Wednesday, 29 August 2012

Very low carb performance

Andreas Eenfeldt is the doctor behind who did this intervieuw: 

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

What to eat for breakfast?

The foundation of most breakfasts accoriding to LCHF is some form of eggs. I hear a lot of people say: - Oh, I can't eat that much egg, I am so tired of it! What I really don't get is that most people actually eats the same type of breakfast, year after year but when it is time to exchange that sandwich, the coffee, the yoghurt or milk with cereals it becomes soooo hard to eat anything els, approximately as often as before.

One egg contains so much nutritions and so much energy that you can managen for several hours without being hungry or crave for
                                             anything else. 
Personally I can have problems to eat something "heavy" in the morning and gladly wait a copple of hours before I eat breakfast - and it becomes a brunch instead.
My special is to bring out a small plate, put some Ham in on it, spread mayonnaise over the ham, sliced tomatoe, more mayonnaise, some slices of cheese and two fried eggs on te top. That is one of my favourites when I know I am not able to eat in many hours. (Observe that I am GBP-opereated and can't eat normal portions or amounts).

If you are NOT GBP-operated, there is no problem to add more food on your plate. As meassure, use your palm of the hand. One palm of protein, one palm of vegetables etc. You will in short time discover that your body will tell you that you are full and don't overeat as before. '

But off course there is alternatives!

Some kind of meat - smoked, grilled, fried, boild, paté etc. Put some mayonnaise and cucumber or any vegetable you like on it and let the meat be the "bread".

Eggs can be made in many different ways to: Omelette, scrambled eggs, egg-milk (?-recepie for it in the end of this article), or just fried or boiled. To mash the egg with a fork and add butter, salt and eat with diced cucumber or caviar is very nice. If you got sugarcravings - this is the ulitmate stopper for that! Belive me!

I want something crispy when I eat something soft.

My sons like to eat fat yoghurt with berries and crusched nuts and pumkinseeds. (The green ones)

You can actually make pancakes without flour and sugar! For me the fibers in nuts and psyllium seed husks makes my stommach swell so I don't eat that much of it. Just for "treats" sometimes. (This is typical for GBP-operatted people) Fry in coconutoil because butter burn them easily.

Instead of bread you can eat:

Bake a LCHF-bread with almond-flour, psyllium seed husks or coconut-flour. Cheese, cottage cheesa and other bread-toppings work great but read the Table of Contents because there is A LOT of hidden additives and sugar even in food you can't even imagine there is.
(There will be more recepies, in time)

A quick almond-sandwich:

Stir together 1 egg, 3/4 deciliters of almond-flour, psyllium seed husks, salt and, a "spoon" of butter in a plate.

Put it in the microwave oven for 2 minutes at 750 watt.

Crispy Seed-bread

1,5 dl (deciliters) of whole flaxseeds
1,5 dl crushed flaxseeds
1 dl white sesamy seeds
1 dl pumkin seeds
1 dl sunflower seeds
8 dl water
1 teaspoon of sea salt

1 teaspoon of stock (can be excluded)
Blend all the dry ingredients in a bowl and poor down the water. Let the mixture swell for at least 6 hours, until it becomes a batter.
Spread the batter thinly on two baking trays with baking papers.
Let them dry in the oven at 50 degrees Celcius for 8 hours. Open the oven door sometimes and let the steam come out. The crackers are supposed to be fully dried.
Break them in to pieces when they have cooled down.
If you eat cereals with yoghurt, eat it wit nuts, seeds or shreadded coconut.
You can also make your own müsli by mixing seeds, nuts, shreeded coconut, oil in the oven.

Instead of english breakfast:
Take away potatoes, bread and beans in tomato sauce, wich contains sugar. Eat scrambled eggs, bacon, good sausage (high level of meat), mushrooms and tomatoes.

If you drink juice, stop it now - it is a true sugarbomb! If you want to eat berries you can mix them with yoghurt or coconutmilk, to a nice, fresch smoothie!
Water with cucumber, lemon or mint is nice.
Icetea: Poor cold water over your favourite tea and put it in the fridge over night - the bitterness in tea comes from heating the water.
Tomatoejuice is also okey to drink sometimes.

4 big ones
2 dl cream
1 dl full fat milk
2 tablespoon psysillium fibre husk
4 eggs

Wisk all together and let it swell for 5 minutes and fry them in coconutoil.
The batter is pretty thick so you have to spread it a little in the fryingpan, but it also flowes out because of the heat.
Serve them with cream and berries.
If you like porridge:


2 eggs
1 dl cream
A small tablespoon of coconutflour
vanillapowder and cinnamon
30 grams of butter
Whisk eggs and cream. Add coconutflour, cinnamon and vanillapowder and whisk thoroughly.
"Fry" it on moderate heat and stir it all the time until it is a porridge. Serve it with full fat milk and butter.


3 eggs
0,5 dl cream
0,5 dl water
1 tablespoon almond flour
1 tablespoon fibrex or 1/5 teaspoon psysillium fibre husk
cinnamon or cardemum if you like the taste of it
Whisk eggs, waterand cream. Add almondflour, fibrex and spices.

"Fry" at moderate heat in a fryingpan and stir as you do with scrambled eggs.

Birgitta Höglund starts her breakfast with a bowl of mixed nuts and 20 grams of butter. Easier it can't be!

2 eggs
6 tablespoons coconutoil
2,5 dl warm water
2,5 cold water
Mix eggs, warm water and coconutoil for a minute, add the cold water. Let it cool and keep it in your fridge. It lasts for 4-5 days.
You can add flavors like vanilla, cocoa, cinnamon, ginger, mint, instant coffee or berries.

Saturday, 25 August 2012

Books to read

An eye-opening, myth-shattering examination of what makes us fat, from acclaimed science writer Gary Taubes.
In his "New York Times" best seller, "Good Calories, Bad Calories, " Taubes argued that our diet's overemphasis on certain kinds of carbohydrates--"not" fats and "not" simply excess calories--has led directly to the obesity epidemic we face today. The result of thorough research, keen insight, and unassailable common sense, "Good Calories, Bad Calories" immediately stirred controversy and acclaim among academics, journalists, and writers alike. Michael Pollan heralded it as "a vitally important book, destined to change the way we think about food."
Building upon this critical work in "Good Calories, Bad Calories" and presenting fresh evidence for his claim, Taubes now revisits the urgent question of what's making us fat--and how we can change--in this exciting new book. Persuasive, straightforward, and practical, "Why We Get Fat "makes Taubes's crucial argument newly accessible to a wider audience.
Taubes reveals the bad nutritional science of the last century, none more damaging or misguided than the "calories-in, calories-out" model of why we get fat, and the good science that has been ignored, especially regarding insulin's regulation of our fat tissue. He also answers the most persistent questions: Why are some people thin and others fat? What roles do exercise and genetics play in our weight? What foods should we eat, and what foods should we avoid?
Packed with essential information and concluding with an easy-to-follow diet, "Why We Get Fat "is an invaluable key in our understanding of an international epidemic and a guide to what each of us can do about it.

