he can tell all this, because the engine looks like a pile of rusty, discarded parts in a junkyard somewhere. He buys the heap, and the rest of the show is all about the restoration work he has to do, with whacky little scenes of fun and hijinks by the guys in the shop...<br />
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While the camera rolls, the car guy runs into one unexpected problem after another, because there are so many things rotted out, rusted away, frozen solid, or just missing, and he has to fix one screwed up situation after another. Some parts he has to special order from Bavaria, some he scrounges from a guy in El Paso that owes him a favor, some he actually makes from scratch in the shop, but eventually, he gets it running again. It runs like crap, but it can actually move under it's own power...that's where I am right now with this rusted hulk of a body of mine. <br />
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I was so fat and so badly out of shape that many of my muscles atrophied. The tendons tightened up and the muscles wasted away because I wasn't able to get any decent exercise, so now I'm running into all sorts of little problems. My thigh muscles are weak, and I have tendonitus. All those little muscles in my lower back, hips, sides, rib cage, etcetera, are all weak from lack of use, so when I try to exercise, I am shockingly weak compared to my younger self. I am doing all sorts of therapeutic exercises, but I still have a long way to go...<br />
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PLANKING - SIMPLE AND EFFECTIVE <br />
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No, I'm not talking about those morons who post pictures of themselves lying flat and motionless on park benches, coffee tables, railroad tracks, or where-ever. I'm talking about one of the best, most effective exercises I have ever experienced. It is stupid-simple, you can do it pretty much anywhere, and it is amazingly effective. All you do is lie facedown on the floor with your elbows tucked under your chest and your hands under your chin, and lift your body up while keeping your back straight or ever-so-slightly humped. Don't let your back sag! Think of it like a push up done on your elbows instead of your hands. Concentrate on trying to tighten up all of those abdominal muscles, and hold that position for 15 to 20 seconds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> This exercise actually works pretty much everything from your neck to your ankles, including all of those little muscles in your lower back, abdominals, and hips, the collection of muscles people have dubbed "The Core". Do that 3 times, with 30 seconds of rest in between planks. If you are in decent shape, 20 seconds won't be too challenging, but you will feel it working. If you are in crappy shape, like me, 15 seconds will have you sweating and shaking like a heroin junkie going through withdrawal. I did three planks of 15 seconds each on Monday, and I'm still feeling it on Thursday morning. For now, one planking session per week is plenty...especially if I do the side plank version while I'm down there on the floor. It is the same principal, just performed on one elbow with your body sideways instead of face down. It is idiot simple and abs-olutely effective! (Get it? Abs-olutely? Never mind, bad pun.) It hurts, but it's good pain, the kind of pain that happens when weakness is leaving the body...<br />
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More sweat and good pain coming soon...<br />
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and a word or two about Vodka!<br />
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Do you like vodka? I mean <i><b>really</b></i> like vodka? I'm not talking about a splash of the stuff in some orange juice, I'm talking super cold vodka shots, no ice, no mixer, just toss the bottle in the freezer for a couple hours, then drink it straight. If you really like vodka, then you know the difference between the good stuff and the cheap stuff, right? Don't be so sure...<br />
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When you buy a really good whisky, like a fine single malt or a nicely aged sourmash, you are paying for the materials in the mash, the distillation, the fine oak barrels, the long patient aging process under strictly controlled conditions...and it's worth it. When you buy a nice, top-shelf vodka, do you know what you are paying for? If you plunk down $35 for top-shelf vodka, you are mainly paying for the name and the fancy bottle. Vodka is simply the purest distillation of ethanol, mixed with the cleanest water available. There is no careful aging, no oak barrels, no fine aromas and flavors. The best vodka is simply really clean ethanol at about 40% strength, diluted with clean, pure water. So what is the difference between the cheap stuff and the high-dollar stuff? Impurities...those other chemicals in there that make the stuff taste funny. Really cheap, crappy vodka tastes like paint thinner mixed with diesel fuel and a dash of battery acid, and it may actually have some of the same chemicals in it. Cheap vodka tastes bad, leaves a harsh or oily aftertaste, and gives you a skull-splitting, please-kill-me-now hangover. What to do, what to do? <br />
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The answer is simple - purify the stuff! I recently experimented with a cheap bottle of rot gut, the cheapest in the store. I took a small shot of the stuff, gagged a little, and debated just pouring it out, but I decided to go ahead with my experiment anyway. I got an empty bottle, a small plastic funnel, 2 coffee filters, and about 50 cents worth of aquarium filter charcoal, the stuff you can buy at Walmart. I filtered the cheap crappy vodka through the charcoal once, and it was noticeably better. I filtered it through the same filter again, and the stuff was almost good. After 4 trips through the charcoal, I honestly don't think I would be able to tell the filtered cheap stuff from the really pricey stuff with the goose on the label. I tossed the bottle in the freezer for a couple hours, and enjoyed several shots later in the evening while watching something educational and spiritually uplifting - some gun porn on the outdoor channel! I went to bed, woke up fully functional, no hangover at all, no headache, no feeling of being poisoned the previous evening, just one glass of water and I was ready to rock. </span><br />
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With whiskey, you pay for all of those subtle flavors and aromas that fine, careful aging can produce, but with vodka, you are paying for what you <i><b>don't</b></i> get - all of the chemical impurities that come in the really cheap crappy stuff. Save a pile of cash and simply filter out the stuff you don't want. Trust me on this one, it works!</span>FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-48360659354444979132012-02-09T19:07:00.000-08:002012-02-09T21:28:34.889-08:00Physical Therapy Sucks...but not for the reasons you might assume.<br />
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Six and a half months, stuck at 243 pounds, down 108 pounds, and limping from knee surgery.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5oDNO39eYes/TzSHGxzXqwI/AAAAAAAAAEM/_VM8UUSbPxU/s1600/ragged01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5oDNO39eYes/TzSHGxzXqwI/AAAAAAAAAEM/_VM8UUSbPxU/s400/ragged01.JPG" width="390" /></a></div> The knee-bone doctor did his thing, cleaning up a good bit of damage in my left knee. He said I had torn and frayed cartilage, a pretty bad bruise on the end of my thigh bone, water on the knee, and tendonitus. All I know is, it hurt a whole bunch before, and it still hurts but not as much, and hurts less every week. He prescribed six weeks of physical therapy, which is about what I expected, so I started last week - and it isn't what I expected at all!<br />
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I was very athletic when I was younger, and have always worked hard in the gym and on the field. When lifting weights, I always try to lift to the point of failure, always pushing, striving, working to get that last bit of effort into the iron. It has always been my belief that pain is simply <i><b>weakness leaving the body</b></i>, that I can do more than I am currently doing, that I am capable of digging down deep and coming up with that inner strength...and that is exactly what I CAN'T do during therapy! My therapist is a very smart cookie who really knows his stuff. I understand the reasons he tells me to take it easy, don't push, be patient. "You are not working out, you are in therapy, you are not trying to get stronger, you are trying to heal." I understand, I get it, I see the logic, if I push too hard I can do some seriously permanent damage...but it is still driving me nuts! For a few weeks there, I was running, hiking, walking, <i><b>moving</b></i>, and it felt so good after being crippled for so long. Now, I'm crippled again, if only for a while. I feel like I was let out of a cage, only to be tossed right back in again as soon as I was getting used to the freedom - and to be blunt, that feeling fucking sucks!<br />
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So for now, I'll hold back, and not push it. I'll stop myself from digging deep and striving for excellence, I'll shut the fuck up and do as I am told, and strap my icepack to my leg when it is sore, and be a good little therapy patient...and I'll hate every minute of it.<br />
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Shit.FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-35042255318981769642012-01-25T18:45:00.000-08:002012-01-25T18:45:34.870-08:00Six Months!Day 180, 243 pounds, down from 351, total loss of 108 pounds <br />
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It's been six months since the doc cut my duffel bag stomach down to size...let's have a brief summary of the results; I have lost over 100 pounds, and still losing, my diabetes is gone, by bad back is about 95% better, my cholesterol and triglycerides are completely normal, and my sleep apnea has disappeared. I am healthier in every way, feeling better, working out, consuming less adult beverages, I quit smoking, and I actually eat Brussels sprouts - seriously!<br />
