June 19th was the second anniversary of my gastric bypass surgery. It’s not a surgery that is “done” and is then just over – I keep dealing with what happened every single day, if I want it to be a success. I have to eat a certain way – certain things are “off the table” for the rest of my life if I want that little pocket to stay little and keep doing what it does properly. As much as I want to eat a potato chip occasionally, I remember sitting on the side of the interstate between Christiansburg and Wytheville one night in the dark as semis whizzed past my friend Kandy and me in my SUV on the side of the road because, at dinner at Macado’s, I thought, “Surely six little potato chips won’t matter.” They did matter. And I’m thankful for that experience, because I’ve never tried it again.
When I first saw Dr. Gray, my surgeon, in November 2023, I weighed 300 pounds, which was not my heaviest (that was 330, several years earlier), but I needed help and was ready to give up. I had reached a point where my gastrointestinal system was working against me in horrible ways. Everything I ate gave me heartburn. Everything. And I had reached the point where I was looking at wearing disposable diapers for adults because my bowels didn’t alert me in time that they were about to let loose – especially when I was sleeping at night. I was mortified when I went on a pleasure cruise with my best friend and experienced explosive diarrhea that took me an hour to try to clean up in the dead of night, trying to hide it from her because I didn’t want my best friend to know about my medical condition. But she woke up, of course, and, after thirty minutes or so of hearing my scurrying away in the bathroom, asked if I was okay. I started crying and said no. She opened the door and said, “Oh, Chrissie! What can I do?” And all I could do was apologize for ruining the bathroom. I asked her to just let me keep cleaning, promising to get it cleaned up. I also asked her for a plastic bag for my pajamas because my pajamas were totaled. I’d only brought one pair. I had to bag them and use the onboard laundry service, which was equally embarrassing. That was May 2022.
I continued suffering for another year and a half after that, afraid of what might be wrong with me, not knowing what to do, eventually ending up back in the office of my gastrointestinal doctor, Dr. McKinney. He asked if I’d considered gastric bypass or a sleeve. We all knew I was struggling with my weight – Russ was in the room with me. I took a deep breath and asked if he really thought it would help. He said, yes, he did. He went through some names of local specialists, none of whom Russ liked the reputations of through his work at the hospital.
Then he mentioned Dr. Gray. Russ didn’t know anything about him, but started investigating him while we waited to get an appointment. Russ had worked closely with his wife, Dr. Jannelle, who had worked at Ballad on contract during Covid. He really liked her. We met with Dr. Gray. I was so nervous. I just knew he was going to lecture me about my weight, my bad habits, everything I’d done to get to 300 pounds. He was so kind, so sweet. The only thing he lectured me about was Goodies powders, which I was addicted to – I took them every day. And they were tearing up my gut and my esophagus. He told me I had to promise to quit Goodies or he wouldn’t take me on as a patient. I never took another Goodies after that. My heartburn lessened. It didn’t go away, but it decreased. Everything I ate still hurt me – either my gut or my butt – but I started exercising and I lost twenty-one pounds between November and June 19th when I had my surgery.
That was two years ago. I never had a numeric goal when I started this journey. My goals were things like taking a walk without having an asthma attack. Check! Being able to fit on the roller coasters again at Dollywood. Check! Fitting on an airplane seat without a seatbelt extension. Check! Leaning over to tie my shoes without crying. Check! Not crapping myself in my sleep, anymore. Check! Not having heartburn every day and every night. Check! My goals weren’t numbers – they were for a better quality of life.
Doctors don’t work that way. They like numbers. Apparently, Dr. Gray always had in mind for me to lose at least 100 pounds. As I would plateau, he’d tell me I needed to hit the gym more. Which I did need to do, but I hate the gym. I always have and I always will. If I could work out in Birkenstocks, I’d give it more of a chance. They don’t let you walk on a treadmill in Birks, though. And I keep having to have procedures that impede my gym progress. Thank goodness for the big flat area at the casino, so I can go out there and walk around. (I’m not a nature walker – I’m a nature freak: put me out in nature and watch me freak!) But, yes, I need to walk more, need to life weights, which I don’t enjoy doing because of the stress and strain it puts on my abdomen, which may mean that something has gone wonky with that after the surgery I had in December. I don’t have any more check-ups with that office, so I really have no way of knowing until I go to my gynecologist in a few months and see if she sees anything sagging or drooping – then I can make another appointment with the specialist if I need to, I guess. Anyway… Dr. Gray made me start working with this wife, who is now working with him – she is a nutritionist. Her name is Dr. Jannelle. I adore her. Because she adores Russ and praises his work and capabilities as a nurse. It makes me so proud to hear her talk about working with him during covid, the two darkest years of her career, and him being the bright spot of those two years! So she put me on Ozempic because my A1C had started sneaking up into the upper 6-point range again after getting down to 5.7. She started me on keeping macros of what I’m eating. Which I also hate doing, but it works. And she weighs me on this cool scale that weighs your torso and limbs separately, measures muscle mass, etc. It’s the coolest thing in the world. Heck, I love the fact that it doesn’t count your clothes! But the last time I was at their office, they broke the news to me that they’re leaving to go to New England at the end of the year. So I only have one more appointment with each of them. In October. The same day. My heart was broken. I know I’ll never feel the same way about any other gastric doctor as I do Dr. Gray. He’s been by my side since day one. I’m resistant to change. I don’t want new doctors in 2026. But the world keep turning…
On June 20, 2025, two years and one day after my gastric bypass surgery, I weighed in and smiled. Weight is fluid. It moves up and down. I’ve been hovering around 200 pounds for a couple of weeks, dipping under once. But I’m there again and ready to share that number publicly. It’s been a long road. And there are no real shortcuts.
For three days now, I’ve been under 200 pounds. We call that ONE-derland. I’m so glad I chose this path. This is celebration-worthy, so wherever you are, I want you to pump your fist in the air or say “Woo-hoo,” if you feel so inclined! I thank God for stamina and stick-to-it’ive-ness. And I pray for more of the same, even though I’ve officially met what became my target weight. Thanks to all of you for the love, support, and encouragement! Thanks to all the medical professionals who got me to this point, too – including my awesome husband, who often pulls double duty as personal and professional support team.
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