Through Thick and Thin #1 (July, 2002)
Why I'm Choosing To Make My Stomach The Size of My Thumb
or
When the horse I've been riding is dead, it's finally time to get off and find a new mount!
As far back as I can remember, my weight has been a defining, limiting, painful and self-destructive issue in my life. Today, as I approach age 55 and a “morbidly obese” (life-threatening) 360 pounds, I am preparing to have some form of the gastric bypass surgery this fall. Why am I now choosing to make my stomach the size of my thumb?
It's because I'm “morbidly
obese”. How I hate those words! However,
they accurately and fairly describes at least the
physical dimension of who I am or have become.
At 360 lbs., I weigh about 180 pounds more than that “ideal weight” set forth
on those damnable charts. And my weight
is now becoming a life-threatening condition.
As my physical therapist responded when I asked for his advice about
having this operation, “How many fat old people do you see around?”
Largely as a product of my weight, I am now an insulin-dependent Type 2 (adult onset) diabetic. I inject myself with insulin before breakfast and dinner, and test my blood sugar levels throughout the day. I have obstructive sleep apnea, which requires that I sleep with a C-PAP (Continuous Positive Air Pressure) apparatus that forces ambient air down my throat with sufficient pressure to keep the passageway open, and keep me breathing and my heart beating. These are considered “co-morbid” conditions — associated with my morbid obesity and, ultimately, also threatening to my health and extended life.
I live with extreme daily pain. I have experienced what seems to be a never-ending series of painful conditions — chronic lower back pain, pinched nerves in my legs, diabetic neuropathy, strained forearms, sore knees, etc. All of these conditions — and my discomfort and pain —are ultimately due to my excess weight.
And yet I didn't make the decision to have the gastric bypass surgery because I'm tired of the pinpricks, insulin injections, sleeping with a mask and machine, or chronic daily pain. I most assuredly did not decide to have this surgery because of concerns about my appearance or other people's judgments about me or my weight. Decades ago I dealt with the painful emotional wounds and needs that drove me to overeat compulsively. I cast off my feelings of guilt, shame and blame for my weight, and found true self-acceptance and love for the human being I am. And then I became indifferent to the stares, the rude comments, and the judgments of others who saw only hundreds of pounds of accumulated fat, not the extraordinary being within that covering.
I made the decision for only one reason — so that I can live a long, healthy and productive life.
I want more years to be with my precious and beloved wife and life partner. To see my brilliant, talented and beautiful daughter create an awesome life, career and family of her own. To harvest the fruits of my creative spirit, which becomes deeper and richer as I age. Ultimately, I made the decision because I have finally admitted that I no longer have any realistic hope or prospect of reducing my morbid obesity just through eating well and exercising.
After I was diagnosed as a diabetic several years ago, I met with a dietician to learn what I needed to understand to take good care of myself. Since then, I have substantially reduced, or stopped completely, my consumption of sugar products, refined starches, salt and junk foods. Today I eat well, and with moderation, and snack only on fruit or vegetables after dinner. I eat a careful, reasonably prudent selection of healthful foods. I also exercise daily, unless or until my various aches, pains and pinched nerves preclude it. And yet my weight has never changed in any significant way.
It staggered me a few months ago when my weight grew to be, literally, off the scale. The scale in my doctor's office measures up to 350 pounds, and when my weight exceeded even that maximum, I knew that my situation was desperate. That there is no limit to my potential for obesity, and that I have surrendered hope of this ever changing.
So finally, once and for all,
I stopped believing the stories I've been telling myself for most of my life —
that eventually, some day, some way, I would find the key to weight loss and
its maintenance. I stopped believing my
myth that I would once again be able to fit into those outgrown clothes that I
have so patiently, and so optimistically, folded and stored in boxes in my
closet over the last few decades.
Once I decided that the “horse” I had been riding all these years (hoping, wishing and praying for some magical reduction in my obesity) was finally and irrevocably dead, I got off that illusionary mount that had carried me so steadfastly through the years. And when I did, I was surprised to see and acknowledge the costs I've incurred in carrying through my life the weight of 2 or 3 normally-sized people.
I have become accustomed to, and accepting of, an outrageous daily toll of inconvenience, limitation, humiliation, pain, discomfort and exclusion that no longer feels acceptable to me. So long as I clung to the hope that someday, somehow, I would shed the excess weight and once again fit comfortably within my body, I believed that my only practical, meaningful choice was serene acceptance and making the best of a difficult situation. However, now that I truly believe that this procedure will enable me to lose the weight and live longer, I can hardly wait to end the torture in all of its nefarious forms:
- Squeezing intotransport, concert or movie seats, classroom desks, or restaurant booths designed for normally-sized people;
- Struggling to find a comfortable and workable way to stand, sit or lie, or to get down or get up, or to put on my socks, tie my shoes, clip my toenails, scratch my back or even wipe my behind;
- Striving to fit into shirts, pants and jackets that only yesterday seemed to be unbelievably huge.
These simple, basic life tasks have become major life challenges and multiplied my dependency upon loved ones. My body becomes more rigid, moves slower and slower, less and less, and I can feel it beginning to die a slow and agonizing death.
I say these things not to portray myself as a victim, but to honestly and accurately describe the condition in which I find myself today, and the context in which I have made the decision to have the gastric bypass surgery.
I find myself living mostly in my mind, my heart and my spirit these days, and these places are vital, fully alive, and overflowing with creativity, understanding, compassion and love. While, ever more, I abandon my body.
No more. I'm taking it back. I'm moving back in. And now my decision is fueled and reinforced by more than my desire to live longer. Now, I want to be comfortable and happy too, not just healthy.
Glenn
Next Issue (#2): My Long and Winding Road
or
The
habits, lifestyle and weight persist even after the emotional hole has been
filled
Contact us at contact@gastricbypasscoach.com.
Copyright ©2002 Glenn Goldberg. All rights reserved.