The Weight-loss Chronicles, Part 5: Not Being Afraid of the Doctor

I never liked going to the doctor’s office. We always had the same conversation every time. “You need to lose weight,” he’d say. I’d just sort of shrug my shoulders and say, “Yeah, I know.” Of course I never had any intention of losing any weight. Nope. So year after year we repeated the dance – my doctor insisting I need to lose weight, me going “Eh, whatevs.” At some point I just stopped going because I didn’t want to deal with it. I was ashamed to admit I still wasn’t taking care of myself.

However, about three months into my new lifestyle I had gall bladder surgery. After some abdominal pain, a call to urgent care, and an ultrasound, I found out I had polyps in my gall bladder. My google search suggested this could happen when one loses a lot of weight in a short amount of time. That definitely described me. By the time the end of March rolled around, I was around 217 or so from 258. I had to have my gall bladder out. Whatever weird thing happens when you drop weight happened to me. Once I’d recovered I had to have a checkup with my primary physician.

This time it was different.

We would have an all new conversation this time. He walked in and checked my chart and vitals. I informed him that I had just had gall bladder surgery.

“Do you know why you had gall bladder surgery?” He asked.

“Because I lost a bunch of weight?” I replied.

“Yep.”

I was pretty proud. He was proud too. I told him about my diet plan and how much I had lost. He was actually impressed. He was more complimentary than I had ever heard him be. I wasn’t afraid or ashamed anymore. I was actually taking care of myself and I felt a lot better about the whole “going to the doctor” thing.

That’s not the only thing that was better. I hadn’t been taking my blood pressure medicine because it was making me light-headed. However, when they measured it, it was normal. All my bloodwork was normal. Blood sugar? Normal. I was elated! I was healthier than I had been in probably ten or fifteen years. It was awesome. Even the nurses were impressed and happy for me.  

There was just one the doctor wanted me to do.

“Are you getting any exercise?”

“Um…no.”

“You might want to start getting some exercise.”

Noooooooooooooo!

Next time: That dreaded exercise!