"From the Hardcover edition."

Every day, over 200 million Americans consume food products made of wheat. As a result, over 100 million of them experience some form of adverse health effect, ranging from minor rashes and high blood sugar to the unattractive stomach bulges that preventive cardiologist William Davis calls "wheat bellies." According to Davis, that excess fat has nothing to do with gluttony, sloth, or too much butter: It's due to the whole grain wraps we eat for lunch. After witnessing over 2,000 patients regain their health after giving up wheat, Davis reached the disturbing conclusion that wheat is the single largest contributor to the nationwide obesity epidemic - and its elimination is key to dramatic weight loss and optimal health. In "Wheat Belly", Davis exposes the harmful effects of what is actually a product of genetic tinkering and agribusiness being sold to the public as "wheat" - and provides readers with a user-friendly, step-by-step plan to navigate a new, wheat-free lifestyle.Informed by cutting-edge science and nutrition, along with case studies from men and women who have experienced life-changing transformations in their health after waving goodbye to wheat, "Wheat Belly" is an illuminating look at what is truly making people sick and an action plan to clear our plates of this seemingly benign ingredient.

Friday, 24 August 2012

My fat story Part 5

Now it was done! NOW I will be slim! 
I woke up in the Intense Care with tubes and a long scar, who started between the breasts lower part and all the way down under the navel. They hadn't cut in the same scar as I had three scars on top of each other, on the right side. Now, my stomach was really good looking! How many stapels who kept the scar together, I don't remember but it was many...
I was still breast feeding my son, so the first thing I had to do was to pump out milk wich was thrown away, full of anesthetics and painkillers.
The kids and my ex came to visit me but I slept most of the time and they didn't stay long. 
The day after I was moved to a regular medicine ward and it was time to start moving and also try to eat. It went fine, both getting out of bed ( I was a proe to get out beds, newly undergone surgery, even if I was much heavier than the times before). My ex and the kids came to visit every day. I thougt it was important for my kids to see me every day, especially Oliver who was just 1,5 years old. When the friday came I asked if it was possible to sleep at home over the night because of my small son and that was no problem. My ex came in the evening to get me and he had Oliver with him. I was stuffed with painkillers and still pretty affected of the surgery. Neither my body or my brain was really on top. When we were on our way to the eleveater, I see that Oliver drops his pacifier and I am to slow to stop him from put the pacifier back in his mouth. I really didn't want him to get all those bacterias in him, from the the dirty hospital floor. I started to shout several times to my ex that he shoudl take Oliver, wich ended with him getting angry at me and walked with rapid steps out to the elevater. I grabbed Oliver and when I came to the elevator, he wheezed to me "give a damn to shout" and went in the elevator and left! 
There I was with my small son in my hand and about a 40 centimeter long surgery scar on my belly, in the hospital, a friday evening..and my ex also had my car! 
I went back to the ward, crying and told wat happend but no one could "do" anything to help me...I couldn't have my son at the hospital! ?
I started to call some of my friends where I lived (neighbours), one came to pick me and my son and the other helped me with Oliver. I couldn't pick hom up, for example. I new that I wasn't supposed to breastfeed him but I did that anyway, so he could feel seccure and mum being there again. 
In the morning next day my neighbour came and helped me again and I took the tram back to the hospital. I stayed over the day and went back hom in the evening and my neighbour helpt me again. At the monday she picked him up and left him at the daycare and I got discharged from the hospital. 
In the evning, the same day, I started to throw up and couldn't keep anything in my stomach at all. I was "used to it" so I didn't panic. As long as I could take care of my kids, it didn't matter..but I got dehydrated very quickly. I arranged so I got home service through the Social services, who helped me with the kids, buying food and cleaning but after a couple of days I was so dehydrated that cried when I saw people drink things at the TV. I dreamt about watermelons and big glasses of cold drinks. I called the Social Services and they arranged for my kids to come to a foster family, so I could go back to the hospital. 
I took a taxi and a vommit-bag in my hands. I couldn't keep anything and I recognized this symptoms very well. 
In the hospital I got IV with fluids and slowly I got my fluid balance back and stopped throwing up on the sunday. I got something to eat and drink for the first time in a week and I didn't throw it up. 

I got discharged from the hospital again and my daughter called and said that the family she and my son was staying wasn't nice to her, so I took the tram right away and got my kids back home. 
No one should treat my children bad - NO ONE! Samantha told me after that the family just took care of Oliver and didn't care about her. I was happy they didn't had to stay there so many days! 
The reason why I started to throw up was because of the stress and the wonds inside of me started to swell..when I got the IV the swelling went down so I could start to eat again. 
Well, eat, yes! 
I fed Oliver with babyfood and I ate up the left overs that he didn't eat and also powder soups - 2 deciliters at the time (almost). 
I lost my weight very rapidly and already in May I had lost 30 kilos. The life came slowly back to me and I could start to move more normally. Some time in the summer I could run and catch Oliver when he ran in the wrong direction. Before it was Samantha or my neighbours who had to catch him. I was fast as a lizzard! 
My ex had returned and got Oliver every each friday or saturday and one night in the middle of the week. 
I started to go out and have fun! 
I love to dance and especially to Reggae, Ska and Dancehall. I had heard about an african club wich became my favorite place - I didn't drink, just danced and danced. I rejected all insistent invites from the african men in the clug. I was still in love with my ex and didn't want to have any new relationship. The men liked my body shape and I got pretty good in saying now to them...until one nighht in August...
One man succeded to charm me with his calm way and soft appearance. We talked all night, dances and exchanged phonenumbers. He called the next day and came to visit and kind of moved in from that day. He was very kind to my kids and helpfull in all sorts of ways - the opposite of Olivers dad. I fell in love and lost my feelings to Olivers dad - now it was definitly the end of our relationship. 
That caused a lot of conflicts, jellaousy and problems, I wont tell about in this story...

