Placing the Stones - documenting the story pt 2

To simplify stuff, I’m going to use a few abbreviations...
MMPC - the place where I first went through the medical weight loss program
GHP - Grand Health Partners, where Dr. Paul Kemmeter now works
WtW - Weigh to Wellness, where I did a medical fast in January of ‘09 and still go for followup

Have you ever noticed that when God decides that the time has come for something, that nothing (and I mean NOTHING) ever stands in His way? You can almost imagine the Red Sea flying back to the shore, leaving very surprised fishies in its wake. God points, the path opens, and nothing can stand in the way of His will.

We began to consider the surgery option in October and November, beginning to jump through all the little hoops that so delight the insurance industry. And yet, it was more like the hoops being flattened than jumping through them. God pointed, and we followed, more amazed at each step.

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You’ll notice that I’m saying “we” a lot... no, I haven’t suddenly ascended as the reigning monarch of Olsonhaus, speaking in the Royal we. Vicki and I have both been walking this path. I might be the one whose innards were redecorated last week, but Vicki walks with me through all of it. She was the one waiting through the surgery, while I snoozed. She was the one who greeted me when I finally came back to the world of the semi-concious. She was beside me, walking the hallways and keeping me moving after surgery. She came home with me, making note of what meds I go back on, how much protein I have to take in, water intake and all of those details that make me dizzy. I’ve done the easy part - take a nap, wake up, drink, eliminate, repeat. She’s done the heavy lifting. And I try, but can never thank her enough for being by my side. Our favorite nurse said it best - “His wife will be here soon, and he’ll be well cared for.” Indeed.

We walk this path together, now and always.

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When I first considered surgery, I met Dr. Paul Kemmeter at MMPC, and we liked him a lot. But that wasn’t God’s time. Dr. Kemmeter has since become a part of GHP, and knows Dr. Turke and her work at WtW. (Anybody else seeing a connection here?) The door opened (was blasted off its hinges, actually) and we went to surgical orientation at GHP. There were appointments to keep, tests to be run, but all was finally in place. If approved, Dr. Kemmeter would be my surgeon, doing the procedure that he first recommended when we first met - the duodenal switch.

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The term “bariatric surgery” actually means a whole flock of procedures - from the Lap Banding (which places removable bands around the stomach to constrict intake) to some that aren’t even done anymore. A large number of patients receive Roux-en-Y gastric bypass - it’s not really correct to call it “stomach stapling,” since it’s more complicated than that. If you know someone who has had bariatric surgery, there’s a good chance it was Roux-en-Y. Similar is the sleeve gastrectomy, which turns the tummy into a tube. Want to know the details? Wikipedia is your friend. :-D

The duodenal switch is a two-part operation - part one is sleeve gastrectomy, and then the duodenal switch - the small intestine is divided, part connected to the liver and part to the stomach. The result is restriction of intake and malabsorption. Dr. Kemmeter put it this way - for me, the difference between Roux-en-Y and DS is the difference between trying to drive a spike with a ball peen hammer or a sledgehammer. With my body mass and everything else considered, the duodenal switch would give us the best chance at the outcome we were hoping for. Harder surgery, tougher recovery, more meticulous maintenance - and exactly where God wanted me to go.

There was a good chance that he wouldn’t be able to do both parts of the procedure at the same time. If after finishing the sleeve gastrectomy, he found that the small intestine wouldn’t reach, the operation would end. And maybe in a year or so, after losing some weight, we’d be able to go back and finish with the duodenal switch. So my only prayer about the operation became, “allow him to do both parts.”

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So we waited for insurance approval, which could take 8 weeks. And we waited on the Lord. Not patiently, with halos perched on our noggins, but we waited. And yet, patience came. And peace - knowing that it was all in His hands, in His time, and we were to just sit back and watch.

Less than three weeks later, the phone rang. “This is GHP calling to schedule Cal’s surgery.” Ok... When? “March 30th - two weeks away.” Ok... yikes. :-D

A mighty wind was blowing the sea aside. So He pointed and we walked...

Dr appointments. Down to 800 calories / day for two weeks. All liquids after 6pm on the 29th. The time flew, and yet we were in the eye of the hurricane (my friend Dr. John calls it “The Eye of a Miracle”) and all was peaceful. Reminds me of what Rich Mulllins said in The Love Of God - “Makes me glad to have been caught in the reckless raging fury that they call the love of God.”

