one step at a time
- Thread starter why_d
- Start date
donnajt
Addicted to Minimins!
Well done, ssshhh don't blaspheme like that, you are clearly over that sticking point
GREAT LOSS WELL DONE :banana dancer:
why_d
by name, wide by nature
there could be something in that! you'd best not disappear for a while, lol
donnajt
Addicted to Minimins!
i don't intend to!
look at your lovely sparkly star - 53lbs - how amazing are you!
has your chair been fixed yet?
why_d
by name, wide by nature
Breakfast – 2 Weetabix (HEb) 100ml of semi skimmed milk (1/2 HEa) and a banana
Lunch – leek and potato soup and some chicken (that’s the roast chicken from last week finally gone, lol)
Dinner – steak with peppered mushroom sauce and roasted veg (potatoes, carrots, parsnip, butternut squash, courgette, peppers, red onions) a cupcake (10 syns)
Snack – apple and a clementine
Total 10 syns
Lunch – leek and potato soup and some chicken (that’s the roast chicken from last week finally gone, lol)
Dinner – steak with peppered mushroom sauce and roasted veg (potatoes, carrots, parsnip, butternut squash, courgette, peppers, red onions) a cupcake (10 syns)
Snack – apple and a clementine
Total 10 syns
10st10lbs
Gold Member
why_d
by name, wide by nature
I know some of you guys have been following my thread from the beginning and know that I’m in a wheelchair. What you don’t know is that I started SW 3 weeks after getting out of hospital. I’d spent 15 months in hospital and on Friday I had a review with my consultant about how I’m getting on now that I’m home. I’ve been thinking a bit recently about the whole experience and have started to jot some of it down. Thought one or two of you would be interested. But feel free to scroll past this entry if you get bored.
I don’t have a story. I tell myself that most days. But what I mean is I don’t have a story that can be whittled down to one sentence when passing someone I once knew in the street. When people ask me what happed I can’t respond with ‘I was in a car accident’, ‘I fell out of a tree’, ‘there was a motorbike..’ I don’t have a story that I can easily sum up. There’s nothing instantly recognisable that people can relate to and picture in their minds when bumping into them in the street and trying to catch up with ten years of your life in ten seconds.
I don’t have a story because I don’t have a start. I don’t have a start because I don’t know where to begin because I don’t actually know what happened. If I have the time and inclination (not to mention a person who’s genuinely interested), I sometimes tell people I squeezed a spot. I did. I had a spot, I squeezed it and that resulted in me being admitted to hospital. But once I get there I know that that itself isn’t the beginning of the story, that that’s just the hook. The hook the reels them in. I need to give a bit more background information but by then they’re bored. They can’t relate. It’s not a case of me falling off some scaffolding whilst out on a weekend binge.
So there was this spot. It was on the inside of my thigh, close to my groin. I squeezed it. I shouldn’t have. Because of my interference the squeezed spot developed Necrotizing Fasciitis, commonly known as flesh-eating disease. The only way to deal with it was to cut it out, that meant surgery and this is where the back story comes in.
I also have a heart condition, Dilated Cardiomyopathy, this means that essentially my heart only works at 15%. My heart specialist advised the surgeon not to operate as I’d not make it through the operation and the surgeon advised that if he didn’t operate I’d not make it through the night. I’m still here so...
I ended up on life support for 3 days and on the last day my family were called and told that I wouldn’t make it through the night. The family came; said their goodbyes. Friends were called and told to expect the worst. I wasn’t for making it. At some point when everyone was gone and my mum was in the hallway with the nurse during the night my fever broke.
This I don’t remember, but I woke to find a rather unpleasant life support tube down my throat so proceeded to remove said tube. This wasn’t a very clever idea and that in itself should have been enough to kill me, but again I managed to avoid death’s clutches. It did however, have consequences.
I was in and out of it for the next few days. Don’t remember any of it but know that when I did start to become lucid and aware of things that I was aware that I couldn’t feel my legs etc so I’ve never had that shock experience of waking up to nothing, I just knew it was all gone. Maybe that happened during that first week but I can’t remember.
It had been hoped that it was just down to the anaesthetic not wearing off or maybe some swelling at the base of the spine. Something known as Spinal Shock, but, it became apparent over the course of the next few weeks that there was no improvement so the spinal specialist was called and after a number of tests it was confirmed that damage had occurred (though it’s never been confirmed how) and that it would be unlikely that I’d ever walk again.