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It hasn't been completely easy. I have shed many gallons of sweat, lifted many tons of iron in the gym, and actually started running for fun and exercise. I recently had knee surgery to clean up some damaged cartilage in my left knee. It was an old injury that I aggravated running the Jingle Bell Jog in early December. It was only one mile, but it was enough to inflame the knee joint and make me seek help. I am now looking at about 6 weeks of therapy, then back out to the track. I'll be running 5K in the next Jingle Bell Jog...<br />
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I have to say that I do have one regret about my weight-loss surgery; I regret that I waited so long to have it done! It's true that I was kinda busy rebuilding after Katrina beat the crap out of the entire region, but even so, I wish I had gotten trimmed before my knee started breaking down. I am absolutely certain that the damage to my knee was a direct result of being a huge, rotund, fat-body type of person, and losing a pile of lard would have prevented the damage to my knee. Too late for me, but it isn't too late for any of you VLP's (Very Large Persons) out there who may be thinking about it. My advice to you is simple: you have a disease, it will kill you if you don't seek help, therefore, seek help NOW!<br />
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From here on out, I'll be posting about running, cutting trails through the woods, fishing, skydiving, etc...I'm pretty sure everybody understands the whole Gastric Sleeve thing by now, if not, you can go to the first post and read all about it...FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-15003077805783543422012-01-16T08:55:00.000-08:002012-01-16T09:01:44.864-08:002000 Words WorthThey say a picture is worth 1000 words, so here is 2000 words worth, plus a short summary at the end...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EXK3gmYrlMs/TxRShLOjlqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/1Jz-dQMP7M8/s1600/before_summ.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EXK3gmYrlMs/TxRShLOjlqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/1Jz-dQMP7M8/s400/before_summ.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l6rMc8TIqhc/TxRS8UW0r7I/AAAAAAAAAD8/a2VLU5tbsdQ/s1600/after_summ.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l6rMc8TIqhc/TxRS8UW0r7I/AAAAAAAAAD8/a2VLU5tbsdQ/s640/after_summ.JPG" width="498" /></a></div><br />
My life now has improved beyond measure. I can do things I haven't been able to do for about 10 years, I feel better physically and mentally, and I no longer dismiss activities as being impossible because I'm so damn fat. <i><b>My body functions normally</b></i>. I have no foreign devices in my body, I do not require frequent doctor visits for adjustments, and I have no dietary restrictions. I can eat anything I want, I just can't eat very much. I have found that eating healthy food makes me feel even better, and food with heavy doses of sugar or starch make me feel kinda crappy - <i>just like before my surgery</i>. The body still reacts like it used to. Good food is still good for me, bad food is still bad for me...<br />
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IF YOU ARE FAT, AND HAVE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH YOUR WEIGHT FOR MANY YEARS, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? A SIGN FROM GOD DELIVERED BY A BURNING BUSH? Consider me a smouldering shrub, then. You have a disease, <b><i>and it will kill you</i></b>. Seek help! The Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy is the sensible, logical choice for people who are severely over-weight (like YOU). Google it, find a specialist in your area, do some research, and get the help you need...you will have the same regrets I have - NONE!<br />
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<a href="http://www.yourbariatricsurgeryguide.com/gastric-sleeve/">http://www.yourbariatricsurgeryguide.com/gastric-sleeve/</a>FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-5500721204236828272012-01-04T17:12:00.000-08:002012-01-04T17:22:32.483-08:00Random Rant - Whatever Happened to Service Guys Actually Giving a Shit? It seems like the guys who fix things, maintain things, install things, and in general are supposed to know how to make things work, just don't give a rat's ass anymore. A few weeks ago, I took a rifle to a gunsmith/parts changer/ guy who hits shit with a hammer. There was a piece of a brass cartridge case stuck in the chamber, and I couldn't get it out. The rifle was pretty much worthless as it was, I couldn't fix it, so I assumed I would simply take it to an expert and pay too much to get it fixed, but the thing would actually work when I got it back. A few days later, I got a call, the rifle was ready, I could pick it up any time saturday. I grab some ammo and some targets, drive for about an hour, pay the "expert" for his services, and head for the range...where the rifle is completely locked up! I can't rack the cocking handle to load a cartridge, the bolt carrier assembly is totally jammed, the thing is completely non-functional. Understand, it was running fine when I last handled it. The problem was the empty cartridge case getting stuck, not the rifle itself. They got the brass out of the chamber, but when they reassembled the rifle, they didn't do a function check. A simple little procedure where you cock the weapon on an empty chamber and pull the trigger...do this 3 times, and you can be confident the stupid thing will function. You pay someone to be an expert, they do the job, but they don't take an extra 30 seconds to <i><b>make sure it is working properly</b></i> before they send it out the door. <br />
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At my place of business, we recently had a very expensive, complex piece of equipment installed. It is composed of several modules of high-tech gear that are all supposed to work together and produce the results we need to stay in business. The manufacturer sent 2 modules that would not interface with the main module, and forgot to send a rather important special cable that allows a 3rd module to do what it needs to do, so the installation specialist left the site without testing the installation - he couldn't make sure it worked, because the factory had shipped the wrong gear. The repair guy came out, futzed around with the various parts and modules, and after about 4 days of screwing around, proclaimed it functional, and <i><b>left without making sure the stupid system was working properly.</b></i> We have had the thing for a month now, and I don't think it has worked yet - and it cost well over $100,000! The other repair guy is due tomorrow, we'll see what kind of job he does.<br />
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It isn't just the high-tech guys, or the expert craftsmen types, who don't give a rat's ass anymore. It seems like NOBODY gives a crap. The custodial crew at my building works for a different contractor company than we work for, and I <i><b>know</b></i> they don't care worth a fart in a hurricane. The cleaning crews don't even bother showing up half the time, and they haven't actually <u>cleaned</u> any of the floors in two years - let me repeat that; they haven't actually cleaned any of the floors in TWO YEARS, <i><b>including the bathroom floors</b></i>! I have personally observed people leaving the bathrooms with such a pale, nauseated look on their faces, I thought they had the flu, or maybe food poisoning, but it was actually the smell of the room itself. The bathrooms smell like fermenting sewage! If you are foolish enough to look closely at the brownish-gray tiles and black grout, you will see that they are actually supposed to be blue, green, and white tiles, with pale sand-colored grout. You will also notice the furry texture of the tiles is due to funny little curly hairs that are stuck to the floor, just like your feet will stick when you walk on the tiles...no, I am not making this up. The problem is actually three problems rolled into one situation. ONE: The crews are not given mops, they are given cleaning pads, like big Swiffer pads, and a "special cleaning solution", and they are told that you don't need to scrub or rinse, just wipe the pad over the floor with the special cleaning solution, and the dirt and grime will magically dissolve into thin air! It'll be so clean, it will actually be sterile. You could perform open-heart surgery on those floors! TWO: The cleaning crews know that this is absolute bullshit, but they don't care, they are just following orders. They can smell the fermenting rat shit smell as well as anybody - they use those bathrooms, too. THREE: The supervisor in charge of the crews doesn't care, because his company has the contract, and it's damn near impossible to get fired from such a place, and he knows it. He <i><b>doesn't need to check </b></i>on his cleaning crews to make sure they have done their jobs - he knows they haven't, and he just doesn't care! He couldn't care less about the floors, cuz he gets paid one way or the other...The situation has gotten so bad, we actually clean the f***ing bathrooms ourselves, just so we won't have the overpowering urge to spew our lunch every time we take a whizz...God help the ladies, who actually have clothing touching those hideous floors while they sit doing their business. On those rare occasions where I am forced to drop my pants on the floor in there, I feel an overwhelming need and desire to go to the gym and take a long steamy shower...<br />
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The lack of care and concern in the service sector of our society is getting out of hand - I could go for the obvious bad play on words and say that the situation is really <b><i>shitty</i></b>, but that would be a <i><b>gross</b></i> understatement.<br />
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Folks, if you are gonna do a job, take the time and have enough personal pride to actually <u><b>do</b></u> the damn job, do it<u><b> right</b></u>, and <i><b>make sure it is done correctly before you move on</b></i>!FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-26627921688499565942011-12-25T08:05:00.000-08:002011-12-25T08:05:11.203-08:00Merry Christmas, Everybody!Wishing all of you all the best! I have a terrific Christmas present this year...I have lost 101 pounds, and I feel terrific! No more fat, crippled, and helpless...HO, HO, HO!<br />
