jdmartin
Reaching the Breaking Point . . . Again and Again and Again
Sep 23, 2008
Three years after our daughter was born, my weight wasn't horrific, but that changed drastically when I quit smoking. I gained probably 50 pounds and eventually tried Weight Watchers and was mildly successful . . . for awhile. By the time I was 29 and pregnant with our second child my weight was a serious issue. So serious that my doctor put me on Weight Watchers (again) during my pregnancy. I actually lost 18 pounds and delivered a healthy 7-pound, 9-ounce boy.
Fast forward ten years. Weight still an issue. Still unresolved. Then I read a great book by Gwen Shamblin called "The Weigh Down Diet." It incorporates a lot of biblical principles and it really, really worked for me. Its method is simple: don't eat unless you're hungry and then don't overeat. So that's what I did. And exercised my fanny off. I walked about three miles a day and spent about 30 minutes a day on a stationary bike. And I peeled off 85 pounds. But, like all the other times before, the weight started creeping back on and kept coming and coming and coming. I'm not sure what my highest weight was then, but I'm guessing it was around 260.
Three years ago we planned a 25th anniversary trip to Italy and I managed to knock off 40 pounds (and only gained five during our three-week stay, which I thought was pretty good with all that fabulous Italian food we ate). But, once we returned there was no real motivation for me to continue my plan, so I quit. Pretty soon I was back to eating McDonald's every day for breakfast and ignoring the gym membership we had.
Seeing that picture I described in my first post might have been the straw that broke the camel's back, but the reality of my dire situation truly set in during our vacation to Colorado this summer. By that time, I had already begun the process of qualifying for the surgery, so I knew there was a possibility that things would be different. Now, however, I realized it was a necessity if I wanted to have a fulfilling life. It always takes a day or two to adjust to the change in altitude (breathing is not so easy up there), but I never felt like I could get enough air during the whole trip. I couldn't do the things I wanted to do and I felt like I'd really put a damper on our vacation. I was more eager than ever to make this change and make is permanent. For life. Yeah, I want to be a lifer.
Next time on The Egg and I . . . The Waiting Game and Dr. Roulette
Fast forward ten years. Weight still an issue. Still unresolved. Then I read a great book by Gwen Shamblin called "The Weigh Down Diet." It incorporates a lot of biblical principles and it really, really worked for me. Its method is simple: don't eat unless you're hungry and then don't overeat. So that's what I did. And exercised my fanny off. I walked about three miles a day and spent about 30 minutes a day on a stationary bike. And I peeled off 85 pounds. But, like all the other times before, the weight started creeping back on and kept coming and coming and coming. I'm not sure what my highest weight was then, but I'm guessing it was around 260.
Three years ago we planned a 25th anniversary trip to Italy and I managed to knock off 40 pounds (and only gained five during our three-week stay, which I thought was pretty good with all that fabulous Italian food we ate). But, once we returned there was no real motivation for me to continue my plan, so I quit. Pretty soon I was back to eating McDonald's every day for breakfast and ignoring the gym membership we had.
Seeing that picture I described in my first post might have been the straw that broke the camel's back, but the reality of my dire situation truly set in during our vacation to Colorado this summer. By that time, I had already begun the process of qualifying for the surgery, so I knew there was a possibility that things would be different. Now, however, I realized it was a necessity if I wanted to have a fulfilling life. It always takes a day or two to adjust to the change in altitude (breathing is not so easy up there), but I never felt like I could get enough air during the whole trip. I couldn't do the things I wanted to do and I felt like I'd really put a damper on our vacation. I was more eager than ever to make this change and make is permanent. For life. Yeah, I want to be a lifer.
Next time on The Egg and I . . . The Waiting Game and Dr. Roulette
How I Got To This Point
Sep 23, 2008
In a nutshell, I ate too much.
But, of course, there's much more to the story. I was chubby as a kid. My dad was a circuit preacher (meaning he preached at small country churches, sometimes three each Sunday!) and each week a member of the congregation would have us over for a BIG Sunday dinner. Several kinds of meat, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy and always a yummy dessert. And I attended a lot of church suppers, which meant lots and lots and lots of good old-fashioned heavy, calorie-laden dishes - macaroni and cheese, potatoes au gratin, creamy salads, rich casseroles and an array of pies and cakes that would make Little Debbie jealous.
