WEEK THIRTY-SIX: What's Up Doc

First of all, let's dispense with the regular updates that I know everyone is craving for.  Today I weighed 265.  Friday it was 264, but this was Gabe's birthday weekend.  So, I had a few too many meatballs at the party.  That means I've lost 90 pounds (or 91).  I bought some new pants the other day - they were all 38" long pants.  But I have gotten into 36" shorts.  Trying to gauge actual waist size by using Old Navy is pretty stupid.  None of their pants are consistent.  Even different colors of the same pants run differently.

The food efforts continue to go very well.  This past month I endured two birthdays.  That means I had to ignore cake multiple times - three to be exact, since Gabe actually had two cakes.  And I had to reject birthday muffins once and birthday donuts twice.  Today, we actually have a half a cake in our house, along with bags of rolls, and bags of chips.  These are all left from Gabe's party yesterday.  I really don't even want to mess with those things.

My food does get boring at times.  Eating the same rotation of foods gets a big monotonous.  The biggest challenge, I think, has been the eating out one.  Heather's schedule this semester has been awful, to say the least.  Plus the kids started gymnastics back up.  This time, their classes are in the evening - which wrecks havoc with dinner.  The big problem is that fast food is just not an option.  It becomes very difficult to find a quick place on the run.  So we usually have to pick between a small set of choices.  (Boston Market wins frequently.)

I have been experimenting with pumpkin options - trying to find something that I can have this fall.  So far, we tried pumpkin oatmeal.  It was phenomenal.  But I don't want to have that too often, due to the insane carb total.  I also made a pumpkin chicken chili the other day.  It was super and even the kids devoured it.  Big problem, though, was that it was pretty bad warmed up.  I'd never had a chili that did not reheat well.  It's weird - the pumpkin butternut squash soup I made last Spring had the same problem.  It was horrible reheated.  I wonder if that is common with pumpkin soups.  I tried to make my own pumpkin yogurt - but it was horrific.  My guess was that it was a no go, until I found out one of the yogurt shops in town has that flavor and it rocks.  I guess it was just my version that was terrible.

The big event from this past month is that I went to the doctor last Friday for a physical.  I hate going to doctors.  Over the years, I have been treated by some of the biggest morons to bribe someone into getting a med school degree.  I had one guy who accused me of creating an illness for attention - when I was in middle school.  When my mom and I figured out that the problem was my inability to break down Aspartame (Nutrasweet), he refused to believe it was the real reason.  "There is no evidence that people have trouble with that.  But I'm glad you found something that helped you to make yourself feel better."  He was a gem.

When my rheumatoid arthritis was first flaring up, I went to a doctor in Jacksonville.  He didn't do any of the tests to determine if it was RA.  Instead, he told me it was my weight that was causing all of the pain.  I was confused how my weight made my hands hurt so bad - maybe lifting the fork was the issue.  The weight card was a common tool by doctors throughout my life.  In Orlando, one of my doctors was bigger than me - significantly bigger - and he used to lecture me every visit about my needing to slim down.  It was kind of hard to take him seriously.

After all of the ridicule I received for my weight, it got to be that I hated to go to the doctor.  I hated the usual routine.  They would see me come in, and then try to work the weight into the diagnosis.  "Well, it appears you have an egg allergy.  Maybe if you weren't so fat.  Avoid eggs."  Or it would be, "I am aware you fell down wet stairs and sprained your knee and ankle.  If you weren't so fat, it would be better.  Here are crutches.  I hope they don't buckle under your bulk."  It was an easy out for physicians. And I constantly felt judged.  So, I just started avoiding doctors unless I could not help it.

Last November I got the Andarian Death Flu - at least that is what it felt like.  That is something you have to see a doctor about.  I would go if I hurt myself badly, or contracted some horrendous respiratory issue.  Even when I was in obvious severe discomfort - like with the RA or Acid Reflux or back pain - my wife had to force me to go.  Yearly physicals?  You have to be crazy.  There was no way.

As I recently posted on the other blog, my RA is flaring up again.  So I need to begin some kind of treatment.  That means I have to see some kind of doctor.  I finally relented and made an appointment with one of the professors at the FSU Med School that Heather has become friends with.  One of my biggest fears had been going to a new doctor and having them lecture me on my weight - after I had come so far.  That was why I picked someone who knew what I had done.  It was a strange feeling, to be in a doctor's office knowing that I actually was doing something right about my weight.  Usually I'm so ashamed and embarrassed that I want to hide under the table.

The nurse took my vitals.  Their stupid scale was higher than ours.  [Why is it that all doctor's scales are wrong?  Shouldn't they be the ones that are always right?  Isn't there some way to make a scale that is always right - like the atomic clock?]  While she was taking my records, I asked what I had weighed last year when I was there.  "Um, it says here 350."  She went back to typing for a second, and then her head popped up and she looked at the computer again.  I knew that she had done the math in her head.  "Oh my gosh.  That's amazing."  Then she gave me five.  I was probably stupid for being so happy about that.  But a medical professional had actually been impressed with the weight loss.  She said that what I had done was incredible.  Later she asked what I had been doing, and she was very complimentary of my process.  According to their records, I had lost 79 pounds.  That was impressive enough, even thought it was wrong.  The last time I weighed there I was being devoured by alien flu germs and dropping weight - and I exploded over the holidays into new realms of fatness.

When the doctor came in, we talked about the medical history and stuff.  Then she asked about the weight loss - to get the numbers.  I told her about the stupid scale at the office.  She said they go by our scales at home.  We've been tracking the whole process, so we know exactly what has been happening.  Multiple times she encouraged me.  When the issue of exercise came up, it wasn't with a "you haven't done enough, here's what you need to do" attitude.  It was merely as a suggestion for how to strengthen my spinal column to fight the RA.  It felt good to actually be in a place where my efforts were praised by a doctor.  It had been a long time since I felt good at an appointment.

So much of this is mental - I've made that clear over the last eight months.  We convince ourselves that we are fat.  This is reinforced by other people, by the mirror, by media and entertainment sources, by doctors.  So we get into this spiral we can't get out of.  It feels hopeless.  And, unfortunately, many doctors feed this instead of offering hope.  They offer judgement and disdain.  They know that we are hurting our bodies.  They know the facts about how bad obesity is for a person.  But they want us to know that too - and they try to scare us into changing.  They don't take into account the fact that every hour of every day, we already are beating ourselves up and scaring ourselves.  The only way we can function is to tune out those inner hateful voices and just ignore the problem.  So we act like we don't care.  We joke about it.  Then a doctor comes along and thinks we are just another lazy stupid fat turd that is killing ourself.  They think we don't care - not realizing that we care so much that we can't function.  And it just becomes another reinforcement of the belief that we are useless because we are fat.

I'm not sure what the option is.  Part of me believes that until some of these older, less caring doctors leave the business things won't change.  I am glad for schools like FSU that emphasize training their students in really CARING for people.  And I am not blaming doctors - they are trying to give someone as much information as they can in a short period of time.  Taking care of my body is my responsibility - no one else's.  I just know how amazing it was to have an encouraging appointment - like teammates cheering me on.  It made me more resolved.  Mentally, it was a boost.  And in this mental battle, that is the best kind of help someone can offer.