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More details later...FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-38824870503993320582011-11-29T17:29:00.000-08:002011-11-29T17:29:08.638-08:00The Six-Million Dollar Man...or Maybe Not. Remember Steve Austin? Remember the show's opening scenes? "We can rebuild him, we can make him stronger, faster, sexier, cheesier, and he'll smell like chocolate chip cookies!" OK, that wasn't exactly how it went, but close enough. For those who don't remember the show, Steve Austin was a test pilot/astronaut/door gunner on the space shuttle/whatever, who was in a bad crash, and the government decided to rebuild him with bionic implants. If you have never seen the show, rent it or look for it on those cable networks that specialize in 1970's cheese fests, drink several adult beverages, and enjoy the wholesome family goodness of bad sci/fi special effects and predictable, heart-warming plotlines...don't get me wrong - I loved it! Watched every episode at least once, making sound effects right along with the TV!<br />
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Having taken a detour down Nostalgia Lane, I guess I need to come back to the present and talk about my own $6,000,000 project, except it is a lot less high-tech, and a lot more old-fashioned than Colonel Austin's reconstruction (it also wasn't funded with Taxpayer Dollars, dammit). About 4 months ago, I was a fat, waddling, shambling hulk of a miserable man, pathetic and in pain, and generally possessing a rather grumpy disposition. I walked with a cane and was severely limited in my mobility and activities, and popped a lot of pain pills, cuz I needed them. A very skilled doctor drugged the crap outta me and cut out a chunk of my guts; specifically, approximately 80 percent of my stomach...best thing that ever happened to me, health-wise! I have since lost about 95 pounds, and 10 inches around my waist. My diabetes is gone, my blood pressure has dropped, my sleep apnea has disappeared, I have tossed my cane in a corner, and now I can walk like a normal person...<br />
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A few months ago, every normal, ordinary activity was an exercise in pain, the brute pain of simply moving my large carcass from point A to point B. There were so many things that were simply beyond my physical capacities that life really wasn't worth living any more. The only reason I stuck around was for my family, and because of the vague hope that maybe someday, something would happen to make things better. What eventually happened was so simple in concept, yet so profound in its effects, I only regret not doing it sooner...I lost several years of living to being a wretched fat bastard, and I can never get those years back. I can, however, make up for that lost time by becoming the best man I can be, physically and otherwise. Hence, the "Reconstruction" theme of this rambling dialogue. I am rebuilding myself physically, and the outer change is noticeable, according to friends and family. I also suspect that the inner change is also noticeable to those few who are paying attention. <br />
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I go to the gym at least 4 times a week, pumping iron and working the aerobic machines, walking on the treadmill, building muscle and endurance, getting stronger, tougher, leaner, harder, and becoming one sexy, awesome beast of a man!...Well, OK, let's not get carried away here. "Stronger, harder, more muscular, leaner" - all true. "Sexy, awesome beast of a man", maybe not, but here is the deep-down truth. I <b><i>feel</i></b> like a sexy, awesome beast of a man, even if I don't look like one. The difference in how I look has been described as "great", "incredible", "fantastic", etc, etc, blah, blah, blah (I actually look entirely ordinary and common-place)...I appreciate the kind words, and the outer change is pretty dramatic, but <b><i>the real change is inside</i></b>. It's how I feel as a man, a human, a living breathing animal of a being...<i><b>I have not felt this alive in many years</b></i>.<br />
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A few days ago, I was at the gym, doing the weight machines and jogging on the treadmill, and I felt so damn good, I just went out the back door, paced off 40 yards in the grass, and started doing wind sprints - 40 yards as fast as my big, hairy self could run! I would dash, walk around in a circle for a few seconds catching my breath, then haul ass back the other way like a scalded chimpanzee. I'm sure I looked absurd, a 51 year old fat man running wind sprints, but I felt what can only be described as an animal joy at just running as fast as I could! I wanted to chase down a mailman and bite his leg, or go tearing off into the woods chasing rabbits and barking at squirrels...it was awesome! And now I'm limping, cuz I am experiencing a very curious physio-medical phenomenon; Too Much Too Soon Syndrome.<br />
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TMTS syndrome happens when someone is suddenly released from a life of significant physical limitations, and finds themselves with a fierce desire to do everything they have been denied for so long, so they try to do it all, right-by-God-now! I want to go trail running, and sky diving, and bike riding, and hiking in the mountains, and...well, you get the idea. I want to do it all! Right now, dammit! But an honest assessment of my abilities tells me that I need to develop one other kind of strength that is in short supply - patience! I need to work up to all of these things a bit more gradually than I am attempting right now, or I may wind up doing myself some damage. The last damn thing I want is to have to dig that cane out of the corner just to walk from the parking lot to the office!<br />
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On the other hand, I will be running in the Long Beach Jingle Bell Jog this coming Saturday, doing the One Mile Fun Run... I'm sure there will be a good deal of walking involved before I get to the finish line, and that'll be just fine with me!<br />
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4 months, 258 pounds, down from 351, on my way to 205 or so...FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-22304527210318533642011-10-31T16:05:00.000-07:002011-10-31T16:05:25.422-07:00So, Things are settling into the New Normal State of Affairs...approx 100 days after I got trimmed, 261 pounds, from 351, down 90 pounds, 56 pounds to go...<br />
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and things are starting to settle into a new routine. I go to the gym 3 or 4 times a week, working on strength training and running (yes, running!), and trying to get some flexibility and strength in my lower back. I have more than doubled my upper body strength, tightened my stomach muscles very nicely (still fat, but I can tell there is a big improvement), and made HUGE strides in my cardio health and endurance. I have all but given up on the elliptical trainer, as it just doesn't challenge me physically, so I have starting walk/jogging. That is basically jogging on a treadmill, with periods of walking thrown in to prevent massive coronary blowouts. Today, I walk/jogged to a small but important milestone - literally, one mile. I ran about 3/4 of it, and walked whenever my heart rate hit 140 or above. I would walk until the pump was doing about 110 BPM, then start running again. I kept a mental tally of how far I was walking, and it came to right at 1/4 mile - the rest was running, you do the math. My short term goal is to run a solid mile, at a steady pace, within 2 weeks, while getting below 250 in that same time frame. I'm not sure I can lose 11 pounds in 14 days, but I'm gonna try. <br />
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My longer term goals involve this room;<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vekicjstarA/Tq8ktJjrhZI/AAAAAAAAADY/qIP_jr39-pY/s1600/rigging_room.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vekicjstarA/Tq8ktJjrhZI/AAAAAAAAADY/qIP_jr39-pY/s320/rigging_room.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>(yes, those are bowling balls, but I'm not going bowling....)<br />
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and also this field;<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gAygr-XpjUo/Tq8k-WEwq8I/AAAAAAAAADg/hL-VpX1wTWs/s1600/dropzone.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gAygr-XpjUo/Tq8k-WEwq8I/AAAAAAAAADg/hL-VpX1wTWs/s320/dropzone.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>That is the landing field at the drop zone in Lumberton...here is where all you Whuffos ask, "Drop zone? Chute? You mean, jump out of an AIRPLANE??" Yes, exactly...I have always wanted to, I have been doing some research, it is safer than the drive to the movie theater, and the dropzone in Lumberton happens to be one of the best in the whole world. <a href="http://www.dropzone.com/dropzone/index.html">Check it out,</a> scroll about halfway down, and look for <a href="http://www.goldcoastskydivers.com/">Gold Coast Skydivers</a>...they are tied for first place in the rankings, worldwide. I spoke with them, hung out for a while, played with the dog (I don't think the dog actually jumps), and took a snapshot or 2. They seem like very nice people, very tolerant of stupid questions, and the chief rigger seems to REALLY know his stuff...I will absolutely be going back, as soon as I have shed some more tonnage and saved up some lunch money...I'm shooting for March, when the weather starts warming up.<br />
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I'm also shooting alot in this field;<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jWLtW7dSU9s/Tq8nRKt4qSI/AAAAAAAAADo/_TJ9sIltDLM/s1600/downrange.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jWLtW7dSU9s/Tq8nRKt4qSI/AAAAAAAAADo/_TJ9sIltDLM/s320/downrange.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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That is the view looking over the top of a very old but still serviceable Soviet bolt-action rifle, looking downrange at the berm in Woolmarket, where I spend whatever spare time I have.<br />
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As my midsection gets smaller, my horizons seem to be getting bigger. I have plans now, things I have always wanted to do, but have never been able to pursue until now. Our time on this dirtball is limited, and we can live cautious, careful, safe lives, or we can bite off big chunks of life (and small nibbles of cheeseburgers), and really enjoy our time here...I know which option I prefer!<br />
