| Journal entries for April / May 2001 |
| April, 2001 I hurt. Every morning I wake up and the first thing I notice after realizing the peacefulness of sleep has ended is pain. It usually starts in my back and when I stand up I feel the stiffness in my legs and the pain in my knees. I go to the kids' room to wake them for school and I limp my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The pain and stiffness slowly become bearable as I wake up completely. I open my kitchen medicine cabinet and along with my blood pressure pill, my anxiety pill and my antidepressant I pop four over the counter anti-inflamatory and pain relief pills. Now my day has begun. As the morning progresses, I climb the stairs at least two or three more times. I'm always winded by the time I'm at the top matter how slowly I ascend. It's hard work getting my 279-pound body up the stairs. Yes, that's right, I did say 279 pounds. Unbelievable isn't it? It wasn't always this way. I've only really been heavy for about 10 to 12 years. All through high school I though I was incredibly fat. I wasn't a size 2 cheerleader; I was just a plain old size 12/14 teenage girl. What I didn't realize then was that my weight was just fine; there was nothing wrong with me. When I would look in the mirror, I would see myself 3 times larger than I really was. Interestingly enough, now when I look in the mirror I don't see the fat that's really there. I see only as much as I have to and somehow my mind blocks out the reality. I think this is a coping mechanism and I know about it because when I see photographs of myself, the reality hits hard. After several years of dieting, counting calories and fat grams, weighing in, accounting for every morsel of food I consumed, following exercise programs, listening to and reading motivational messages, going to meetings and being told over and over that I could do it if I just believed in myself, I gave up hope. I resolved that I'd always be overweight and that I needed to learn to accept it, love myself and say, "to heck with others if my being heavy bothers them". This kind of thinking worked for me for a while, but every now and again I'd have to face a photograph of myself and I'd get very depressed. I considered weight loss surgery after the birth of my 3rd. child on the recommendation of Carol, the CNM who did all my prenatal care and delivered him. However, I quickly gave up on the idea of surgery (and weight loss altogether) when the lady at the insurance company told me my weight was my problem and that they wouldn't pay for anything cosmetic. Her answer didn't change even when I mentioned that I was being treated for hypertension due to my weight. Frustrated and sad, I let go of the idea and moved on. One day a few weeks ago, my husband was having a conversation with a friend from work who reavealed to him that he might be having WLS. He was having major health problems as a result of his weight and the insurance company (same policy as ours because it's thru their work) agreed to pay for it. Mike told him about my experience and he encouraged us to check into it again. We did and we were pleased with the answers we got. Now, a couple years later, surgery is suddenly a very real possibility. So many things are going through my head, mixed thoughts and feelings. On one hand I'm terrified of the surgery. I'm scared of altering my body so drasticallly. What if...? There are so many "what-ifs". What if I don't like how I feel afterward? What if there are complications? What if I die? And yet, despite the "what-ifs", there are so many benefits. More energy, less pain, the ability to be physically active, longer healthier life, an improved self-image, cuter clothes, the list could go on. I think it's time to make another appointment with Carol. |
| May 2, 2001 I"ve always seen my weight as more of a cosmetic problem, a self-esteem problem, not a matter of my health. When Carol told me my BMI was 48 and that is should be around 23, my weight was 279 and it should approximately 136 my hearth broke. When she told me that my weight put me in a stage 3 obesity category (morbid obesity), tears flooded my eyes. Obese...the word sounds so ugly, almost crude. I knew my weight was out of control but obese is a word I have always avoided. It makes me sound like some kind of monster. When she showed me the chart and how I fit into that category, I couldn't hold my emotions back any longer. I broke down completely. How could I have been so blind all these years? How could I fail to see the destructive path I have been traveling? How could I not see the truth about myself? The idea of surgery scares me quite a bit. There are so many risks. But staying in this condition is equally scary. I don't want to die young. I think about being free of this weight, being able to climb the stairs without being winded, getting off my blood pressure pills, being able to play with my kids as they grow, feeling attractive again, being smaller than my husband for the first time ever, feeling feminine, and as I consider these things in my mind, the risks seem to fade. Late May, 2001. Since setting in motion the whole process of insurance approval and consultation, I have been experiencing thoughts and emotions from both ends of the spectrum. I go through periods when I doubt the safety of the surgery; I fear the physical changes that will be made and the possible complications. I am afraid to die. I know as a Christian I am not supposed to fear death and I have no doubt where I will be when I die. I guess it's just the fear of the unknown and the fact that I'm not ready to leave. On the other hand, the idea of being freed from this prison of fat that I never thought I'd escape is overwhelming. I keep listing in my mind the things I will be physically capable of doing again; running, riding a bike without so much "seat discomfort", playing sports for fun with my kids, not having to turn sideways to get between things, sitting comfortably in public seating, riding roller coasters, the list could go on forever! The medical benefits are appealing as well. I will most likely be able to discontinue my blood pressure medication and maybe even some of the other meds I take. The pain I feel in my back, my joints, and my whole body will be signifigantly reduced. I will sleep better, the strain on my heart will go away and I will probably have a longer and better quality life for it. |
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