Tomorrow I'm having surgery.
I'm really having this surgery for myself and that's not easy to admit. I don't like to think of myself as selfish.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared. But this entire experience has been about facing my fears. I'm doing something outside my comfort zone. I'm doing something very powerful for me. I'm taking controll and I'm taking a risk.
I see the surgery as another step towards Ironman, as well as building self esteem and at this point in my life I'm not sure which I value more. My self esteem is always with me but I live, sleep, and breath Ironman. It's in every area of my life. Most of my friends don't realise how much it dominates me. My boyfriend does and he's very patient and kind about it, even if he doesn't understand my desire for the race.
Aside from Ironman, I feel this surgery will help me feel comfortable in my own skin again.(And ease some back pain)
Tomorrow I will face my fear and take a risk. I'm proud of myself.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
List
I'm making a list.
Nope. Not a Christmas list.(although I should be)I don't have any Christmas shopping done yet and I'm not sure how much I'm going to get done after Wednesday?!
I'm making a list of things I will need the help recover from surgery.
Patience is at the top of the list! And I will need books, and pillows and compression socks and...so much more!(I'll spare you the details!)
There is so much to do!
I am teaching my last exercise class this morning. I enjoyed teaching but it takes up so much of my personal time away from class that I can't help but feel relieved that it's ending...
Two more days. ACK!
Nope. Not a Christmas list.(although I should be)I don't have any Christmas shopping done yet and I'm not sure how much I'm going to get done after Wednesday?!
I'm making a list of things I will need the help recover from surgery.
Patience is at the top of the list! And I will need books, and pillows and compression socks and...so much more!(I'll spare you the details!)
There is so much to do!
I am teaching my last exercise class this morning. I enjoyed teaching but it takes up so much of my personal time away from class that I can't help but feel relieved that it's ending...
Two more days. ACK!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Planning
My life has been a mad rush since I received the phone call on Friday morning and discovered that I would be having surgery on Wednesday. It's usually 2 weeks notice but not when there is a cancellation.
It's truly crazy how many areas of my life the surgery affects. Most importantly my work, my kids and my workout schedule. (I wish I would have waited to buy that swimming pass!)
I've been reading online about recovery time and it might be more than I expected. Reduction surgery is extensive and I need to remember that while it's important to keep moving, I also can't over do it, which is my tendency. But I have to remember I'm also getting a tummy tuck too so that will slow me down as well.
I had visions of biking(slowly)by the following Friday. Who knows? No weights or pushing anything for a few weeks so that eliminates the swimming until January or longer as well! (Shucks!)And no more heavy workouts for a month or so...
Truthfully I don't want to miss the swimming. I was getting a momentum going and now I'm going to be that much further behind! (Or perhaps that much further ahead without having all the drag in the water now!)
I guess I can't plan anything. I just have to wait and see how it feels and make decisions accordingly. The research shows that everyone heals at different rates. I just don't want to loose what I've worked so hard for already.
So now I start counting down the days. Not counting today it's 2 days away!
HOLY CRAP!
It's truly crazy how many areas of my life the surgery affects. Most importantly my work, my kids and my workout schedule. (I wish I would have waited to buy that swimming pass!)
I've been reading online about recovery time and it might be more than I expected. Reduction surgery is extensive and I need to remember that while it's important to keep moving, I also can't over do it, which is my tendency. But I have to remember I'm also getting a tummy tuck too so that will slow me down as well.
I had visions of biking(slowly)by the following Friday. Who knows? No weights or pushing anything for a few weeks so that eliminates the swimming until January or longer as well! (Shucks!)And no more heavy workouts for a month or so...
Truthfully I don't want to miss the swimming. I was getting a momentum going and now I'm going to be that much further behind! (Or perhaps that much further ahead without having all the drag in the water now!)
I guess I can't plan anything. I just have to wait and see how it feels and make decisions accordingly. The research shows that everyone heals at different rates. I just don't want to loose what I've worked so hard for already.
So now I start counting down the days. Not counting today it's 2 days away!
HOLY CRAP!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Date
I can't believe it!
The hospital called this morning and they had a cancellation.
My surgery is scheduled for Wednesday December 10, 2008.
FIVE DAYS! FIVE! Holy crap.
I'm nervous and excited and I can't believe it's happening so soon!
I have five more days to get used to the idea that I am going to have surgery. I think I'm OK with the actual operation. I understand what the Doctor is going to and how the operation takes place. I'm just not looking forward to going under anesthetic. Even thinking about it now gets my heart racing!