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Geronimo!<br />
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BTW, the bowling balls are used as weights to hold the parachute pack steady while the rigger packs the chute...packing a parachute isn't really an activity with a whole lot of room for error, so you want to hold it down tight while you take care of business...FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-50499174233163474732011-10-21T23:41:00.000-07:002011-10-22T10:32:08.437-07:00The Engine is Coming to Life...Approximately 3 weeks after my surgery, I started working out in the gym...I was very weak, and had no stamina. I worked with the benchpress machine, pressing about 60 pounds...pretty pathetic! Now, after 6 weeks or so, I have made some pretty significant improvements in my routine...<br />
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I can now press more than double what I could press before, ...I can now press 200 pounds! I can *feel* the strength starting to stir, the power starting to flow. I am developing reserves of power that didn't exist before. I used to do 5 minutes on the elliptical trainer - now I hit the 30 minute time limit, so I have started jogging on a treadmill machine. I managed 400 meters today, a quarter mile! Not bad for a 52 year old fat bastard! I doesn't sound like a great distance, but keep in mind 2 things; the last time I ran was in boot camp 30 years ago, and 3 months ago I was walking with a cane ...I am starting to rebuild this wreck of a body and get it back in shape!<br />
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Next month, I will run a full mile, bench press 250 pounds, bike 5 miles, etc...always pushing, always growing stronger. I have been dead for far too long, but now, the machine is coming back to life.<br />
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The whole point of this post is to show that life after surgery doesn't stop after a loss of so many pounds...Life after surgery is only a beginning! I don't know about anybody else, but I consider my life after surgery to be a gift, and I have no intention of wasting that precious gift... I plan to enjoy life to the fullest!<br />
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Geronimo!FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-46910479476949162222011-10-13T16:56:00.000-07:002011-10-13T17:13:59.380-07:00Before and After...I promised you guys some before and after pics, so I rounded up some of the rather depressing pics of my former fat self, and got a few pics of my not-so-fat present self, and I'll just toss 'em up here for your amusement.....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QRe6wlxVRp0/Tpd2Na_5KeI/AAAAAAAAABg/k_Cd1tCIm9o/s1600/before33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QRe6wlxVRp0/Tpd2Na_5KeI/AAAAAAAAABg/k_Cd1tCIm9o/s400/before33.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I am, dwarfing the Space Shuttle...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mO5saAYo6pY/Tpd2OFwNzlI/AAAAAAAAABo/xnvYpKXUOUs/s1600/BEFORE04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mO5saAYo6pY/Tpd2OFwNzlI/AAAAAAAAABo/xnvYpKXUOUs/s320/BEFORE04.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At a pistol match a few years ago...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NaH4KmLGWZw/Tpd2ObvVJtI/AAAAAAAAABw/0YEBgEwF_jc/s1600/before11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NaH4KmLGWZw/Tpd2ObvVJtI/AAAAAAAAABw/0YEBgEwF_jc/s320/before11.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a fishing trip a couple summers ago. Luckily, there were no whalers around, or I might have been skewered with a harpoon.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sM0MIPoIZ5o/Tpd29KCQB6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/BDBJgO4NonQ/s1600/before12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sM0MIPoIZ5o/Tpd29KCQB6I/AAAAAAAAAB4/BDBJgO4NonQ/s400/before12.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some fat bastard sat on my reading glasses...oh, wait, it was me!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SoMDhQJ7gjY/Tpd29bZfSbI/AAAAAAAAACA/qP4mzjoEHUU/s1600/BEFORE01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SoMDhQJ7gjY/Tpd29bZfSbI/AAAAAAAAACA/qP4mzjoEHUU/s320/BEFORE01.JPG" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mugshot profile.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Np80cOjE5n8/Tpd29snhpoI/AAAAAAAAACI/mZuEPGfeBzU/s1600/BEFORE02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Np80cOjE5n8/Tpd29snhpoI/AAAAAAAAACI/mZuEPGfeBzU/s320/BEFORE02.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mugshot straight view. (Note grumpy look on face.)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table> and now a few of the new and improved (work in progress) me...note a somewhat more cheerful attitude. Obviously, I still have a lot of work to do, but the work is actually making a difference - I'm much stronger than I used to be, more flexible, in a lot less pain, able to work longer, lift more, do more, play harder, and actually enjoy life instead of just endure...<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CVlEtF04804/Tpd34JGsq7I/AAAAAAAAACY/vZturVziUYE/s1600/Image09012011102543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CVlEtF04804/Tpd34JGsq7I/AAAAAAAAACY/vZturVziUYE/s320/Image09012011102543.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From a few weeks ago...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4qJn-LXAY5M/Tpd33GSnjzI/AAAAAAAAACQ/_xTZf_Pl4ug/s1600/best_side.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4qJn-LXAY5M/Tpd33GSnjzI/AAAAAAAAACQ/_xTZf_Pl4ug/s400/best_side.jpg" width="330" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My best side...no pinching please, ladies! Well, OK, go ahead!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZyeknfZUVSs/Tpd34_2WueI/AAAAAAAAACo/KHxWCUMy6zk/s1600/new_pic03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZyeknfZUVSs/Tpd34_2WueI/AAAAAAAAACo/KHxWCUMy6zk/s400/new_pic03.jpg" width="292" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mugshot profile...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qhjw4LXs4Ew/Tpd34hsqRKI/AAAAAAAAACg/cmaoHuXKByg/s1600/new_pic02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qhjw4LXs4Ew/Tpd34hsqRKI/AAAAAAAAACg/cmaoHuXKByg/s400/new_pic02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mugshot straight view. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table>FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-48830755579210377542011-09-25T07:59:00.000-07:002011-09-25T07:59:40.994-07:002 Months, Incredible Changes! On July 25th, at approximately 10 AM, a guy I barely knew strapped me down to a table, drugged the crap outta me, and cut out a chunk of my guts...best thing that ever happened to me! Over the next few days, I sipped a lot of chicken broth, popped a bunch of pain pills, and dropped a ton of weight. At the time I got trimmed, I was weighing in around 330 or so. In the post-op period, I lost at least 5 pounds a day for about a week. In the weeks that followed, that rate of loss slowed considerably. Nowadays, I am usually losing a couple pounds a week, and that's fine. I am actually stuck at about 276 right now - plateaued is the technical term. I haven't lost any weight for about a week. I am worried about that? No, not really... <br />
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I may not be losing a ton of weight these days, but what IS changing for me is even more important - my capabilities. I can do shit now that I couldn't do before. For several years I was, for all practical purposes, a fat cripple. I was so limited in my mobility that I was simply not capable of doing ordinary things that most folks can do. That situation has changed drastically!<br />
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For those who don't know, there are 2 kinds of pain. When you slam your thumb in the car door, when that Chinese food turns ugly and gut cramps bend you double, when a ricochet hits you in the face and knocks you silly, that is pain type 1. Type 1 pain is the body's signal that there is some fairly serious damage, and you probably should do something about it. I was in constant type 1 pain for several years. It was always there, the only variable was the severity at any one time...but it was always there. My knees, legs in general, lower back, shoulders, pretty much everything hurt, and it hurt more when I tried to exert myself. So I quit doing stuff...logical, right?<br />
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These days, I am experiencing Type 2 pain...the kind of pain that signifies weakness leaving the body. I go to the gym at least 3 times a week, running on the elliptical trainer (easy on the knees), lifting weights, and swimming once a week. The pain I am in right now is muscular soreness from a truly earth-shaking event yesterday; I mowed the lawn. Using a regular walk-behind mower, I mowed our fairly small yards, front, sides, and back. Astonishing, right? I haven't been physically capable of cutting the grass in about 5 years, folks, for me, its a fucking miracle! And now, the pain of weakness leaving my body is in my thigh muscles, my calves, and my upper back muscles - it's GOOD pain, and I welcome it, because it means I am getting stronger and more capable day by day, week by week. Proof? You want proof, bitch? OK! I started doing the bench press machine using about 5 plates with a max of 8 plates, which is pretty goddam pathetic - the plates are only 12 pounds each. Thursday, I did 5 sets of 10 reps, using 9 plates, then worked up to a max of 15 plates...big improvement, even if it is still less than 200 pounds. The whole stack of plates is 250...when I can kill that, I'll move to free weights and progress from there. I used to try to do 5 minutes on the elliptical, and I was so proud when I made it that far...now THAT is pathetic! These days I don't break a sweat for 5 minutes. I had to stop at 21 minutes tuesday - not because I was tired, but because I was running out of time and needed to get back to the lab. I'll be hitting 30 minutes tomorrow to work off the beer and pizza I had over the weekend. Don't go shaking your head - I used to drink 8 or 10 beers on pizza night, and eat at least 8 pieces of pizza...in one night! This weekend, I think I have had 5 pieces and 5 beers, spread over 3 days...beer and pizza is kinda like a workingman's salary. It doesn't matter how much, what matters is how fast. We all get paid the same amount, just some of us get paid a lot faster and more often...beer and pizza is like that. Think about it, it'll come to you... Something tells me I have wandered off on a tangent here...<br />
