Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The Bandster Fairy Godmother

It's official: I am your bandster fairy godmother.

Bring your problems to me. If I can't reason them out, I will wave my magic wand over you and make it all better.

Please take a number and queue up to the right. No, not that right. Your other right.

Port Repair

As I think I mentioned before, my port has flipped over on its side and can only be accessed with the help of x-rays - at 3 times the cost, and about 30 times the inconvenience, of a fill in my surgeon's office. When this problem first began, I wouldn't have known it if it weren't for the fill difficulty. Now I can see a weird bulge on my abdomen where there was none before, and it can be uncomfortable when I do certain exercises.

So, now that my work schedule has eased up, I called my surgeon's office to tell them to go ahead and submit my port repair to BCBS. I also asked them a bunch of questions about the repair.
Here are the answers.

1. It's done under general anesthesia.

2. I have to do pre-op tests (blood, etc.) 3 weeks in advance.

3. I can go back to work immediately, depending on how I feel, as long as I don't take narcotic pain meds at the same time. (Dang! I had hoped they'd tell me to take a month off, preferably in the Caribbean with Lisa as my nurse)

4. The doctor will not do a fill at the same time as the port repair. I can only have fills when I'm awake and can swallow water. No, she won't do a fill and then put me to sleep.

I thought maybe the no-fill thing was because bringing me in for a fill at a later date brings in more income, but an obesityhelp pal told me that her restriction got tighter when she had her own port repair, so maybe the anesthesia or whatever affects the band.

Another question: nobody at my current workplace knows that I had WLS, and I don't care to share that with them. Not that I want to hide it, but when you get as far as long in your WLS journey as I have come, it's a unique pleasure to interact with people who have never known you when you were obese. And considering the hyperactivity of the gossip mill where I work, I do not want to add grist to the mill. So I decided that I would tell the store manager, and anyone else who persists, that I have a medical implant that needs repair. If they ask what the medical implant is, I will say, "My artificial brain."