I've thought long and hard about this surgery and what it means to me and I'm ready.
Here's to a speedy recovery!
The hospital called this morning and they had a cancellation.
My surgery is scheduled for Wednesday December 10, 2008.
FIVE DAYS! FIVE! Holy crap.
I'm nervous and excited and I can't believe it's happening so soon!
I have five more days to get used to the idea that I am going to have surgery. I think I'm OK with the actual operation. I understand what the Doctor is going to and how the operation takes place. I'm just not looking forward to going under anesthetic. Even thinking about it now gets my heart racing!
I've thought long and hard about this surgery and what it means to me and I'm ready.
Here's to a speedy recovery!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Naked Truth
I stand naked in front of the mirror only looking at my eyes. Bracing myself, steadying myself for the journey I'm about to embark upon.
Slowly - painfully slow, I allow my eyes to fall downward. The irony of this movement is not lost on me and for a very brief moment I waiver and wonder if I should do this?
Taking a deep breath I reserve my strength and begin the descent again. My eyes slide down the sides of my neck and pause to rest on my shoulders. I am trying to reserve judgement and merely explore the shapes and horizons before me. Sadly, I realise this has become the best of me. I rest for a while, enjoying the view. This is nice. But what waits for me? Will it be worse than I imagined?
I brush the questions aside. I tell myself, no matter what I find I will be OK. Funny how I've become an explorer on familiar terrain. I never expected the landscape to change so drastically. In the past I've brushed over the landscape in order to get to where I was going. In other words, I've never really looked before. Avoidance.
Shocked by the nooks and valleys, I look more closely. I must do this for myself. Not only to see but to accept and become familiar again...
This time I allow myself to travel the rocky terrain of my breasts. These breasts are the part of my body I've always wished to re landscape. Some people get black eyes while jumping with a horse because the horse throws it's head back. I've always said I get black eyes from simply running across the room. Time and age has taken it's toll...
The landscape starts where they once had jutted perkily outward saying " I am woman hear me roar" or rather, 'want some?" Alright, they were never 'perky', but they were always present. I know this because men often have a difficult time keeping their eyes on me if I put them out there and dress them up.
For some reason my chest is this wonderful present that men always fancied unwrapping. I've always thought that it's all about the presentation. I dressed it up and somehow made it more appealing because you can't see everything.
Will unwrapping the present matter more than what's within? I've been with men who are far more interested in the actual undressing - apparently it's a turn on. Truth be told - it bores me. I want to feel, to be touched, to be delved into. I want to be worshipped by another body. But is this body worth worshipping. So far? Not so good.
Marked like balloons blown much too large, they sit upon my chest, looking as deflated as I feel. I'm starting to judge quality rather than really seeing what is in front of me. The human body. The breasts that fed my children and encouraged their lives. These saggy, baggy "fun bags" that help to define me as female and gave life. And now I'm left with two empty sacks looking very tired and humble as they worship the floor. No sunflowers here gazing towards the sun. Their work is done and they are pointing me onward. Downward. I try to encourage their previous beauty by lifting them up towards the light. I try to imagine what it might feel like if I were my lover using them for pleasure. If I close my eyes - they feel like breasts only they move about 5 inches further than most women's do. I allow myself to think back to puberty...
I shouldn't have done that. It's one thing to be changed and quite another to remember the difference.
I remember standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom, with the lights on at night thrashing my arms around, joyously singing, "I must! I must! I MUST increase my bust!". Only to realise in dismay that my profile was directly in front of my window and everyone in the neighbourhood could see me! I smile knowing that in those days someone would have really enjoyed the show.
Alright. They are big, saggy, defeated breasts that are attached to me. I have decided they are not that bad. A good bra can hide my secret and who needs the light on during intimate moments anyway? I'm proud of every wrinkle and stretch mark. They have fed the hungry(in more ways than one). And while I don't particularly enjoy them, with a little imagination and deprivation they might just do the job in a pinch! Besides, I could always impress a man by spinning them in different directions. Who needs tassels when you have breasts that rotate!
Now that I'm less frightened by what I see, I continue my journey downward. The stomach. Jelly belly. I decide that I could give Santa a run for his money because I truly have a belly that looks and acts a lot like jelly.
