I wasn't going to write about this. I certainly wasn't going to say, in public, that I'd gained eleven pounds between my initial appointment with the surgeon and my appointment with the dietician six weeks later. Yes, you read that right: 11 pounds gained in 6 weeks. That's some championship-level eating right there. So, how did it happen?
When the surgeon asked me that question, he wasn't pleased. He most certainly wasn't happy with the response, either.
Half of that time, I was traveling for business. I was attending conferences and meetings all day (from 7AM-10PM usually) and the other half, I was too tired to cook, so most of our meals were from fast food joints, take out and delivery. It sort of became the running joke in our house about where to go for dinner. I mean, c'mon, there's only so much KFCTacoBellKelly'sRoastBeefBostonMarket a person can eat, right?
So, there you have it. My confession.
As I said, the surgeon wasn't pleased with the answers I gave him. "Let me guess," he asked rhetorically, "when you went dowstairs for the buffet breakfast every morning, you walked right past the fruit, oatmeal and cottage cheese and went straight for the eggs, bacon, sausage and bagels."
"That's not entirely true," I said, truthfully, "I did put a few pieces of fruit on my plate before I hit the eggs, bacon, sausage and bagels."
He was not amused. "You have a wiring issue in your brain. I'd bet that if you see someone else eating it or you smell the food, you can't resist it, even if you're full and you don't actually want it."
Light bulb! "Yes! That's exactly what it's like!" It's like someone finally telling you that hey, yeah, you're fat, but it's not entirely your fault. It's a relief to know that it's not just my lack of willpower or disdain for the treadmill that has made me fat and kept me this way - there's a biological reason as well. It's not just the arthritis in my knee and ankle, my slow metabolism, my IBS, PCOS, glucose intolerance or any other number of things wrong with me. There's a larger underlying issue that isn't going to be resolved by beating myself up about it.
And after some tears - of joy and shame - we agreed on a date. July 6th. My Independence Day. I am working as hard as I can to do what I need to do to make that date a reality. In the week between seeing the dietician and my follow up with the surgeon, I lost three of the 11 pounds I'd gained. He'd like to see me lose 5-7 more in the next month before I see him again.
To do that, I've stuck strictly to the dietician's recommendations. I set up alarms on my calendar to remind me to eat and when to drink. I eat by the clock, even if I'm not hungry, because that's what I'll need to do post-surgery as well. I've been walking more. I'm not setting aside gym time, but I am walking around my work campus much more and taking an extra walk during lunch time when I can get in another mile or so (and when the weather cooperates).
I've also scheduled the next psych appointment, dietician appointment and called my primary to send over additional documentation to the surgeon. Sometimes it feels like getting prepared for this is a full-time job. I should have the psych clearance after my next appointment (awaiting a call back to schedule), the dietician's clearance after my next visit on June 13th, pulmonologist clearance is being written up now (even though the sleep study results are still another week or two away from being complete) and then the final hurdle will be getting the surgeon's final sign-off and the insurance clearance.
Exciting times!
No comments:
Post a Comment