LJ Idol Week 9, Marching Orders, weight loss
After making my way to the second floor of the medical building I was greeted by an efficient receptionist. She was so efficient she wanted to help me fill out the necessary medical forms while she worked the phones. I explained that I’d prefer to have them filled out in a private room since I couldn’t see them and didn’t want everyone in the waiting room knowing my medical history, and finally she got the message.
After a short wait the nurse took me back to a room. She weighed me first, 323 pounds. Sigh. How had I gotten to weigh that much?
I was seeing this doctor because of a stomach pain I kept getting on the side of my stomach. My primary care doctor wanted me to have an upper endoscopy. I was glad to finally be seeing a gastroenterologist, or at least that’s what I thought.
The nurse hardly took any of my medical information not really wanting to help me fill out the forms she was in too much of a hurry. The doctor was no better when he entered. My dog had leaped up and taken an alert posture. I should have known just by that movement because Fargo, my guide dog, usually loves medical professionals. I began to explain my stomach pain and other symptoms to the doctor. Before I had even gotten started he cut me off.
“Have you ever considered weight loss surgery?”
“No,” I said I hadn’t.
“I think you need to consider it. In fact, it’s unfortunate our monthly seminars that we have all patients attend was just last night so you missed it for this month.”
I was stunned. My primary care physician had tricked me and sent me to a stomach surgeon who ran a weight loss clinic instead of to a regular gastroenterologist. I was furious. I left in a rage. When I got back to work I broke down into angry tears telling my friend and coworker what had happened. The doctor had no desire to cure my stomach pain, he wanted to give me weight loss surgery.
At my next appointment I laid into my primary care doctor for tricking me and insisted on a referral to a regular gastroenterologist. I got one to a lovely doctor who has done wonders for my stomach ills. Next I went out and found a new primary care doctor, one that would be honest with me and I sent the first one packing. Yet as much as I hated both of these doctors who had sent me an unwanted message, they were right, I needed to lose weight. I didn’t believe stomach surgery was right for me, nor does my current gastroenterologist. The words weight loss surgery were my marching orders though. The anger I felt toward that surgeon sparked me into action.
I began walking on the treadmill daily. At first fifteen minutes was a great effort but I kept at it. I cut back on sugar and some other high calorie snacks. I joined weight watchers and I stuck to the diet.
Unfortunately my obsessive compulsive disorder kicked in and I began to obsess over the points in the weight watchers diet. Weight watchers turns foods into a points value and everyone is allowed a certain number of points per day based on their age, activity level and weight. I began to obsess so badly that I would only eat foods with a points value whose number I liked. Sometimes I allotted different points values to home cooked meals so they would more closely fit numbers which I felt comfortable with. Finally things came to a head when I had a panic attack in one of the weight watchers meetings. They were talking about the points and numbers for different foods and I became overwhelmed. My psychologist told me that I needed to give up weight watchers for my own sanity.
I followed her orders and flailed around a bit, still eating healthily and trying to lose more weight until I started a new medication, an anti-psychotic which has changed my life and helped me in so many ways. Once I started that medication the weight loss slowed even more. I kept walking on the treadmill almost every day. I can walk up to an hour and a half now on a good day, but most days walk 30 minutes or so.
Since my progress has slowed I have considered other diets, but I can’t measure food because the OCD will kick in again. I can’t do diets where I am deprived of certain foods because in the past that has caused binge eating of sweets. So I’m floating around looking for the right thing and trying not to be an emotional eater when my mood slips into depression.
Last year I lost 52 pounds. That’s one pound for every week. I gained 7 pounds back over the holidays drinking eggnog and eating cookies, but I’ve already lost 1 of those pounds. I just have to keep working at it, keep marching forward. I am motivated, fueled by my anger at a doctor who just saw me as a fat person and not an individual who would not do well with weight loss surgery mentally or physically. I am fueled by a desire to live and be healthy. Every day is a struggle though. My meds cause me to gain weight at every turn, my emotions make me want to eat, my OCD has me counting food, hording it, and just gives me a generally unhealthy mindset. I am working hard though. No one could order me to get up and move, I had to give those orders to myself. And if anything is being given orders to get moving around here it’s the weight. I’m dismissing it pound by pound. It’s a battle worth fighting and one I hope I can win. I have a long way to go, but I have a brand new talking scale, a trusty treadmill, and a determined spirit. So I’ll keep on marching and I’ll try to celebrate every lost pound as a victory instead of beating myself up as if I’m a failure for not doing better.
