ATTN: New Visitors! Start with the first post at the bottom of the page. I wouldn't want you to miss anything!
And so we move on. The Monday only working Dr. X has left the office! Upon his suave departure, I return my focus to the comfort of the fat ass chair. These chairs ... Brilliant!
Enter Nurse Ratchit. She returns with folder in hand and seats herself in the chair previously occupied by Dr. X. She places the folder on the table, opens it and declares, "Let's go over your checklist. It is your responsibility to complete these items so that your package can be sent to your insurance company for approval. The approval process takes two to five weeks once all completed records are sent. So the timing of your surgery is all based on how quick you can get these items completed."
Oh boy. My initial research was just about the surgery and benefits and the possible side effects. I really wasn't prepared for all the hoops I had to jump through. Once again, I really have to focus and commit to this. And just an FYI, I am bad at commitments and lack focus when it comes to doing things I don't like or am not interested in. Quite frankly, I started losing focus and getting bored with this appointment right after my fascination with the fat ass chairs subsided. Like most men, I can razor focus on work, sports and sex. Other than that, I tend to be like a two year old at Toy R Us. So all this adult talk about surgery and responsibility is really pushing my limits. But, muster on I must!
"Yes ma'am. I get it." I told her feigning my piqued interest. "let's see your little shopping list."
She slid the paper across the desk and twirled it around. She went over each one thoroughly and presented me the list for my keeping. In short:
-Letter from primary care physician stating there are no medical obstacles to bariatric surgery.
-Release from same doctor that I have no limitations to exercise after surgery
-Psychological clearance for bariatric surgery
-Complete blood test with all the trimmings
-Consultation with BC in house exercise specialist
-Monthly consecutive weight recordings and meetings with Dietitian /Nutritionist.
-Attend two Bariatric support group meetings
and finally, the Pièce de résistance,
an in-depth questionnaire that needs to be filled out by me and my insurance company.
Awesome! More quality time with Rajeeve at the Howdowenotpay company.
She handed me the whole folder with the shopping list enclosed.
"It's in your hands Mr. T. Please check with Ms. J, Dr. X's assistant after you complete each step to make sure she has the results and proper sign offs. She will be sending your completed package to your insurance company."
"I'll get started forthwith!" I proclaimed with an exaggerated hand gesture. And I did.
The next morning, I sat at my desk and opened my calendar. Let me start at the top and wok my way down.
First one, EASY! I have a yearly physical with my very cordial primary doctor, Doc Z. He's easy to deal with, pretty easy to get in to see and gives me great guidance. I called his office and told the receptionist what I needed. She promised to talk to Dr. Z and call me back. She did that afternoon. Doc Z wanted me to get another physical and he could see me next Friday. Cool. Other than the finger thing, I can cruise through this. Appointment set. I can cross #1 and 2 off my list.
Next, Psych eval. This should be a treat. I have never been to shrink before. I'm thinking that she will either think I'm a perfectly sane fat guy or a certified fat ass lunatic. I don't see a lot of gray area here. I called and got an appointment for the following Thursday, the day before the physical with Doc Z. I was told to fill out the questionnaire that will be emailed to me completely and truthfully. Again with the truthfully. These doctors definitely have trust issues. #3 off my list.
#4 is the blood panel which Doc Z will handle. Moving right along to the workout queen. Since I need to see the nutritionist 3 times, I made an appointment with Trainer L for mid February, scheduled for right after another 5 day work / golf / drinking / eating bonanza with my man friends. I guess you could call it a MANanza! Anyway, on to # 6.
We have already met my dietitian / nutritionist, the bubbly Ms. K at the consultation. She's got a cute way about her. She kinda reminds me of Underdog's girlfriend Sweet Polly Purebred. I actually had a childhood friend who thought Polly Purebred was hot. I thought it odd that that a kid could get the hots for a cartoon character. Really? And why Polly Purebred. She was a dog for crissake! What about Betty Rubble in that tantalizing short skirt she always wore? That's hot. And human. Weird dude. The guy's probably got some type of unholy crush on Lois Griffin these days. Sorry, I digress. I called Ms. K and scheduled our 2nd meeting for mid February.Yes, second meeting the consultation counted as my first meeting. I love it when a plan comes together.
Bariatric support group meeting last Monday of every month. Next Monday, I'll be there.
Within a half a day, between putting out fires at work and talking to customers, I had put together almost my whole plan for meeting the earliest possible deadline. The quicker I get through these hoops, the quicker I can schedule the surgery. Nurse Ratchit actually told me there is a lady who is approaching a year without getting all her paperwork in. A year? C'mon, she's gotta have some other issues. I'm lasered in on an April surgery date, so I am determined to get this done as fast as possible.