This meant going to rehab, the only problem there was that they took one look at me and at my size and decided they didn’t want me... but maybe that’s another story for another time...
I don’t have a story. I tell myself that most days. But what I mean is I don’t have a story that can be whittled down to one sentence when passing someone I once knew in the street. When people ask me what happed I can’t respond with ‘I was in a car accident’, ‘I fell out of a tree’, ‘there was a motorbike..’ I don’t have a story that I can easily sum up. There’s nothing instantly recognisable that people can relate to and picture in their minds when bumping into them in the street and trying to catch up with ten years of your life in ten seconds.
I don’t have a story because I don’t have a start. I don’t have a start because I don’t know where to begin because I don’t actually know what happened. If I have the time and inclination (not to mention a person who’s genuinely interested), I sometimes tell people I squeezed a spot. I did. I had a spot, I squeezed it and that resulted in me being admitted to hospital. But once I get there I know that that itself isn’t the beginning of the story, that that’s just the hook. The hook the reels them in. I need to give a bit more background information but by then they’re bored. They can’t relate. It’s not a case of me falling off some scaffolding whilst out on a weekend binge.
So there was this spot. It was on the inside of my thigh, close to my groin. I squeezed it. I shouldn’t have. Because of my interference the squeezed spot developed Necrotizing Fasciitis, commonly known as flesh-eating disease. The only way to deal with it was to cut it out, that meant surgery and this is where the back story comes in.
I also have a heart condition, Dilated Cardiomyopathy, this means that essentially my heart only works at 15%. My heart specialist advised the surgeon not to operate as I’d not make it through the operation and the surgeon advised that if he didn’t operate I’d not make it through the night. I’m still here so...
I ended up on life support for 3 days and on the last day my family were called and told that I wouldn’t make it through the night. The family came; said their goodbyes. Friends were called and told to expect the worst. I wasn’t for making it. At some point when everyone was gone and my mum was in the hallway with the nurse during the night my fever broke.
This I don’t remember, but I woke to find a rather unpleasant life support tube down my throat so proceeded to remove said tube. This wasn’t a very clever idea and that in itself should have been enough to kill me, but again I managed to avoid death’s clutches. It did however, have consequences.
I was in and out of it for the next few days. Don’t remember any of it but know that when I did start to become lucid and aware of things that I was aware that I couldn’t feel my legs etc so I’ve never had that shock experience of waking up to nothing, I just knew it was all gone. Maybe that happened during that first week but I can’t remember.
It had been hoped that it was just down to the anaesthetic not wearing off or maybe some swelling at the base of the spine. Something known as Spinal Shock, but, it became apparent over the course of the next few weeks that there was no improvement so the spinal specialist was called and after a number of tests it was confirmed that damage had occurred (though it’s never been confirmed how) and that it would be unlikely that I’d ever walk again.
This meant going to rehab, the only problem there was that they took one look at me and at my size and decided they didn’t want me... but maybe that’s another story for another time...
Last edited:
donnajt
Addicted to Minimins!
WOW I am hooked! that was so well written, i really admire you why_d, there wasn't a note of bitterness or sorrow, if you read this in a magazine you just wouldn't believe it! I cannot believe rehab/physio were so disrespectful. How did your review go? was the consultant pleased with your weight loss? would you be reconsidered for rehab if you continue to lose weight? i am jumping the gun and shall try and wait *patiently" for part 2.
How on earth did you come to terms with just a drastic change? I take my hat off to you x
How on earth did you come to terms with just a drastic change? I take my hat off to you x
why_d
by name, wide by nature
thanks donna! i did get to rehab and got to do everything that i needed which is why i'm able to live by myself and cook etc, but it was quite a battle to get there, lol
coming to terms is an odd one and one that i want to write about at length at some point but my simple answer is 'what other choice is there?'
as for my consultant, she's now on maternity and we dont really discuss weight anymore... again, another long story, lol but the docs and staff i did see at the review were v happy with how i'm getting on
gl12282
Plodding on.......
Why_d, I'm hooked too. Definitely waiting for 'the rest' of the story and plan to be watching it unfold for you. Gosh, I can't imagine what you've been through.
And wow, making the start on SW only 3 weeks after getting out of hospital for so long. That's fantastic. I think you are amazing and doing so well. I am just so chuffed for you.
Thanks for posting your story.
Gail x
And wow, making the start on SW only 3 weeks after getting out of hospital for so long. That's fantastic. I think you are amazing and doing so well. I am just so chuffed for you.
