One step forward, 100 steps back

We had about 4 weeks to enjoy our finished basement.  I would go down and just sit and look around and feel accomplished for hours.  We were beginning other projects we had put off to finish the basement, and we finally felt like we were moving forward.  Then one of our cats got very sick, and he passed away May 14th.  I want to talk more about it, but I can't because I'm still not ok about it.  We took about a week to grieve, and were getting ready to start working on our projects again, then our town had a lot of rain in a very short time, our sump pump failed, and the basement flooded May 23rd.  Thankfully, we caught it early enough and had enough people rush over to our house at midnight with shop vacs that the damage wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.  None of our furniture got damaged, but we had to tear out all of the flooring and 1 foot of drywall around every room we had just completed.  I guess I can say it's been a bad couple of months.  All of the furniture and other things from downstairs is now overflowing upstairs, in the office, in the bedroom, in the living room, in the garage.  Our poor basement is empty, drywall half done.  The restoration company wanted a few thousand dollars more than we have to put things back the way they were, so we are doing most of the work ourselves.  New carpet is being installed next week, and I'm terrified we won't be done with drywall in time.  I have a hard time (a REALLY hard time) accepting  help, so it's getting done in the time it takes my poor aching body to push through and work.  Zach is doing what he can, but he lacks the finesse to smooth on mud, and that job has fallen on my shoulders... and there's a lot of mudding to do.
As bad as it seems to us, it could have been worse.  A LOT worse.  Even though I understand this, and remind myself often of this fact, I'm still having trouble being positive and thankful.  I'm feeling empty in a way I'm not sure I've ever felt.  I'm feeling hopeless in a way I'm not sure I've ever felt.  I've gotten fat.  Again.  It seems as though every time we take a big step, see a light at the end of the tunnel, well... in the immortal words of Metallica:

Then it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel

Is just a freight train coming your way

It's not natural for me to be positive.  I have a tendency to find the negative in everything, but I try so.very.hard. to look up and see the good in bad situations.  I try so very hard at a lot of things.  It feels like I'm being tested, and I'm failing.  All the time.  And I just keep plugging away, because I don't know what else to do.  And I keep smiling, because I don't know what else to do. 

Faking it for real

It has been almost a year since we got our basement back, and two years since I had my surgery.  We are STILL working on remodeling the basement, and my neck is still a little painful to the touch, but both are still the best decisions I/we could have made. 
At the same time, I've been doing some acting since the fall.  I've done some auditions and been in some short films.  Even though I look forward to working on more professional sets, these films have helped me to see that this whole acting thing really is what I want to do with my life.  My only problem is that I have a hard time reconciling my love of going out in the world to do the acting and my love of staying home to take care of my husband and pets. 
My chronic pain has been flaring up horribly the last few months.  I've been having trouble doing all the things I want to do: going out with friends and family, working on the basement while Zach's at work; even laundry and cooking have been nearly impossible.  It would also suffice to say that working out has been a low priority for me lately.  I'm trying not to get down about it, but that's a tall order.  I don't take medication.  I don't want to take medication.  I don't want to become reliant on medication to make me feel "normal", and trying to figure out how to deal with life in near-constant pain is harder than I thought it would be.  I'm so glad I have Zach, who is so understanding and who doesn't criticize or judge me when I can't do something.  He makes our home a place I love, and works hard to help keep my spirits up when my condition gets the best of me.  How did I get so lucky?

Year and a half-ly Blog?

Wow, I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I’ve written on here!  I’m not even sure where to begin…

My surgery was over a year ago, and as strange as it sounds I have to say it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made for myself.  Looking back on my other blog entries, I had almost forgotten how it felt to see the neck blob and hate it, hate me.  People no longer spend half our conversation glancing down at my chin.  I no longer have to strategically position cameras so I don’t look like I’m 350lbs.  I no longer lean my head forward to stretch and hide my neck.  My confidence has doubled, at least.  I feel great!  

We evicted the Sib from our basement earlier this year.  Things had gotten quite bad, and we couldn’t live that way any longer.  My relationship with the Sib had become strained and frustrating, my relationship with Zach had become strained and frustrating, and my relationship with my parents… well, that’s been strained and frustrating for a long time, so no change there I suppose.  We gave notice, said if it was desired we would work on fixing the problems (which out of respect for the Sib, I won’t list here), but it had to be on our terms.  Well, 30-some-odd days later, our basement was vacated.  It took us several carpet shampooings, lots of paint, and many, many garbage bags, but we got it cleaned up enough that we could start bringing our own furniture down and start using it.  I now have a place for my sewing supplies, which take up an entire 11’x11’ bedroom, and we now have a good sized usable home gym, as well as a family room to sit and watch movies AND a second bathroom.  I thought I would have some sort of emotional breakdown when the Sib moved out.  I expected to go downstairs and have a good cry and mourn the absence.  I did not.  I felt relieved.  I felt, for the first time in the 6 ½ years we’ve owned the house, like a homeowner.  We had felt for far too long like we were the ones renting someone else’s house.  My relationship with Zach has improved, since we aren’t fighting about who is going to talk to the renter and solve the issue-du-jour (always me, because it was my family), and we aren’t feeling so cramped in our little upstairs anymore.