Just one more hoop. More quality time with my Customer Care contact at my insurance company. I really need to think this one out before I call there again. I'm determined to get Rajeeve and company to answer these questions completely and truthfully. I guess I have trust issues too.
Check back soon!
JT
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
The Consultation - Reality Sets In
Attention: If you're a new follower. Start with the 1st post so you can get up to date! I wouldn't want you to miss anything.
OK. Now we all know how I got myself into this predicament, what made me consider this option and my first encounter with my idiot insurance company, let's move on to the actual consultation.
It was a Monday, of course. Remember, Dr. X only seems to work only on Mondays. I got a late afternoon appointment and was instructed to go to the Bariatric center at the hospital. Well, being mid freaking January it was a balmy 2 degrees with a nice 35 mile per hour breeze. Typical lovely day. And, you know it, this hospital is the size of a small town and I am getting there in mid afternoon. So after I found the area I was supposed to enter, I now had to find a parking space. I was lucky, yes lucky to find a spot as far a way from the door as possible. I actually had to stalk a mid size Hispanic family going back to their van and lay claim to their spot. Fortunately, I do not drive a black sedan. I think this family may have panicked and ran in 5 different directions if I did. I looked back and was able to make out the entrance in the distance. I was so far from the entrance, I actually thought about calling a cab to pick me up and take me to the door. But, I bundled up as best I could and started my own personal Iditarod trek to the building.
Now inside and thawing out, I had negotiate a labyrinth of elevators and hallways to find what would become the center of my personal universe. The Bariatric Center. Tucked down on the lower level between gastroenterology and the cafeteria was the BC. Seems a bit odd to me to have the fat ass department located between the Monday pizza special and the proctologist. I wonder if was just lack of space or a cruel joke?
I approached the desk.
"May I help you?". Hmmmm. This mid-life marm's voice sounds eerily familiar.
"I'm here to see Dr. X for my consultation."
"Did you come alone?"
"Why? Are you going to knock me out or give me some kind of drugs?"
"No. Just curious."
Curious, eh. Sure.
She then directed me to have a seat and wait to be called. Five minutes later I was following Nurse Ratchit through the doors to a desk in hallway full of examining rooms. She took my vitals and then weighed me in on he biggest scale I have ever seen. I found out that I weighed in at 113 kilograms, almost 17 English stone. I can't tell tell you why they used those measures, but 113 sure beats the American version.
She then led me into the exam room and had me take a seat. The first thing I noticed was the size of the chair! It was awesome. They had real fat ass furniture here! The seating area of my chair is at least 1 and 1/2 times that of a normal chair. What a great invention! I immediately wondered how I could swipe this thing to replace my deceased office chair. But that probably wouldn't go over to well. And really,did I want to carry this thing all the way back to my car across the windy tundra? I think not. Idea rejected.
"Did you fill out the medical history and other questionnaire that we sent you completely and truthfully?"
Truthfully? Is this jury selection or something?
"You bet I did." I said has I handed her my completed folder.
"OK. Mr. T, this is how we will proceed today. I will discuss your history and questionnaire with you first. Then you'll meet with our nutritionist and then Dr. X. After he leaves, I will come back and discuss your next steps if you decide you want to move forward with this procedure. Do you have any questions before we start?"
"Yeah. Where do you get these chairs?"
"I really don't know. They are built to accommodate our most portly patients."
"Very cool. If I could get a small truck full of these chairs and closet full of expand-o pants, I might just skip this surgery."
"Sir. You need to be serious here."
"Yes ma'am".
At this point it dawned on me that this is real. We're playing for keeps here. OK, time to focus. The nurse and I drudgingly reviewed my medical history from puberty to middle age ad nauseum.
"When did you first notice you were overweight?." she asked.
"Second grade. I cut a corner a little close in class and knocked a stack of milk trays on the floor with my ass. Kids were scrambling and grabbing all the chocolate milk they could hold. The nuns were pissed. Looked like LA in '92. It's known as the Great Milk Incident to this day."
She continued with the questions. Blah, blah, blah..... until finally I heard the word Nutritionist. She left the room and a few minutes, a bubbly young lady named Ms. K introduced herself as my nutritionist.
We did a brief history of my daily eating habits, my weekly alcohol intake and my current level of exercise. After the look of horror left her face, we proceeded to talk about what I will be eating two weeks before the surgery and four weeks post-op. After the look of horror left my face, I just looked at her and said, "Seriously? Three protein shakes and a chicken mcnugget without the skin for the whole day.?"
"Yes. you can do it."
"If I could do it, I wouldn't be sitting here in this fat ass chair."