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So to recap...I used to be a fat, shambling, wheezing, pain-wracked cripple - now, I am a super-Adonis, with muscles of granite, beautiful beyond belief, with a stainless steel cock, and I smell like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.... well no, not really, only in my deepest, most Narcissistic moments. In reality, I am becoming...wait for it....an ordinary guy. WOOT! That is actually why I did all this, to become just an ordinary guy, capable of doing ordinary stuff, like cutting the fucking grass.<br />
<br />
and every day gets a little bit better.<br />
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more before and after pictures coming soon.FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-58395550997669590462011-09-05T07:36:00.000-07:002011-09-05T07:57:01.706-07:00Dear Diary - Week 7about 286, 65 pounds down, 81 pounds to go. Down at least 4 inches in the waist. Even my feet are smaller. <br />
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<br />
OK, so it's been seven weeks since I got trimmed. Let me see if I can answer some of the more common questions I've had...<br />
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No, I didn't have gastric bypass, I had a relatively new procedure called a Gastric Sleeve. It takes your large, bag-shaped stomach pouch, and makes it into a tube about the size and shape of a banana.<br />
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There is a triple line of titanium staples holding the cut edges of the stomach together. Yes, they are permanent. No, I can't feel them, although if I eat too much, I know immediately, cuz it does hurt a bit. Yes, they removed the other part of the stomach...probably fed it to the dog, I don't know, and I don't care. It woulda made a cool ammo pouch, though, or maybe a hat.<br />
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I go to the can about once a week. No big deal, can't say I miss all of the gut cramps, constipation, and the screaming shits that I used to suffer from...there are other places to read a gun magazine.<br />
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Regrets? Absolutely none! If I can only munch down a dozen crawfish and one little piece of sausage at the next crawfish boil, I'm pretty sure that'll be just fine...a tiny price to pay for the huge changes in my life. All new wardrobe? Cool, I won't have to shop in the Fat Ass section, I can just buy normal clothes off the rack. The money I spent? Well, I coulda had alot of fun with that money, but I would have been a miserable, pain-wracked, fat bastard while I was having that fun, so maybe it wouldn't have been so much fun after all...($15,000, worth every penny).<br />
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Yes, I can still have adult beverages. Beer is kind of wasted on me. I can't handle all the carbonation. You get a big, beery belch, I get pain...that's why I drink Tennessee's finest, or Scotland's finest, or Russia's finest. Oddly enough, I only drink about one third as much as I used to. Less body mass to soak up the ethanol, plus the pipes are straighter, so it goes into the system faster...one drink is fine, 2 is plenty, thanks!<br />
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Everything is better when you aren't huge. I feel better from the moment I wake up to the time I slide into bed for the night. I walk better, sleep better (no more CPAP!), I'm stronger, more flexible, have less back pain, leg pain, foot pain, etc. I can feel muscles under the skin where before all I could feel was flab. <i><b>I can actually feel individual ribs</b></i>, and I have cheekbones. The light has to be at just the right angle, but I can see 'em now.<br />
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Hungry? Sure, I still get hungry, several times a day. I usually eat 4 meals a day, sometimes as many as six meals a day, but you need to understand that for me, a meal will fit in the palm of one hand, literally. I had a cheeseburger a couple days ago. I ate half of it for lunch, the other half for first supper. It wasn't some giant 9 dollar burger like some places serve, it was just an ordinary burger, kinda puny, really...and it was 2 full meals. Damn that thing tasted good! Here's a secret I have learned; <i><b>food is delicious only for the first few bites</b></i>. The more hungry you are, the better the food tastes. After that, it is still good, but less and less, until you get to the end of the dish. By the time you get to that last bite, you are eating just because it's there. I still enjoy those first few bites, but then I'm full. In effect,<b><i> I am enjoying my dinner much more than you are enjoying yours</i></b>.<br />
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Exercise? Hell yeah! I am actually enjoying going to the gym, burning calories, pumping iron, swimming, etc. I still don't enjoy the view in the shower room...LOL! There is a huge mirror right in front of the shower stalls, so you see just what you look like when you step out of the shower - it ain't pretty, but it's getting better every week. What did you think I meant, you degenerate? Damn pervert...<br />
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My back is still screwed up. The vertebrae are out of alignment at the base of my spine. Losing weight helps a bunch, but those bones are still lined up wrong, and probably always will be. Better, but still screwed up. I still can't go on a 4 hour hike in rough terrain (or any kind of terrain) because I still have pinched nerves back there, but it's still alot easier to get around.<br />
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Yes, people notice I have lost a ton, and they seem genuinely pleased for me...and some of my larger friends seem curious in a personal sort of way...yes, I encourage you to look into it, my fat friends, there is no real reason to wait. Being fat sucks, do something about it.<br />
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Oh yeah, by the way, being fat is hell on your love life. Losing a ton makes that a bunch better too. (wink, wink, smirk). What are you waiting for?FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-19803713613025923342011-09-01T18:02:00.000-07:002011-09-01T18:08:08.465-07:00Worth a Thousand WordsSo its been about 5 weeks since my procedure, maybe 7 weeks since I started this voyage...it's time for a few Before and After pics, don't you think?<br />
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Here are a few from before...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ApfAg_Ike0w/TmAnXfQDTgI/AAAAAAAAAA8/31sQpM14-fg/s1600/BEFORE01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ApfAg_Ike0w/TmAnXfQDTgI/AAAAAAAAAA8/31sQpM14-fg/s320/BEFORE01.JPG" width="232" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This one is from about a week before I got trimmed...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xp7Vl7S3SJQ/TmAnnEPgcCI/AAAAAAAAABA/xoF7YI5af5c/s1600/BEFORE03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xp7Vl7S3SJQ/TmAnnEPgcCI/AAAAAAAAABA/xoF7YI5af5c/s320/BEFORE03.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>and this one is from several years ago...poor horse! I hope they gave her a day off after this.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-578IGyq_nLo/TmAn6DttraI/AAAAAAAAABE/oEEQSccaiPY/s1600/BEFORE04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-578IGyq_nLo/TmAn6DttraI/AAAAAAAAABE/oEEQSccaiPY/s320/BEFORE04.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This one is from about 3 years ago, at a pistol match. Despite the constant pain, I actually had a good time...but I would have had a better time if there were less of me. Dang, look at that huge, nasty gut...awful!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BmExMHWnxhw/TmAre1kY35I/AAAAAAAAABc/bvexk9PJOTI/s1600/Obi_Wan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BmExMHWnxhw/TmAre1kY35I/AAAAAAAAABc/bvexk9PJOTI/s320/Obi_Wan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Here is a picture of my shooting instructor...lightning fast and a great shot, with a terrific sense of humor to boot. You da MAN, Obi-Wan! (He's not fat at all, is he?)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kv2E453o6Ic/TmAoWAKVgfI/AAAAAAAAABI/9nOBwvdcNvw/s1600/BEFORE03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kv2E453o6Ic/TmAoWAKVgfI/AAAAAAAAABI/9nOBwvdcNvw/s320/BEFORE03.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here I am on one of our lunchtime rides...large and sloppy, I was probably the biggest guy in the joint at the time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_pazZrmKL4E/TmApEmVErMI/AAAAAAAAABM/GVeGSm5tFho/s1600/no_milkshake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_pazZrmKL4E/TmApEmVErMI/AAAAAAAAABM/GVeGSm5tFho/s320/no_milkshake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is me, the afternoon after the good Doc cut my guts out, holding a teddy bear on my biggest incision and blowing into some sort of lung exerciser..."There's no milkshake in this thing!" Still not sure what that was all about....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fz5mX15D5-8/TmApgZqlmuI/AAAAAAAAABQ/1hCH-Upj9rg/s1600/AFTER01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fz5mX15D5-8/TmApgZqlmuI/AAAAAAAAABQ/1hCH-Upj9rg/s320/AFTER01.JPG" width="243" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and here I am, at work today, walking fine and looking...less fat than I was before! Same shirt, different tonnage.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vSGjEurQpkI/TmApyjVm6LI/AAAAAAAAABU/xbXiK-3sYEQ/s1600/AFTER02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vSGjEurQpkI/TmApyjVm6LI/AAAAAAAAABU/xbXiK-3sYEQ/s320/AFTER02.JPG" width="222" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It may not look like it, but I am WAY happier than I have been in a long damn time...and it's just gonna keep getting better, folks!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm at 289, down from 351, with only 84 pounds to go...I would say "Piece of cake!" but that isn't on my diet plan. Honestly, I don't miss that sort of junk food at all. I'm too busy looking forward to all the cool stuff I'm gonna do in the near future...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">More soon, so stay tuned!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">BTW, here's a pic of the cutest kid in the whole world.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-21278577670323137302011-08-25T15:57:00.000-07:002011-08-25T15:57:51.186-07:00A Day in the (New) LifeIt seems that every day is boringly normal these days. I wake up thinking, "Shit. I don't wanna go to work...". I don't wake up in pain all over my still-large body like I used to. Sometimes my lower back is stiff, especially if I was sleeping face down. I can sleep face down now, because I use my CPAP mask about half the time, the other half, I don't have that damn thing strapped to my face, so I can sleep in whatever postion I want. Also, my ribs don't hurt when I wake up, whether I used the CPAP or not. <br />