We adopted a puppy from one of our local rescues in September.  They had a litter of 10 puppies that had been dropped off at a shelter in New Mexico, and even though we weren’t planning on getting a dog for a few years, we instantly fell in love with our Ruby.  She’s some sort of Shepherd/Malinois/Who Knows mix, and she’s so smart and beautiful!  She has the coloring of a Malinois, but sometimes she almost looks like she’s also got some Heeler or something like that.  Some of her siblings look similar with the black mask, some of them do not.  Some of them have shorter, straight hair like Ruby, and some have thicker, wavier hair.  It’s very interesting, and I wonder if they have different fathers.  One thing they all have in common, though, is that definitive Shepherd look.  Ruby has been such a blessing for us.  We take her anywhere dogs are allowed, and she loves everyone she meets, whether two or four legged.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this stress-free and peaceful.  Life has been good for the last year or so and GREAT the last few months.  I’m going to take advantage of it, because it’s been so long since I’ve been happy like this, and while I feel like life is getting better every day I always have that anxiety that makes me wonder when the other shoe is going to drop.  All I can do is enjoy this time that I have been given. 

Follow Me Up

I wrote my last blog at about 11:30-midnight last night, and reading it back I realized I didn't say everything I had wanted to say... I'm going for ultimate transparency with this, because I want people to know I have nothing to hide.

While what I had done is considered "plastic surgery", I saw it as similar to getting a birth mark, mole, or cyst removed... just more intensive (although I do realize moles can become cancerous, so it's more of a health thing). It's the only part of me I am willing to change with surgery.  I could cover up a pouchy tummy with cute clothes, I could tone my arms, wear a padded bra (definitely don't need one of those!) but I couldn't cover my neck, at least not without drawing more attention to it.

I can remember looking at pictures of myself at 15 in Disney World, seeing my bullfrog neck, and thinking "Who's that middle-aged lady... oh, it's me." and feeling disgusted.  I tried doing neck exercises, I tried holding it in, I even tried wrapping my head in cling-wrap and Preparation H to make it go away, all to no avail.

I learned how to pose for pictures to make my double chin minimally visible.  If I wasn't happy with a picture, I would have it deleted or retaken.  I NEVER posted a picture on Facebook that showed my neck fat.  I learned how to hold my head forward and suck in my bullfrog neck by putting my tongue to the roof of my mouth.  I now have a curve on my upper back from holding my head forward all the time.  Not to mention, I looked ridiculous doing it.

 This surgery had nothing to do with weight loss.  I have lost weight in the past, and the neck never went away.  While I am at the highest weight range I've ever been, and have been hovering here for several years, I can accept my weight because I work hard at healthy behaviors.  I fully intend to continue in my quest to be healthy by eating well and exercising as much as I can handle physically.  I've even considered starting a blog on my trial and error to get fit with chronic pain.  What I don't expect is to lose much weight.

I think that's all I had to say.  I'm ready to move forward now.

By a Neck

6 days ago I had surgery on my neck, to remove a pocket of fat.  In other words: liposuction. 

I've struggled internally with my neck as far back as I can remember, since I've had any awareness of my appearance.  When a picture of me was taken, I immediately checked to see if I had a "double chin".  When I looked in a mirror, my first thought was "how bad does it look today?".  I can remember being a teen and young adult and talking with my mom about our shared hatred for our fat necks.  No matter how fit I ever got, it was there.  I always had a fat face, looking heavier than I was because of it.  I started having bad posture because I would sit with my head forward so as to minimize the appearance of my fat neck.  I always said "If I ever get the money, I'm getting it removed." 

Well, this year, that dream came true for me. 

I'm getting back into acting this year.  I started filming a movie, and noticed how big my double chin had gotten.  I knew I had gained some weight, but it had gotten ridiculous. 

I'm a little ashamed to admit this, but I stopped leaving the house as much because I was so focused on my neck and how awful it looked.  When I took this picture, I was sitting on the couch watching TV and I had the thought "I wonder what it looks like during normal activity..."  I pulled out my cell phone and, without moving at all, snapped this photo.  I think this was the moment I decided to act on my desire to once and for all be rid of the neck fat and move on to the future with confidence.