I'm embarrassed. Not only is it jiggling flesh, it's also marked by bright red stretchmarks. There are also a few scars left over from gallbladder surgery. I run my fingers gently over my not-so-smooth and not-so-flat stomach. Once, I was tiny enough to have abs showing, now I have ripples caused by flesh stretched beyond it's capacity. No judgement, just a fact. My belly is no longer sexy! But more importantly do I care?
I've decided I can have all these things fixed by surgery. In fact, it could be a matter of weeks as I'm waiting to hear back from the hospital for a surgery date. I made the decision that I want the outside of my body to match the inside of me.
No amount of exercise will change the bagginess, the sags, stretchmarks or the jiggling. In fact, the more fit I become the worse the problems get. I need help. I just want to feel as beautiful on the outside as I do on the inside.
Ultimately, I'm proud of my body, despite it's imperfections. It's wonderful and strong and very capable.
Slowly - painfully slow, I allow my eyes to fall downward. The irony of this movement is not lost on me and for a very brief moment I waiver and wonder if I should do this?
Taking a deep breath I reserve my strength and begin the descent again. My eyes slide down the sides of my neck and pause to rest on my shoulders. I am trying to reserve judgement and merely explore the shapes and horizons before me. Sadly, I realise this has become the best of me. I rest for a while, enjoying the view. This is nice. But what waits for me? Will it be worse than I imagined?
I brush the questions aside. I tell myself, no matter what I find I will be OK. Funny how I've become an explorer on familiar terrain. I never expected the landscape to change so drastically. In the past I've brushed over the landscape in order to get to where I was going. In other words, I've never really looked before. Avoidance.
Shocked by the nooks and valleys, I look more closely. I must do this for myself. Not only to see but to accept and become familiar again...
This time I allow myself to travel the rocky terrain of my breasts. These breasts are the part of my body I've always wished to re landscape. Some people get black eyes while jumping with a horse because the horse throws it's head back. I've always said I get black eyes from simply running across the room. Time and age has taken it's toll...
The landscape starts where they once had jutted perkily outward saying " I am woman hear me roar" or rather, 'want some?" Alright, they were never 'perky', but they were always present. I know this because men often have a difficult time keeping their eyes on me if I put them out there and dress them up.
For some reason my chest is this wonderful present that men always fancied unwrapping. I've always thought that it's all about the presentation. I dressed it up and somehow made it more appealing because you can't see everything.
Will unwrapping the present matter more than what's within? I've been with men who are far more interested in the actual undressing - apparently it's a turn on. Truth be told - it bores me. I want to feel, to be touched, to be delved into. I want to be worshipped by another body. But is this body worth worshipping. So far? Not so good.
Marked like balloons blown much too large, they sit upon my chest, looking as deflated as I feel. I'm starting to judge quality rather than really seeing what is in front of me. The human body. The breasts that fed my children and encouraged their lives. These saggy, baggy "fun bags" that help to define me as female and gave life. And now I'm left with two empty sacks looking very tired and humble as they worship the floor. No sunflowers here gazing towards the sun. Their work is done and they are pointing me onward. Downward. I try to encourage their previous beauty by lifting them up towards the light. I try to imagine what it might feel like if I were my lover using them for pleasure. If I close my eyes - they feel like breasts only they move about 5 inches further than most women's do. I allow myself to think back to puberty...
I shouldn't have done that. It's one thing to be changed and quite another to remember the difference.
I remember standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom, with the lights on at night thrashing my arms around, joyously singing, "I must! I must! I MUST increase my bust!". Only to realise in dismay that my profile was directly in front of my window and everyone in the neighbourhood could see me! I smile knowing that in those days someone would have really enjoyed the show.
Alright. They are big, saggy, defeated breasts that are attached to me. I have decided they are not that bad. A good bra can hide my secret and who needs the light on during intimate moments anyway? I'm proud of every wrinkle and stretch mark. They have fed the hungry(in more ways than one). And while I don't particularly enjoy them, with a little imagination and deprivation they might just do the job in a pinch! Besides, I could always impress a man by spinning them in different directions. Who needs tassels when you have breasts that rotate!
Now that I'm less frightened by what I see, I continue my journey downward. The stomach. Jelly belly. I decide that I could give Santa a run for his money because I truly have a belly that looks and acts a lot like jelly.
I'm embarrassed. Not only is it jiggling flesh, it's also marked by bright red stretchmarks. There are also a few scars left over from gallbladder surgery. I run my fingers gently over my not-so-smooth and not-so-flat stomach. Once, I was tiny enough to have abs showing, now I have ripples caused by flesh stretched beyond it's capacity. No judgement, just a fact. My belly is no longer sexy! But more importantly do I care?