Thanks for posting your story.
Gail x
Very interesting to read your story.
missfatpants
Full Member
hi why_d. I have read your board quite a lot over the past few weeks and in October when I joined SW but failed miserably. You have an amazing strength and you are an inspiration. Your story was one of sheer courage and so interesting to read. Keep up your brilliant weightloss. ann-marie xx
Freshstartnewme!
Gold Member
Hi why_d :wavey:
I often frequent your diary to see what yummy things you have been making, I enjoy getting my daily fix of your diary!
Thank you for sharing your story with us, you are a true inspiration to us all. Life is a strange thing, and your story shows us that everyday is a chance for us make it better for ourselves as you never know what is around the corner.
Your weight loss itself is phenomenal, you put us all to shame!! But for you to be so phenomenal and also adapt to your new way of life, well I admire your strength as a person
You are obviously a very special person and life has much more in store for you as you fought so hard to be here!
Claire xx
I often frequent your diary to see what yummy things you have been making, I enjoy getting my daily fix of your diary!
Thank you for sharing your story with us, you are a true inspiration to us all. Life is a strange thing, and your story shows us that everyday is a chance for us make it better for ourselves as you never know what is around the corner.
Your weight loss itself is phenomenal, you put us all to shame!! But for you to be so phenomenal and also adapt to your new way of life, well I admire your strength as a person
You are obviously a very special person and life has much more in store for you as you fought so hard to be here!Claire xx
why_d
by name, wide by nature
thanks guys for your kind words they do mean a lot!
today's a green day
Breakfast – 2 Weetabix (HEb) 100ml of semi skimmed milk (1/2 HEa) and a banana
Lunch – mugshot with a nectarine and 2 plums
Dinner – quorn peppered steak with roasted veg and spicy roasted baby potatoes
Snack – golden wonder crisps (6.5 syns)
Before bed - 2 slices of Nimble toast (HEb) with 2 laughing cow light triangles (1/2 HEa)
Total 6.5 syns
today's a green day
Breakfast – 2 Weetabix (HEb) 100ml of semi skimmed milk (1/2 HEa) and a banana
Lunch – mugshot with a nectarine and 2 plums
Dinner – quorn peppered steak with roasted veg and spicy roasted baby potatoes
Snack – golden wonder crisps (6.5 syns)
Before bed - 2 slices of Nimble toast (HEb) with 2 laughing cow light triangles (1/2 HEa)
Total 6.5 syns
why_d
by name, wide by nature
part 2...
Dates are a funny thing. Days go by and nothing happens and those dates get wiped off the slate. But some dates become etched in stone. Some dates you’ll never forget. 20 April 2009 was the date of my operation. It’s one such date. But there’s actually a more prominent date. 27 July 2009. I became an uncle again. This time to a boy, the first boy. Oliver! He’s true to his namesake. 27 July 2009 should be etched in stone because I became an uncle. It’s not. 27 July 2009 is the day that I was finally told that I would be allowed to go to rehab. My brother left his newborn child, his tired wreck of a wife in one hospital to come to another to join me and my mother for a meeting with the spinal consultant in another. As you can see from the dates I spent 3 months in limbo. Ok, we can discount the first month. I was in ICU for some of that and then it took a few weeks for them to conclude that there was indeed a spinal cord injury. But that still leaves 7-8 weeks of not knowing...
I was on a lot of drugs but as I was being weaned off of those I was beginning to get the feeling that something wasn’t right. My family were getting the same impression. We’d been asking what the next steps were. Initially the surgeon had told us that my surgical wound would need to heal and that I’d go to rehab. Then when asking again the answer started to become more and more vague. Something was going on and we weren’t being told what.
The spinal consultant was just as vague. She’d come in on a Monday have a few words, go write in my notes and leave. My family were starting to panic. I was less so. How could they leave me in this position and not send me to rehab? Not give me back the life that was taken? At this point I found out that this seemed to be the plan. My surgeon and spinal consultant were at loggerheads. He was pushing for me to go and she wasn’t very keen to take me. She didn’t see any rehab potential in me. She saw a fat person in a bed. She saw that for Health and Safety it took x amount of people to work with me. She saw the cost of that. She saw that rehab beds are limited and why waste one of someone that obviously didn’t help themselves to begin with and allow themselves to get so large. In truth, I don’t know what she saw. All I know is that what she saw she didn’t want.
