Growth Beyond Obstacles

There are some life updates that are easy to write, and then there are the ones where you sit with the words for a while because you are still processing what they actually mean for your life. This is one of those updates.

We have officially reached the point where I have to have a revision of my gastric sleeve.

This is no longer something we are simply looking into or considering. After everything I have been experiencing, the revision needs to happen, and right now we are working toward hopefully having surgery within the next four to eight weeks.

Even writing that feels surreal.

I had my vertical sleeve gastrectomy in December 2024, and when I made that decision, I obviously knew bariatric surgery was going to change my life. What I didn’t know was that less than two years later, I would be preparing myself mentally and physically to go through another bariatric surgery.

Before I go any further, though, I want to make something very clear because I know one of the first assumptions people can make when they hear the words “bariatric revision.”

This is not because I regained my weight.

Yes, I have gained back a small amount of weight from my lowest weight. I have always tried to be transparent about this journey, so I am not going to pretend that the scale has never moved in the opposite direction. Bodies fluctuate. Life happens. My body has gone through an incredible amount of change.

But the small amount of weight I have regained is not why I need another surgery.

The reason is acid.

I can taste acid almost every single day.

It has become something that I have unfortunately gotten used to experiencing, even though I know it should never be considered normal. It isn’t simply happening because I ate something spicy or acidic. It isn’t because I suddenly stopped following everything I learned after bariatric surgery. This has become an ongoing complication following my sleeve, and we have reached the point where it needs to be addressed surgically.

That distinction is incredibly important to me because bariatric patients already deal with so much judgment surrounding food, weight, and the decisions we make about our bodies.

When something goes wrong after bariatric surgery, it can feel like the first question is always, “Well, what are you eating?”

But sometimes it isn’t about what you ate.

Sometimes you can follow the plan, make the lifestyle changes, lose the weight, take care of yourself, and still experience a complication.

That is where I am.

I don’t want to spend this next chapter blaming myself or questioning every food choice I have made since December 2024. I don’t want to look at another surgery as proof that I somehow failed.

Because I didn’t.

My sleeve changed my life.

It gave me an opportunity to completely change my relationship with my health and with my body. It helped me accomplish things physically that once felt impossible. It taught me about nutrition, protein, hydration, movement, strength, discipline, and probably more patience than I ever wanted to learn.

It also taught me that health is so much bigger than a number on a scale.

And now my health requires me to make another change.

Over the next several weeks, I will essentially begin preparing for bariatric surgery again. We will be following the preparation process from the first time, including going back through the two-week liquid diet leading up to surgery.

I remember that part very well.

Anyone who has gone through bariatric surgery knows that the liquid diet is its own mental challenge. You know why you are doing it, and you know there is a purpose behind every step of the process, but that doesn’t necessarily make it easy.

The difference this time is that I know what is coming.

I’ve done the preparation. I’ve walked into the hospital. I’ve woken up after bariatric surgery. I’ve gone through the stages of introducing food again. I’ve learned how to listen to a completely different digestive system. I’ve had to relearn hunger, fullness, hydration, protein, and what my body will and won’t tolerate.

There is something comforting about knowing that I have already proven to myself that I can do hard things.

There is also something intimidating about knowing exactly what those hard things feel like.

Both emotions can exist at the same time.

I can be nervous about another surgery while also knowing it is necessary.

I can wish I didn’t have to do this while still being grateful that there is a path forward.

I can be frustrated that my body developed this complication while still being incredibly proud of what my body has accomplished.

And I can acknowledge a little weight regain without allowing it to become the explanation for something it didn’t cause.

That last part matters to me.

Our society puts so much emphasis on the number on the scale that it becomes incredibly easy to judge an entire health journey based on whether that number went up or down. But my decision to undergo this revision isn’t about chasing a lower number.

I want to stop tasting acid every day.

I want to protect my health.

I want to be able to live my life without accepting a complication as my new normal simply because I already had one major surgery.

And if taking care of myself means having another surgery, then that is what I am going to do.

I also don’t want this revision to erase the story of my sleeve.

I will always be proud of making the decision to have my VSG. I will always be proud of the person who walked into that hospital in December 2024 knowing that her life was about to change. I am proud of every pound lost, every healthier decision, every workout, every milestone, and even every struggle that taught me something along the way.

A complication does not erase success.

Needing another surgery does not mean the first one was meaningless.

And changing the plan does not mean I failed.

If anything, this experience is teaching me another lesson about what it actually means to take care of myself.

Sometimes taking care of yourself isn’t exciting.

Sometimes it means appointments, testing, uncomfortable conversations and another surgery.

Sometimes it means knowing that in a few weeks you will once again be drinking your meals and counting down the days until surgery.

Sometimes it means admitting that you’re nervous while still moving forward.

And sometimes growth is simply accepting that the path ahead looks different than the one you originally imagined.

That is exactly where I am right now.

The next four to eight weeks are going to move quickly. There will be preparation, appointments, the two-week liquid diet, surgery, recovery, and another period of learning what my body needs from me.

I’m sure there will be good days and frustrating ones.

I’m sure I will have moments where I question why my journey had to take this particular turn.

But I also know myself differently now.

I know that I can advocate for my health.

I know that I can do difficult things even when I don’t necessarily want to do them.

I know that my body deserves to be cared for rather than blamed.

Most importantly, I know that this revision isn’t the end of my VSG story.

It is part of it.

Growth Beyond Obstacles has always been about recognizing that growth doesn’t happen in a perfectly straight line. Sometimes life changes the direction for us. Sometimes our bodies change the direction for us. Sometimes we have to adjust the plan we were convinced we would follow forever.

So that is what I am doing.

Over these next several weeks, I am going to prepare myself physically and mentally for another surgery. I’m going to follow the process, go through the liquid diet again, listen to my medical team, listen to my body, and continue taking things one day at a time.

And I am going to continue sharing the journey honestly.

Not just the weight-loss pictures.

Not just the milestones.

Not just the victories.

But this part too.

Because maybe someone else who has gone through bariatric surgery is sitting somewhere right now dealing with reflux or another complication and wondering what they did wrong.

Maybe someone needs to hear that complications can become part of the journey without defining the entire journey.

This wasn’t the next chapter I expected to write.

But it is the chapter I’m living.

And four to eight weeks from now, I may be beginning another major part of this journey.

I’m nervous. I’m hopeful. I’m frustrated that it has to happen, but I’m also ready to get to a place where tasting acid every day isn’t part of my normal life anymore.

So, here we go again.

Another preparation.

Another liquid diet.

Another surgery.

Another recovery.

And another opportunity to remind myself that changing the plan doesn’t erase how far I’ve already come.

It simply means my journey is continuing in a direction I didn’t expect.

Discussion Question: Have you ever had to change a plan that was working for you because circumstances outside of your control changed, and how did you learn to accept that changing direction wasn’t the same thing as failing?