Chrissy, a friend and former co-worker who's had two children, noted on e-mail that since I'd lost 20 pounds since the operation, I'd probably have to get a whole new wardrobe.
I'd hoped that perhaps I could get rid of some of the really big clothes, maybe the ones that made me feel huge, and gradually replace the rest.
But something about that e-mail made me go upstairs and pull out a couple tops and some pants.
It appeared during the 5 days I'd been gone, someone had stocked my closet with clown clothes.
Waking up in the hospital, I noticed immediately that my stomach fell down and away from my rib cage, instead of bulging up and out. By the fourth and fifth day, I was sitting up Indian-style in the bed, which I hadn't done since my early 30s. After that, apparently the kidneys had taken over, shutting down my breathing as they pushed up into my lungs.
I've written elsewhere about my size 10-12 hips and thighs and size-24 waist, but the fact I could now pull every shirt I owned out to 6 inches from my waist really brought the message home. What had disappeared had disappeared from my hips to my rib cage, leaving it concave instead of convex.
I forgot to measure my waist before I went in for surgery, but I'm sure it was over 50 inches.
But I guess I didn't realize how far I'd come until Randy took me to Target to see if there were anything on the clearance racks that came any closer to fitting me. I found a pair of leggings in medium -- an avenue closed to anyone shaped like I was.
With an armful of tops and sweaters -- seriously, who knew what size I might be at this point? -- I went into the fitting room. I was feeling shaky and lightheaded -- this was Saturday and certainly the most exercise I'd had since before surgery.
I pulled on a long, thigh-length sweater that clung too close to purchase. But what it clung to was an obvious waist. How many years had it been since I'd seen that? How long had I been wearing women's elastic-waist knit pants and men's T-shirts and sweatshirts I got at Goodwill? How frantic was I during the months it looked like they were going to leave my kidneys in? And for how many years before that had I blamed myself for being "fat"?
One of the things my surgeon told me right before the operation was "You'll feel so svelte!" Genius, procedure and technical capability put aside, she knew.
I certainly never expected to look svelte again, and it's a shock every time I look in the mirror. People at work say just seeing me walk by in the corners of their vision, they're not registering it's me.
So, apologies to Target shoppers on the afternoon of Saturday, Nov. 20. The woman bawling and clinging to her ever-understanding husband was me.
I know -- I've had my life saved and, on top of that, the quality of my life given back to me. This shouldn't matter so much.
But perhaps to a woman --and certainly to this one, it does.
