Lance Scimeca: Diary of an "Odd Duck"

Let's face it. I'm not scared of much. I mean, I didn't get to be a sheriff's correctional sergeant in the Santa Clara County jails by living in fear. And at nearly 6-foot-1-inch and some 430 pounds, I imagine more people are scared of me than the other way around.

But I'll tell you, this upcoming bariatric surgery is scary. It really is. I've been thinking about it for the last several years; this was no overnight decision. But still, it's a scary idea when you think about it. Any kind of surgery is, I guess, but the idea of going in for the ultimate replumbing job . . . Well, it's more than that, it's that idea of going into an unknown, of not knowing what it's going to be like for me afterward.

Who will I be then? What will I look like? Feel like?

To be totally honest, there is one thing that scares me even more. Three years ago, my wife Tracey gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. And I know that, historically, big people don't last long. I got scared I wouldn't be here for my 3-year-old daughter, that I wouldn't see her graduate from college, that I wouldn't get to walk her down the aisle, if that's what she chooses to do.

It's that kind of fear that keeps a guy up at night, that made me grit my teeth and make the decision to lose weight once and for all.

It started early

I've been big my entire life. My mom likes to remind me she was 110 pounds, and I came out at 11. I've never looked back. By kindergarten, I was bigger than most second-graders.

I was born and raised in San Jose. I have one brother who still lives there; he's six years older than me. By the time I was 10, I was bigger than he was. I dealt with the wrath of an older brother by learning how to take a punch and how to give one. 

I had the same bright blue eyes and pink cheeks with dimples that I have now, plus bright fire-engine-red hair.

My weight was always an issue when I was a kid, but luckily I learned how to deal with it. I inoculated myself against the teasing and the stares.

Heck, people still stare at a guy who wears 6XL shirts. I don't notice it any more, but my wife does. Whenever we go somewhere, the staring starts. When we walk into a restaurant, heads turn. It's been that way for me forever, so I've become oblivious to it.

By the time I was 17, I weighed 295 pounds. I'll be 36 in June. And although I'm 430 pounds, I can bench-press 465 pounds for a set of three. I've participated in power-lifting competitions for years and have taken the gold three times. My biggest bench-press in competition was 551 pounds.

Standing out - again

So I'm kind of an odd duck among candidates for bariatric surgery. I'm probably one of the most athletic candidates to enter Dr. Mark Vierra's office. I've always been different as far as size, but I've been to those classes and seminars about obesity, and most of the people I've met there have been sedentary. I'm probably one of the most active big guys you're going to meet. Until recently, I competed in dirt-bike races. I loved snowboarding, and I tried skiing, but I'll never do that again. I about took out half the mountain.

And when it comes to disease states, I'm good. My blood pressure was a little high, but I take meds, and it's great now. That's my only size-related disease, and I'm determined to make sure that it remains the only one.

It wasn't inactivity that put on the pounds, and it was never the candy bars and cakes. Don't get me wrong; I can go literally months without a soda or a sweet, but if you put it in front of me, I'm not going to say no to it. But give me the biggest porterhouse you've got, with stuffing and a loaf of bread. It's the starches, the potatoes, the bread. The biggest thing for me is the portions. Those foods on their own are not so bad; it's just how much of them I consume.

Preparing for surgery

To get ready for the surgery, I have been doing a lot of cardio workouts. Dr. Vierra wants me on no carbs which, I believe, will make it easier for him to do his work on the inside. The bigger work for me is mental. I have to see a nutritionist and a psychologist, and there are support group meetings for prospective bariatric surgery patients.

You know, I can understand the need for support groups, but there we were, 17 females with their particular issues, and me. A lot more women go through this surgery than men. Fortunately, I'm happy with myself on the inside and in my head. I just want to be physically healthy.

I've done a lot of reading, too - mostly on the internet, which is a really good tool. I had a pretty good idea of what to expect when I met Dr. Vierra; I'd read enough about the surgery and the doctor that I felt fortunate it worked out that I have him. It's not just anyone I'm going to let go inside of me. I feel extremely confidant knowing it's Dr. Vierra.

Anxiously awaiting the big day

My surgery is next week. I'm excited, I'm nervous, I'm anxious; I'm actually a big ball of nerves jumbled up like spaghetti. I'm looking forward to it, but I also want to run away.