I've decided I can have all these things fixed by surgery. In fact, it could be a matter of weeks as I'm waiting to hear back from the hospital for a surgery date. I made the decision that I want the outside of my body to match the inside of me.
No amount of exercise will change the bagginess, the sags, stretchmarks or the jiggling. In fact, the more fit I become the worse the problems get. I need help. I just want to feel as beautiful on the outside as I do on the inside.
Ultimately, I'm proud of my body, despite it's imperfections. It's wonderful and strong and very capable.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Plan
So. I haven't been to the pool yet this week. Apparently it's winter, which means it's cold and it's also snowing outside. Who wants to go to the pool when it's freezing outside? And the roads? They are covered with snow... Never mind. I'm heading to the pool tomorrow to buy a pass. It will be my heroic deed for the week.
ONCE. I will swim once this week.(I don't want to peak too soon) If I swim once this week, next week I can go twice and my coach will think I'm a superstar.(seriously)
On a positive note. I've been to the gym twice this week and I'm heading there tonight. Yes, I am in fact, travelling through the same snow that's stops me from going to the pool. Sheesh!
At least I'm sticking to a plan. No need to get picky!
ONCE. I will swim once this week.(I don't want to peak too soon) If I swim once this week, next week I can go twice and my coach will think I'm a superstar.(seriously)
On a positive note. I've been to the gym twice this week and I'm heading there tonight. Yes, I am in fact, travelling through the same snow that's stops me from going to the pool. Sheesh!
At least I'm sticking to a plan. No need to get picky!
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Swim
OK. It's official. I hate swimming!
Which is a problem because I am working towards an IRONMAN![said in a manner like Phoebe from friends]
Yesterday, well, last night really, I got in my car and drove to the pool. Did you get that? I DROVE TO THE POOL!(That's a big deal people!) Alright, never mind how I got there. The point is I went. And on my Birthday. Yes it's true. I went SWIMMING on my birthday. (This is my ego talking. Someone please give me a little SOMETHING?) I'm a hero. Right?
So, I'm beginning to think that this training is not as glamorous as I had once thought.(sigh)
I'm reading Lance Armstrong's books about his life, which is also about his MILLIONS of hours of training for the Tour De France(which he won 7 times! SEVEN!)and they inspire me and leave me feeling like I can do anything. But swimming...
You see, the problem here is that I'm really not good at swimming. OK, so that's an exaggeration. I can swim, just not very far. Which again, is a problem when training for an Ironman where you are required to swim 3.8 kilometers!
At the age of four I got on a bike(without training wheels)and I just started to ride. I'll never forget the look on my Dad's face when I took off. The weeks before he took the training wheels off I begged, and begged and then BEGGED some more until he finally gave in and agreed to take them off. The training wheels were taken off in the basement of our house. My Dad figured I was too young, wouldn't be able to bike without them and he'd be putting them right back on again. WRONG. I took off doing figure 8's all around the basement. As a kid I rode my bike everywhere and to this day, biking is just something I can do and do relatively well.
When I was about 9 months old I found my legs and I started running(so I'm told)and I haven't stopped since. Yes, there is specific technique that can help you run faster but basically you put one foot in front of the other at a fast speed and away you go. I ran everywhere. Sprinted. At one time I was even on the provincial track team as a sprinter. I'm learning to run long distance now and it's going well. I enjoy running in a slower gear.
My mother expected me to take swimming lessons because she nearly drowned as a young teen. After that experience, any confidence she had as a swimmer was completely gone and to this day she loves the water but rarely goes into it. My swimming lessons started at such an early age that I can hardly remember it. But I LOVED the water as a kid and still do. I loved being IN the water, ON the water and BY the water.
So you see the real problem here is that I can't swim.[laughter] OK. The REAL problem is that I don't find swimming easy like biking and running. Apparently, I only want to work on things that come easy to me.
I have problem with breathing during swimming, which of course confuses and frustrates me. I'm a singer and I've spent years learning how to breath you would think it could come in handy while swimming. Nope. Not so lucky.
I can swim about 200 meters and suddenly I'm gasping for breath. It's really ugly. I think about breathing and then suddenly I think I can't breath and then finally I'm not breathing and I have to stop. STOP.
