Sipping my café con leche this early afternoon, I'm sitting here at home in an old, t-shirt type pajama. It's white and has little colorful fishes all around it. It's at least 10 sizes too big on me, but, it's comfy as ever.
The last time I wore it was probably about eight years ago. My husband saved it and it sat folded in a drawer, then in one box after another. It was recently washed, during the craziness of our last move. It's one of the pieces of clothing that I would wear when I was a much heavier woman, along with the weight of a whole other person. A very thin person, but another person, nonetheless.
The majority of my life, represented in just a few articles of clothing. Surely my life was not just about the size of my clothing or the weight of my body. Nevertheless, the pj otherwise known as 'the fishies' is still here. A reminder of a time past, a different time. Not just physically; mentally and emotionally, as well.
Reflecting on all the many things I can do now that I couldn't do then. A five-mile bike ride that doesn't leave me too winded, an hour and fifteen minute yoga class that allows me to stretch my breathing and body to its limits. Of course, the aesthetics aspect of weight loss has it's benefits, but that's not what is most important. What's important is the fact that I have no major health ailments, I don't take pharmaceutical medication to keep me healthy, and, I'm rarely sick due to low blood sugar or high blood pressure.
'The fishies' is a fond reminder of a time in my past, along with being a reason to appreciate the time of the present and the future. Although it's like a tent on me, I proudly wear it. In my house, anyway.
Showing posts with label gastric bypass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gastric bypass. Show all posts
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Education in Cultural Diversity
I've spent the last week teaching classes. My three morning classes have younger college students (some younger in years, some younger in experience), and at night, I have adult college students on two nights of the week. Each group of students are different, diverse. Some eager to learn, others not so much; the majority I can seem to draw in but there are always one or two that are tough. During conversation with one of my groups, the topic of cultural diversity came up and like the good teacher that I am, I pulled from my own life experiences and brought up some experiences traveling and my time in Seattle and South Florida. After five years living in the Sunshine State, I gained the most cultural diversity I've ever experienced in my life. (I just realized that I usually tell people I lived there about seven years...hmmmm, how have I gotten that wrong so many times??...or did it just feel longer than five years and I subconsciously change the number???)
After sharing my experiences with the different cultures, languages, dialects, food, etc. I was taken back to my first day in Fort Lauderdale. Having traveled, by car, for a little over three days with a friend as my moving companion, we had only one overnight stop in Jacksonville, Florida where we stayed with my friend Paula, it was a long drive across I-10 and then down South on I-95. Having lived in Seattle for barely a year, I wasn't thrilled at the thought of leaving the city I had fallen in love with so easily. Somehow I was convinced that the job opportunity was worth the move, worth leaving the Pacific Northwest that had some odd pull and tug at my heart strings. My year in Seattle may have been one of the loneliest, exciting, scary, educational, insightful and rewarding times in my life, but alas, South Florida called my name. We arrived with a car full of clothes, and other odds and ends, to an apartment complex that looked somewhat of a tropical retreat. (Well, at that time, all of South Florida seemed to be a tropical retreat to me).
My friend and I waited for the moving truck to deliver all the furniture and boxes to the apartment. The driver didn't arrive too much later than we had and within hours, all was unloaded into our two-bedroom, second-floor apartment with an entrance on the first floor and an amazing view of the pool in the center of the complex. On a whim, my roomie and I decided to find our way to the beach, because after all, this was the first time either of us had the opportunity to see the ocean on the Atlantic side. While I can't recall whether we went out to have dinner before, I recall us making our way to Fort Lauderdale Beach. It was night out and the moon was bright, the sand was warm between my toes and under my feet, and the water was...well, amazing. It was warm; comfortably warm. I had never been in ocean water that didn't nearly cause frost bite to my toes so this was a new experience. The slight splashing sound against the sandy coast is a sound I will never forget.
The smell of the salt in the air, warm water and feel of the sand under our feet, combined, is most likely what made us do the following...without much discussion, my friend and I decided to strip down to our last layer of clothing and jump in the warm water. I turned my back while my friend stripped down, because we were just friends after all. After he was in the water I did the same and we spent the next half-hour or so enjoying the warm cool wavy waters of Fort Lauderdale Beach. The first night in a city that would change me and my life in many positive ways.
While life can certainly be stressful, I mostly recall good times while living in South Florida. Maybe it's what I chose to do because whether good or bad, I generally try my best to use each experience in life as a learning lesson. That first night on the beach was only one of many, many times I would end up with sand in my car and the smell of salt water on my skin. I would eventually discover a city so beautiful that people will go out of there way to arrange a vacation there. Three counties (Miami-Dade, Broward and Palm Beach) nearly overlapping, amazingly multi-cultural with more languages and dialects spoken than I had ever experienced. I would spend the next five years being exposed to cultures I knew about, and many I didn't, but had never experienced personally. Educational in more ways that my words can describe...which is quite surprising because I can usually find the words for anything.