After a short wait the nurse took me back to a room. She weighed me first, 323 pounds. Sigh. How had I gotten to weigh that much?
I was seeing this doctor because of a stomach pain I kept getting on the side of my stomach. My primary care doctor wanted me to have an upper endoscopy. I was glad to finally be seeing a gastroenterologist, or at least that’s what I thought.
The nurse hardly took any of my medical information not really wanting to help me fill out the forms she was in too much of a hurry. The doctor was no better when he entered. My dog had leaped up and taken an alert posture. I should have known just by that movement because Fargo, my guide dog, usually loves medical professionals. I began to explain my stomach pain and other symptoms to the doctor. Before I had even gotten started he cut me off.
“Have you ever considered weight loss surgery?”
“No,” I said I hadn’t.
“I think you need to consider it. In fact, it’s unfortunate our monthly seminars that we have all patients attend was just last night so you missed it for this month.”
I was stunned. My primary care physician had tricked me and sent me to a stomach surgeon who ran a weight loss clinic instead of to a regular gastroenterologist. I was furious. I left in a rage. When I got back to work I broke down into angry tears telling my friend and coworker what had happened. The doctor had no desire to cure my stomach pain, he wanted to give me weight loss surgery.
At my next appointment I laid into my primary care doctor for tricking me and insisted on a referral to a regular gastroenterologist. I got one to a lovely doctor who has done wonders for my stomach ills. Next I went out and found a new primary care doctor, one that would be honest with me and I sent the first one packing. Yet as much as I hated both of these doctors who had sent me an unwanted message, they were right, I needed to lose weight. I didn’t believe stomach surgery was right for me, nor does my current gastroenterologist. The words weight loss surgery were my marching orders though. The anger I felt toward that surgeon sparked me into action.
I began walking on the treadmill daily. At first fifteen minutes was a great effort but I kept at it. I cut back on sugar and some other high calorie snacks. I joined weight watchers and I stuck to the diet.
Unfortunately my obsessive compulsive disorder kicked in and I began to obsess over the points in the weight watchers diet. Weight watchers turns foods into a points value and everyone is allowed a certain number of points per day based on their age, activity level and weight. I began to obsess so badly that I would only eat foods with a points value whose number I liked. Sometimes I allotted different points values to home cooked meals so they would more closely fit numbers which I felt comfortable with. Finally things came to a head when I had a panic attack in one of the weight watchers meetings. They were talking about the points and numbers for different foods and I became overwhelmed. My psychologist told me that I needed to give up weight watchers for my own sanity.
I followed her orders and flailed around a bit, still eating healthily and trying to lose more weight until I started a new medication, an anti-psychotic which has changed my life and helped me in so many ways. Once I started that medication the weight loss slowed even more. I kept walking on the treadmill almost every day. I can walk up to an hour and a half now on a good day, but most days walk 30 minutes or so.
Since my progress has slowed I have considered other diets, but I can’t measure food because the OCD will kick in again. I can’t do diets where I am deprived of certain foods because in the past that has caused binge eating of sweets. So I’m floating around looking for the right thing and trying not to be an emotional eater when my mood slips into depression.
Last year I lost 52 pounds. That’s one pound for every week. I gained 7 pounds back over the holidays drinking eggnog and eating cookies, but I’ve already lost 1 of those pounds. I just have to keep working at it, keep marching forward. I am motivated, fueled by my anger at a doctor who just saw me as a fat person and not an individual who would not do well with weight loss surgery mentally or physically. I am fueled by a desire to live and be healthy. Every day is a struggle though. My meds cause me to gain weight at every turn, my emotions make me want to eat, my OCD has me counting food, hording it, and just gives me a generally unhealthy mindset. I am working hard though. No one could order me to get up and move, I had to give those orders to myself. And if anything is being given orders to get moving around here it’s the weight. I’m dismissing it pound by pound. It’s a battle worth fighting and one I hope I can win. I have a long way to go, but I have a brand new talking scale, a trusty treadmill, and a determined spirit. So I’ll keep on marching and I’ll try to celebrate every lost pound as a victory instead of beating myself up as if I’m a failure for not doing better.