Me and Mr Jallow got married the 20th of February 1996 and he left to go back to his country, Gambia, to aplly for permission to live in Sweden with me, his wife. 
During that year, I continued to go and and dance, meet new people and loose more weight. 
In the fall my weight loss started to slow
down and stopped at 199 kilos. I lost my long, nice, thick hair and had to cut if off. 
I went to a check up, one year after the surgery and I remember the doctor asked me if I need a new recepie of B12...
- What?
- B12-vitamines
- What is that?
- Haven't you got any information about this? You have to eat B12 for the rest of your  life because your 

body can't get it from the food after a Gastric Bypass-opereration. 
- No, nobody told me that...
He gave me my first recepie of B12 and from that day I have to eat it daily. 

I didn't experienced any big problems with my GBP-surgery the first years more than if I ate to fast or to much I got a terrible pain and almost every time it ended up with me throwing up all the food. It is not "fun" to throw up unmelted food without any fluids in it. You can't drink and eat at the same time. You have to drink before or a very long period of time afterwards. I got use to drink at nights and eat at the days. Every time I threw up, the small blood vessels I have around my eyes and in my eyes bursted. I looked like I have been in a fight...
I learned what I should avoid to eat: To "hard" food for example pasta, raw vegetables, big chunks of meat and rice, especially not together. Some types of food started a racingspeed in my stomach, like pancakes, vegetarian food made of lentils anc chickpeas and probably other types of food I didn't even think about. I ate "anything" and suffered sometimes but as long as I had a toilett near by, I could handle it. It was those times where I could get to a toilett fast, I suffered.
The size of the portions was ridiculously small and most common comment was:
- Are you not going to eat more than that?
- No, I can't eat more than this. I am Gastric Bypass-opererated. 
- Oh, aha, what? You can't eat more because of the Gasric Bypass-surgery?
Some asked and some tried to ignore it. I never thougt of it that much or even talked about it. The closest of my family and friends knew about it and others did just see my big body and wondered why I was so big when I had done that surgery..maybe?
No, I couldn't eat more than that small baby-portion but it also felt good because I knew that I couln't overeat. If I did, I would throw up. I learned how to starve because than I could eat more next time. I almost could eat half of a Pizza if I hadn't eaten for at least ten hours (one year after sugery), yes, I could eat as before! 
Food wasn't that important anymore because of the lack of hunger, I couldn't eat 4-10 sandwiches anymore and cookies and candy but sure I could eat candy, especially chocolate because it just melts away in the stomach and I could eat cookies, four at the time with one hour in between etc.. I didn't stop my addiction to food - I just had it in smaller amounts and choosed things who was easier to digest. 
I didn't "miss" anything.

It is possible to eat a whole Princess Cake by your self, even if you are Gastric Bypass-opererated but it takes up to two days to eat it instead of two insuranse to not eat my self to death was in my stomach, or rather the lack of any
a stomach. 
My husband came back to Sweden in January 1997 and we started our life as husband and wife. He wanted to have a baby directly and I wanted to wait to see if our marriage worked - we didn't really knew each other before we got married. In the summer I decided that it was okey to have a baby and we also needed a bigger apartment for our growing family. 
It was not just the family who grew, I started to gain weight and my husband pointed out gently sometimes that maybe I should't eat that much cookies...but the I just got upset and he avoied the subject. He loved my big body but thought I whined a little to much about my weight at the same time as I was munching cookies...
We moved to a bigger apartment at the same time as I was pregnant in the sixth week. 
Life was good; I had a job, was married, had a nice hom and my third child on it's way, wich was wanted by both me and the father. A situtation I never experienced before. Well, under the surface it was far from perfect. There was issues, who was more difficult to deal with than the big fights I had with my ex, but ouf regards for my children I can not tell anything about it. 
One week before delivery
How to deal with Gastric Bypass and being pregnant?
Well, it puke air in the morning instead of stomach fluids, because there is no fluid in that small part wich is left of the stomach. In the end of the pregnancy I started go get stomach pains and threw up so much I had to go to the hospital. That connective tissues around my intestines was putting a stop and it even was planned for me to do surgery in my eight months of pregancy! Luckily I didn't do it - the contrast fluid for being x-rayed made the stop go away. I had to go to the hospital a cople of times because of pains and threwing up in the end. I was on a sick leave for the last weeks and the 28th of june 1998 I gave birth to a big son at 4,7 kilos wich got the name Adam. He looked like a small, brown Buddha! 
Six months later I got divorced. It was impossible to ignore the issues who was there under the surface and there I was again, single mum but now with three children. 

I went in to a fase of increadable anger, dissapointment and depression wich lasted for three years. During this period I gained almost all of the weight I lost after the surgery. I weighed around 145 kilos - with + - 5/10 kilos. I didn't care, the dream of a family was ruined. 
Who would want me know?
A single mum with three kids in three different colours, living in the suburbs, with lots of debts because I supported my family all alone for all those years. 
It was chaos inside of me.
It was chaos around me...
My focus was to keep me and my children above the surface and handle every crisis we went through. There was no easy, romantic childhood my children experienced and just that part of our life could be a "book" too, but out of regards for my children and other people involved I keep it to my self.
I was really a single mum: The fathers was barley ever there more than on their own terms, and beside that Olivers dad moved to Norway and Oliver had his own personal crisis as a sex year old. 
I didn't get any support. I was very, very alone. Without some of my friends and my own daughter, I wouldn't had done it - you know who you are. 

It went so far that when Adam was three years old I had a break down. I couldn't even speak that first week! To go and buy food was a challenge with the panic attacks under my skin. I did what I had to do and the hours in the middle of the day I was alone helped me. I came back to my work six months later.
I didn't care about my self or my weight, it was there, the surgery was more or less waisted but I can not say for sure that I had lived if I hadn't done it at all. The dissapointment to never experience getting to normal weight was there as a sharp knife in my whole existence, even when everything else took my attention. If I didn't remind my self of my apperance, there was always someone else who did. 
I realized that IF I really wanted to loose weight, I just had to start dieting again! 
I was supposed to start every monday...every summer, every new years eve, every holiday etc...
I tried Wieghtwatchers-food, ligthproducts, full grains, just eating nudlees and popcorn, walk long walks, swim three times a week, fasting on Dietpowders and it just ended with low blood sugar levels, bad mood, constipation, gastric catarrh and depressions and particularly and increadable hunger and cravings, and some kilos down and some kilos up...
It was yet easier to not eat at all then something and you have to eat or else you will die and I didn't want to die. I had three kids to take care of. It was them who made me get up every day even those days I just wanted to stay under the cover and not get up at all. 

Next part will be about the years around 2005 and Doctor Atkins Diet and the life where the backsides of being GBP-operated really showed. 

