February 25, 2002

Well, let's see.  I haven't written in here since the end of last October, so I guess it's about time.  A lot has happened since back then.  I have decided that I want to be a country singer after I graduate from college, and have already looked into getting a job based in Nashville...of course nothing solid yet, as I still have another year of college left.  I have also made another decision.  Well, I did lose weight on my last diet (23 pounds, to be exact), but of course gained every ounce back during the Christmas break when I went home.  I have decided to have the roux-en-y gastric bypass surgery.  It's weird, but in a way I feel like there is hope for the future now.  It has made me extremely anxious to get home, though.  I am probably not enjoying Mexico as much as I should in my anticipation, but frankly I don't care.  I am ready to move on with my life and I don't want to be trapped inside myself anymore.  My mother was very accepting in the beginning, but then she saw one of those special reports on a certain Friday night news program that reported how the surgery is as, or possibly more dangerous than, open heart surgery.  I realize that this is a serious procedure, but I think these people are poorly informed, as they have been several times in the past.  Well anyway, now my mother is really worried that I will be deformed in some way if I go through with the operation, but I told her that I want to do it anyway and I really want her support.  She said that she would respect whatever decision I make about it, so I hope she does.  I had another experience this weekend that also clears away any doubts I may have had about having the surgery.  I went to Michoacan (a state in Mexico) over the past weekend, to see the migration of the butterflies.  We took an eight hour bus ride both ways.  Well, on one of the buses, we (my friend, Ailla, and I) were two of the last people to get on, and we had seats in the seventh row.  When I lumbered my body up the steps of the bus, I found much to my horror that I was too fat to go down the aisle, and I'm not talking just a little.  There was physically no possibility of me fitting down the aisle.  So I asked the four people in the front row if any one of them would be willing to go back.  No one said a word.  I was getting exhausted from standing at this point, because as I have said before, I was born with very weak knees and combined with my weight, I was soon brought to kneel on one knee in front of every one.  There were also people still outside waiting to get on the bus.  After a few seconds of nothing happening, a couple in the second row went back to where our seats were, but I still could not even get to the second row.  Finally, I asked the man right in front of me if he would be willing to just go back one row to the newly emptied seats.  He answered (in Spanish): "We waited for these seats.  Go get on a different bus."  I was so shocked that I didn't know what to say.  Finally, after a few more seconds, his wife said "Lets just go back there," and they very angrily moved to the new seats.  It was very similar to the airplane incident and I pray that it may never happen again.  Another incident took place about a month ago.  One of my friends was having a birthday party at his house.  Being so, I decided to wear my leg brace, and walk.  No real problem, as I figured I would just find a couch and sit there, and that would be that.  Well, it turned out that when he said his house, he actually meant the small restaurant downstairs from his apartment.  Again, I figured no problem.  So I walked inside (having left my wheelchair in the trunk of his car) and did a split as soon as I walked through the door.  Someone had spilled liquid on the floor.  I hope I don't need to tell you that a fat, un-stretched man wearing a leg brace does not find a split as the most comfortable position.  Three or four guys came running to help me up, but of course I knew they could never lift me, so I just told them to stand back and I would just get up myself, which I did...much to my horror.  The entire place was filled with plastic furniture.  There was not a wooden or metal chair to be seen.  The panic started to set in, but I figured I would give it a try.  I could always have them get my wheelchair out of the car if it didn't work.  So I tried one, and much to my amazement, it held.  So with confidence, I joined in the conversation.  (I didn't order anything to eat or drink because I hadn't brought any money because my friend said the party was at his house, so I was the only person there who didn't eat or drink all night.)  After about fifteen minutes of conversation, I realized that I was sitting a lot lower than anyone else.  I looked down, and the legs of the chair had started bending right out from under me on all sides.  I casually kept adjusting myself in different positions over and over again until the pain from my legs and feet could take it no more.  Finally, one of my friends noticed that I was having problems and offered to get my wheelchair.  I reluctantly said yes as I had no other choice.  So he asked my friend with the car if he could get my chair out of the trunk, but he said that he had lent the car to another friend to run into town and had no idea how long they would be gone.  So continued the saga of agony and embarrassment along with a conversation completely encircling my weight problem and how I could fix it and how they would all help me.  Ugh!  After about another hour of pain we realized that I couldn't take any more and the friend with the car went up to his apartment and brought down a steel chair which I thankfully accepted.  We stayed a while longer and then left.  All in all, I met some pretty nice people and would not go through it again for anything in the world, as I find is the case with a lot of my experiences.  Well, I guess I've talked enough for tonight.  I will try and be more consistent with these journal entries, as this is something that I think will be good for me.  Bye for now.