Reminiscing about my culturally diverse experience in South Florida came to an end when one of my students asked me to share the most important or memorable thing I gained from my time there. I didn't have to ponder long to have an answer because while the ocean is beautiful, the palm trees picturesque (many with coconuts) and the food amazing...I left South Florida with an extremely culturally diverse mix of friends and family. From my Florida employee-turned-friend-turned-surrogate-mom, who is from the Dominican Republic from whom I inherited her family as my own (I'm like a distant cousin to her grown children), to one of my Bahamian employee-turn-friend who introduced me to Conch Fritters and one of the warmest souls and smiles I've ever met in my life, to my favorite couple (she from Columbian descent, he from Puerto Rican descent) who showed me what true friends are by including me as the third-wheel during many evenings and weekends when I otherwise would have been alone, to my Jewish employee-turned-friend who was my example and hero when it came to my decision to have surgery (she was much braver than I was). I've barely scratched the surface with examples of wonderful people who I call family and friends.
Reflecting on this is a reminder of why I love talking about cultural diversity whenever it comes up. There is nothing more educational when it comes to the topic than people who bring it to life for you.
After sharing my experiences with the different cultures, languages, dialects, food, etc. I was taken back to my first day in Fort Lauderdale. Having traveled, by car, for a little over three days with a friend as my moving companion, we had only one overnight stop in Jacksonville, Florida where we stayed with my friend Paula, it was a long drive across I-10 and then down South on I-95. Having lived in Seattle for barely a year, I wasn't thrilled at the thought of leaving the city I had fallen in love with so easily. Somehow I was convinced that the job opportunity was worth the move, worth leaving the Pacific Northwest that had some odd pull and tug at my heart strings. My year in Seattle may have been one of the loneliest, exciting, scary, educational, insightful and rewarding times in my life, but alas, South Florida called my name. We arrived with a car full of clothes, and other odds and ends, to an apartment complex that looked somewhat of a tropical retreat. (Well, at that time, all of South Florida seemed to be a tropical retreat to me).
My friend and I waited for the moving truck to deliver all the furniture and boxes to the apartment. The driver didn't arrive too much later than we had and within hours, all was unloaded into our two-bedroom, second-floor apartment with an entrance on the first floor and an amazing view of the pool in the center of the complex. On a whim, my roomie and I decided to find our way to the beach, because after all, this was the first time either of us had the opportunity to see the ocean on the Atlantic side. While I can't recall whether we went out to have dinner before, I recall us making our way to Fort Lauderdale Beach. It was night out and the moon was bright, the sand was warm between my toes and under my feet, and the water was...well, amazing. It was warm; comfortably warm. I had never been in ocean water that didn't nearly cause frost bite to my toes so this was a new experience. The slight splashing sound against the sandy coast is a sound I will never forget.
The smell of the salt in the air, warm water and feel of the sand under our feet, combined, is most likely what made us do the following...without much discussion, my friend and I decided to strip down to our last layer of clothing and jump in the warm water. I turned my back while my friend stripped down, because we were just friends after all. After he was in the water I did the same and we spent the next half-hour or so enjoying the warm cool wavy waters of Fort Lauderdale Beach. The first night in a city that would change me and my life in many positive ways.
While life can certainly be stressful, I mostly recall good times while living in South Florida. Maybe it's what I chose to do because whether good or bad, I generally try my best to use each experience in life as a learning lesson. That first night on the beach was only one of many, many times I would end up with sand in my car and the smell of salt water on my skin. I would eventually discover a city so beautiful that people will go out of there way to arrange a vacation there. Three counties (Miami-Dade, Broward and Palm Beach) nearly overlapping, amazingly multi-cultural with more languages and dialects spoken than I had ever experienced. I would spend the next five years being exposed to cultures I knew about, and many I didn't, but had never experienced personally. Educational in more ways that my words can describe...which is quite surprising because I can usually find the words for anything.
Reminiscing about my culturally diverse experience in South Florida came to an end when one of my students asked me to share the most important or memorable thing I gained from my time there. I didn't have to ponder long to have an answer because while the ocean is beautiful, the palm trees picturesque (many with coconuts) and the food amazing...I left South Florida with an extremely culturally diverse mix of friends and family. From my Florida employee-turned-friend-turned-surrogate-mom, who is from the Dominican Republic from whom I inherited her family as my own (I'm like a distant cousin to her grown children), to one of my Bahamian employee-turn-friend who introduced me to Conch Fritters and one of the warmest souls and smiles I've ever met in my life, to my favorite couple (she from Columbian descent, he from Puerto Rican descent) who showed me what true friends are by including me as the third-wheel during many evenings and weekends when I otherwise would have been alone, to my Jewish employee-turned-friend who was my example and hero when it came to my decision to have surgery (she was much braver than I was). I've barely scratched the surface with examples of wonderful people who I call family and friends.
