Bariatric surgery saved my life. But it wasn't the 'easy' way out of weight loss
I faced pressure from friends who didn’t understand my decision
This First Person article is written by Mireille Cadet, who lives in Ottawa. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
As a child, I was always what some would call "the chubby girl." Later, as a single mom of two children living in a low-income neighbourhood, I couldn't always put quality food on the table. A bag of frozen fries was cheaper than fresh fruits and vegetables.
My weight ballooned to 246 pounds. Even walking around the mall was sometimes hard on my back, and I had a hard time shopping for my weight. I tried lots of diets — I would lose some weight only to gain it back a few months later.
Then, in 2018, my doctor suggested I consider bariatric surgery. I got the referral but while waiting for the appointment, I often second-guessed my decision. Being from a Haitian background, I knew many in my community wouldn't understand why I wanted this surgery. Food is the centre of Caribbean life. Whether celebrating a birth or mourning a death in the family, food is always there. We show love by feeding our relatives and friends. And if someone refuses our offer of food, we might think you're sick or there's something wrong.
When I told some family members that I was waiting for bariatric surgery, their first response was, "Why? You're not fat. You carry your weight very well."
Some of my friends would comment, "Oh, when you get skinny, you'll think you're better than us." And yet, these were the same friends who would comment, "You're not ugly. You're cute for a big girl." That phrase was said so often to me, and I hated and resented it. And so, I held onto my decision to go through with the surgery. It was the right choice for my health and for my future.
About a year after the referral was made, I went to an information session and then met with a social worker at the bariatric department of the Ottawa Civic Hospital. I was so excited.
I was surprised when she explained what was involved. I thought I would meet the surgeon once for a consultation and then do the surgery soon after. Simple and straightforward as a snip, and my life would be immediately better.
But, in fact, there were many steps I had to do first — multiple blood tests, attending information sessions and meeting several times with a dietician. Thank goodness I didn't drink or smoke or have trouble sleeping because I learned this could delay the surgery. My liver also had to shrink, so that it wouldn't get in the way during the surgery. Those 14 days just before the operation of eating low-calorie, low-fat, low-carb liquid food were hard. I'd go to family gatherings with delicious food and had to watch while I only could sip water.
It was emotionally challenging, but there was no way I was going to give up now after waiting for so long.
The surgery itself was nerve-wracking. During the procedure, doctors create a small pouch from the stomach and connect the newly created pouch directly to the small intestine. After the surgery, swallowed food goes directly into this small pouch of the stomach, thereby bypassing most of the stomach and the first section of the small intestine.
Post-surgery, my new stomach could only handle a cup of food each meal. Forget about that big plate of Haitian food I used to eat. I was off work for six weeks, initially on a week of liquid diet, then pureed food and finally, progressed to solids. I was determined to not let the surgery go to waste now that I could eat again. I started going to the gym five days a week and the weight started coming off quickly.
It's been five years since my surgery and I still find it hard to eat anything fried or drink soft drinks. One day I can eat yogurt, but the next day, I could be experiencing the worst diarrhea. Sometimes I felt like a baby who was just starting on food. Maintaining my new weight is not as easy as people think — I still need to keep at it every day. I've developed reactive hypoglycemia, which means I have low blood sugar after a meal. I sometimes still have body dysmorphia passing a mirror. Even though I'm now 165 pounds, I still sometimes see that big girl in my reflection. When I go shopping, I naturally gravitate toward the plus-size section and my husband has to remind me I'm not that size anymore.
There is still a lot of stigma. Some people say that by having the surgery, I took the easy way out or cheated my way out of doing the hard work of weight loss. My social anxiety has increased. I'm worried when I get invited to places that my hosts will be offended when I turn down certain foods, and sometimes, I can see they are. But all of these downsides pale in comparison to the second chance at life that bariatric surgery has given me. I don't have diabetes, high cholesterol or high blood pressure.
Whenever I look at my photos pre-surgery, I also look at my grandson and remind myself why I did this. I want to have a long, healthy life. It was a long journey for me from the little chubby girl to the more confident woman that I am today. Compared to all that, I want to say bariatric surgery was a piece of cake — except I can't eat cake and there was nothing easy about it. And yet, I'm grateful for it.
For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians — from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community — check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of. You can read more stories here.
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