I wasn't a particularly active kid. Maybe it was because of the extra pounds I carried (or maybe because I'm just kind of a laid back person). During the summers when most kids were out running around the neighborhood, I much preferred hiding out in our cool basement watching awful B movies (Attack of the 30 Foot Woman and Zombies from Hell) or reading Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mysteries. There weren't a lot of organized sports in those days . . . practically nothing for girls, which was okay by me. The one thing I would venture outside for was the ice cream truck, which made daily trips through our neighborhood. For a nickel, you could get a cold, frosty fudgebar or a sticky double popsicle. My childhood was a combination of "The Wonder Years and "My Girl." Innocent, safe, stress-free, idyllic.
In sixth grade, we moved to "the city" and sometime between seventh and eighth grade something miraculous happened. It's called p-u-b-e-r-t-y. I got taller. I got thin. And I stayed thin all through high school. I don't remember ever watching what I ate or being self-conscious about my weight. I really don't even know what I weighed, but I'm guessing it was between 120-125. I was no more active in those years than in my younger years, but I really didn't have any weight-related problems until the summer before my senior year in college.
It was 1980. My dad was running for statewide office and a sorority sister and I hit the road that summer, traveling five or six days out of the week. We'd travel to small towns all across Missouri, hitting the local radio stations, newspapers and town squares, handing out literature, making speeches and giving interviews. And we ate out three times a day. I can't even begin to calculate how many Blue Plate Specials I ate that summer. And it was mostly open-faced roast beef sandwiches with piles of meat and to-die-for mashed potatoes and gravy. I piled on about 20 pounds that summer. I think that was the beginning of the ongoing cycle of gaining/losing weight that would eventually dominate my adult years.
Next on The Egg and Eye . . . When It Got Really Bad
But, of course, there's much more to the story. I was chubby as a kid. My dad was a circuit preacher (meaning he preached at small country churches, sometimes three each Sunday!) and each week a member of the congregation would have us over for a BIG Sunday dinner. Several kinds of meat, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy and always a yummy dessert. And I attended a lot of church suppers, which meant lots and lots and lots of good old-fashioned heavy, calorie-laden dishes - macaroni and cheese, potatoes au gratin, creamy salads, rich casseroles and an array of pies and cakes that would make Little Debbie jealous.
I wasn't a particularly active kid. Maybe it was because of the extra pounds I carried (or maybe because I'm just kind of a laid back person). During the summers when most kids were out running around the neighborhood, I much preferred hiding out in our cool basement watching awful B movies (Attack of the 30 Foot Woman and Zombies from Hell) or reading Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mysteries. There weren't a lot of organized sports in those days . . . practically nothing for girls, which was okay by me. The one thing I would venture outside for was the ice cream truck, which made daily trips through our neighborhood. For a nickel, you could get a cold, frosty fudgebar or a sticky double popsicle. My childhood was a combination of "The Wonder Years and "My Girl." Innocent, safe, stress-free, idyllic.
In sixth grade, we moved to "the city" and sometime between seventh and eighth grade something miraculous happened. It's called p-u-b-e-r-t-y. I got taller. I got thin. And I stayed thin all through high school. I don't remember ever watching what I ate or being self-conscious about my weight. I really don't even know what I weighed, but I'm guessing it was between 120-125. I was no more active in those years than in my younger years, but I really didn't have any weight-related problems until the summer before my senior year in college.
It was 1980. My dad was running for statewide office and a sorority sister and I hit the road that summer, traveling five or six days out of the week. We'd travel to small towns all across Missouri, hitting the local radio stations, newspapers and town squares, handing out literature, making speeches and giving interviews. And we ate out three times a day. I can't even begin to calculate how many Blue Plate Specials I ate that summer. And it was mostly open-faced roast beef sandwiches with piles of meat and to-die-for mashed potatoes and gravy. I piled on about 20 pounds that summer. I think that was the beginning of the ongoing cycle of gaining/losing weight that would eventually dominate my adult years.
