LittleMissSunshine

People Break Down into Two Groups...

Apr 01, 2011

Have you ever seen the M. Night Shyamalan movie, Signs?  Not a bad movie. 
There's a scene in it where Mel Gibson gives a brilliant solliloquy on the difference between the hope and fear crowds:

People break down into two groups.

When they experience something lucky, group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign, evidence, that there is someone up there, watching out for them.

Group number two sees it as just pure luck. Just a happy turn of chance.

I'm sure the people in group number two are looking at those fourteen lights [aliens] in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation is a fifty-fifty. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own. And that fills them with fear. Yeah, there are those people.

But there's a whole lot of people in group number one. When they see those fourteen lights, they're looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen, there will be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope.

See, what you have to ask yourself is, what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, that sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences?

If there's one thing to know about me, it's that I sit squarely in group number one.  The religious overtones aside--and identifications with any particular one cast off long ago--I absolutely believe that there's... something.  I'm not going to explain it in morality-teaching stories or even commit to thinking about it as a sentient being; it might be, it might not be.  I'll most likely revisit this topic again at some point as we get better accquainted, Dear Reader, but I have to shelve it for now so I don't lose track of the point I was making with Signs.

I see signs, I absolutely do.

When I first moved out here to Washington state from Vermont for a new job, I discovered shortly after arriving that my new employer offered insurance coverage for a rather stellar medically-supervised weight loss program through the gym membership that was part of my benefits.  Once signed up, you're assigned a doctor, a dietician, a personal trainer, a therapist and a support group.  I started it in September, just before my 32nd birthday.  I was excited.  For the first time in my life, I actually had access to the help I needed to get a handle on my weight.

I was a diligent student; I got up at 5am 5 days a week so I could meet my personal trainer at 6am.  I did the protein shake detox program without a single slip up.  I followed the food plan to the letter.  I met with the therapist and tried not to be offended when her evaluation landed me in the "intensive" support group (what did I say that made her think I need "intensive" therapy?!?).

I started the program at 341 in September of 2007 and was down to 312 in February.  Just as I felt as though I was starting to hit my stride, my mother suffered a heart attack, adding insult to injury from the speech-damaging stroke she had just 2 years before, and on top of the breast cancer that had recently made a comeback, though this time it mestasticized in her bones.  She survived, but my self-discipline did not.... the scale creep started and I didn't stop it.

After officially walking away from the medically-supervised program a couple of weeks early, I decided that the one-on-one therapy piece was something I wanted to continue, though with a therapist I liked better.  The one the program assigned me looked as though if she ever had an issue with food, it was probably anorexia; I couldn't identify with her at all. 

Having no idea where to start, I decided a friend's recommendation was as good a place as any, so I started seeing a very nice woman who had the most experience in couples therapy, but would happy to meet with me if I found value in it.  She was very nice, but again, I felt like I was missing that sense of identification.  Still though, it was helpful to just unload everything about my mom, work, my husband and anything else that was on my mind once a week.

One day as I was on my way out and she was consulting her appointment book to see when my next appointment after her vacation would be, I noticed a book on her shelf, Anatomy of a Food Addiction: The Brain Chemistry of Overeating.  Being a bit of a biology/science geek, I was intrigued and asked my therapist if I could borrow the book.  She was happy to loan it to me and I planned to start it that weekend so I'd be sure to have it back to her by the time I saw her again after she returned from vacation.  Little did I realize there was another milestone on my journey coming up around the bend.

When I wasn't reading, I was crying.  I finally found the identification I was looking for, but it turned out that I wasn't looking for a person who had experiences similar to mine, but an explanation for what I was... a food addict.

Not only does the author do an outstanding job explaining how an addiction behaves physiologically, she also gives an outstanding account--in layman's terms--of how the psychological piece works in concert with the addiction to keep the sufferer trapped in a vicious cycle of excess, deprivation and regret.  This book now earned a spot in my pre-weight loss attempt motivation ritual, sitting along side Oprah's Make the Connection: Ten Steps to a Better Body and a Better Life (the exercise tips are expecially helpful).

Unfortunately, shortly after discovering this new tool, I was told by my mother's oncologist that she had no more than three months left to live.  Two weeks later, I was laid off from my job, leaving our single-income family of three in a precarious position.  My self-improvement motivation evaporated along with the health benefits that paid for my therapy and my gym membership.  My progress was on hold again.

Right on schedule, my mother passed away about three months later in August of 2009.

Fast forwarding a bit, here we are in 2011 and after a brief stint in the 350s, I'm holding steady at 347. 

After a year in contractor exile making less than I was before with sub-par benefits and no paid time off (not even federal holidays), I've finally landed my dream job back with the same employer that laid me off.  Now that my benefits are right back where they were before, I'm considering weight loss surgery for the first time in my life. 

I came within 16 hours of getting the LapBand, but was saved by divine intervention in the form of my surgeon suffering a shoulder injury the day before I was scheduled to go in.  I could have opted to keep my appointment the following morning with a different surgeon, but something told me not to ignore this unexpected bump in the road.  I felt like if I went with another surgeon, something would go wrong... like I'd be forcing a rebuff to a decision that had already been made for me. If there's one thing that I do believe in, it's that everything happens for a reason; there truly is no such thing as coincidence. I opted to wait for my surgeon to heal and rescheduled my surgery for the following month.

During the time when I was supposed to be in in the operating room, a friend from back east whom I hadn't spoken to in months poppped up on IMs to see how I was doing.  She'd had gastric bypass surgery 2 years ago and was doing great.  I told her about how close I came to surgery myself and she asked if I had ever been to ObesityHelp.com.  I hadn't, but promised her I'd check it out.

You can read my first and second blog posts to learn how and why I made the switch from the LapBand to the VSG, but suffice it to say that if it weren't for the OH community, I might be four days post-op with a new LapBand right now.  Once I made the decision to switch surgeries, I found that I could research surgeons through OH as well and used that feature to locate Dr. Chebli. 

Last night I was going through the binder he gives to all his new patients... it's full of documentation on steps that need to be completed prior to surgery, diet tips and support resources.  On the last page of the support section is a list of helpful books and websites.

Experience has taught me that any anxiety or fear I'm feeling about something new is always dispelled once I learn more about it.  Given what a huge decision surgery is and how difficult it's been to come to terms with permanently removing the majority of a perfectly healthy, functioning major organ, I thought it couldn't hurt to maybe pick up a couple of these books and see if they'd help make the transition to my anticipated new life any easier.
 
I looked up at the top of the sheet to the very first book listed:

Anatomy of a Food Addiction: The Brain Chemistry of Overeating by Anne Katherine

What are the odds that the first book on the list of support resources from my new surgeon also happens to represent the last, and arguably, most significant milestone I've come across since I started on this journey?  I never would have even known Dr. Chebli existed if I hadn't followed my instincts in deciding to reschedule, and then cancel, my LapBand surgery.  It almost felt as though I was picking up exactly where I left off in the progress I had made the last time I was able to focus on my own health.

So... do I belive in signs? 

You bet your ass I do!

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About Me
48.7
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VSG
Surgery
05/23/2011
Surgery Date
Mar 17, 2011
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