I peek at the clock, decide that I do actually need to get up, and I just ...get up. No longer do I need to plan a strategy for levering my lard butt outta the sack. I just sit up on the side of the bed, take a blood pressure pill, and stand up. I walk, not lurch, to the bathroom and look at my incisions. The largest one, on the right, is a slightly bumpy pink line about 2 inches long. The others are all pretty small, maybe 3/8th of an inch. They all seem to be healed nicely, not that I really care. I'm not concerned about scars, I'm concerned about function. <br />
<br />
Everything feels pretty good as I scrub the moss off the teeth, etc. I walk to the closet, and try to find some pants that will fit...most of my clothes are too big now, even the stuff that I couldn't squeeze into 6 weeks ago are loose to the point of falling off. More than once recently, I have come embarrassingly close to walking out of my pants. Too loose beats the hell out of too tight any day, but I need to find some comfortable belts. I never bothered with belts before, cuz all of my pants were way too tight to fall down, but that ain't the case anymore. Shirts aren't much of a problem yet. I still have quite a few shirts left over in the too tight category. They are starting to fit very nicely these days, so I might as well wear them now - they will be too loose in a month or so. I pick out pants and shirt, then grab shorts and T shirts for the gym, and grab a towel while I'm at it. Today feels like a weight-lifting day. I'm feeling strong and loose, and I actually swagger a bit as I walk down the hallway to the coffee pot. Despite all of the advice from practically everyone, I still don't eat breakfast, not even a granola bar. I just can't be bothered with food that damn early in the day. I grab all of my pocket stuffers and head out the door. <br />
<br />
At work, people who know me well tell me to keep up the good work, and they can see the difference in the way my face is leaner, and my neck seems to be smaller. Other folks who haven't seen me for a while ask me if I got a haircut, or a new shirt, or if I lost some weight...I just smile and say, "yeah, I've lost a few pounds lately". I decide to be kind and not tell them all the boring details, but on occasion someone will ask, "How did you do it?" I smile even bigger and say, "I paid some guy I barely know to cut my guts out! Worked like a charm..."Sometimes they ask for details, so I just tell 'em all about it. Before the procedure, I was of the opinion that I would keep it to myself, but now, I will cheerfully explain the whole thing with no embarrassment, no holding back. I don't mind at all when people ask some pretty darn personal questions, because this might have been the best decision I ever made. One thing I have noticed, though, people always lower their voice when they ask how often I go to the bathroom, and they always wince when I tell them that it's pretty much once every 5 days. They assume I'm constipated, but I'm not, I just don't have as much stuff sliding through the pipes these days. Too much information, you say? Like I give a rat's ass. Deal with it.<br />
<br />
I don't need a cane anymore. That was the first truly positive effect I noticed. I got up and walked down the hall, realized I had forgotten my cane, turned back to get it, then realized I didn't need it..."Holy Crap! I can walk! It's a murrkul!" Well, no, it's not a miracle, it's just alot less painfull to walk if you can lighten the load by about 40 pounds or so. Don't believe me? Strap on a backpack full of books, as full as you can, and walk around with it for an hour. I'm pretty sure you'll feel the difference - now imagine that the pack actually weighs 145 pounds, and you can't just dump it in the corner. That is what my life used to be like. Right now, that backpack weighs about 85 pounds. I've dropped 60 pounds already, not even halfway to my goal, but the change in my life is remarkable. <br />
<br />
One problem that I have these days, I was NOT expecting. I have no ass. My ass has simply disappeared, and is now totally flat. There are 2 problems associated with NoAssatall Syndrome. The pants-falling-off thing I mentioned earlier would be lessened considerably if I had a perky round ass, and sitting down would be alot less painful. I have no padding on my butt anymore, so I am actually compelled to get up and move around just to get some blood flow to the cheeks. It is a bit unseemly for a middle-aged man to be seen massaging his own butt cheeks, but ya gotta do what ya gotta do.<br />
<br />
The biggest change in my life these days has been somewhat less obvious, but altogether more profound: I have hopes and plans and goals. To be honest about my attitude, I was basically just hanging around waiting until my time was up. I didn't have goals, I didn't plan trips or activities, or wonder about trying new stuff. I was just waiting to die, and trying to make myself comfortable until my days came to an end. Now, I am making plans. I talked to the owner of a local dive shop a few days ago. I bought a diving mask and some fins, and I'll be hitting the pool as much as I can - cuz I'm getting back into scuba diving! I was a diver 30 years ago, but I was convinced that those days were long gone. I simply was not physically able to even try to go diving. Now? Hell yeah, I'm going diving, as soon as I can get re-certified, which will be sometime in the spring. I am also looking for a cast net, so I can do a little wade fishing for mullet on the front beach. I live half a mile from the beach, and I haven't been wade-fishing in years...thats just a damn shame, and I'm gonna do something about it pretty damn soon. I look at certain things that I used to do, or things that catch my interest, and I no longer dismiss the possibility of trying these things, because my life is no longer over. I had important things in my life before this procedure, don't get me wrong. My family, my long-suffering wife, my kids, all gave me meaning and purpose, but it was a source of pain for me also. I could be with them, I could watch over them, but I couldn't really DO things with them. My youngest daughter asked me to dance with her one time. I had to tell her "no", because I simply wasn't able to dance. My legs hurt too much. I couldn't go fishing with the boys, or build something in the backyard with them, and a day at a football game was a nightmare. Now, all of that is changing. I am no longer stuck on the sidelines. It's time to start living again!FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-11246887414510540342011-08-16T17:03:00.000-07:002011-08-20T21:41:46.798-07:00Dear Diary - Week 4<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">DAY 23, </span> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">300 pounds, down from 351</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> So it’s been 3 weeks since my surgery, and right at one month since I started presurgery preparations...I think it is safe to say that, at this moment in time, the procedure has been a huge success. There are things I can do now, that were very difficult or even impossible just a few weeks ago. A few examples may be in order, to illustrate just how much of a difference this thing has made:</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">I can walk. Seriously. I used to hobble and lurch on a typical day, using a cane to help support my tonnage, and always looking for the next place to sit my fat ass down and take a rest...now, I just walk. I can walk 200 or 300 yards now, before I get that tingling numbness in my legs, and I need to sit somewhere. My spinal column is still out of alignment, and I don’t expect that to ever be cured, but the severity of the condition will continue to ease as my scale number falls. My left knee still gets a little sore, but not nearly as bad as WIWSF (make a note; that stands for When I Was So Fat).</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">Getting out of bed used to be a real trial of pain. Now, I just roll up into a sitting position on the side of the bed, take off that damn CPAP mask, pop a blood pressure pill, and stand up. Perhaps in the near future, I can forget about the Darth Vader, and just sleep like anybody else...maybe even ditch the blood pressure pills! That would be nice!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">I can stand in line for a few minutes, and not be in pain in my legs and lower back, at least not as much as WIWSF. Standing in line still sucks, but at least now, I can do it if I need to. I can also take a stroll down the aisles of our local shopping centers, buying whatever I need instead of buying online all the time. I still buy stuff on line, but now, I can also pop into Lowes and buy some building supplies, or WallyWorld and buy a T-shirt. Oh yeah, speaking of building supplies, I can now stand up long enough to do a little yard work, or build something in my backyard. My oldest son and I were building stuff this weekend out there. It felt good to make some sawdust fly...</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">I was at the gym today, gathering my stuff after a decent workout. I dropped my keys in the locker room...and just bent down and picked those suckers up, no problem. A month ago, I would have had to brace my feet nice and wide, grab a wall for support, and ease down to the floor to pick up something. Now, no problem, just bend down and grab it. I can also tie my shoes now. I could do it before, but it took great effort and 3 or 4 tries to get it done. Lot's of straining to reach the laces, and holding my breath. Now, I just tie the damn things like anybody else.