Next on The Egg and Eye . . . When It Got Really Bad
Getting Started and the Blue Cards
Sep 23, 2008
The seminar I attended for the Bariatric Center of Kansas City was looonnnnnggg (three hours) BUT very informative. It starts off with a session on finances and insurance, which was really very helpful. Nola Bienhoff, the program coordinator, is an insurance company guru and pretty much knows which insurance companies cover bariatric surgery and which ones don't (and she'll tell you if she doesn't know, too). However, it's a really good idea for you to find out whether the type of surgery you're interested in is covered BEFORE you go to the seminar. And it might take some digging. I was able to find what I was looking for in the humongous book we got from our insurance company, but it's worth a phone call to them as well to confirm it.
The path to getting approved by your insurance company and the program is neither short nor easy. You have to get your medical records from EVERY doctor you've seen in the last five years. I was lucky because I'd only been to one doctor. It still took me several attempts before all the necessary records were collected. Because I was determined to push this process along as fast as I could, I personally obtained my medical records from my doctor and hand delivered them to the Bariatric Center. Generally they're mailed, but it can sometimes take a long time, especially if you have to get records from several doctors. If you can manage it, I think the hand delivery system is beneficial, if for no other reason than to give you peace of mind that the office has them. Nola told us that their office communicated with blue postcards . . . they send one every time they receive records or if they need other information. I cannot tell you how excited I was when I got my first blue postcard in the mail. I felt like Steve Martin in "The Jerk" when he first saw his name in the phone book . . . "The new phone books are here, the new phone books are here . . . I'm a somebody!" I knew I was on their radar and that things were progressing. Then the waiting began. More on that in future a future post.
After the insurance, finances and "how the program works" schpiels were over, Dr. Hitchcock took the stage and gave a rather technical and indepth look into both surgeries. He mentioned more than once that bariatric surgery is only a tool, not a cure for morbid obesity (it's not just obesity . . . it's morbid obesity . . . that word gives me the shivers!). By following the rules and putting in a good amount of exercise the tool will be more successful. If you don't follow the rules . . . well, the outcome is not so rosy.
I especially liked Hitchcock's graphic illustrations of what can happen if the rules aren't followed. If you drink soda, for instance, it basically comes back out your nose, mimicking the horse fountain on the Plaza. And, if you try and sneak a tiny little DQ cone, it will probably come back to visit you via an exit far from the site it entered your body . . . before you get home and without you having any control over it. So vivid. So compelling. So, so gross.
I was very interested in how the Center deals with the psychological aspects of morbid obesity. Because, if we're honest, we don't always eat just because we're hungry. There are usually deeper psychological factors that have played a part in our lives and I think it's really important to come to some sort of reconciliation with all of that stuff. For us, food is not just sustenance. It's comfort, it's release, it's reward, it's celebration . . . it's, well . . . sometimes it's everything. The psych guy, Dr. Sabapathy (I love saying his name!), gave a brief overview of why it's important to be psychologically ready for the surgery, which answered a lot of my questions and concerns.
There was a fairly lengthy Q&A period, followed by testimonies of former and current patients, both of which were informative and illuminating. By all accounts, the success stories far outweigh (no pun intended, heh heh) the failures, although there are people who are not successful in maintaining their weight loss. The biggest lesson I learned that night was that this was a significant - really significant - lifestyle change and it would take continued commitment for the rest of my life. Was I ready to take that on?
Yeah. I was. I am.
Next on The Egg and Eye . . . How I Got To This Point
The path to getting approved by your insurance company and the program is neither short nor easy. You have to get your medical records from EVERY doctor you've seen in the last five years. I was lucky because I'd only been to one doctor. It still took me several attempts before all the necessary records were collected. Because I was determined to push this process along as fast as I could, I personally obtained my medical records from my doctor and hand delivered them to the Bariatric Center. Generally they're mailed, but it can sometimes take a long time, especially if you have to get records from several doctors. If you can manage it, I think the hand delivery system is beneficial, if for no other reason than to give you peace of mind that the office has them. Nola told us that their office communicated with blue postcards . . . they send one every time they receive records or if they need other information. I cannot tell you how excited I was when I got my first blue postcard in the mail. I felt like Steve Martin in "The Jerk" when he first saw his name in the phone book . . . "The new phone books are here, the new phone books are here . . . I'm a somebody!" I knew I was on their radar and that things were progressing. Then the waiting began. More on that in future a future post.