Monday, 20 August 2012

My fat story Part 4

 Well, pregnant...again! I am excluding a lot about those subjects wich is not related to my weight but a lot of thoose issues is directly related to my weight, so some private parts needs to be told about anyway.
I wanted more children and my daughter wanted a sibling. My ex-boyfriend didn't want any, and there I was in the choice between being a single mum with 2 kids or do an abortion.

I knew that my ex wasn't going to "be there", so the main question was if I could take care of one more child by my self. Nothing I really longed for but the longing for another child was stronger.

I decided to keep it. Me and Samantha lived in a pretty big three-room apartment, I had a job and was prepaired  better than the last time...anyway in a practical and financial way. What I forgot was the emotional part...

I was still very much in love with my ex and I think he was too. We saw each other regularly, and I always had that hope that we should live together again some day in the future. I was aware about  having a child without his agreement would affect the relationship negatively. I really couldn't understand why he didn't want to have a child with me, when he said that he loved me. We fought a lot about this issue and he said several times: - You are welcome to have another child, but not with me.
But now I was!
In pregnancy week 13, I went to the Maternity Clinic for my first check up. The midwife asked me to stand on the scale. It said 13 more kilos than I weighed 13 weeks earlier.


I felt how my whole inner just cramped in to a black, hard lump and I just swallowed, swallowed and swallowed. All those kilos I'd worked so hard to keep for over three years was just gone and I knew that if I could gain 13 kilos in 13 weeks, I had another 27 weeks to gain even more.
I went back home and continued to "swallow" that lump who was inside of my chest.

The next day I was on my way to work. I went with my daughter to daycare and on the way from there, the lump in my chest literally exploded. My legs crumbled and the panic welled out through every pore in my body - I had lost the control over my weight. I couldn't breath, the tears flowed and I stumbeled back home. The thought of going to work was impossible. I called my work but couldn't speak, I just cried and hyperventilated. The person who answered heard that it was me and just said: - I understand that you are staying home today. Call when you can talk.
I don't know when I stopped to cry but I don't think I ever stopped crying that year...
(My ex used to say that I had to stop crying or else his child would be insane)

The day after I called Psychologist Clinic and asked for help. I had fallen down in to an acute depression and I felt that I couldn't get out of it by my self.
I went there once a week, the rest of my pregnancy and had supportive talks with a nurse. I was not allowed to do therapy with a psychologist because of my pregnancy - You are far to vulnerable when you are pregnant.
My ex-boyfriend was informed about my condition and surprisingly, he wanted to participate, wich meant on his own terms off course.
I was still very lonley and depressed.
Danish Pastry
I worked in another town and drove the 70 kilometers to work with a bag of candy beside me as company and on the way home from work I stopped to buy fast food and more candy. When I got hom, I bought more food, pastries and more candy. Chocolate Fudge was one of my favourites but also cookies, danish pastry, bread, food and more candy.

I cried, ate and cried some more. No supportive conversations in the world could make me feel better and for each gram of weight I gained, I ate even more.
I was supposed to give birth to my baby the 12th of november 1993 and stopped working in the end of october. Now I sat at home and just waited to give birth to my baby. Added to my heavy body was very swollen feet and legs. I used slippers in november because there was no shoes who I could wear. (It was cold and snowy in november)
I succeded to find a winter jacket wich I could close in a size of an elephant...
When I was in the eight month of my pregnancy I found out from a mutual friend of me and my ex-boyfriend that he "planned" to break up with me as soon as the baby was born. I confronted him and got it confirmed, wich ended with a big fight, where he threatened to sue me if I wouldn't let him participate in the delivery. He used to threaten me with a lot of strange things but this one was probably the oddest of them all.

I didn't get exactly happier after this. I talked to my supportive contact about the situation and she helped me to realize that I already had given birth alone once and should let the father participate - for my own sake.
The 12th of november came but no baby and I had to wait another two weeks.
The 25th of november I did a ultrasound to find out if everything was okey with the baby and my ex-boyfriend was with me. I saw all those happy couples around me...
I was just tired, fat and sad and just wanted to give birth to my child...two days later I started to get  contractions - at last!
My daughter, 7 years old was as happy as me and started to prepair for her sibling to arrive, she vaccumed the whole apartment, helped me to pack a bag etc. She helped me so much with those things I couldn't do because of my big body. My ex-boyfriend came with the car and we went to the hospital.
We came in about six o'clock in the evening and the water broke right after..and the contratctions stopped! It's supposed to be the opposite.
I started to walk around the ward clinic to get my contratctions started again and once again, I saw all those happy couples...
My ex-boyfriend was actually pretty solidaric and gave me more support than I expected, nevertheless, so the decision to have him participate was good.
I got an IV to make the contractions to start again and by midnight, they started. Three hours later I gave birth to a big babyboy at 4,3 kilos. He didn't breath at first because he had swallowed faecal (the first poop) wich was quickly removed and he could breath. I didn't even react towards it because of exhaustion. They came with him and put him to my breast and he grabbed it like he never done anything else in his short life.
Oliver has come in to my life.

When I came home I could just note one thing:
I was as fat now as I was before the delivery. The jacket was as tight as before. I was in complete panic - how was I supposed to loose all this weight???
The promisse I made to my self to never do surgery again started to feel wrong...

I started to call to different hospitals and ask around how to do, to get a gastric bypass-surgery and ended up with an appointment at the surgical clinic in Sahlgrenska University Hospital.
In the clinic I standed on a scale for the first time since the beginning of my pregnancy. I weighed 150 kilos - I hade gained 30 kilos during the pregnancy. I begged for help, not just for my own sake, also for my childrens sake. There was no chance that I could take care of my children physically with that heavy weight. What would happen if I had to run? I rememebered how much I had to run when my daughter was smaller.
They put me on a waitinglist and said it would take about a year to wait for surgery. This was in the beginning of 1994. The following months I did as during the pregnancy: fighting with my ex-boyfriend, cried and ate and got fatter for each day passing. The only light in my life was my children.
Early that summer I was asked to be made of honor for a friend at her wedding. The colours was red and white and I started to search for something who could fit my big body and a wedding. In the end I found a red skirt and a top, my big arms could fit. But was to casual to wear on a wedding so after some thinking I sew a top who could hide my big arms, from my grandmothers old lace curtains.
The same summer my son, Oliver was babtised and the only thing I could wear was that red skirt and the top. In Sweden it is very hard to find clothes for big people.
My body was so heavy and it got worse every day. I just waited to get that surgery and ate anything I could find. I couldn't pick up the toys on the floor or put on my own shoes, because then I couldn't breath. I couldn't turn around in the bed without first sit up. I had to hold the washbasin in the toilett to get my legs in to the bathtub, to shower. To carry the laundry down to the laundry-house was pure hell and I had constantly pain in my back, knees and feet. Samantha had to help me to clean, pick up the toys, her small brother from the floor, help me to dress and put on my shoes etc. Without her I would probably just been sitting and not done anything at all.
My ex-boyfrend moved up to the north part of Sweden (he came down for the summer), so mainly I was alone with my two children.
The only thing who kept me alive was the thought of the surgery and to get out of the prison my body and my addiction was. I was so depressed that I was suicidal.