The Saturday before surgery, we were getting “things” in order - will, patient advocate forms, etc. That was my only time of fear and anxiousness. Not for myself, but at the thought of leaving Vicki behind and alone. That was almost more than I could bear, but when one is weak God strengthens the other. Vicki had no fear, no doubt - the path was clear and she was eager to follow it. And she carried me along for a bit when my feet wouldn’t move.

Sunday morning, Palm Sunday, and God was in da house. I was doing my usual thing, playing the bass in our worship team, when He showed up and healed a connection I had been missing since January 2006 - the connection between the mechanics of my instrument and the heart of worship. I worshiped while playing my bass, and rejoiced at God’s grace. He blew away the darkness of Saturday night with the light of His presence, and it was amazing!

After the service, brothers and sisters gathered around me and prayed over me. If you’ve ever been at the center of a circle of prayer like that, you understand the overwhelming feeling of God’s presence. God met us in that circle, hearing my family as they raised us up in prayer. Praying for my only concern - that the whole operation be completed. I wasn’t concerned about anything else, but my family was - they prayed for peace, for comfort and for God’s care over both of us. Sitting dead center in the Eye of a Miracle.

Monday - more things to finish up. Got to spend some sweet time catching up with Pastor Craig, recounting all the steps that brought us here. Before we knew it, we were getting into bed Monday night...

and I actually slept pretty well. Amazing? No - it’s just like God to do that.

Tuesday morning - at St. Mary’s by 7:45am. In we go, and all is still peaceful. “Scared?” “No. Not at all.” “Really?” “Yeah. Cool, eh?”

9:45 or so, I say goodbye to my best friend and get wheeled away. She has the long wait ahead, and I get a long nap. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?

-- to be continued --

Placing the stones - documenting the story pt 1

Vicki was excited when I said I thought I was going to go and do some writing today. I know she’d never pressure me, but she wants to make sure I make note of the steps we’re taking in this journey, so that we don’t forget just where from and how far we have come.

Journey?

Yeah - I know. It’s been a long, l-o-n-g time since I wrote. September of ‘09, according to the posts on TW’sW. A lot has happened since then, but I seem to have forgotten that writing is the thing I must do - it’s how I process my thoughts and feelings, it’s where I place the Stones to remind me of the path and to help me keep sight of God when I lose faith, and it’s the place where Vicki can see what’s going on in my brain without being overwhelmed.

(Vicki will often make my eyes glaze over with details of what she does at work - the type of digital sorcery she engages in makes no sense to me whatsoever. I sometimes forget that I often do the same thing to her... late at night... in bed... when she’s trying to settle in and rest, and I’m chatting for all I’m worth as everything I’ve thought about all day suddenly tries to jump ship at the same time. If I write, those ideas get out there when she can actually see them, take her time reading them, and not feel like I just ambushed her with a fire hose...)

So, it’ll take a while, but I’ll catch you up with where we are. Then we’ll talk about it. Saddle up, buttercup...

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Last fall, almost a year out from my most recent medical weight loss program, my doctor and I began to discuss the possibility of bariatric surgery. I’ve considered it over the years, even went so far as to pursue it a couple of times only to be turned down by two different insurance companies. And frankly, I’ve always been a little scared of it.

It seems like everyone you talk to knows someone who has had “the surgery,” and you’ll hear tales that range from, “oh, they’re doing GREAT!” to “well, they did lose some weight, but now they’re bigger than they were before!” It’s all too easy to take that huge step, make some good progress, and end up worse than you were to start with because you’ve regained everything and stretched your stomach to a dangerous size. And that’s what scared me - I know me, sort of, and at the end of the day I seriously doubted I could make the kind of lasting change that would make surgery a safe and successful option for me.

But that changed...

it was in October that Dr. Turke (my doc at Weigh to Wellness) and I realized something - I was almost a year out from my medical fast in January of ‘09, and I was still at the weight I was when I finished. Actually, I had managed to lose a few more pounds since May of ‘09. And I hadn’t been doing anything to really make it that way. We looked over my history, and discovered something pretty significant: I don’t lose well, but I maintain beautifully.

It’s pretty much the opposite of most people. When I settle at a new weight, I tend to stick there, instead of ballooning back up the moment I get off of a “program.” I tend to land at the new place, and stay there instead of running back up to where I was.

That’s a biggie.

Now, back when I first went through a medical fast, I got all the way down to 366 - over 100 lbs off. And I regained back to over 460. That doesn’t sound like I stick very well, does it? So I thought...