She smiled and left me trembling waiting for the Monday only working, Dr. X. I was in truly deep reflection regarding this harebrained idea, when the door opened. In walked the cool and young Dr. X. Casually dressed in jeans and a lab coat, he made me feel a little easier just by the site of him. He held a plastic medical model of a stomach in one hand and what looked like an Ipod nano with a ear buds in the other. He shook my hand, pulled up a fat ass chair and rolled over a small table. He plopped the model on the table and I got my first close up look at the lap band. Yep, it wasn't an Ipod. It was a sophisticated medical device that costs more than my parents first home.
After a hearty handshake and a few pleasantries, he got to it.
"Mr. T, I have reviewed your file and your medical history. I think this is the right move for you. It is time for you to change your life and this procedure will do that."
I was ready for this. My semi retired former fat ass friend told me this is just like selling a car for this guy. He ain't saying no. He needs the business like everyone else. I asked him the usual questions about surgery. Then I asked him about my insurance. I explained that my personal care helper, Rajeeve, really couldn't help me and that I was flying blind. Then he said some real comforting words.
"You have PPO?""
Arrrgh.
But then
"I have worked the Howdowenotpay Company before. Depending on your plan, you should be good."
Well that was good enough for me. The cloud of paying $30,000 for an operation has been haunting me since I made the appointment call. At least I have hope.
"Nurse Ratchit will be coming in now to go over the steps you need to take to get this approval from your insurance company."
I interrupted. "Dr. X, if I decide now to go on this thing, how long until we operate? I'm free all week."
Another chuckle with an inaudible smirk.
"Mr. T. If you are diligent in getting your checklist done, it will probably be at least
three months."
Three months! Oi vey ..... I'm struggling to keep my focus on this already. This is turning out to be way more complicated than I thought. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?
I pondered for a moment as I shifted a bit in the fat ass chair. I had to make a decision now. Stop or go forward. I really have never encountered anything I couldn't chew. I have industrial strength teeth and also the thighs to prove. it.
"Send in Nurse Ratcit." I said with conviction. "Let's get this party started."
Dr. X gave me a little smile, another handshake and turned for the door. This is the last I will see of him until our pre-op chat three months from now. What the Hell am I going to do for three months?
Can you say farewell tour?
Check back soon and get a look at the "Checklist"
OK. Now we all know how I got myself into this predicament, what made me consider this option and my first encounter with my idiot insurance company, let's move on to the actual consultation.
It was a Monday, of course. Remember, Dr. X only seems to work only on Mondays. I got a late afternoon appointment and was instructed to go to the Bariatric center at the hospital. Well, being mid freaking January it was a balmy 2 degrees with a nice 35 mile per hour breeze. Typical lovely day. And, you know it, this hospital is the size of a small town and I am getting there in mid afternoon. So after I found the area I was supposed to enter, I now had to find a parking space. I was lucky, yes lucky to find a spot as far a way from the door as possible. I actually had to stalk a mid size Hispanic family going back to their van and lay claim to their spot. Fortunately, I do not drive a black sedan. I think this family may have panicked and ran in 5 different directions if I did. I looked back and was able to make out the entrance in the distance. I was so far from the entrance, I actually thought about calling a cab to pick me up and take me to the door. But, I bundled up as best I could and started my own personal Iditarod trek to the building.
Now inside and thawing out, I had negotiate a labyrinth of elevators and hallways to find what would become the center of my personal universe. The Bariatric Center. Tucked down on the lower level between gastroenterology and the cafeteria was the BC. Seems a bit odd to me to have the fat ass department located between the Monday pizza special and the proctologist. I wonder if was just lack of space or a cruel joke?
I approached the desk.
"May I help you?". Hmmmm. This mid-life marm's voice sounds eerily familiar.
"I'm here to see Dr. X for my consultation."
"Did you come alone?"
"Why? Are you going to knock me out or give me some kind of drugs?"
"No. Just curious."
Curious, eh. Sure.
She then directed me to have a seat and wait to be called. Five minutes later I was following Nurse Ratchit through the doors to a desk in hallway full of examining rooms. She took my vitals and then weighed me in on he biggest scale I have ever seen. I found out that I weighed in at 113 kilograms, almost 17 English stone. I can't tell tell you why they used those measures, but 113 sure beats the American version.
She then led me into the exam room and had me take a seat. The first thing I noticed was the size of the chair! It was awesome. They had real fat ass furniture here! The seating area of my chair is at least 1 and 1/2 times that of a normal chair. What a great invention! I immediately wondered how I could swipe this thing to replace my deceased office chair. But that probably wouldn't go over to well. And really,did I want to carry this thing all the way back to my car across the windy tundra? I think not. Idea rejected.
"Did you fill out the medical history and other questionnaire that we sent you completely and truthfully?"
Truthfully? Is this jury selection or something?