So last night I asked the coach why do I feel like I can't breath? She evaluated my stroke and my breathing technique and the conclusion is simple. PRACTICE! I've only been in the water 3 times this year. THREE.(perhaps I'm expecting a little much) Breathing while swimming and breathing while running or biking is very different. Endurance on land means being able to breath whenever you want. In the water you breath every third stroke. It's all about conditioning.
I should be swimming three times a week. Not once for and hour and a half.
FYI.
I felt really good towards the end of the swim last night. I actually felt like I was making progress and not just floundering around.
I guess I don't HATE swimming. Hate is a strong word. Perhaps I should say I DISLIKE swimming. I dislike getting wet, being in a bathing suit, (especially around other athletes with rock hard bodies) and having to figure out my breathing while swimming. Simply, I don't like doing something I'm not good at.(Who does?)
So here's hoping I can progress towards swimming three times this week and maybe I will even enjoy myself.
Which is a problem because I am working towards an IRONMAN![said in a manner like Phoebe from friends]
Yesterday, well, last night really, I got in my car and drove to the pool. Did you get that? I DROVE TO THE POOL!(That's a big deal people!) Alright, never mind how I got there. The point is I went. And on my Birthday. Yes it's true. I went SWIMMING on my birthday. (This is my ego talking. Someone please give me a little SOMETHING?) I'm a hero. Right?
So, I'm beginning to think that this training is not as glamorous as I had once thought.(sigh)
I'm reading Lance Armstrong's books about his life, which is also about his MILLIONS of hours of training for the Tour De France(which he won 7 times! SEVEN!)and they inspire me and leave me feeling like I can do anything. But swimming...
You see, the problem here is that I'm really not good at swimming. OK, so that's an exaggeration. I can swim, just not very far. Which again, is a problem when training for an Ironman where you are required to swim 3.8 kilometers!
At the age of four I got on a bike(without training wheels)and I just started to ride. I'll never forget the look on my Dad's face when I took off. The weeks before he took the training wheels off I begged, and begged and then BEGGED some more until he finally gave in and agreed to take them off. The training wheels were taken off in the basement of our house. My Dad figured I was too young, wouldn't be able to bike without them and he'd be putting them right back on again. WRONG. I took off doing figure 8's all around the basement. As a kid I rode my bike everywhere and to this day, biking is just something I can do and do relatively well.
When I was about 9 months old I found my legs and I started running(so I'm told)and I haven't stopped since. Yes, there is specific technique that can help you run faster but basically you put one foot in front of the other at a fast speed and away you go. I ran everywhere. Sprinted. At one time I was even on the provincial track team as a sprinter. I'm learning to run long distance now and it's going well. I enjoy running in a slower gear.
My mother expected me to take swimming lessons because she nearly drowned as a young teen. After that experience, any confidence she had as a swimmer was completely gone and to this day she loves the water but rarely goes into it. My swimming lessons started at such an early age that I can hardly remember it. But I LOVED the water as a kid and still do. I loved being IN the water, ON the water and BY the water.
So you see the real problem here is that I can't swim.[laughter] OK. The REAL problem is that I don't find swimming easy like biking and running. Apparently, I only want to work on things that come easy to me.
I have problem with breathing during swimming, which of course confuses and frustrates me. I'm a singer and I've spent years learning how to breath you would think it could come in handy while swimming. Nope. Not so lucky.
I can swim about 200 meters and suddenly I'm gasping for breath. It's really ugly. I think about breathing and then suddenly I think I can't breath and then finally I'm not breathing and I have to stop. STOP.
So last night I asked the coach why do I feel like I can't breath? She evaluated my stroke and my breathing technique and the conclusion is simple. PRACTICE! I've only been in the water 3 times this year. THREE.(perhaps I'm expecting a little much) Breathing while swimming and breathing while running or biking is very different. Endurance on land means being able to breath whenever you want. In the water you breath every third stroke. It's all about conditioning.
I should be swimming three times a week. Not once for and hour and a half.
FYI.
I felt really good towards the end of the swim last night. I actually felt like I was making progress and not just floundering around.
I guess I don't HATE swimming. Hate is a strong word. Perhaps I should say I DISLIKE swimming. I dislike getting wet, being in a bathing suit, (especially around other athletes with rock hard bodies) and having to figure out my breathing while swimming. Simply, I don't like doing something I'm not good at.(Who does?)
So here's hoping I can progress towards swimming three times this week and maybe I will even enjoy myself.
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