Until Vicki reminded me that one little tiny thing happened in the middle there - losing my job of almost 20 years and becoming unemployed. And that was a very dark time - my heart was so wrapped up in that job and what I was a part of that it was a long time before I could even think straight. My heart went to stone, my joy was down the biffy, and worship became cold and stale.

Since then, I’ve learned some significant stuff. No job will ever have my heart again - it belongs to God alone. Work gets my allegiance, my best efforts, my full concentration and ability, but not my heart. So when my job at CBH ministries ended in October, I left and my heart stayed with me.

Have I recovered fully from January, 2006? Yes and no. I know enough now to keep myself and my work separate. But the wounds to my heart and my relationship with God? Still working on it. Making some progress, but working on it.

So, our original observation still stands: when I lose weight, I tend to stick there. It’s hard for me to get it off, but good when it’s gone. Knowing that, I started to explore the surgery one more time.

Little did I know that God was WAY ahead of me, as He always is...

-to be continued-

Radical Honesty

In the book “Extras” by Scott Westerfeld (fourth book of the Uglies series), we hear the term “Radical Honesty.” It’s a surgical procedure where someone elects to have their brain re-wired so that they can only speak the truth. Always. No exceptions.

My jewelry pieces are in a store for the first time - Susie Q Boutique on Knapp - and I’m having some doubts. The other person whose work is there is amazing - and it shows. Everything from her pieces to the way she has them displayed to the little cards with her name on them says “professional.” Mine don’t quite have that impact. More like “gee, I like playing with this wire stuff... wonder if anybody would buy it?”

And my prices are higher - of necessity, since I’m working with sterling silver and 14k gold filled wire, natural stones (like Malachite, which is REALLY expensive right now...) and such. Makes the cost higher to produce, thus it’s pricier. And I’m not sure it’s apparent at first glance that there’s a reason for that cost.

Then I come home and think of the stacks and stacks of CDs in the basement... and I wonder if working on the third one is even worth it.

Vicki is yelling at the monitor right now... that’s why I’m writing this while she’s at work. :-D

So I need a dose of Radical Honesty. Is the stuff I make with my hands and tools worth anything except keeping me out of Pine Rest? Is it worth the cost to produce another CD? Should I quit fooling around with these creative pursuits and get on with finding something to do that actually brings benefit (and moola) into our house?

So, if the stuff is junk, or the price isn’t justified, could somebody tell me? If I should sell the tools, refine the rest of the wire and put it all away, just tell me. Because my doubts and fears are pretty loud right now.

If the music is pablum, predictable and lifeless, say something. if the thought of another album coming out is an exercise in futility, let me know.

I don’t want to be the person that keeps on pursuing his “artistic vision” when other sane voices are saying “dude - you rot at this.” And, of course, they’re saying it everywhere but to his face... I’m not fishing for attaboys here - I honestly have self-doubt and fears and questions nagging at my head, and would not be wanting to waste time and resources for something that just isn’t worth the pursuit.

So, Radical Honesty? Anybody?...

Cold Tangerines

In the spirit of our current culture, where everything from a pimple on your hiney to global warming needs to be blamed on somebody, let me say right up front: This is all Shauna Niequist's fault. No, actually it's Tammie's fault, ultimately.

'lemmie 'splain.

For the past few years, our worship team has had the total pleasure (he said, with his sarcasm blaster set on “char”) of attending a mothers retreat at Portage Lake Covenant Bible Camp. Now, understand - there is nothing wrong with that... until you take into account that the instrumentalists in our worship team are all male. Every one of us (except for Courtney, she of the singing violin).

Tammie is Greg's wife. Greg is our drummer. Tammie is one of those who is “in charge” of the Breathe Retreat. And she's part of the worship team. Put it all together, and what do ya got?

I've been to more women's retreats than someone imbibed with a decent amount of testosterone should be subjected to (not to mention a breakfast and fashion show of “frilly things” for plus-size ladies, but that's another story... a long, horrible story... ). And God, who is always up for such things, makes sure that He drops a few bricks on my head during these events. Just to tell me to pay attention. And I'd be happy to - in a manly setting, with manly men being manly together.

Who am I kidding? I wouldn't know what to do in a manly setting with manly men if I tried... When you look up the phrase “girly man” in the dictionary, you'll find my picture there.

So, this past March, God once again used this event to whack me upside the head, in the form of a book called “Cold Tangerines” by Shauna Niequist.

