So the last week has been unique.
Last Thursday I went in for my Lap-band consult. The surgeon tried to coax me into opting for a sleeve gastrectomy after I flatly rejected the gastric bypass, and I had a decision to make--lie and say I would think about it, or stand my ground and voice my personal objections?
I, being Italian (and therefore stubborn and mouthy), decided to dig in my heels. I told the doctor of my personal distaste for bariatric surgery, and that the only reason I'm even considering it at this point is because I have no other option left to me. I then said that I would not go for anything other than the lap-band, because I have personal moral objections to being mutilated. If I have to choose between becoming a cyborg or being irreversibly mutilated? I'll go for assimilation, thanks. Resistance is futile.
So this morning I went in for an Upper GI exam, where I got to drink the barium suspension and they took lots of pictures of my gut to look for an hiatal hernia or any similar issue that would need to be repaired at the time I got my band. That was interesting. The barium tastes like ass, kids. It really really does. But I managed to choke it down, and got to watch it flowing into my stomach. It was quite fascinating. Didn't take a lot of time, either. I was there about 1 hour total--then I got my films and left. And I'm now drinking like half of Falls Lake so that I don't wind up with a barium brick in my gut. That would be no fun.
The next thing I'm waiting on is scheduling for a sleep study. After that's done, I have to talk to a nutritionist, then I have to talk to a psychologist (because they want to make sure that I'm not nuts and that I understand what I'm getting myself into). Then we'll schedule the surgery.
Easy, no? Well, no. Like with every surgery, there's the risk of me being put on a one-way bus to meet the ancestors. So I'm sure I'll be mildly stressing in the immediate runup to H-hour, but in the end I'm sure it'll all work out.
At least, I hope it will.