Reflecting on this is a reminder of why I love talking about cultural diversity whenever it comes up. There is nothing more educational when it comes to the topic than people who bring it to life for you.
Monday, September 21, 2009
100 pounds less than...
Six years and one month ago, I had been married just eight months. It was a huge decision. One might say a decision that could have been a matter of life or death. I was taking a big chance. Aware that I wasn’t taking the ‘easy’ way out. Knowing some people thought I was. It’s not like I didn’t think this decision through thoroughly. It’s not like I didn’t weigh the pros and cons. I spent countless hours researching. Reading the topic on discussion boards. Attending information meetings. Talking it through, for hours, with my husband, my best friend and my mother-in-law (who had become one of my closest friends).
In the end, I didn’t make this decision alone. I made it with my husband. We discussed my fears and his fears. We shared our pros and cons list. We cried together at the scary “what-if’s”. We imagined the benefits it would bring into our lives. And in the end, that is what confirmed my decision. Our decision.
Six years and one month ago, I laid on a hospital bed; fluorescent light blazing in my eyes. I actually said ‘goodbye’ to my best friend, my husband and my amazing mother-in law, Theresa; you know, just in case. I cried a bit. I remember feeling cold and alone. Scared; yet strong and determined. Enough strength to push out the fear. Or...maybe the yummy-knock-me-to-sleep drugs finally kicked in.
In the end, I woke up. I felt pain. But not fear. I felt victorious. But I still felt pain. My best friend, my angel; she was there the whole time. She helped me the whole way through. She helped feed me the liquid food they provided. Beef broth and hot tea; actually tasty when your stomach can suddenly not hold anything more than a pinky-tip amount of liquid. She encouraged me to release a certain bodily vapor that would be a sign that I would be released from the hospital soon. She helped me walk, with my IV-bag–on-wheels, up and down the hall. My best friend.
Six years and one month ago, I witnessed the pros of this decision, almost immediately. I questioned the nurse to be sure I heard her right. Had my blood sugar levels dropped to normal so soon? It had been mere hours since the recovery room. Could my blood pressure be down? Had I really lost 10 pounds? Already? That soon? Some nurses were nice; others withdrawn or quiet. More walking up and down the hall. Very slow paces at first; now beginning to speed up.
In the end, it was the best decision I ever made. No more Diabetes; no more high blood pressure. No more food. I could barely sip the broth. One teaspoon felt like Thanksgiving dinner. Solid food was but a dim memory. It was the best decision I ever made.
In the end, I didn’t make this decision alone. I made it with my husband. We discussed my fears and his fears. We shared our pros and cons list. We cried together at the scary “what-if’s”. We imagined the benefits it would bring into our lives. And in the end, that is what confirmed my decision. Our decision.
Six years and one month ago, I laid on a hospital bed; fluorescent light blazing in my eyes. I actually said ‘goodbye’ to my best friend, my husband and my amazing mother-in law, Theresa; you know, just in case. I cried a bit. I remember feeling cold and alone. Scared; yet strong and determined. Enough strength to push out the fear. Or...maybe the yummy-knock-me-to-sleep drugs finally kicked in.
In the end, I woke up. I felt pain. But not fear. I felt victorious. But I still felt pain. My best friend, my angel; she was there the whole time. She helped me the whole way through. She helped feed me the liquid food they provided. Beef broth and hot tea; actually tasty when your stomach can suddenly not hold anything more than a pinky-tip amount of liquid. She encouraged me to release a certain bodily vapor that would be a sign that I would be released from the hospital soon. She helped me walk, with my IV-bag–on-wheels, up and down the hall. My best friend.
Six years and one month ago, I witnessed the pros of this decision, almost immediately. I questioned the nurse to be sure I heard her right. Had my blood sugar levels dropped to normal so soon? It had been mere hours since the recovery room. Could my blood pressure be down? Had I really lost 10 pounds? Already? That soon? Some nurses were nice; others withdrawn or quiet. More walking up and down the hall. Very slow paces at first; now beginning to speed up.
In the end, it was the best decision I ever made. No more Diabetes; no more high blood pressure. No more food. I could barely sip the broth. One teaspoon felt like Thanksgiving dinner. Solid food was but a dim memory. It was the best decision I ever made.
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