"You bet I did." I said has I handed her my completed folder.
"OK. Mr. T, this is how we will proceed today. I will discuss your history and questionnaire with you first. Then you'll meet with our nutritionist and then Dr. X. After he leaves, I will come back and discuss your next steps if you decide you want to move forward with this procedure. Do you have any questions before we start?"
"Yeah. Where do you get these chairs?"
"I really don't know. They are built to accommodate our most portly patients."
"Very cool. If I could get a small truck full of these chairs and closet full of expand-o pants, I might just skip this surgery."
"Sir. You need to be serious here."
"Yes ma'am".
At this point it dawned on me that this is real. We're playing for keeps here. OK, time to focus. The nurse and I drudgingly reviewed my medical history from puberty to middle age ad nauseum.
"When did you first notice you were overweight?." she asked.
"Second grade. I cut a corner a little close in class and knocked a stack of milk trays on the floor with my ass. Kids were scrambling and grabbing all the chocolate milk they could hold. The nuns were pissed. Looked like LA in '92. It's known as the Great Milk Incident to this day."
She continued with the questions. Blah, blah, blah..... until finally I heard the word Nutritionist. She left the room and a few minutes, a bubbly young lady named Ms. K introduced herself as my nutritionist.
We did a brief history of my daily eating habits, my weekly alcohol intake and my current level of exercise. After the look of horror left her face, we proceeded to talk about what I will be eating two weeks before the surgery and four weeks post-op. After the look of horror left my face, I just looked at her and said, "Seriously? Three protein shakes and a chicken mcnugget without the skin for the whole day.?"
"Yes. you can do it."
"If I could do it, I wouldn't be sitting here in this fat ass chair."
She smiled and left me trembling waiting for the Monday only working, Dr. X. I was in truly deep reflection regarding this harebrained idea, when the door opened. In walked the cool and young Dr. X. Casually dressed in jeans and a lab coat, he made me feel a little easier just by the site of him. He held a plastic medical model of a stomach in one hand and what looked like an Ipod nano with a ear buds in the other. He shook my hand, pulled up a fat ass chair and rolled over a small table. He plopped the model on the table and I got my first close up look at the lap band. Yep, it wasn't an Ipod. It was a sophisticated medical device that costs more than my parents first home.
After a hearty handshake and a few pleasantries, he got to it.
"Mr. T, I have reviewed your file and your medical history. I think this is the right move for you. It is time for you to change your life and this procedure will do that."
I was ready for this. My semi retired former fat ass friend told me this is just like selling a car for this guy. He ain't saying no. He needs the business like everyone else. I asked him the usual questions about surgery. Then I asked him about my insurance. I explained that my personal care helper, Rajeeve, really couldn't help me and that I was flying blind. Then he said some real comforting words.
"You have PPO?""
Arrrgh.
But then
"I have worked the Howdowenotpay Company before. Depending on your plan, you should be good."
Well that was good enough for me. The cloud of paying $30,000 for an operation has been haunting me since I made the appointment call. At least I have hope.
"Nurse Ratchit will be coming in now to go over the steps you need to take to get this approval from your insurance company."
I interrupted. "Dr. X, if I decide now to go on this thing, how long until we operate? I'm free all week."
Another chuckle with an inaudible smirk.
"Mr. T. If you are diligent in getting your checklist done, it will probably be at least
three months."
Three months! Oi vey ..... I'm struggling to keep my focus on this already. This is turning out to be way more complicated than I thought. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?
I pondered for a moment as I shifted a bit in the fat ass chair. I had to make a decision now. Stop or go forward. I really have never encountered anything I couldn't chew. I have industrial strength teeth and also the thighs to prove. it.
"Send in Nurse Ratcit." I said with conviction. "Let's get this party started."
Dr. X gave me a little smile, another handshake and turned for the door. This is the last I will see of him until our pre-op chat three months from now. What the Hell am I going to do for three months?
Can you say farewell tour?
Check back soon and get a look at the "Checklist"
Thursday, February 21, 2013
The Appoinment Call -
Now that I have mustered up the courage to call and make the appointment for "The Consultation", I am pretty much ready to get rocking with this idea and decide one way or another if this drastic step is the right option for me. I need this consultation. I have to clear my head and determine exactly what path I'm going to take here. And time is running out. I am losing belt notches by the hour.
After doing some due diligence after my first call , I have determined that Dr. X is in my plan and that Mondays would be a better day for appointments. So I'm ready. I'm calling and I decided that I would spend the $500 even if my insurance company denies my claim. I checked my schedule and the whole next week was open. After all it's the holiday season. It's quiet here. I'll go get the consultation and if I like what I hear, I will schedule this for right after the new year. Plenty of time for a final fling.