I managed to miss the vast majority of it this year, so I dodged (I'm sure) a few opening volleys. But God made sure that the big one, the massive slam, the big spike, the mamba-slamba-jamba was saved for the very end, in the chapter called “Needle and Thread.” Wherein she encourages those of us who create (and actually, that's ALL of us!) to “keep going.” To continue to do what we do, to create, to make art in whatever medium we are called to. To not let our voices be silent, because they are needed. Art - in words, in paint, in digital bytes, in music, in the symmetry of a well-designed database (VICKI!), or any of the countless ways we create - is necessary. Our stories are necessary. Our voices need to be heard, and we need to hear other voices.

That was the final session of the retreat, and as I said, God saved the big guns for the end. As Shauna was sharing this, Vicki was squirming in her seat, looking at me and nodding the Psychic Friends Smile (“See? I knew you needed this. See? You need to write. See? I told you!”). I don't think it's fair that God keeps using women's retreats to kick my butt - why couldn't He take me to a Whitecaps game, and put a little note up on the scoreboard, like “Yo, lard hiney - GET TO WORK AND WRITE!!” I'd listen to that - really.

“Cold Tangerines” is a good read and definitely worth your time. Shauna writes about celebration in all moments of life, even in the tiniest places, and we need that word everyday. So ladies - grab a copy (no you can't borrow mine - Shauna signed it for me... OK, Vicki asked her to sign it for me. I wasn't going to be caught dead in line to have her sign my book...), and after you've read it (and cried over it, again, and again, and again, ad infinitum, world without end, amen), leave it in the bathroom. It's bright orange, has a friendly picture of tangerines on the cover, and he won't know it's a “chick book” until he's so far into it that he can't stop. Plus, the stories are independent, each one in a short chapter - perfect for... um... those times when one needs a little reading material.

I began admitting that I just might have to do some writing about the time I heard Shauna tell us to “not stop - keep going,” and then found (to my shock) that writing might be one of those things that I “do.” And actually miss if I don't take time for it. And now you know the reason you continue to be subjected to the random, wandering, often tedious ramblings - it's Tammie's fault. And Shauna's fault. Certainly not mine.

The will of God

“My best years in life, I’ve wasted - why would He really even care?
What have I to give that He would find worthwhile?”
“He’ll Do Whatever It Takes” - Phillips, Craig & Dean

I’ve been pondering a bit (which, as Vicki will tell you, is never a good thing...) and I found myself heading down a trail that I hadn’t been down before, and not really liking what I found at the end of it...

Background: My view of the will of God slides a bit from my Baptist upbringing. In childhood, I believed that God’s will was a trip along a razor’s edge or a treacherous path along the side of a mountain. One slip, one misstep, and you’re making that funny little whistle sound the coyote makes before he hits the desert floor with that “thud” and the cloud of dust. So, be careful little feet where you tread, because one false step and you’re headed down. And if you’re really unfortunate, you won’t hit bottom until you land in the hot place no one ever wants to go. (And I don’t mean Nevada... Or Arkansas.)

As I entered my college years and beyond, that view was replaced with the picture of our loving Father, who wants so much for His children to learn, to love Him, and to GROW. Thus, He presents different choices before us. Some of those are huge forks in the road, others little pebbles. True, the decisions we make in some of these places have consequences that are life-changing, and some of them can harm us for the rest of our days. But the concept that once you step “out” of God’s will is more like a bad decision that you have to live with, rather than missing the path and forever being lost in the darkness.

(I’m sure somebody is going to grab the ol’ KJV, head over here, and give this boy a righteous whuppin’. “See here, BOY, you got some learnin’ to do... an’ I’s the one who’s gonna learn ya.”)

I’ve always believed that God has some amazing things to do with me. He’s given me an abundance of abilities, an imagination that never shuts off, and a thirst to use those abilities to give Him glory. (all modesty intended, btw...) But, what if I already stepped off the path? Through years of not controlling my weight, through countless missed opportunities to learn self-control and perseverance, and through my own mule-headedness, what if all that potential He placed in me is now useless? What if, through my own inactivity, my lack of total surrender and my selfishness, I’ve missed the opportunity to fully use everything He designed me to be? And all I’ll ever have in the years that remain is bitterness, never having realized the possibilities that He hinted at when He made me?

Could I already have made that choice or those choices that have so limited what my options are, that the big “thing” that I always thought He made me for will never happen? Or because of my lack of discipline and drive, being unwilling to push for excellence, will I have wasted His good gifts?

This is usually the place where I turn to scripture, unearth some profound truth or reveal some insight that clears things up and brings us to a great resolution. But, not this time. I don’t have a verse, truth or insight to clear this one out. Just questions. So, I guess this one will be continued... hopefully...