After the insurance, finances and "how the program works" schpiels were over, Dr. Hitchcock took the stage and gave a rather technical and indepth look into both surgeries. He mentioned more than once that bariatric surgery is only a tool, not a cure for morbid obesity (it's not just obesity . . . it's morbid obesity . . . that word gives me the shivers!). By following the rules and putting in a good amount of exercise the tool will be more successful. If you don't follow the rules . . . well, the outcome is not so rosy.
I especially liked Hitchcock's graphic illustrations of what can happen if the rules aren't followed. If you drink soda, for instance, it basically comes back out your nose, mimicking the horse fountain on the Plaza. And, if you try and sneak a tiny little DQ cone, it will probably come back to visit you via an exit far from the site it entered your body . . . before you get home and without you having any control over it. So vivid. So compelling. So, so gross.
I was very interested in how the Center deals with the psychological aspects of morbid obesity. Because, if we're honest, we don't always eat just because we're hungry. There are usually deeper psychological factors that have played a part in our lives and I think it's really important to come to some sort of reconciliation with all of that stuff. For us, food is not just sustenance. It's comfort, it's release, it's reward, it's celebration . . . it's, well . . . sometimes it's everything. The psych guy, Dr. Sabapathy (I love saying his name!), gave a brief overview of why it's important to be psychologically ready for the surgery, which answered a lot of my questions and concerns.
There was a fairly lengthy Q&A period, followed by testimonies of former and current patients, both of which were informative and illuminating. By all accounts, the success stories far outweigh (no pun intended, heh heh) the failures, although there are people who are not successful in maintaining their weight loss. The biggest lesson I learned that night was that this was a significant - really significant - lifestyle change and it would take continued commitment for the rest of my life. Was I ready to take that on?
Yeah. I was. I am.
Next on The Egg and Eye . . . How I Got To This Point
The Camel's Back
Sep 23, 2008
As I think back on what brought me to the decision to have bariatric surgery I realize it wasn't just that proverbial one straw that finally made that back give way. It was actually about 280 pounds of individual straws that did it. And when it went, it really went.
If I were forced to put a finger on exactly when it happened I'd have to say it was a reunion of my father's former colleagues that did it. Or, more specifically, the pictures I saw of the event. I was like, "Who IS that really large woman with the tent dress and gray hair?" Yeah, it was me.
We don't have a lot of full length mirrors in our house - come to think of it we don't have a single one. And I've not been inside a clothing store for several years, thanks to the explosion of internet shopping. Plus, it's one thing to see yourself in the mirror. It's an entirely different matter when you see yourself next to someone. For me, it was very much like putting a raisin next to a watermelon.
I'd been to a seminar a couple of years before and, because I'm basically a stubborn old cuss, I figured I could just power through it myself and lose the weight. I'd done it before. Lots of times. Once I even lost 85 pounds just by only eating when I was hungry, not overeating and exercising my fanny off. So I did it again. And lost 40 pounds. Then I hit a plateau large enough to cover all of North America and then some. After lots and lots of contemplation, discussions with my husband and a resolved heart I registered online for a seminar at the Bariatric Seminar of Kansas City. And on May 27, 2008, I began this journey into wellness, into wholeness, into . . . life.
Next on The Egg and Eye . . . Getting Started
If I were forced to put a finger on exactly when it happened I'd have to say it was a reunion of my father's former colleagues that did it. Or, more specifically, the pictures I saw of the event. I was like, "Who IS that really large woman with the tent dress and gray hair?" Yeah, it was me.
We don't have a lot of full length mirrors in our house - come to think of it we don't have a single one. And I've not been inside a clothing store for several years, thanks to the explosion of internet shopping. Plus, it's one thing to see yourself in the mirror. It's an entirely different matter when you see yourself next to someone. For me, it was very much like putting a raisin next to a watermelon.
I'd been to a seminar a couple of years before and, because I'm basically a stubborn old cuss, I figured I could just power through it myself and lose the weight. I'd done it before. Lots of times. Once I even lost 85 pounds just by only eating when I was hungry, not overeating and exercising my fanny off. So I did it again. And lost 40 pounds. Then I hit a plateau large enough to cover all of North America and then some. After lots and lots of contemplation, discussions with my husband and a resolved heart I registered online for a seminar at the Bariatric Seminar of Kansas City. And on May 27, 2008, I began this journey into wellness, into wholeness, into . . . life.
Next on The Egg and Eye . . . Getting Started