I dialed. She answered. "Can I help you?"
"I would like to schedule a consultation with Dr. X please."
"Oh, OK. Have you inquired here before?"
Here we go again with the questions. This lady should work for the CIA.
"Nope. Sure haven't. A friend told me about it." Oh ...what did I just say ....
"A friend, eh?" she spouts. Really? Are we going to do this again? I can just see her eyebrow cresting in disbelief.
"Yes, a friend. and SHE told me I needed to call Dr. X and he could see me on Monday."
BOO YAH! I knew that threw the pesky gatekeeper for a loop because we got right down to business.
"I have all next week open and can be there any time Monday." I said.
I heard a faint sound coming through the phone. Was that a chuckle? Was that a chuckle combined with an inauditory smirk? Was the pesky gatekeeper scoffing at me?
"Hmmm. Next week doesn't work. We can see you January 21st. If that doesn't work for you, I have the last Monday in February."
Before I could think it through, I took the January 21st appointment. Over a month away.
"We will be sending you a folder with a questionnaire. Please answer every question and fill out every page completely or the Dr. X won't see you. Be at your appointment 15 minutes early."
As much as I wanted to give her a "heil hitler", I quietly succumbed to her authority and muttered "yes ma'am." I hung the phone up and exhaled. The "meet" was set.
With over a month to wait, I decided to call my health care insurer, The Howdowenotpay Company. You know them. Big national company. I think they have a commercials with lions eating their young during football games. Remember? The company with the vulture logo?
I was curious to see where they stand on this type of surgery so I called the Customer Care number. Wow. that's really nice. Customer Care. I'm a customer, so they must really care . So after punching in 174 different numbers and slowly speaking into a voice response system, I was finally transferred to my "personal" heath care assistant, Rajeeve. Ahhh, modern medicine!
"Yeah, a, Rajeeve, I'm calling to check and see if a certain procedure I am entertaining would be covered by my plan." I stated matter of factly.
"You have PPO?"
"I got PPO, XYZ, and DO RE MI. I got it all Rajeeve. If they offer it, I buy it."
"Vhat you vant to know?"
"I am interested in possibly getting a gastric lap band procedure done."
"I am not knowing this. You have PPO?"
"Yeah. PPO. Rajeeve. Do you cover this surgery?"
"Help you?"
"You got some kind of learning disability Rajeeve because you're not getting it here. Come on focus. get in the conversation! Get connected Rajeeve I need you here man."
"This is Rajeeve. Help You?"
"Dude. You're killing me. Do You FREAKING cover gastric lap band surgery or not?"
"You have PPO?".
As I gently returned the phone to its cradle, I could only shake my head and think about how much better it will be when the government takes over our healthcare.
Check back for more!
jt
After doing some due diligence after my first call , I have determined that Dr. X is in my plan and that Mondays would be a better day for appointments. So I'm ready. I'm calling and I decided that I would spend the $500 even if my insurance company denies my claim. I checked my schedule and the whole next week was open. After all it's the holiday season. It's quiet here. I'll go get the consultation and if I like what I hear, I will schedule this for right after the new year. Plenty of time for a final fling.
I dialed. She answered. "Can I help you?"
"I would like to schedule a consultation with Dr. X please."
"Oh, OK. Have you inquired here before?"
Here we go again with the questions. This lady should work for the CIA.
"Nope. Sure haven't. A friend told me about it." Oh ...what did I just say ....
"A friend, eh?" she spouts. Really? Are we going to do this again? I can just see her eyebrow cresting in disbelief.
"Yes, a friend. and SHE told me I needed to call Dr. X and he could see me on Monday."
BOO YAH! I knew that threw the pesky gatekeeper for a loop because we got right down to business.
"I have all next week open and can be there any time Monday." I said.
I heard a faint sound coming through the phone. Was that a chuckle? Was that a chuckle combined with an inauditory smirk? Was the pesky gatekeeper scoffing at me?
"Hmmm. Next week doesn't work. We can see you January 21st. If that doesn't work for you, I have the last Monday in February."
Before I could think it through, I took the January 21st appointment. Over a month away.
"We will be sending you a folder with a questionnaire. Please answer every question and fill out every page completely or the Dr. X won't see you. Be at your appointment 15 minutes early."
As much as I wanted to give her a "heil hitler", I quietly succumbed to her authority and muttered "yes ma'am." I hung the phone up and exhaled. The "meet" was set.
With over a month to wait, I decided to call my health care insurer, The Howdowenotpay Company. You know them. Big national company. I think they have a commercials with lions eating their young during football games. Remember? The company with the vulture logo?
