Something up my sleeve

As many of you know, my pregnancy brought about two significant life changes.

Urchin, who’s now 6, was the biggest, of course. But not by much. In addition to my sweet daughter, I left pregnancy with a life sentence: Type II diabetes.

Because I was diagnosed when I was 8 weeks pregnant and was forced to manage the disease while also growing a healthy a baby, I learned to be a very good diabetic right from the start. By the time I gave birth, my blood sugars were in better control than most non-diabetics. In fact, the last blood test they did during my pregnancy came back so good that the doctor repeated it, to be sure the results weren’t wrong.

For 6 years, I’ve managed the disease almost as well as I did while I was pregnant. That means three shots and 14 pills a day, living with a general feeling of nausea all day, every day, and deep and powerful mood swings that have nearly destroyed the most important relationships in my life. All of them, by the way, required if I don’t want to die an early and painful death.

As I said, it’s a life sentence.

Well, it was anyway, until last April. At a regular appointment with my endocrinologist, I learned about a sweeping new study that confirmed what several other studies have found by mistake: For diabetics like me (those who haven’t had the disease for very long and are in good control of their blood sugars), there is now a cure for the disease.

A seriously invasive, mind-bending, life-altering cure.

So.

You can’t imagine how hard it is for me to write the next few sentences — to describe to you, in plain English, what this cure entails. For some reason, which I suspect I will explore in nauseating detail as this blog progresses, it embarrasses me to tell you that I’m having a form of weight loss surgery that will reduce my life sentence to time served.

Laparoscopic vertical sleeve gastrectomy is a fancy way of saying that a fantastic Greek-born surgeon named Dimitrios Stefanidis will remove 75-80 percent of my stomach, thereby reducing the amount of food storage space and removing several glands that control hunger and other digestive mechanisms.

The biggest deal for diabetics like me is that the simple act of removing the storage part of the stomach and the glands stops the diabetes in its tracks in 97 percent of us.

97 percent.

It will, of course, also bring about significant weight loss. And, yes, I’m thrilled about that, too. Thrilled to pieces, in fact. That said, this is a huge undertaking and commitment that I’m not sure I’d be making if it weren’t for what my darling husband calls a “no-brainer.”

Cures. Diabetes.

This procedure is not reversible. I will never have a full-size stomach — and therefore a full-size meal — again. Period. Paragraph.

It’s a price worth paying. But a price nonetheless.

On Thursday morning, I start a two-week liquid diet, to prepare my body for surgery, which is scheduled for 8 a.m. Jan. 26. I am excited. And terrified. Surgery is a big deal. Waking up to a whole new life is quite another.

I’ve shared this website with only a couple of handfuls of people. If you’re here, it’s because you matter. If you choose to follow along, I’ll welcome your company. If not, no worries. I get it. And thank you still, because you matter.

One more thing: The decision to do this — and the preparation required — was a long and agonizing process for me and my family. Fortunately, I had a Spirit Guide along the way, who may or may not choose to reveal herself. Either way, I want you and her to know that without her bravery and willingness to share her experiences, I'd be up a creek. It’s no exaggeration to say that without her there, I wouldn’t have made it here. There’s no adequate way to say thanks.

So, I’ll be grateful for whatever white light you can spare over the next few weeks. In return, I’ll do my best to keep you posted on my journey to wellness.

All best to you, dear friends. Off we go.