I began researching surgeons in the area, eventually finding a particularly appealing doc in Denver.  I looked up the procedure, cost, downtime, everything I felt I needed to know.  Building up a case for myself to talk to Zach about it, I expected to have to justify and fight for it.  After his shower one night, I cornered him in the bathroom.  Our conversation went like this:
"So, you know how much I hate my neck..."
"Yeah..."
"Well, I found a doctor in Denver..."
"You want to get it done?  Go for it, if you can fit it into the budget."
"Are you serious?  You're ok with this?"
"Babe, you've been talking about this since we were teenagers.  I support whatever you want to do."

At that point I burst into tears and we had a nice long hug.  I definitely had not been expecting that conversation to go so smoothly.  Similar easy conversations happened with the other people I told, too.  That was such a relief I can't even describe it in words.  I had support from my friends and family.

It took me a week to build up enough courage to schedule a consultation with the doctor.  Even after I finally scheduled it, I worried all week before going in. "What if it's too expensive?"  "What if he tells me I'm too fat for liposuction and need to lose weight first?" "What if I get a bad feeling about the place and have to start over looking for a new doctor?"  Well, my fears were pointless, and the consultation went as smoothly as my conversation with Zach.  The doctor was incredibly nice, the price was actually in our budget (as in we could pay in cash), and he didn't say anything about my current weight in relation to getting my neck fat out.  We penciled in the closest open surgery date so we could go home and discuss everything before making a final decision and putting down a deposit.  Zach, the Sib and I talked on the way home (the three of us went together), and nobody had a bad feeling about this doctor, so the next day, Zach called them and officially scheduled me for April 4, 2012 at 2:30pm.
 

The next 2 weeks were spent working on the short film we had started weeks earlier, so I was fully distracted from my upcoming surgery.  That helped immensely with my surgery-related stress.

The morning of the procedure, I decided to post about it on my Facebook and let everyone know I was going in to have a fat pocket removed from my neck.  I had so many supportive comments left for me, and I was feeling great going in for surgery.  They were even running ahead of schedule and called to ask if I could come in even earlier, which was great for me!

I had to fill out a little more paperwork, then it was off for a urine test (I'm not pregnant, YAY)
 and a wardrobe change (apparently, even if you're just getting chin lipo, you still have to wear the surgical gown open to the front...), as well as the port for my IV inserted.  The nurse had trouble with her first try getting it in, and I had a little panic episode and threw up.  She apologized profusely even though I told her it was my normal reaction to needles.  Her second try went much better.  The anesthesiologist came in and told me it was good for her if I threw up, and we had a nice laugh about it.  She put a nausea patch behind my ear.  Then, my surgeon came in to mark my face for surgery.  The atmosphere was so positive and fun and we had some nice laughs getting ready to go in.  He could tell I was still nervous, and he gave me a pat on the knee and told me everything would be fine and they'd take good care of me.  That actually made me feel much better.  At that point, the anesthesiologist started some kind of fluid (I think it was a sedative), I gave Zach a kiss, and the nurse and I waddled into the operating room.  There were several people bustling about, they told me to lay on the table and I thought "I'm feeling loopy, there's no way I'll make it onto the table", but I made it.  They strapped down my arm, put on the mask thing, and I was OUT.

I woke up seated but reclined in a chair.  My first thought was about how little pain I felt.  I was seriously tired though, and all I wanted to do was sleep, but they wouldn't let me.  The nurse (a new one I didn't recognize) had me sit up so I could get dressed, but I got sick and threw up again.  Once that was over, I finally got dressed, sat down in a wheelchair, and they brought me out to the car to go home.  They gave me a bag just in case I got sick on the drive home, but I didn't. 


I slept most of the next few days, but I had to get up several times a day to walk so I wouldn't get an embolism.  My face felt all tingly and numb, but overall the pain was bearable.  Of course, you don't realize how much you use your neck muscles until they hurt.  I could hardly talk, I could hardly eat, I needed help getting into an upright position.  I was bruising pretty badly at this point.  My neck, face, and chest all had bruising.  Swelling wasn't bad the first few days though, and I got some good pictures on day 3 when I took the bandages off to put on the compression garment:

There was a nasty looking bruise on the right side of my neck, but it didn't hurt at all.  It did, however, make me feel a little ill when I first saw it, so I immediately went back to bed after I got the compression garment on my head. 

On Day 4 or 5, I got some nausea for the first time since getting home.  It was sudden, it was over quickly, and it never happened again.  Weird.

On about Day 4 or 5 as well, I started swelling more:

Those pictures were taken earlier today.  I'm frustrated with it, but I know I'm not quite a week out from surgery, and it will go down soon.  The numbness and tingling gets better by the day, and the bruising is that ugly green/yellow color of healing.  Even my posture is already getting better!!

I'm looking forward to the day I can put on a full face of makeup, style my hair, and wear a nice outfit to go out on a date with my husband, confident with my new neck!