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Gastric Bypass Surgery is a cheater’s way out, I thought. When my sister announced her intention to have a form of it performed in the early 90’s, I begged and pleaded with her not to do it. I’d heard all the horror stories and I just didn’t understand her need for something with more lasting results… I was fat, excuse me, morbidly obese, too, but I was still trying to diet with Weight Watchers, SlimFast, the cabbage soup diet, 3-day-diets, endless diet pills and any other thing that I thought would get quick, fast results. My sister and I even had our jaws wired in a dentist office on the same day and downed gallons of doctor-supervised liquid diet drinks in hopes of freeing the real woman within. I failed all of them.
However, my family history of heart disease, diabetes and other ailments was sure to catch up to me if I didn’t do something. I watched each day as my mom would pick through and devour pills from a bowl filled with prescription medications that sat on her kitchen table.
Meanwhile, my own weight continued to climb. Other health issues began to reveal themselves. No matter what I’d try to curb my appetite, nothing would last long enough for me to reach my goal. It wouldn’t be long before the lost pounds would be found again.
My turning point came when the scales strained to support my 416 pound frame and I had to ask for assistance from someone at work to buckle my shoes. My grandson, Van, had already made the comment that I didn’t run and play ball with him as I used to do. Oh, and I can’t forget the day my family rode rides at Universal Studios in Florida. I watched from the ground because the safety harness on the vehicles wouldn’t close around me and I had to get off.
On August 4, 2004, my children and grandchildren accompanied me to the hospital for surgery. Even though I’d investigated the surgery on-line, talked with others who’d experienced the surgery, attended informational meetings and read other printed literature on the subject, I was a bit apprehensive about my own outcomes but determined to make it work.
The day I was released, I laughed to myself and felt apologetic because the transport person, a thin young man who was to wheel me out of the hospital, came with a smile and a regular sized wheelchair. But once he sized me up, he quickly exited and returned just as fast with a chair the size of a love seat. As he pushed my toward the elevator, I could hear his strained breath- I wanted to get up and push him instead.
Today, I’m more than 200 pounds lighter and still losing. The surgery is just what it’s advertised to be---a tool, when properly used to get the desired results. Finally, I’m free from the plus size only shops, doors are being held open for me, even security guards greet and invite me to have a nice day. But if none of those things ever happened again, it wouldn’t take away my confidence and feeling of better health. What’s more, my grandson approves……Margaret Bailey, Savannah, Ga.
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