Shortly after the pot roast lunch, my co-worker took me to a symposium for other morbidly obese folk like myself who were interested in Gastric Bypass. I was consumed with shame and guilt as I parked at Huntington Hospital and began the trek towards the room where the event was held. Shame: what a terrible person I am for letting myself become this giant marshmallow. Guilt: I definitely shouldn't have had that chicken burrito on my way here.
I walked past two skinny nurses outside on a smoke break. Shame: I'm sure they're mortified by my appearance. Who wouldn't be? Guilt: I'd rather have a cheeseburger than be here right now.
I walked into the room and was immediately shocked by all of the other very large people. A few of them were pushing or pulling oxygen tanks, many had canes and there were a handful who had someone else pushing them in their plus-sized wheel chairs. Shame: Oh my goodness, I look like this. This is me. Well, in five years anyway. Guilt: I'm totally grossed out by some of these people but I'm one of them!!
I sat down with my co-worker as far in the back of the room as I could, took out my notebook and pink gel pen and waited with asthmatic breaths for the symposium to begin. Shame: My shirt isn't big enough to cover the rolls around my middle. Guilt: I still really want a cheeseburger.
A tall, thin (of course), blonde doctor approached the podium. He was maybe 40 and had probably never had a day where he worried about calories. He started by going over the multiple types of stomach surgery: Lap Band, partial bypass and the full bypass. (I promise one day I will go into details about the many differences between each; its definitely good to know!) His practice only did full bypasses because they had the highest success rate and "lets face it, you don't need to continue to struggle (with weight loss), you need the chance to succeed."
I was scribbling notes away on my paper with the fervor of a college student cramming for finals. There was so much information to absorb but I felt like I didn't have enough time. After the Dr's turn at the microphone, he introduced a panel of guest speakers- all post op. The first to take the floor was a very tall man of about 60. He stood with his strong presence next to a full size cut out of the man that he was only three years before. At his largest, he had tipped the scales at over 400lbs. Next, a small woman of about 45 took the stage (9 years post op) and told of her struggles with infertility and how she ate to cover the pain but it just fed the vicious cycle- "The bigger I got, the more unlikely it was for me to conceive" she said as she wiped tears away from her now chiseled cheek bones. After we journeyed through her past, she introduced us to seven year old son.
At the top of my page I wrote the one single word that was resonating in my mind. "HOPE!"
If they could, so could I. The next step was to schedule an appointment with the skinny Dr and to see if I qualified. Day two of my future concluded on the wings of hope and prayer.
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