In the fall my ex-boyfriend moved back to Gothenburgh, to me. I remember that he wanted to have sex with me and my big body. I reluctantly agreed to do it but afterwards I cried of pure humilitation - to have sex with this big body was terrible, because I couldn't move in lying position.
Yes, it is embarrasing to wright about it, but that is how it was. Still today I can think about how big people manage to have sex because I know how difficult it is. I didn't do it again!

I started to loose patience an started to call the hospital to find out when I could do my surgery. They told me in the end of the year.
Every time I called, I got the same answer:
- No, not yet. Call again, next month.
In november I was so big and heavy and desperate and cried every time I called, they decided to see me again in the hospital for a second check up.
I met the Chief Surgeron of Gastric Bypass-surgery, an older man. He listened to me, trying to describe my hard situation, how I couldn't move, take care of my children and how it would be next summer when Oliver could run and I hardly could get up from a chair. He heard my suicidal thoughts and the conversation ended with him taking my hand and say:
- I will arrange for you to do the surgery before New Year, I promissed you that. You will get a letter form us around Christmas.
Christmas came but no letter.
New Year came but no letter.
The first week in january I called again and got the answer:
- Oh, didn't you get any letter? You will have it in a couple of days because you are listed for surgery now.
The letter came and it said:
Day for surgery 1995-02-03
My life would change for ever, the 3rd of february 1995.
I was so happy and relifed and at the same time totally terrified and panic-struck.
What will happen?
What if I get sick again, and throw up until I die? Then I can't take care of my children.
What if I die during anesthesia?
What if....!
But I could also point out that if did NOT do this I would die anyway. Probably because of some over-weight related disease or kill myself. This life was no life. I just existed and the only thing who made me get up every day, was my children, nothing else - absolutly nothing else. (Yes, it hurts to write about it...)
I didn't want to live as a fat walrus who couldn't move and who got comments and gazes every time I got outside my home.
I remember I wrote some kind of poem where I wished I could go among people without no one noticing me and "melted in" in the crowd. Not like now, when even drunken, dirty old men commented my fat body, grumpy old ladies stairing at me, kids who pointed and laughed etc.
Just some days before the surgery I was in a candyshop to buy candy for my kids and a woman staired at me and said loud and clear:
- That is the way you get if you eat candy!
I felt the tears in my eyes and the humiliation in my body and I just lost it. I took the small bag of candy and threw it towards her and "ran" out of the shop.
I was going to do surgery just a couple of days later! But she didn't know that and I didn't thought of telling her that either.

I arranged for my ex to take care of the children and he promissed to visit every day so they didn't miss me to much. I didn't know how long time I would be gone...or if I even would survive.
The day I did the surgery and cried, excusing myself to the surgeants for being so fat I weighed 172,4 kilos.
New Years eve 1995

Saturday, 18 August 2012

My fat story Part 3

I left Lycksele. I couldn't find any work in the north and got an offer to work for a restaurant close to my hometown in the southwest. I liked my new work even though it was stressful and bad salary. I was in an inviroment I loved - food. Yes, I confess, I ate a lot of the food wich was served at work. While some of the chefs and weiters secretly drank alcohol in different forms, i secretly ate cookies, sandwiches and drank soft drinks. Some of those things I ate and drank during my hell-year in Lycksele, I stayed away from. I had "tast-memories" of applejuice and blackcurrant juice, something I drank loads of, to have something to throw up, that "year". (It is lots of potassium in blackcurrants, so I tried to get more of that when I threw up)
I was acting like the starving child who suddenly have food in front of him again. I had starved for a year and there was not stop in me. The worst thing who could happen was to be broke and not be able to maintain my food addiction. Those days I stole food from the restaurant and took it with me home.
A year later I moved back to my hometown, Ulricheamn - back to my roots. I didn't like Borås, didn't have any good friends and missed my hometown after nine years of moving around in Sweden. It was time to reconnect with my passed.

I threw out the scale when I passed 100 kilos again. I got such a pure and hard anxiety when I was standing on a scale, that I just stoped doing it.
I tried to deal with the dissapointment and the wounds I had in me after the hell-year but I can't say that I succeded to do that. It was just to hurtful.

I moved to Ulricehamn  and started school again, got new friends and reconnected with some old friends. I wasn't a partygirl, I prefered to sit in front of the telly with a load of sandwiches instead. I remember that I made 2-4 sandwiches, took them to the tv-room and ate them, while I was watching TV. After a while I went out in the kitchen and did the same thing again...and again. I lost count of how many sandwiches I ate. Same thing with cookies and candy.      To buy a small box of eight cookies was a plesure who lasted for five minutes and at that time there was no big-packs to buy, as there is today. You just had to buy more then one package instead! As always there was just panic when there was not enough money to feed my addiction but the head was full of ideas - baking your own cakes and cookies or stuff, filled with sugare and other stuff I could make something to eat out of or simply borrow money from friends, to buy more addictive food. Most of my money went to my addiction and the body told me what I was doing by getting bigger and bigger.

One night in october 1985 I did something who would change my entire life. I went to Borås to dance - or more honestly - I went there to pick up a man. I just wanted sex instead of food, for once. I got what I wanted and after a "hot night" I went back home and continued my life, filled with food and munching.
Just before christmas I suddenly got a very bad stomach ache and started to vommit..all the memories came back and I just got panicked.
I threw up again and again and again and the pain in my stomach was really bad. When it didn't stop I went to the small emergency ward in Ulricehamn with my brother and they sent me to the Hospital in Borås where I was supposed to get x-rayed. I told the doctor that I probably got some kind of relapse of the "disease" I had in Lycksele, a couple of years before. It waa probalby not any wrong with my stomach it was something wrong with my  head instead.
When we arrived to Borås was the x-rayward closed för the night. (fortunately) and I was sent to the psychiatric ward instead, (My own wish) with an IV in my arm. I stoped threwing up and after a couple of days I could go back home...
...and started to throw up again!
I went back to the psychiatric ward, got IV and stoped throwing up...
I moved back "home" to my brother and father over the Christmas and threw up ever day but could at least eat some food, so there was nog big threat to my health as long as I could handle it myself.
After Christmas I went back to my own home and continued to throw up but just in the mornings and my friend who lived in the apartment beside me said that I wasn't sick - I was pregnant!
- WHAT? Me? Noooo, I am not pregnant!
The denial worked until one evening when I felt something move inside of my belly...
he next day I went to the Antenatal care and made a pregnancy test - it was positive!

