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I am a
constantly developing story. It is ever evolving and ever
adapting. I change it as I need and, in turn, it changes me. I
learn from its retrospection and live for its development. It
is all I have, all I need and all I will leave. I present to
you the parts of it I think may help you. It is my story,
learn from it and yours will be better. If you try to live my
story, you will never be able to write your own.
I was born quite
ill, and of extremely low weight, so I am told. Luckily for
me, I was delivered to a set of loving parents who wanted
nothing but the best for me and still do. They provided me
with a truly loving and nurturing environment and I
flourished. I flourished so well in fact that by the time I
was 6 years old, I was fat. I have no idea what I actually
weighed, but I do remember that from my earliest recollection
I was a “big boy.”
I was probably
fat long before I was 6 but it did not seem to matter. I grew
up in idyllic place called simply: “home.” When I was 6, I
started school and was introduced to the rest of the world. I
began to understand what it was like to be different. My
experiences as a fat kid have shaped my outlook on life and
although I would not want to re-live those painful times, I
would not trade them in. A life of being different became the
blast furnace that has forged the steel foundation of my life.
From ridicule came compassion, from intolerance came tolerance
and from pain came the desire to heal others. Many more of my
gifts can be attributed to this tough training ground. What
wonderful gifts they are and I thank God for them.
I have lost 500
or so pounds in my life; 80 or so between junior and senior
high school, 120 between undergraduate and graduate school,
100 just around the time I started my own physical therapy
office and finally, the last 200 which is where this story
truly begins.
After a lifetime
of losing and gaining weight, I was approaching 40 and I was
sick . . . real sick. I was sick of living a life on the
couch. I was sick of living a life as a spectator and,
honestly, even that was too tough for me. As a result, I often
spent much of my family time asleep. I was exhausted all the
time. I frequently avoided all physical activity - even
playing with my kids. You can't get much sicker than that. I
remember my doctor asking if obesity ran in my family I paused
for a minute and I said: "Doc, nobody runs in my family." Yes,
my lifestyle was smothering my family and slowly killing me.
I had no idea
what I weighed, but I knew I was big. I had a 58 inch waist;
well a 60 inch waist really my pants were still a tight fit. I
exceeded the weight limit of my doctor's scale, so at my
yearly visits we just guessed. I think if you look my medical
chart from year to year it simply said: "Fat and getting
fatter." I remained blissfully unaware of my weight until,
finally, on a bet; I stepped onto 2 scales simultaneously.
With the burden of my size distributed between them I was able
to learn that I weighed over 400 pounds. My blood tests showed
diabetes & high cholesterol. My blood pressure was high; my
heart rate showed that even at rest my cardiac muscle was
pulling in double shifts. My exhaustion was disabling, I had
sleep apnea and I just hurt everywhere. At 410 pounds I had a
BMI of over 55. I was officially classified as "super obese."
In a moment of
absolute epiphany I decided it was time to lose weight again,
but it had to be different. This time it has to be forever. My
initial plan was to stop drinking soda and start taking the
stairs at work. It turned out to be a good plan. I lost 50
pounds. I don't remember how long it took me to lose, but I do
remember gaining about 40 back. It occurred to me that I was
an expert at losing weight and an expert at gaining it too. I
was repeating the same loss/gain cycle. What was I going to
do differently? It seemed as if I was fighting the dragon of
obesity with nothing but a pocket knife and I needed a
broadsword. It was at war and it was time to start collecting
tools for victory!
I had a sit down
with my doctor and he suggested laparoscopic gastric banding
surgery. I did a little research, and I thought it was the
best option for me. I knew going in that the success of the
surgery was going to be based on my mindset and the amount of
work I was willing to put into it. After setting my sights on
surgery, I went right to work; I began to lose weight
immediately. I lost 50 pounds before surgery and
in February of 2003 I underwent the Lap-Band procedure. In the
year that followed, my commitment to the rules of the surgery
and a strict exercise program lead me to a total weight
loss of almost 200 pounds.
At my one year
surgical anniversary (almost exactly), I went to work with a
little back pain. Within 12 hours I was on a gurney in the
emergency room looking at the ceiling tiles and a 104 fever. I
had a white count of 41,000. In doctor terms that means pretty
freak’n sick. You're white count is like the headcount at an
infection kegger. At 41,000, my body was going to have one
hell of a hangover and that was only if I were to survive. In
fact a white count of 41,000 is considered critical. It turns
out, I had developed peritonitis. This nasty streptococcus
infection and wrapped itself around my insides and was
bringing me down. By all accounts, I was dying.
The infection
baffled my surgeon who felt his only option was to open me up
and take a look around. While he was in there he decided that,
although the band did not appear to be the cause of the
problem, he would take it out anyway to avoid future
complications.
. In 1969,
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross identified 5 stages that people go
through when they grieve. She observed that when people
experience loss they feel: first denial, then anger followed
by bargaining and depression. The final stage of acceptance is
reserved for those who have worked their way through all the
other stages and are ready. I had just lost, what I thought
was my weight maintenance savior and I needed to grieve.
