The odds are good, there's a less than 1% chance of death statistically.
In my favor:
- I'm still relatively young, though most of the patients in my starter group were in their 30's.
- My health is relatively good, with no history of heart problems.
- No known drug allergies.
- Good abdominal muscle tone. There's actually a six-pack buried underneath all this fat, yo.
Not in my favor:
- I have diabetes.
- I have sleep apnea (the anaesthetist needs to know this).
- Edema (swelling) of the legs, though this has gone down some since I stopped drinking the diet coke).
- Slightly enlarged left ventricle.
The overweight thing is a non-starter, because all of the bariatric patients are in the "morbid" category. My BMI is 55-56. The border for "normal" is 30. Relatively this means that I'm carrying around an extra person on my frame, and a linebacker at that. A really shitty linebacker too, he's all fat.
The surgery is laparoscopic, which is minimally invasive. That helps a lot. However as a part of the procedure, they inject the body cavity with air (or an inert gas) to blow me up like a balloon; it's called insufflation.
It makes more room to maneuver. Downside is that afterwards there is still air trapped in the body, and it comes out through the shoulders. Yes, the shoulders. I don't know why, but it's painful, like a minor case of the bends.
But still, there is a risk of death. And it's not insignificant. Think critical failure on a d100-- I know I've rolled a couple in my lifetime, and I'd rather that this not be one of them.
So hey, a bit scared, ya know? Like a lot, maybe?
I have to plan for the possibility of death. It's not an eventuality like Roadkill has, it's a possibility that I will go under and not come back up again, and what happens then?
The big things: Sadie and Stoopikitty need to go to Barb. The mortgages need to be paid off, either by selling the house or by somebody managing it-- not an easy task-- to get Barb off of the hook for the primary loan. And she needs to deal with her fuckling piano. :)
The rest of the *stuff*... man, if I'm dead, what will I care? I think I need to appoint an executor in case of my demise.
And I have to do a living will too, in case of irreparable brain damage. I'm already a donor if it comes to that.
Cripes, I've had lots of thought-experiments about "what if I die" in my life, but there's a hoot-n-holler difference when you actually have to do it for real.
This would probably be more dramatic if the chance was greater than one percent. Consider that they've done well over 2000 of these procedures and they have had deaths. Plural. Five, if I remember correctly.