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Other changes; my blood sugar is almost always steady at about 110. My strength is coming back - every time I go to the gym, I'm pumping more iron, moving more, burning more calories. I'm more flexible, more limber, quicker, and have more stamina. <i><b>And I feel GOOD.</b></i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">WARNING, the next paragraph may contain Too Much Information...you have been warned.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> One more thing I have noticed - personal hygiene is alot easier these days. I used to go for many weeks between toe-nail trimmings. I couldn't reach them to clip them. Now, no problem, just grab the big clippers and have at it. I can scrub my feet, and get between the toes, you know, get all that dead yuck outta there. My heat rash is gone, so my consumption of baby powder has gone way down, and last but not least, taking care of the paperwork is a hell of a lot easier! When your ass is as wide as a doorway, it's difficult to clean up the tailpipe, shall we say, because nobody has arms long enough for the job, and as far as I know, they don't make buttwipers with handles, so unless you have a REALLY good friend, you may have a bit of a hygiene problem there...something tells me I have shared enough for now - just let that image simmer in your head... </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">DAY...I dunno, 26? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">297 or so, not weighing myself as often as I used to.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"> It just gets better and better, folks! I did about 5 hours of work on the house, mostly on my feet, bending, stretching, lifting, <i><b>moving</b></i>...I'm tired, sunburned, and my feet were killing me. How is that a good thing? I would not have been able to do all of that work a few weeks ago. I would have pooped out in about 30 minutes, popped a vicodin, and taken a nap. Instead, I worked like a mule, got a lot done, and I'm still functional. I am well on my way to complete recovery from being an almost-dead, exceedingly fat lump of lard, moving rapidly toward being a dynamic, active, capable human being. It's good to be <i><b>alive</b></i>...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">more next week.</span></div>FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-34204527860712958902011-08-09T20:56:00.000-07:002011-08-12T20:31:37.141-07:00Dear Diary - Week Three Week 3, Monday, Day 15<br />
304, down 47 pounds<br />
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Some weird stuff goin' on! There are some unexpected side effects with any surgical procedure, any medical regime, but honestly, some of the ones I'm experiencing are truly surprising. I have a nice big motorcycle, and I enjoy riding, but now that I've lost almost 50 pounds, I have a bit of a problem; my butt doesn't have as much padding, so I get saddle sore WAY sooner than I used to. I used to crawl off Big Red (painfully) and rub my knees and stretch my back, but now, I rub my butt! All of those little muscle bundles are closer to the surface than they used to be, so I'm now experiencing SBS (Sore Backside Syndrome) after only 20 minutes or so. I expect this side effect to go away as I lose even more weight, because there will be less of me pushing my boney rump into the saddle, but until then, I'm thinking I may need to buy a better seat!<br />
Another minor side effect, truly trivial, I admit, is the lack of burping power. A really good burp is rude, crude, loud, probably smells bad, and gives such a feeling of deep satisfaction and relief! Unfortunately, my tiny tummy can't hold enough air for even a short blast on the fog horn, just these tiny little mouse burps...very disappointing. This evening for dinner, I actually had a brisket sandwich and french fries. OK, a tiny little brisket sandwich, and about 5 fries, with a dab of barbecue sauce on the side. It was delicious for the hour and 20 minutes it took me to eat it, and it would have been perfect if I could have finished it off with a nice big gut-trumpet - but all I could manage was a nasty little "OCK!" sound...the sandwich was still awesome, though!<br />
My blood glucose used to average around 150 in the mornings, and fluctuate severely during the day. I would feel weak, light-headed, fatigued and break out in a sweat for no particular reason, and I was <b><i>always</i></b> hot. If the room was warmer than 69 F, I was burning up! Now, with the loss of almost 50 pounds of insulation, I'm actually quite comfortable in most weather, and actually sleep under a nice thick blanket. Also, no sweats means <i><b>no heat rash</b></i>! I used to suffer horrible heat rash in the funky pits and around the nasty bits, but now, the heat rash is GONE! Hell, that right there is worth having the procedure.<br />
Went to the gym yesterday, and I kept having to increase the difficulty setting on the elliptical trainer. I set it for the usual Level 7, but it just felt way too light...then I realized that my body is too light for the setting, not the other way around. Nice problem to have, in my opinion...<br />
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DAY 19, stuck at 301 pounds, have lost 49.<br />
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Did 20 minutes on the stationary bike, and 2 ten minute sets on the elliptical trainer...that is WAY more than I used to be able to do. I'm getting stronger and healthier every day, even if the pounds aren't just falling off like they were before. At first, I was losing 3 or 4 pounds <i><b>every day</b></i> - that is obviously not sustainable, and now it looks like I'll be losing 2 or 3 pounds a week, not every day, so let's see, that's maybe 40 to 60 more pounds by Christmas? I think I can live with that...<br />
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Helpful hint: I realized something very important tonight. 2 very small pieces of pizza can be just as awesomely tasty as 7 or 8 big pieces used to be, and now my blood sugar isn't going berzerk...Now for a well-deserved couch session with the second episode of Firefly, and rifle practice in Woolmarket tomorrow.<br />
<br />
FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-21021988154608903982011-08-01T21:18:00.000-07:002011-08-06T11:07:01.737-07:00Dear Diary - Week TwoDAY 8 -<br />
<br />
311 pounds, down from 351 <br />
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Monday...Monday sucks, but it's back to work, back to the grind, back to the salt mines, whatever. I wade through about 147 emails, take care of some paperwork, swing by the gym and weigh myself - 311 pounds, down from 351! It's official, I have lost 40 pounds, and I still feel a bit weak at times, but all-in-all, I feel great. I no longer lurch about the lab on a cane, I even strut a little - as much as a 311 pound guy <i><b>can</b></i> strut! Tomorrow I start back into the gym to get a little exercise, nothing drastic, just burning calories on the stationary bike. I have been digging old clothes out of the closet, and trying them on. It is SO cool to pull on a pair of pants that were WAY too tight just a few months ago, and I have some decent looking shirts I haven't worn for more than a year. A whole new wardrobe awaits, with none of the hassles of shopping! Not to say that this has been easy. Some big changes have been made. Most notable, I know what it feels like to have my esophagus half-full of frozen chocolate-flavored protein shake...not pleasant! I also have to remind myself to eat something on occasion. I would be just as content sipping ice water or drinking <b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Camelbak-Elixir-12-Tablet-Tube/dp/B002YWHC4Y">Camelbak elixir</a></b>, sort of a sport drink aimed at the military crowd, it tastes like a cross between watered down Gatorade and saline solution, with vitamins and minerals added. I would much rather have a fine aged single-malt Scotch whiskey, but let's be realistic here. I'm trying to get healthy and tune up my newly improved body, not trash my liver.<br />
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The main thing is, I am adjusting fairly easily to the new realities, and easing back into my old life, with better habits and choices. On the other hand, I would kill for a bacon-cheeseburger right about now - strained soup and protein drinks just don't really cut it. On the <u>other</u> other hand, losing 3 or 4 pounds a day in this initial phase does kinda make up for the lack of dietary choices. ;^)<br />
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DAY 10<br />
310, down from 351<br />
<br />
Seem to be stuck at 310 for a couple days now...I'm sure it's just a coincidence. I'll stick to the plan, drink plenty of clear fluids, and get plenty of sleep. I'm sure I can be forgiven for dreaming about bacon cheeseburgers, fried shrimp, and sausage pizza with crispy crust...liquid diets are VERY tedious. Just a few more days until I can start eating semi-solids.<br />
<br />
:^/ meh!<br />
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DAY 11<br />
308, down from 351<br />
<br />
Went to the gym today, rode a stationary bike for 2.5 miles, did a few minutes on the elliptical trainer, did 3 light sets of bench presses...it felt good to do some physical work. The bruising is almost gone, and I'm eating super soft stuff with no problems. It's a bit disconcerting to consider just how badly I want a bacon cheeseburger, though. I need to wait a week or 2 more before I start eating crunchier stuff, so it'll have to wait. In the meantime, I'm going to concentrate on working off as much lard as possible. I'm averaging about 600 calories a day, maybe a little more. Lot's of protein, as little sugar as possible (basically none), and trying to get some fiber from pureed vegetable soups. I did take a bite of a cream-filled donut, thinking it would be OK if I really chewed the hell out of it...I damn near puked! It was so sickly sweet, I felt like I was drinking pure cane syrup...I spit it out after 3 chews, and I think I'm done with donuts for good. No loss, as far as I can see...<br />
