Intervention at a serious level - obesity part II

Don't be kidded into thinking I hadn't tried anything else, low fat, low
carb, cabbage, calories, several commercial products, I never did the
groups. I tried one of the online commercial slimming groups, but spent
all my time criticising the abysmal user interface (day job see). I live
a few hundred yards away from a doc who dispenses a slimming cocktail
which I believe some sort of amphetamine with a diuretic chaser. Some
nights you can't move at the top of the road for psychotic emaciated
women walking with crossed legs and clutching their dosh. That wasn't
for me.
My GP had avoided dealing with weight issues consciously - he always
felt it was a step too far, and that the fragility of the assault on
probably what was holding me together would be difficult. My knees were
goosed at this time, I asked him to refer me to an orthopod, he said
when they stopped laffing they would tell me to come back when I had
lost 15 stone.
So I told Frank (GP) about this new clinic - in an adjacent health
authority area- give the lad his due, he go me referred after a wrangle
with the PCT. So with some some trepidation I approached the weight
management clinic, the out patients area at Walton is a typical mass
processing 70's facility, rows of chairs with arms. The dread of wedging
in to one strikes me with fear. Then clinic 6 has plain benches no arms
- back of the net. A small detail but I will feel more at ease without a
row of four chairs strapped to me arse in the consult.
A nice smiles and calls me Kenneth ouch always reserved for bureaucrats
and a scolding mother, she says what would you like me to call you, Ken
will do, great start, lets get you weighed. Oh God no, a trip to he back
of the hospital to a public weigh bridge, where a bell rings and
everyone comes out for a look. Nope into a room door shut take off what
you want she says. Have I time for a complete body shave says I. Next
question, will this flimsy contraption cope with me, well it takes up to
50 stone says she and you will be fine. I get on - its in kilos me and
kilos don't get on she said we shall let the doc convert it for you.
Back to waiting area. 10 minutes and in to see this Doc, top man
clinical assistant, big smile, looks me straight in the eye, seems to
respect me. First hospital doc I seen for ages that didnt sneer or
recoil. Nearly everyone feels something when they see a person as big as
me, and you can tell when its a big negative. He gestures me to sit down
in the biggest NHS style armchair I have ever seen. Carling don't make
weight management clinics but if they did .........Lets do some
measurements he said height, waist, I didnt even know I had a waist, he
holds tape and nursey goes off to the dark side, returning after an age.
I was shocked by my weight I thought 26, maybe 27 stone. Turn out I was
over 30, that shook me. He introuced BMI which was a difficult concept
to grasp at first. My physics teachers dense bone theory is poopooed. He
asks me all sorts of questions, measures my BP with a cuff that fits!!
Top banana, he does both arms, he gives me forms for every imaginable
sample and some unimaginable ones. I think we can help you if you want
to work with us. I wanted to kiss him. I was so relieved).
Appointment with a dietitian next week - for assessment - oh no another
white coated tennage skinny woman with an eating disorder and combined
degree in nutrition and patronisation.
Back home I report a successful intevention to wife, next week its off
to the dietitian. This ones different - not patronising, in for the long
haul wants to work with me. Seems as interested in head stuff as what I
stuff in my chops. First advice after honest assessment is eat more. Add
in breakfast - we are going to get along just fine. It doesn't stay that
easy for ever, next time we are talking about eating more healthily.
Less fat no mention of the D word. No diet sheets, no pyramids, no
leaflets made for people with a stone to lose.
I got back to see the doc top man we talk about drugs he says one is out
because I am on prozac and the other we discuss. I tell him about my
irritable bowel I can often go up to 12 times a day with explosive
diarrhoea, I don't fancy a drug that make that worse. I had two recent
episodes of faecal incontinence at work and the memories and stains were
still fresh.
We continue with the dietitian who i think is doing head work - I lose
some weight. I get referred to the physio programme - I was biggest in a
group of 12, 11 women nice girls who tried to make me feel welcome. I
have to be honest and say it was back to movement and dance at college
without even the side benefit of pulling.
Back to the doc and referred for CBT cognitive behavioural therapy.
Interesting one, as a mental health nurse I treat all treatments with
deep suspicion, this was held in the same building as the gender
dysphoria clinic where I was deputy manager. As a step towards
confidentiality I hover on the car park till I see the therapist then
dive in. At the same time I start a degree at Sheffield University part
time - the rumour circulates that I am living as a woman in Sheffield on
a Wednesday. Funnily enough I seem happier to let that ride then explain
I was trying to lose weight. Perhaps I should just explain I was the
archetypal fat bloke happy jolly not a care in the world (apparently).
6 months of CBT and I am off to France we have the best holiday ever I
decide to seize chances and go for them. I have seen something about
surgery on discovery channel and it looks to be for me. I pledge years
after starting at this clinic and going up and down a couple of stone to
argue my case for surgery, at the next appointment. Its a shame because
he's a nice bloke but once I have a mission thats it - Jean says you may
not get it you know (she is a realist). I press on and look forward to
seeing the Doc feels when I square up to asking for some surgery.