Mostly I'm feeling positive about it, because I know a negative attitude is only going to get me negative things. I'm just focusing on the chance to sit on the bleachers at a sporting event, to go to a movie without the arms of the seat pressing into my hips. I'd love to go snowboarding again; right now, the chair lift looks like a seesaw going up the mountain with the poor person next to me riding high. I can't even imagine what it will be like to buy clothes at a normal store.

Mostly I've had to make peace with the mystery of it all. I don't know what to expect, how it's going to transform me down the road. I have a big concern in the back of my head that I don't want to end up looking like a Shar Pei. I mean, it was a hard enough decision to have bariatric surgery. The thought of, down the road, having to have a skin tuck is scarier for me than the bypass. I know Dr. Vierra's going to do some major stuff on the inside, but I can handle a few holes from laproscopic surgery. I'm not big on the idea of putting zippers everywhere.

March 2007 is going to be a very interesting time for me. I understand the first couple of weeks after the surgery are going to be pretty rugged. What helps is knowing that in advance, so that when it gets tough I'll be able to say, 'This is what they were talking about; this is what it's going to be like for me right now.'

I worry a little about how I'm going to miss eating the way I used to. It's been a part of me, for better or worse, the majority of my life. But after the surgery, I physically can't eat like that. I know I'll be taking in only liquids to start, and I'm going to adhere to that because even worse than not getting to eat is the idea of tossin' cookies.

No turning back

And now, it's done. The die has been cast. I've made my decision. It's done, but it's not over. In fact, it's really just beginning.

I'm happy to be at this point. I'm thinking about the stockpile of pre-made protein shakes waiting for me at home. The first 14 days require a liquid or puréed diet, which is going to be kind of neat because it means it's finally here. I'm really doing this.

I think this operation is almost like having a baby. I've been dealing with this for so long, planning and preparing, meeting with doctors and going to different seminars and classes and, after months and months and months, now here I am. Boom! I've never been more ready in my life.

The aftermath

OK, to be perfectly honest, I feel a little beat up, a little nauseous from the anesthesia, but not bad. I'm a few hours out of surgery. My stomach really feels like a mixture of doing too many sit-ups and being kicked in the belly. But to tell you the truth, it's not too bad.

This morning seems so long ago now. Anything before now does. It was a long morning; I woke up at 0-300, thanks to odd hours on my weekend work shift. Surprisingly enough, I did very well. I did a lot of journaling about this experience. I was very quiet.

I dealt with everything through my writing, poked around on the internet, and then checked in at the hospital around 11a.m. I went into the prep area where they got me changed and started administering different drugs before wheeling me into the operating room. The next thing I knew, I was here, in my room. I guess everything went really well.

It all hasn't quite set in yet, but I've got this nice little toothache in my belly, reminding me it's done. The last time I ate solid food was three days ago. Two days ago, I drank protein shakes, and then nothing but water since then. Water and a bottle of that clear stuff that cleans you out. That wasn't the highlight, I'll tell you that.

At the moment, I'm not hungry. I'm sore, but not uncomfortable to the point where I can't stand it. I haven't been allowed to drink anything yet, but I did get to swish water back and forth in my mouth for a minute; that was a huge help since I have cottonmouth. I'm very much looking forward to the shaved ice and water they'll bring me in 30 minutes. I used to look forward to a porterhouse and a loaf of bread. Now, it's that cool water.

I'm excited about what the future holds - excited but calm. Everyone's running around, trying to comfort me, which is nice, but I'm OK. I'm fi ne. I always try to be in a good mental state, which is probably why I feel so calm about everything. When I get apprehensive, I talk about it or work it out in my journal. I don't hold back; and as a result, I feel much better. I think I'm just about ready to go home.

Read more about Lance Scimeca, one year later, in the Spring 2007 issue of Pulse. Read more»
 

Bariatric surgery resources Dr. Mark Vierra's offi ce 950 Cass Street Monterey 649-0808 Gastric Bypass Support Group Second Thursday of every month 6:30-8:30 p.m. Community Hospital conference rooms Designed for anyone who has undergone gastric bypass surgery, has plans to undergo the surgery, or is contemplating the procedure. For more information, call 649-2770. "The Graduate" Support Group Fourth Wednesday of every month 7-9 p.m. Community Hospital conference rooms For patients who had gastric bypass surgery more than 1 year ago. For more information, call 649-7220. The American Society for Bariatric Surgery Gainesville, FL (352) 331-4900 www.asbs.org