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We'll see how things go in week three - I'm completely optimistic!FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-74193079643021815002011-07-27T09:22:00.000-07:002011-07-31T06:53:00.406-07:00Post Op Diary - Week One.Day 2 - Spent all day yesterday getting as much rest as possible...thank you, God, for opiate receptors. Drugs are wonderful in their proper place and time. Today, things are sore all over. My neck hurts, my chest is tight, my belly is still distended and sore, and I'm coughing up all sorts of green goo...and yet, as much as all this hurts, I feel a whole bunch better. Having lunch now, approximately 3 ounces of chocolate Boost, and half a vicodin. I'm taking 2.5 mg of vicodin about every hour. Brushed away 2 days worth of yuck off my teeth...much better, thanks! In a little while, I may get ambitious enough to actually take a shower. Until then Harry Potter and Call of Duty, with several naps thrown in for good measure.<br />
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DAY 3 <br />
<br />
325 pounds, down from 351<br />
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Slept through the night, CPAP is still a pain in the face, but I'm betting I'm stuck with it for another 6 months or so. Belly not as swollen, puncture wounds healing nicely, no drugs today until I really need them. I can tell that things are a little bit easier for me weight-wise. It is easier for me to get out of bed, or up out of a chair. Just wish I could fry up some bacon...everything is better with nice crispy bacon, but that'll have to wait a few weeks.<br />
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DAY 4<br />
<br />
320 pounds, down from 351<br />
<br />
Slept great, left leg doesn't hurt as much as it used to, fasting Blood Glucose this morning was 104. My diabetes isn't "cured", but I think it is safe to say that it is being successfully managed. I do wish I could scramble some eggs and toss a sausage in the skillet, but that'll have to wait. The holes in my belly have almost all healed, except for the big one on the right, where they did most of the work - it is still a bit tender. All-in-all, I'd have to say that things are going pretty dang well.<br />
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DAY 5<br />
<br />
319, down from 351<br />
<br />
Doing OK today, thought I would get out of the house for a while. Grabbed a rifle and my range gear and climbed in the truck, decided to go for a drive before I went to the range. I wound up in the Kmart parking lot, wondering if there was anything I needed to get while I was there. I wandered into the sporting goods section, bought some new fishing line and one of those neoprene "waistline reducing belts"...I didn't buy it to lose weight, I bought it on the hope that it will reduce the baggy, loose skin that I expect to be showing in the near future. Maybe having it on will help me to tighten up the excess epidermis that alot of bariatric patients experience.<br />
Never did make it to the range tho...got a bit tired, so I'm taking it a bit easy. Maybe I'll go shoot later.<br />
<br />
DAY 6,<br />
<br />
315 down from 351 <br />
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I'm feeling positively skinny at 315, down from 351...what is that? 36 pounds? 10 percent of body weight, and it makes a world of difference. I can walk, instead of limping and lurching. Clothes that haven't fit for a year are comfortably loose. gonna need a belt for these shorts in a week or so. ;^) I took a nap yesterday, and Darling Bride says I was not snoring at all. I may be saying goodbye to my CPAP machine soon, which will absolutely NOT break my heart. It may have saved my life, but I always hated that f*&^ing thing.FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-4996252315090183312011-07-26T18:05:00.000-07:002011-07-27T06:39:58.741-07:00It is Done...now I can get started So I'm up before the crack of dawn, taking a quick shower with some sort of special anti-bacterial solution. I clippered the fur off of my belly as best I could, washed everything, and loaded up for the hospital. We made it there a whole 6 minutes late - nobody seemed to mind. They asked questions, I signed consent forms, again, and I put on one of those stupid hospital gowns. Personally, I would have been just as happy to wander around naked, but I guess its like a ritual or something. They started an IV into the back of my hand. Here's a hint; if you are a hairy person, use your clippers on your hands and arms. They taped the hell out of the fur on my left paw. I said goodbye to everybody, and they took me down the hall to preop prep. They asked more questions, I signed more forms, then they drugged me...alot. I remember scooting from the gurney to the operating table, being strapped down, and that was that.<br />
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I woke up with my mouth completely dry, sore all over, fuzzy brained, and in pain. My belly was distended, blown up like a balloon, with seven punctures covered with little bandages. "Wow, this part sucks." My long-suffering wife feeds me some ice chips, and I drift away for a while.<br />
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I wake up again, get some more ice chips, push the morphine button about a hundred times, get one dose of the stuff, drift away again. People wander in and out, family comes to visit, asking me how I feel..."Stabbed", I say, and they chuckle a little at my weak joke. I hit the morphine button, and drift away...<br />
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<br />
They want me to get up and walk around, go to the bathroom on my own, etc...getting out of bed hurts like hell, and it burns like crazy when I pee, all the drugs plus a catheter have irritated things down there. Getting back in bed ain't no picnic...drift away.<br />
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Hours wander by in no particular order. I'm starting to be more cognizant of my surroundings, even through the morphine haze...this part still sucks. I get some sleep, an hour at a time. Dawn, and things start to come to life a little. Nurses and other staff come in, check this, check that, whatever. This movie sucks, I wanna go home. "You did great, and everything is looking good! You will probably go home today." Probably? I might be stuck here another night? Not just "no" but "Hell no". Drift away....<br />
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Dr A comes in, tells me everything was fine, I had some adhesions along the mid-line of my belly, but everything is OK. No unusual tissues, no problems with my liver, no alien probes, all is well. "Great, yank this IV out of my hand, and let me go home, " I say. "Sorry", he says, "I can't stand the sight of blood". In a little while they are getting me ready to ship out. I take the ritual ride in a wheelchair to the wrong exit, and we wait there for my Darling Bride to come get me. Driving home was a ton of fun, with every pot hole on the coast eager to jolt the shit outta me. Finally make it home, pain pills and ice chips, and sleep. The deed is done, now I can get started on the rest of my life...Darling Bride just brought me dinner - half a cup of chicken broth, yum!FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6840438249567802762.post-57104941539461605952011-07-24T09:04:00.000-07:002011-07-26T19:59:55.079-07:00So Here We Go... Liquid diets suck ass. I haven't really started on it yet, and it already sucks. There is leftover pizza from Chilly Willy's in the fridge, but I can't have any. When they cut on your gastro-intestinal tract, the last thing they want to see is yesterday's lunch, so they put you on a clear-liquids-only diet, and make you drink some magnesium citrate. For those who don't know, magnesium citrate is pretty much guaranteed to get rid of yesterdays lunch, and anything else in your digestive tract...it actually comes with the admonishment, "Stay close to the bathroom". That should tell you all you really need to know.<br />
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I'm also wondering why the hell pharmacies are so dang slow. I went and dropped off a couple of prescriptions. The guy behind the counter said, "let me make sure I've got these", and went to the shelves. a minute and a half later, he plunks them down and says, "OK, it will be at least an hour before I can have these ready..." The fucking things are RIGHT THERE! Hand them to me, I'll give you some money, and we're done! What's the holdup? <i>{sigh}</i> So I'll go back in a little while and pick them up, start drinking my Liquid Plumber for lunch, and stay close to the bathroom. Yay.<br />
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What I'm giving up to do this: Solid food for about 8 weeks, the ability to grab something from a drive through and chomp it down on the run, the pleasure of drinking a cold beer with a hot, tasty pile of fried shrimp (or pizza, or a massive bacon cheeseburger), because you can't eat and drink at the same time, that stuffed feeling you get from a really big meal ...OK, maybe that one really isn't a sacrifice. And one more little thing - $15,000 out of my retirement fund. I won't have much use for it if I'm too dead to retire...still, I could have a lot of fun with that much cash!<br />
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What I hope to gain in exchange; Some of life's minor little pleasures, like being able to walk, not having to pass up fun activities because I can't stand up for more than 5 minutes at a time, being able to wear normal clothes instead of the XXXXL crap that I wear now, taking a trip to Ship Island and going skin diving, wade fishing with rod and reel or cast net, actually doing some work around the house like fixing stuff and building things...the list goes on and on. Think about the normal everyday stuff that you do when you are not sitting down. Just anything you do on your feet, fun, work, or just routine crap...Now imagine that doing those things is a huge struggle, awkward as hell, and seriously painful. We ain't talking about moving boulders or roofing a house, we're talking about ordinary, everyday stuff like going to Walmart to pick up a prescription. THAT is the sort of thing I am doing this for, so I can do ordinary boring crap, and not be in pain while I struggle to get it done...<br />
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Walmart just called, my scrips are ready...coulda just given them to me an hour ago...assholes.<br />
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NOTE: you never understand just how huge your belly is, until you try to shave that mountain...DANG! and magnesium citrate tastes fookin terrible.FatBastidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05767416250950105544noreply@blogger.com0