I awoke in the
recovery room with a cut from my chest all the way down to my
. . . . well all the way down. It was my wife's job to tell me
that the Lap-Band was removed. In effect, my weight loss
surgery was completely reversed. I did the only thing I could
do: did not believe her. When she finally convinced me, I
resolved that I would just have it put back in and that would
be that. What about later this afternoon? No, she said. Just
get some rest. I thought for sure my only option was to have
the surgery replaced. As I would come to learn that just
wasn't going to happen.
Imagine - your
greatest, most insurmountable problem, under control on
Thursday and by Friday morning; it’s baaaack. It was as if the
broadsword that I was given to fight my obesity dragon was
taken away only to be replaced with a stuffed bunny rabbit. As
you might imagine a stuffed bunny rabbit is pretty damned
useless when you're fighting a dragon. Research shows that
people who have their lap band removed are almost guaranteed
to gain back all of their weight. All I knew was that, I had a
problem. The treatment that had depended on to save my life
was no longer with me and I had issues.
As I lay in the
ICU (with the tubes going in and out. . . I'm sure you've seen
it in movies) the nutritionist came by. Which was good
because I wanted to talk, I was scared and angry. I never
viewed the surgery solely for weight loss; I saw it as
a weight maintenance tool. I looked at it as a long-term
life-saving procedure. Can you imagine if you had heart
surgery and somebody told you they reversed it?
I had questions, lots of questions. I needed her to give me a
plan, a direction. She looked at me and said; "What are you
worried about, you already lost the weight. You will be fine."
She was not helping my anger. I asked her to leave. She left,
but my anger stayed with me. It took a long time for the
anger to leave. When it did, I knew I needed a plan.
As I sat across
the desk from my surgeon, I looked into the eyes of a kind man
that looked much younger than he really was. It was hard to be
angry at him. He had saved my life twice already and he was
just trying to help. I insisted that we replace the Lap-band
as soon as possible. I was ready to do anything just to have
it back even if it meant risks. Although, I might have been
willing to risk my own health to have it back, he was not. He
explained to me that my illness and subsequent surgeries
required time to heal. Now was not a good time for more
surgery. He further went on to explain that if that time were
to come, the scarring inside would make things “complicated.”
I
left his office with a cold empty feeling that I can not
describe. It was becoming clear to me that I would not be
striking a deal to get my surgery back any time soon. I was
convinced that if I were going to keep up this fight, I would
be going it alone. I would not have the help of my old friend
the band. It was gone and that was that. What I was not
convinced of yet; was if I was ready to be alone in this
fight. I buttoned up my coat and tried to shake this cold
empty feeling. I had a lot of thinking to do. While I was
thinking, I began to gain weight.
Thinking is fine, but I needed to get to work. I had a problem
to solve and sitting around sulking about it was not doing me
any good. I don't regret having had the surgery because it did
help to save my life. I understood it for what it was. It was
a tool in my weight loss arsenal. It was just one thing and I
used it correctly. For that I was thankful. I had it and now
it was gone. So what! Who was I to waste this gift. Besides, I
am better than this! It was time to take what I had learned
and learn more. This could be magical.
I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and decided to fight this
dragon by whatever means necessary. What I needed now was a
new set of tools. I began by learning as much as I could about
the disease of obesity. The key, however, was to put that
knowledge into practice. It was time to re-invent myself. True
re-invention is a gradual, highly personal process. In the end
you end up with a whole new you. It is the art of developing
and living a better story. I needed to redefine myself in the
context of a person who no longer had the surgical crutch AND
was living life at a healthy weight. This book is, in essence
an account of what my re-invention has taught me. Using the
lessons that I have learned from writing my new story, we will
begin to write yours.
In his book: The Seven Habits of Highly Successful People,
Steven Covey describes successful people as being able to make
and keep promises, realize that they are the product of their
own decisions, honestly admit mistakes and take necessary
actions to improve. To truly be effective in those actions, it
is imperative that you appreciate and define who you
really are.
Your success is built on your definition of yourself. It is
that definition that is the basis of the stories that
determine the course of your life. In the terms of Mr. Covey,
these stories are called habits. Habits are stories that are
so much a part of you that they are automatic. They require
none of your thought or energy. They just are who you are.
Adaptation is the ability of an organism to change for its own
betterment and survival. I have chosen to survive. When my
definition no longer contributes to my survival, I am not
afraid to rewrite it. I am constantly building on my
definition and I use it to determine the direction of my
story.
As you get to know me, you will begin to learn hoe I define
myself. I am very open about it and I truly lead the life I
talk about. It is just impossible to hide my "habits". These
habits represent who I AM.
I caution you; however, it is MY definition. It will not
work for you. Feel free to learn from it but do not try to
copy it. These are my shoes and they will not fit you. At
best, you will only be able to go a short distance in them
before they begin to hurt your feet. It has taken me years to
break them in. You need to make your own shoes, take the
pieces you are ready to take and leave the rest. You might
need them later. |