I was curious to see where they stand on this type of surgery so I called the Customer Care number. Wow. that's really nice. Customer Care. I'm a customer, so they must really care . So after punching in 174 different numbers and slowly speaking into a voice response system, I was finally transferred to my "personal" heath care assistant, Rajeeve. Ahhh, modern medicine!
"Yeah, a, Rajeeve, I'm calling to check and see if a certain procedure I am entertaining would be covered by my plan." I stated matter of factly.
"You have PPO?"
"I got PPO, XYZ, and DO RE MI. I got it all Rajeeve. If they offer it, I buy it."
"Vhat you vant to know?"
"I am interested in possibly getting a gastric lap band procedure done."
"I am not knowing this. You have PPO?"
"Yeah. PPO. Rajeeve. Do you cover this surgery?"
"Help you?"
"You got some kind of learning disability Rajeeve because you're not getting it here. Come on focus. get in the conversation! Get connected Rajeeve I need you here man."
"This is Rajeeve. Help You?"
"Dude. You're killing me. Do You FREAKING cover gastric lap band surgery or not?"
"You have PPO?".
As I gently returned the phone to its cradle, I could only shake my head and think about how much better it will be when the government takes over our healthcare.
Check back for more!
jt
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
The Lap Band decision
Upon my return from my aforementioned jaunts across the hemisphere, I knew I had to take action. The risk of killing somebody with a flying button off my pants is just too great. Or worse, could you imagine the carnage if said button were to disengage from my trousers during a commercial flight and penetrate the fuselage of a Boeing Dreamliner? I must do this for all humanity!
So the research began. I have an old friend who was pretty ripped when we were younger due to his strenuous job of carrying water softeners up and down stairs all day long, 6 days a week. He worked his ass off and ended up rich and fat by middle age. The "good life" tends to make fat asses of us all. My friend semi-retired his waistline to a football field measurement and his weight topped the 4 bill mark. Yeesh. He made the decision to get the lap band and has dropped like 150 pounds. Well that was good enough for me.
I am not a doctor, but I play one on the Internet. Like a lot of us, I immediately consulted my most reliable medical information ally, Google. I looked up lap band and read as much as I could about it. I read and read and read. And then I procrastinated and procrastinated.
Then, suddenly one dreary winter afternoon... I was thrown back at my desk as if the earth had gyrated beneath me! OH GOD HELP ME!EARTHQUAKE! Wait a minute.... I'm in the middle of Illinois. We don't get California style earth tremors. What the f*#k? It was at this point I discovered that the wheel of my office chair severed from it's base and shot across the floor leaving a black mark in the drably painted office wall. After my heart stopped racing and I was able to restabilize my ample girth, it hit me.I killed it. The chair - DEAD. Never to hold a fat nor fine fanny again. This was a close one. Fortunately, it was just an inanimate object this time. Next time you just never know. It's GO time baby.
So back to my comfort zone, the Internet. For grins, I looked up a well regarded hospital in my area and hit their website. After a bit of snooping around, I found the Bariatric tab and clicked away. I was able to get a phone number to call for more information. OK, I got the number. I'll call later. Of course, I waited as long as possible to dial that number. Making this call means real commitment. And I am weak when it comes to committing to any kind of anti eating medical stuff. Alas, the burden of my many weight loss failures ( and the belt buckle digging into my flesh ) convinced me to make the call.
I dialed. She answered. "Can I help you?".
I froze. I didn't want to explain my personal weight failures to some busy-body lady on the other end of the line. This is doctor - patient privilege stuff. So I manned up and leveled with her.
"I have a friend who is thinking about some weight loss surgery."
"A friend, eh?" she snidely responds.
So I gave it right back. "Yeah... a friend. That's right. I have friends. And as a matter of fact, one of them is a real fat ass and I'm just trying to help the poor sap out. You gotta problem with that?".
"No sir. What particular surgery is your fat ass friend interested in?" she queried.
"You know, the weight loss surgery!" I shot back.
It is at this point that I learned that there were several different types of this surgery. After some brief questioning, we came to talk about the Gastric Lap Band.
"Well the Lap Band procedures are done by Dr. X and Dr. Y. Your friend should check to see see if either or both of these doctors is in your plan and then we can make an appointment for the initial consultation. Make sure he knows that the first appointment is close to two hours long and costs around $500 if his insurance doesn't cover it. Also, Dr. X only sees patients on Mondays and Dr. Y only see patients on Wednesdays."
First thing I thought of is that I 'm in the wrong business.
"Well, thank you for your time ma'am. This information will help us get started."
"Us?" she chimed in.
Thinking on my feet again, I responded.
"Yeah. Us. We're in this together."
"That's OK sir, we don't discriminate"
I was in the middle of explaining it's not like that when I heard the dial tone. I bet to this day she is watching out for two fat guys dressed in pastels to sashay into her office.