It came to a head when one of the Occupational Therapists who had gotten to know me read some of my notes, had obviously seen what had been written and decided to write some notes herself. I don’t know what was written. Not by her and not by any of the medical staff. I just know that she came in the next day, reread what she had written, came and apologised to me to tell me that she’d been a bit angry the night before and written something in my notes, which although she did not regret, were written in anger. She then went gone off to apologise to the Ward Sister and Surgeon. What she did do though was infer to me that rehab was being ruled out and that my life would be spent in a nursing home. She wasn’t up for that. Neither was I.
There was stuff happening in the background, I knew conversations were being had. I was getting bits and pieces from different members of staff but nothing conclusive and nothing direct. The OT was fighting my case and not holding her punches. Finally the spinal consultant agreed to a meeting, this meeting was to include myself, my family the two consultants, the Ward Manager and the OT. On the morning of the meeting the spinal consultant came to me to tell me that she was going to have a meeting with the medical staff first and then meet with me and my family...
I don’t know what was said in that meeting and I no longer care, I just know what when we met with the consultant she’d agreed to me going to rehab. Although she advised that it would be very limited. Probably only a matter of weeks as I’d not be able to cope with the full programme. She was wrong.
On the 29 July 2009 two lives were born. The first was my lovely nephew Oliver. The second was mine.
Dates are a funny thing. Days go by and nothing happens and those dates get wiped off the slate. But some dates become etched in stone. Some dates you’ll never forget. 20 April 2009 was the date of my operation. It’s one such date. But there’s actually a more prominent date. 27 July 2009. I became an uncle again. This time to a boy, the first boy. Oliver! He’s true to his namesake. 27 July 2009 should be etched in stone because I became an uncle. It’s not. 27 July 2009 is the day that I was finally told that I would be allowed to go to rehab. My brother left his newborn child, his tired wreck of a wife in one hospital to come to another to join me and my mother for a meeting with the spinal consultant in another. As you can see from the dates I spent 3 months in limbo. Ok, we can discount the first month. I was in ICU for some of that and then it took a few weeks for them to conclude that there was indeed a spinal cord injury. But that still leaves 7-8 weeks of not knowing...
I was on a lot of drugs but as I was being weaned off of those I was beginning to get the feeling that something wasn’t right. My family were getting the same impression. We’d been asking what the next steps were. Initially the surgeon had told us that my surgical wound would need to heal and that I’d go to rehab. Then when asking again the answer started to become more and more vague. Something was going on and we weren’t being told what.
The spinal consultant was just as vague. She’d come in on a Monday have a few words, go write in my notes and leave. My family were starting to panic. I was less so. How could they leave me in this position and not send me to rehab? Not give me back the life that was taken? At this point I found out that this seemed to be the plan. My surgeon and spinal consultant were at loggerheads. He was pushing for me to go and she wasn’t very keen to take me. She didn’t see any rehab potential in me. She saw a fat person in a bed. She saw that for Health and Safety it took x amount of people to work with me. She saw the cost of that. She saw that rehab beds are limited and why waste one of someone that obviously didn’t help themselves to begin with and allow themselves to get so large. In truth, I don’t know what she saw. All I know is that what she saw she didn’t want.
It came to a head when one of the Occupational Therapists who had gotten to know me read some of my notes, had obviously seen what had been written and decided to write some notes herself. I don’t know what was written. Not by her and not by any of the medical staff. I just know that she came in the next day, reread what she had written, came and apologised to me to tell me that she’d been a bit angry the night before and written something in my notes, which although she did not regret, were written in anger. She then went gone off to apologise to the Ward Sister and Surgeon. What she did do though was infer to me that rehab was being ruled out and that my life would be spent in a nursing home. She wasn’t up for that. Neither was I.
There was stuff happening in the background, I knew conversations were being had. I was getting bits and pieces from different members of staff but nothing conclusive and nothing direct. The OT was fighting my case and not holding her punches. Finally the spinal consultant agreed to a meeting, this meeting was to include myself, my family the two consultants, the Ward Manager and the OT. On the morning of the meeting the spinal consultant came to me to tell me that she was going to have a meeting with the medical staff first and then meet with me and my family...
I don’t know what was said in that meeting and I no longer care, I just know what when we met with the consultant she’d agreed to me going to rehab. Although she advised that it would be very limited. Probably only a matter of weeks as I’d not be able to cope with the full programme. She was wrong.
On the 29 July 2009 two lives were born. The first was my lovely nephew Oliver. The second was mine.