I was in the 17th week of my pregnancy.
No idea even to consider abortion and just laughed coarsly to my self. How stupid could I be?
How was I supposed to be able to take care of a small child?
I lived in a one room apartment with a small kitchen in the wall, a toilett but not even a shower or anywhere to do laundry. A student (with very high rate of absence) and had no plans at all to get pregnant before 30 years of age.
What coul I do, more then just accept the situation? The baby in my womb was here to stay, no matter what I thought of it.

I had to drop the school (again), got sick leave because of the vommiting daily and not just in the morning, all day. I got a contact with the Social services who helped me with a better home and support financially. I also got a terapeuth in the psyichiatric service in town to deal with my ambivalent emotions I had towards this pregnancy wich I couldn't really handle my self. It felt like I tried to throw up my own child.
The following months my stomach grew but the rest of me reduced - I didn't get as much nutrition I needed and I went out and in to the hospital, where I got IV so both me and the life inside of me could survive. I was always put in the female clinic where there was women with cervical cancer, cysts etc - I never saw any pregnant women and almost felt ashamed when they saw my growing belly wich I tried to throw up.
In the eight month of my pregnancy I was in such bad shape that I had to go to the intensive Care Unit because the levels of nutrition in my body was extreemly low and the sounds from my baby was weak. The doctors told me that if I didn't get my levels up in 24 hours, they had to do an emergency Caesarean section, to save my child.

Again, I was laying there on a bed in a hospital, with tubes, CVK, IV with blood and minerals, a catheter and electrodes to monitor my heart and my child.
After 24 hours the crisis was over, my child "told" the doctors that she was going to stay in my womb.
When they wanted to move me to a ordinary ward for women I asked to go to a ward for pregnant women and newborns. I didn't want to se sick women again.
That was the smartest I could do! Something inside of me changed when I saw all theese mothers and fathers with newborn babies. First I got very sad because I was so lonley. No father beside me or anyone. The father of my child was not interessted at all to be a part of her future life.
But I realised one thing:
No matter if you are young, old, fat, slim, alone or have a big family around you - you can be a good mother anyway!

When it was just a month left of my pregnancy, everything changed. I stopped throwing up, I could eat, I was happy and started to really long for my baby to be born.
I gave birth to my daughter the 15th of july 1986. I drove my self to the hospital, I just had the staff around me in the delivery room and friend of my father who had promissed me to support me.
Because I was so alone, I stayed at the hospital for a week but I just wanted to go home and start my new life with my daughter.
Now did my life as a single mum start with my beatiful daughter!

I already then had strong opinions about my daughter should be allowed to eat  - she was NOT going to be a food addict as her mum! After three months of breast feeding I couldn't do it anymore, there was not enough milk for her and child care service adviced me to give her baby formula.
I gave her the best I could find!
In the 80s the fear of sugar and fat was on the top, so lightproducts and fibers was the key to paradise.
Also for the children...

She got unsweetened and fullgrainproducts and also became very sensitive: threw up a lot after eating and lots of diarrheas.Small children throw up a lot but my daughter until she was a year old. I never considdered the food, just that she was sensitive and would "grow out of it". She was a very happy and energetic child and playful.

My  hided own foodaddiction because I didn't want my daughter to get the same problem as me. Cookies, candy and such things was hidden from her and I ate it when she was asleep. She was allowed to eat sweet things too but not in big amounts. I think I did as everyone else, beside hiding my own addiction.

I went back to school, one year later and dreamt about being a journalist...
The scale pointed steady higher and higher and I thought about it all the time.
- I will never meet a man if I am this fat...
- I will never....
But I just sat there, single mum and rarley got out. Children are supposed to sleep at night and have a regular scedule of food and sleep, so my home became my "food-prison" - I ate because I was bored, frustrated, had bad conscience, I ate just because I always ate...

In 1989 I heard bout something called a obesity clinic wich the Health Care Authority in Sweden, called "Försäkringskassan" had. I decided to try to go there.
Because I didn't had any weigh-related sicknesses, there was no medical records about me, the doctor told me when I met him at the Health care clinic. He wrote in my medical record those things an over weight person has probmes with: problems and ache in the back, knees and joints. My weight was 140 kg (my so called match-weight)
A remittance was sent to the Health Care department and after some time I got the answer that I was welcomt to the Obesity Clinic in Tranås (about 300 kilometers from home), in the autumn 1989. The social services helped me to find a family where my daughter could stay while I was at the clinic. The first period of stay in the clinic was sex weeks, and then two weeks, three months in between.
 That year in the spring I actually managed to do the impossible: Meet a guy!
Of pure live I  lost sex kilos during the summer. I didn't eat countless numbers of sandwiches and cookies in the evenings when I had company...

