Rebecca McLelland – Gastric Bypass – July 2008

I am 28 years old and have been suffering at the hands of my weight since before I can remember. I look at primary school pictures and see a big fat face, I look at secondary school pictures and see a big fat face, and in general I see this big fat face in most pictures, except the pictures that were taken in the last few months. I have had a gastric bypass and it is, without a doubt, the best thing I ever did.

Growing up

I grew up with a little brother who was fed anything and everything, and annoyingly never even gained an ounce. High tea with my father on a Sunday became a thing of nightmares. Every morsel that touched my plate was scrutinised and my weight became a Sunday thing. I was weighed every weekend to see how much weight I had lost (or usually gained). These Sunday visits hurt me so much, I felt that I couldn’t eat anything in front of my dad and pretty soon I was eating secretly and worrying that I would be caught out. My weight became more important than being a child and having fun. I was about 8 years old.  My teenage years were splattered with bullying, being a bully, using my weight as a defence mechanism – No one started trouble with the biggest girl in the school. I took my anger out on people who didn’t deserve it and my at home I was an absolute horror to my poor mother. Subsequently I didn’t do very well in school and got an office job when I was 17.

My Job and getting signed off

My job was amazing. I sat at a desk; I ate crisps all day, hot sugary drinks, cans of coke and the wives of my colleagues made some excellent cakes and pastries, full time wages and going out drinking all the time did not help. I was on a path to destruction but it all made me feel better. Once again I was surrounded by men who never gained an ounce and ate rubbish all day. The weight piled on. At my heaviest weight at the age of 19 I was close to 24 stone. I had a stable, sit down, job in which I could pig all day. This was the end of my happiness. Suddenly I felt like the whole world was watching me. I hated getting on London Transport and I started getting cabs and lifts to work. If anyone looked at me, I wanted to fight with them.

I was eventually signed off work with severe depression; I was self harming and was damaging myself beyond repair both mentally and physically.  I was so unhappy. They diagnosed bulimia and depression and I was medicated. At one point I was on so many anti-depressants the idea of not being on them was too much to even think about. I was sent to Eating Disorder Clinics and psychiatric centres, including emergency units when I felt like it was just too much to deal with and I was contemplating suicide. This went on for years; it was like I was stuck in the NHS system and nothing was working. I used different mechanisms to lose weight; Prescription drugs such as Reductil, Diet groups, Slimming World, Weight Watchers etc. I tried starvation (one cup-a-soup and an apple per day) and it didn’t make me feel good.

2007 – the decision to have weight loss surgery

By 2007 I was so unhappy I went to my GP and asked them to refer me to Charing Cross Hospital for Gastric surgery. I had researched it and understood the concept of what would be required of me in order to make this surgery work. In January 2008 I was seen by a registrar, dietician and psychologist at the Hospital and after a few weeks I received a letter saying I would not be given the surgery. I was heartbroken. Apparently I was a high suicide risk – which never made sense to me, leave me fat I kill myself, make me lose weight, I kill myself – either way I wasn’t really given anything to work with there!

I felt like my only lifeline had been taken away from me. I was inconsolable. A week later I was back in the Emergency Psychiatric Department, severely depressed and self harming. I felt like I couldn’t leave the house without wanting to walk in front of a bus or throw myself in front of a train, I had no idea how I could carry on and as far as I was concerned there was no point. I didn’t want to live feeling like a second class citizen.

My mum came home one night and said that she had been cleared on a loan for me to have the surgery done privately. She couldn’t handle seeing me in such a bad way it was a strain on the whole family. My father has been in a 12 step programme for addiction for the past 30 years and he believed that my eating was an addiction and needed to be dealt with in the same way as drugs or alcohol. It made his attitude to my operation very difficult and I knew I made him angry by shunning his way of life but I knew it wasn’t for me, I knew unless I had a physical procedure to help me, I would never be healthy or happy.

Meeting the WLS Group and booking surgery

I met Wendy Stubbs in Harley Street in May and she was a breath of fresh air in comparison to the NHS staff, she made me feel like I mattered and I wasn’t just a name, She arranged an appointment with Roger Ackroyd and before I knew it I was pencilled in for surgery on the 1st July. The night before I started my pre-op diet, I sat down and had a delicious meal with my friends and for breakfast the next morning I started my diet. This was a 10 day stretch and this was the hardest bit as I had no restriction and the means to put back as much food as I could, but I knew that if I didn’t stick to this I was jeopardising my future. On the 1st July 2008 I ventured from London to Sheffield for the most exciting day of my life.