Check Back again and we'll talk about the initial consultation.
Chow Chow for now~
So the research began. I have an old friend who was pretty ripped when we were younger due to his strenuous job of carrying water softeners up and down stairs all day long, 6 days a week. He worked his ass off and ended up rich and fat by middle age. The "good life" tends to make fat asses of us all. My friend semi-retired his waistline to a football field measurement and his weight topped the 4 bill mark. Yeesh. He made the decision to get the lap band and has dropped like 150 pounds. Well that was good enough for me.
I am not a doctor, but I play one on the Internet. Like a lot of us, I immediately consulted my most reliable medical information ally, Google. I looked up lap band and read as much as I could about it. I read and read and read. And then I procrastinated and procrastinated.
Then, suddenly one dreary winter afternoon... I was thrown back at my desk as if the earth had gyrated beneath me! OH GOD HELP ME!EARTHQUAKE! Wait a minute.... I'm in the middle of Illinois. We don't get California style earth tremors. What the f*#k? It was at this point I discovered that the wheel of my office chair severed from it's base and shot across the floor leaving a black mark in the drably painted office wall. After my heart stopped racing and I was able to restabilize my ample girth, it hit me.I killed it. The chair - DEAD. Never to hold a fat nor fine fanny again. This was a close one. Fortunately, it was just an inanimate object this time. Next time you just never know. It's GO time baby.
So back to my comfort zone, the Internet. For grins, I looked up a well regarded hospital in my area and hit their website. After a bit of snooping around, I found the Bariatric tab and clicked away. I was able to get a phone number to call for more information. OK, I got the number. I'll call later. Of course, I waited as long as possible to dial that number. Making this call means real commitment. And I am weak when it comes to committing to any kind of anti eating medical stuff. Alas, the burden of my many weight loss failures ( and the belt buckle digging into my flesh ) convinced me to make the call.
I dialed. She answered. "Can I help you?".
I froze. I didn't want to explain my personal weight failures to some busy-body lady on the other end of the line. This is doctor - patient privilege stuff. So I manned up and leveled with her.
"I have a friend who is thinking about some weight loss surgery."
"A friend, eh?" she snidely responds.
So I gave it right back. "Yeah... a friend. That's right. I have friends. And as a matter of fact, one of them is a real fat ass and I'm just trying to help the poor sap out. You gotta problem with that?".
"No sir. What particular surgery is your fat ass friend interested in?" she queried.
"You know, the weight loss surgery!" I shot back.
It is at this point that I learned that there were several different types of this surgery. After some brief questioning, we came to talk about the Gastric Lap Band.
"Well the Lap Band procedures are done by Dr. X and Dr. Y. Your friend should check to see see if either or both of these doctors is in your plan and then we can make an appointment for the initial consultation. Make sure he knows that the first appointment is close to two hours long and costs around $500 if his insurance doesn't cover it. Also, Dr. X only sees patients on Mondays and Dr. Y only see patients on Wednesdays."
First thing I thought of is that I 'm in the wrong business.
"Well, thank you for your time ma'am. This information will help us get started."
"Us?" she chimed in.
Thinking on my feet again, I responded.
"Yeah. Us. We're in this together."
"That's OK sir, we don't discriminate"
I was in the middle of explaining it's not like that when I heard the dial tone. I bet to this day she is watching out for two fat guys dressed in pastels to sashay into her office.
Check Back again and we'll talk about the initial consultation.
Chow Chow for now~
Background on Johnny
Oh my... here goes. If I told you that I was just a normal, middle-aged, fat guy ... you'd believe me, right? Of course, why not? You probably interact with normal middle-aged fat guys everyday. But, what if I told you that in just the last 6 months I have partied my sack off on private jets & mega yachts, hung out at exclusive private clubs, had catered dinners at the most ostentatious mansions, played golf in the same tournament with a 2 time major winner, stayed at a major TV star / Business tycoon's winter retreat and flew in one of the best know men in the world's helicopter. Well ....would you believe me now?
Alas my friends, the preceding , if not braggadocios enough, is true. All of it. Through the generosity of great friends and associates, I have been able to live La Vida Loca! However, this binging like a rock star has come at a price and brought me to the doorstep of a life changing decision.
Before my latest gallivanting stint, I was a short statured, middle aged guy who needed desperately to go on a diet and lose a lot of weight. After a six month eating and drinking bender, it's just not optional anymore. My lack of inhibition and control has cost me another unwanted weight gain that pushed me, to what my doctor pleasantly refers to, as "morbidly obese". I don't know about you, but that morbid word scares me. I think it refers to diseases and dying. Well, Jesus H. Cristo, I'm just not ready for that right now. I need to take drastic action and I need to do it QUICK.