I remember that first day in Tranås. I cried!
I was so scared, not knowing what should happen. I  can not answer exactly what scared me but it probably was just an reaction to break my addiction who followed me through life.
You just feel naked and vulnerable.
The clinic served fatfree and low calorie food. Not a cookie anywhere and just a bounch of fat people, lumbered down to the dining room drinking tea with sweeteners, fullgrain bread, low-fat margarine and low-fat cheese for really tasted just like paper! The dinners was loaded with low-fat food and raw vegetables. I had never eaten so much grated carrots before in my life! As snack we had fruit and that fruit disappeared very fast!
During the days we worked out. First water gymnastics, then strength training and fitness training and preferably a long walk in the evening. Between the exercises we ate and no food after six o'clock in the evening.
The smoking room was filled with hungry fat people in the evnings, talking! All that kind of food we missed, cookies, china-food, hamburgers, name it and we talked about it.
Some sneaked out and bought that food they missed. I did't cheat at all - I strictly followed the rules and lost about 10 kilos in 6 weeks and gained strength and condition. I remember that I couldn't even jump the first week and the last week I coud actually run! I felt great when I went back home and my motivation was on the top. I was sure that I could make this! At home I continued to worke out, swam and kept my low calorie diet. I was so good!
I lost another 5 kilos - 15 totally. I started to get comments from friends and acquaintances that I got so "slim and good looking". I still weighed over 100 kilos...
At Christmas I did a big misstake: I thought I could indulge my self by eating "normal" between Christmas and New Year.
I did that very! It is insane how much food we eat in Sweden at Christmas and not just a number of different dinner dishes, also cakes, cookies and lots of different candy.
When New years day came, I couldn't stop my self...but I managed to gain 2-3 kilos and loose them again wich meant that my weight was constant. I didn't get fatter but not slimmer either.
When I came back to Tranås the weight was the same as when I left. The only thing who had happend was that I had started to get bad cramps in my stomach after eating.
One evning in Tranås it got really bad and I started to throw up and got worse very quickly - the pain I had was insanly hard and I just cried, lying down in doubble at the floor in the toilet, holding my arms around my stomach. The Ambulance came and drow me to the next big city, Växjö, where I got an emergancy surgery - I gotten connective tissues surronded my intenstines wich blocked the food to come out the "normal way" - that's why I threw up so badly. It is similar to bowel obstruction >>>>>>>>
That pain was probably the worst kind I ever felt in my whole life, and considdering the things I been through I got some comparisons, sort of speak.
The doctor told me after the surgey why this happend to me: - When you open the abdominal cavity for surgery it starts to grow connective tissues afterwards who can cause stops in the intestine. I asked if this could happen again and got the answer, yes, no and maybe. You never know if or when.
Nothing bad with some good to it - I lost another 5 kilos that week! I weight "only" 110 kg when I came home from the hospital.
The next day I went to rest on my be and suddenly I felt something wet on top of my stomach, the whole bandage was soak in some red-yellow fluid. I got really scared and rushed to the hospital (Me and my boyfriend lived togethter and had moved to Borås).
I had gotten a bad infection in the scar from the surgery and on of the surgery stamples had fallen out. The doctors was surprised over the infection because it is very rare to get an infection connected to stomach surgery, because there is so many bakterias in the stomach and as the doctor expressed it:
- You can spit in to the belly without anything bad will happen but if you opereate in a knee you have to be very careful and supersterilized.
The three following months I had do change bandages three times a day. Nurses came home to me and did it and in the end my boyfriend did. It had to heal from inside and out.
The ordinary life came back - yoyo-dieting to keep my weight in control and tried "everything" to loose weight. I even tried to stop eating and lived on water and Spirulinapills during five weeks. I didn't loose one kilo but 5 centimeters in my waist.
I begged my dear boyfriend not to buy candy and cookies but he just thought I had to learn how to control myself...well, that was something I was really good at...
I hided my foodaddiction, even for my boyfriend. When there was no cookies in the house, I sneakde out in the kitchen and ate the dinner left overs, especially the rice. Jasmine Rice tastes so good! My boyfriend is from Iran and the way they cook rice is so tasty, with lots of oil and ha hard crust in the bottom. My boyfriend was slim, even underweight and could eat anything without gaining weight. Many evenings in front of the teve, munching pistachios, persian candies and also swedish. I struggled hard to keep my weight, up a couple and down the same couple of kilos. I succeded to stay around 115 - 120 kilos.
The relationship I lived in was filled with stormy fights and ended with a separation, wich in next step ended by bouth of us moving to Göteborg (Gothenburgh) to seperates apartments in seperat living areas but we continued to see each other from time to time. The feelings for each other was to strong to completly break up the relationship.
The 20 of february 1993 I became a resident of Gothenburgh, two days later I got pregnant.
That was the year I lost the control over myself completley.
That will be part four!

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

My fat story Part 2

This part will be about the time in Lycksele, a small town in the north of Sweden. 
I moved to Lyckslele the same year, as i turned 18 years old. A year later I applied to a course in restaurant - and food service training. In that school I became friend with a woman who told me about her over weight friend wich had done a "shunt-surgery" at the hospital in Lycksele and lost about 50 kilos and felt sooo good!
I had never heard about such things before; that you actually could do a surgery wich could help you to gain normal weight, but at the same time it also sounded very scary. 

I was definitlly over weight but, to do a surgery to get slim? Creepy! 

I was terrified for needles, knifes and sharp things and just the thought of putting my self in that situation sounded very scary. 
Included in the restaurant-education we had to do a health examination and when I met the doctor I told him about my thoughts of this type of surgery. He listened to me, noticed my tears and desperation and said to me that he could put me on a waitinglist för this surgery because he was one of the surgeons who performed this special surgery. I asked about meeting a psychologist, during the year who was the normal time to wait for the surgery. I felt that I wasn't really ready emotionally for this big step of changes. 
There is not much info on the internet about this type of Intestinal bypass because it is not performed anymore. 
 I think this is how it is supposed to work anyway:
The food you eat will pass faster through your intestinals because the small intestine is shortened by.... meters? It was meters but how many, I don't remember. Full length of your small intestant is 10 meters anyway. 

Well...I got a year to think about this!

Or not...I was put in line in november 1981 and in january 1982 I got a letter from the hospital that I was welcome to take blood samples before the surgery in...february!!!
I didn't get that year of menthal preparation at all!
Suddenly I was laying on a gurney and gave 15 tubes of blood! Yes, I am not kidding - it was fifteen! I got x-rayed, examined and all sorts of things to be sure that I was healthy enough to make this surgery. 

The second of february 1982 was the day I did it. I weighed 142,5
Then the hell began. 

I woke up from the anesthesia with stiches from the top to the bottom of my belly and the first thing I did was to throw up, and was told that it is a "normal" to anesthesia for some people. The difference was just that it never stopped throwing up. I asked daily for the next two weeks when I could go home and the answer was always the same:

- When you stop to throw up. 
One day I didn't throw up and left the hospital the same day. Happy, I went out to my mum and had dinner there and in the same moment I stepped out of the car, outside my own home I threw up the whole dinner. 

I comforted my self that I probably ate to much or to fast and went indoors and just got inside when I had to throw up again...and again...and again. After I while I couldn't sit on my knees in front of my toilet and took a chair and sat in front of the zink in the kitchen. I sat there for hours...
When the "yellow" was finnished in my stomach, the brown, sour, bitter fluid came up, wich was so hurtful, my throut felt like it was corroded - then I went to the emergency. (I lived very close to the hospital)
I got registered again, and got IV and the same thing was said: - You can go home when you stop to throw up. 

This situation was repeated for the next period of time: Went home, started to trhow up, went back, stopped throwing up for a day and went back home and return back to the hospital when I couldn't handle the vomiting, my self. The doctors didn't know what to do and startet to say that this might be a psychological reaction, that I had anorexia. I got very angry when they said it, because I was completley sure, that I definitly didn't had any Anorexia! But when I didn't become any better in may, my whole existence was so drained of energy, I just said: - Send me to the psychiatric ward or where ever you want - as long as I stop throwing up! 