The day of surgery at the Thornbury Hospital

I arrived at BMI Thornbury and it wasn’t until I was sent to my room that the nerves kicked in. I have a massive needle phobia and couldn’t do the bloods before the operation, so the anaesthetist said he would take my bloods when I was under the anaesthetic. I was terrified, I was getting emotional and worried and wanted to go home. It was at this moment a red haired vision of beauty bounded into my room, she introduced herself as Michelle – The director of the WLS group, she was in the hospital and thought she would pop past. In front of me stood this vibrant, gorgeous, confident woman and she showed me her “before” picture. I looked at it, looked at her and realised how much I owed it to myself to give my body the opportunity to shine, just like Michelle did that day when she walked into the room. If I hadn’t met her that day, maybe I would be at home right now, still depressed and still hating myself.

I woke up in recovery a few hours later and all I wanted was a drink of water, I was gasping, but all I was allowed was a tiny 25ml of water to wet my mouth. I was sent up to the high dependency unit and had lots of pain relief, The nurses sat with me and watched Big Brother, they let me have a glass of icy apple juice and the pain was bad, but the staff counteracted that by being so lovely. I wouldn’t lie, the pain is pretty uncomfortable, but I have zero pain threshold and in books and stories I have read, I seem to get the impression that everyone is different. After a couple of nights I got back in the car and came back to London, I was a bad passenger that day!!! I was armed with my DVT compression socks and injections to give myself and a stack full of soluble paracetamol (which taste quite revolting). This was the beginning of the rest of my life.

Back home after surgery

Back home and the worst thing for me was sleeping dead flat on my back, I couldn’t lie on my sides or front and until I got the staples taken out, I was pretty much stuck to my sofa. The staples made you feel protective of your body but when they came out I felt somewhat liberated. I suffered from wind, I felt sick, I was sick, I survived on sugar free squash and 100% juice ice lollies, peppermint tea and light soups, I watched so many episodes of Top Gear that I feel I know Jeremy Clarkson personally, and suddenly before I knew it the pain had got less, I was taking less painkillers and I could move around in my sleep – Everyday seems to get a little easier. My appetite did not return when I was in the first month of recovery so I found the detachment from food was not as apparent, though as I said before, I understand it is different with everyone.

Pureed and soft foods were a pain. I got sick of everything having a sloppy texture, I wanted something hard and crispy, but you know deep down inside that its not a good idea and sometimes you might try something and you regret it 10 minutes later!

Once I got onto harder foods I was able to try things and see what worked best with my body. Foods I loved (not only junk foods) were out, no bread, no pastry, no dough, I have stopped eating wheat, Your tastes for things change, I loved fruit before my operation, but have never been able to get my palette back for it, so I eat vegetables to make up my 5 portions a day. There are days when you struggle and feel like crap but these are made up for when you see someone who cannot believe how much weight you have lost or you see a picture of you pre-op. I have kept all my old pictures on my Facebook page as a reminder to me and to everyone of what I was and who I am now. Food gets easier, you realise what you can eat and what you can’t. I found some substitutes for things I missed and the others I just understand are bad for me and that they are one of the reasons I had to put myself through such a drastic procedure in a quest for happiness.

My life 5 months post-op

Nearly 5 months out and I am a different person. I have lost 7 stone. I am wearing a size 18 and was in a size 28. My BMI has been greatly reduced and I can do things that before were impossibilities. I have been on holidays without the dreaded “can I get a seatbelt extender?” I have been hiking, I have bought leggings, I have bought clothes in a shop other than Evans, I can sit on the bus and not feel like I am taking up two seats, I don’t get hot and sweaty when I walk in the pub, I even went clubbing the other night and kept my coat on because I was cold and probably my biggest shock ever – The other day I ran for a train. I actually ran! We missed the train, but I didn’t care because I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out. I got healthily out of breath but in such a short amount of time I was back to normal, six months ago I would have been lying on that platform, gasping for a drink, coughing, spluttering; actually I wouldn’t of even bothered running.

I personally tell the world about what I have done. I am not ashamed and anyone who thinks this is the easy route is wrong. It’s hard, it’s a re-education, you spend a fortune on clothes, you feel sick, you get constipated, you wonder if it was the right thing to do……  I weighed 22 and a bit stone pre-op and today I weigh 15 stone. How can I complain!