You might be asking, "what the f#*k. Didn't this poor bastard know he was suffering from a severe case of fat-ass-i-titis"? The answer to your most pressing question is .... not really. You see, I have spent my whole life trying to ignore the fact that I was, eh, different. I should have known something was up when my mom had to drive into the city to get me special Cub Scout pants. But I didn't. I thought it was normal to get about three feet of the legs cut off a new pair of pants to make them fit. Didn't bother me at all. But, in hindsight, I must confess I always did wonder why I couldn't reach the bottom of my pockets.
So I guess you could say that I was blissfully and intentionally ignorant to the fact that I was spiraling out of control. After all these years it just seemed normal for me to wake up and slip into size 44 x 27 pants. It never dawned on me that regular guys don't have to have their suits custom made for them by some guy who stops by the office. I thought all sweaters were supposed to hang to your feet and that all shirts sleeves were supposed stop at the knees. Naturally. Who wouldn't? This is how I have seen the world since circa 1965. All the while trying to hide behind a false facade. Trying to fit in a glamorous 6 foot 3,190 pound world while living in the body of a troll. This is the hand I was dealt, and I have been playing it ever since.
Alas my friends, the preceding , if not braggadocios enough, is true. All of it. Through the generosity of great friends and associates, I have been able to live La Vida Loca! However, this binging like a rock star has come at a price and brought me to the doorstep of a life changing decision.
Before my latest gallivanting stint, I was a short statured, middle aged guy who needed desperately to go on a diet and lose a lot of weight. After a six month eating and drinking bender, it's just not optional anymore. My lack of inhibition and control has cost me another unwanted weight gain that pushed me, to what my doctor pleasantly refers to, as "morbidly obese". I don't know about you, but that morbid word scares me. I think it refers to diseases and dying. Well, Jesus H. Cristo, I'm just not ready for that right now. I need to take drastic action and I need to do it QUICK.
You might be asking, "what the f#*k. Didn't this poor bastard know he was suffering from a severe case of fat-ass-i-titis"? The answer to your most pressing question is .... not really. You see, I have spent my whole life trying to ignore the fact that I was, eh, different. I should have known something was up when my mom had to drive into the city to get me special Cub Scout pants. But I didn't. I thought it was normal to get about three feet of the legs cut off a new pair of pants to make them fit. Didn't bother me at all. But, in hindsight, I must confess I always did wonder why I couldn't reach the bottom of my pockets.
So I guess you could say that I was blissfully and intentionally ignorant to the fact that I was spiraling out of control. After all these years it just seemed normal for me to wake up and slip into size 44 x 27 pants. It never dawned on me that regular guys don't have to have their suits custom made for them by some guy who stops by the office. I thought all sweaters were supposed to hang to your feet and that all shirts sleeves were supposed stop at the knees. Naturally. Who wouldn't? This is how I have seen the world since circa 1965. All the while trying to hide behind a false facade. Trying to fit in a glamorous 6 foot 3,190 pound world while living in the body of a troll. This is the hand I was dealt, and I have been playing it ever since.
So what was my "AH HA!" moment? I guess it was accumulation of things starting right before Thanksgiving last year. Our yearly sojourn to St. Maarten was scheduled for 6 days after the traditional eating fest. So, in order to get ready, we went on the proverbial pre-vacation diet. This was one of the wife's friend's diets that guarantees you lose 10-12 pounds in like 14 days. Well, I followed it pretty much to the letter and pretty much lost nuthin. AH HA moment #1. I was discouraged, yes. But I had seven days of eating, drinking and partying ahead of me to get over it. One the way home from our 2012 St. Maarten FattyFest I was able to score the exit row seats on our flight to Miami and then back to Chi-town. AH HA moment #2 came when I noticed that my ass was approaching the point of no return to fitting in the exit row seats. Oh no! What the F? I mean I had to take my wallet out to squeeze into these seats. Then .... the final AH HA moment. The Seat Belt. I had to suck in my overflowing girth to fasten up and avoid the ultimate embarrassment of the dreaded "extender" request. My fate was sealed.
Well, this sobering flying experience has been my shock therapy. After much research and deliberation I have decided to use the surgical weight loss option of gastric banding. Follow along here routinely and I will keep you up to date on my quest to achieve "pleasing plump" status. And for any one thinking about the lap band, I will try to give you a blow by blow of all the hoops you need to go through to get approved. Stay tuned!
Well, this sobering flying experience has been my shock therapy. After much research and deliberation I have decided to use the surgical weight loss option of gastric banding. Follow along here routinely and I will keep you up to date on my quest to achieve "pleasing plump" status. And for any one thinking about the lap band, I will try to give you a blow by blow of all the hoops you need to go through to get approved. Stay tuned!
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