In May they sent me to the psychiatric ward in Umeå University Hospital (140 km away from Lycksele).  
I got my first anxiety attacks when the food was served and my tastebuds (palates)had stopped working so everything I ate tasted like paper. I was treated as IF I had anorexia, wich meant that I had company by a nurse at the dinnertable and during the rest after eating as support to not throw up all of the food again. That didn't work at all - I didn't keep my food more than a minute or a copple before I ran in to the toilett and threw all up again. 
They gave me psychotropic drugs against anxiety and depression wich also was to stop feeling nausea. But they missed that I never felt nausea! I just threw up!

Because I was in the hospital of free will I could also go back home if I wanted to. I just hated to be in the hospital so I tried to go home at least every weekend. The demand from the doctors was that my mineral levels was normal (potassium, calcium, sodium). They gave me this minerals as supplements every day. My levels was always to low but I went home anyway. They couldn't stop me! Sometimes I was in such bad shape, that I couldn't manage to stay home for the weekend and ended up in the emergancy in Lycksele and got transported back in ambulance or taxi to Umeå. 

It is hard to write about this, partley because I don't rember all and those recollections is just fragments of tubes of blood, IV, vommits, anxiety, depressions, tears, pain, loosing weight, medicines and therapy. Depending on wich of me who was in worst shape I was in different departments of the hospital also. If I was in mentally bad shape I was in the psychiatric ward and if I was physcially worse I was in medicine departments.  

Half of the hospital knew me! 

In the summer the psychiatric award closed for two weeks and I wanted to go to Ulricheamn (my hometown in the southwest of Sweden) to spend theese weeks with my dad and brother. I started to vommit so badly in the train down to the Ulricehamn (to travel with train from Lycksele to Ulricehamn is around 18 hours) so when my brother met me at the trainstation, he almost had to carry me to the car...I also had gained burning wonds on my legs, feet and arms because of tanning wich is not a good thing to do when you don't have enough fluid, minerals and vitamins in your body. I got second degree burning blisters. 

Because of this state of my body, I also had some kind of pain inside of my feet and legs at the same time. The pain was so bad that I couldn't walk so much at all. I got weaker and went in to the hospital in Borås (neighbour town) and the doctors wanted me to immediately go back to Umeå. 

I didn't want too! 
But I got worse so there was no other option. My brother practically carried me in to the train (again)...and the morning after when I arrived, I crawled out from the train and sat down on the stairs in front of the station house and waved to a taxi driver who drove me to the hospital. 

I ended up in a medicin ward and I was very close to collapse totally. I got a new pill to try, against nausea, but it really was a psychotropic drug, called Hibernal, wich I know now it is an antipsycotic drug wich is not used anymore. (Nobody told me that then)

During the next 2-3 weeks I didn't do much more than: sleep, throwing up, slept more, threw up more, took blood samples, changed IV-needles, threw up and slept some more etc...
Time to change ward apartment! 

Tappde håret så jag var tvungen att klippa mig kort.
 By that time I was a zombie/ a living dead. I got a Central venous catheter and got blood, fat, vitamins and minerals through that. All the stuff a person needs to not die and as a bonus I got 24 hours surveillance from the hospital staff. I was never alone but not especially social to be with either. It was just annoying to have a person sitting in my room and followed me when I wanted to smoke, (I chainedsmoked 2-3 cigarettes at the same time) and tried to cheer me up. I hardly answered when they switched from one person to another. They said that they had to monitor me because of the CVK, wich could kill me if there was any air bubbles in it but afterwards I found out that they thoght I was suicidal.

By that time I had lost 65 kilos since february - in less than six months. Somewhere inside of my dark inner mind I thought: IF this is goingt to continue I want to die but I hadn't given up...yet..but this was no life. I didn't live, just existed.

I nagged daily about going to the hospital in Lycksele - I wanted to at least se my home from the window. 

After a copple of weeks I started to feel a little bit better and slowly came out of my black cocoon. I remember a friend came for a visit and I actually laughed (wich I completly stopped doing) and also asked for a slice of pizza. He bought it for me and I ate it with appetite and didn't threw it up! I was so HAPPY! 
The doctors noticed the improvment and thought it was okey to transfer me to Lycksele. 

When I arrived to the hospital in Lycksele the director of surgery told me that I HAD to re-operate! 
(You could actually put back the part of the small intenstent wich they had disconnected.) I got really upset because I felt that I was getting better! They didn't want to listen to me and just pointed out that they would do it no matter if I improved or not. The reason was that I was slowly dying. 
The day after I did the surgery and woke up from the anesthesia with terrible pains and got lots of morphine injections, wich I got an allergic reaction to...

I got strict orders to not to talk to the other patients at the ward about the reason of me being there - it could worry those patients who was doing the same surgery as me. 

After a week I was sent home!

I remember I went to the restaurant where my friends used to hang out and ordered the food of the day, ate as much as I could and didn't throw it up!

I don't remember why or what really happend but I had to go back to the hospital again. I had so much pain in my legs and feet that I couldn't sleep more than 30 minutes at most, so after about a week I couldn't stand it anymore. The night nurse gave me lots of sleeping pills and I slept for an hour and got some more sleeping pills wich didn't change the fact that I woke up again. She told me the day after that she had never given anyone that big amount of sleeping pills ever, and not even sleep on it...the pain was to hard.

I stayed in the psychiatric award from october to january and changed some of my attitude against being sick and needing help:
- I realised that I was sick and I needed help or else I wouldn't get well. I went trough many different states and prolems theese period but I can´t write about it - it is just a blur of memories in my head. 
Almost exactly a year after I could leave the hospital in Umeå and go home. 
I had lost 65 kilos and had memories with me wich was so painful that I didn't want to remember them.

When I finally got home and considered well, I started to binge. I hadn't eaten normally for a year! I ate EVERYTHING I missed eating and the kilos slowly went back on my body. When I had gained 15 kilos I returned to the surgery department and asked for help, to stop my binging and the answer I got was:
- Take it easy. You will not gain more weight now. We can't do anything for you. 
They really didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore - I was a failed example. 
Got that confirmed when one of the daily News Papers found me and did an interview about my hell-year. 
A journalist talked to me for two hours and also told me that she had to get an approval from the hospital before she could publish it in the newspaper. She never got that approval. My case was closed for the public. 

I gained all my weight back but it took a copple of years. It took even longer time to recover mentally...if I ever did. It still hurts to think and write about that year. The year I lost in my life. 

The next parts will be about the years to the next surgery.