These kids are amazing! Apparently, they are Irish step-dancers in the tradition of Riverdance and they just started doing this to pass time in between shows. Whatever the story, they are fun to watch.
Add A Little Fun To Your Life!!!!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Fun With Google Instant - "We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel
This is one of my favorite Billy Joel Songs and this video is great. Enjoy.
The Bill Collector
John always looked at the phone sitting on his desk with dread. He had been a bill collector for about six months now and it dawned on him a while ago that he just wasn’t cut out for this line of work.
Every time he picked up the telephone, the receiver felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He was way too gullible and trusting. The people who had to pay could tell him anything. They could tell him the check was in the mail but it was being routed through Saskatchewan for security reasons, and he would beleive it. That’s why he wasn’t making any commissions. And that’s why his boss was constantly pissed off at him.
One time, a debtor actually told him that his wife had the check in her purse but she forgot to mail it - for three weeks. Then she lost the purse after she walking along the seashore. It seems a seagull thought it was a huge hamburger and snatched it.
“Don’t worry about a thing.” the debtor said, We caught the seagull and we’re going to have the check surgically removed and you should have within two weeks. John was still waiting.
His boss almost burst a vessel when he heard this. He said “God, you’ve got to be ruthless to do this job! You’ve got to be able to send your own MOTHER to the BIG HOUSE if she defaults on her credit card!! “If you’re naïve or have any sort of compassion, you’re screwed! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! A SEAGULL!! GOOD GOD!!”
After a while though, he did smarten up, but not much. All the lame excuses were starting to get to him. But the one phrase in all of the English language, that made him want to climb the nearest tower with a gun was, “After all, you can’t get blood out of a stone.” He wanted to scream at them and say, “A freaking stone didn’t make this bill, did it?!” But he never did.
However, he still had to do what he had to do. It was either this or going back to selling tacos from a truck. He picked up the receiver and started to dial. He was calling Mr. Harry Russo about an outstanding bill at Good Mercy Hospital.
The charge was for his wife’s stay while giving birth to their son and unlike the baby; the bill was about seven months overdue. The phone rang at least six times before someone picked it up.
“Yeah?” the person answered.
“I’d like to speak to Harry Russo please.” John said.
“You got him, what do you want?”
“This is John Patterson from the We’ll-Get-You-Before-You-Die Collection Agency.”
“Oh yeah…” Russo said. “So?”
“I’m calling regarding a bill from Good Mercy Hospital.”
“What about it?”
“When is it going to be paid?”
“How about right after the next time I pull $1000 out of my ass?”
“That doesn’t answer the question does it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I thought it was kind of clever. How the hell am I supposed to know? What do you want from me? I got other bills too, you know. Things are really tight right now. The wife can’t work because of the kid.
My job at the peanut butter factory was outsourced to China and because of that, I am now working at Pizza Palace. How am I supposed to get that kind of money?
“Well, you just said you were working.”
“You know what they pay me? Minimum wage and all the calzones I can eat. And the kid don’t like calzones.”
“Well, this bill is important. Maybe the other bills will just have to wait.”
“That’s what the other bills collectors say. Do you guys read from a script or what?”
“Well, I’ve got news for you. If you think we’re going to wait until your son is going to high school then you’re wrong?”
“You know, I don’t like your stinking attitude! I might not pay it just to piss you you off!”
“Oh that’s a good plan. Ruin your credit because I was sarcastic with you and I hurt your feelings. It’s not like you were going to pay anyway!”
“My credit is screwed up beyond comprehension now anyway. You know what happened when I got on line to check my credit status? The computer started laughing at me! I couldn’t ruin it anymore if I tried.”
“Listen, Mr. Russo, this bill has to be paid. Your wife received excellent care at Good Mercy. Aren’t you afraid they might take you to court? It very well could happen!”
“They wouldn’t spend the money on small potatoes like me.”
“Believe me Mr. Russo,” John said getting visibly upset, “it won’t happen that way.”
“Listen, I’ll send you ten bucks a week until it’s paid. How’s that?”
“You’re kidding right?” John said, “If agreed to that, the bill wouldn’t be paid until the next ice age. I’m afraid that this will have to be handled by the lawyers and they will take you to court.
“Why? So a judge can laugh in their faces? How am I supposed to pay?! With my looks? Oh wait, I just thought! I’ll go out to my back yard and pick some money from the money tree. What the hell was I thinking?! There’s the answer!
I’ll say it again. I think you stink and you’ve pissed me off so I think I’m gonna fight this! Maybe I’ll call the State House and report your sarcastic ass! Maybe that will make you happy. Huh? What do you think?!”
“Sarcasm isn’t going to pay this bill!”
“And neither am I. Besides, I’ve told you a hundred times! You think I’m a magician? Besides…”
The following words sounded to John like they were a record going a slower speed etching their way into John’s brain.
“Yooooouuuuuu caaaaannnnn’t geeetttt bloooood oooooouuuut ooooofffffff aaaaaa sssssttttooooonnnneee!”
That did it! That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The words ran through John’s brain like a buzz saw. He could feel his temperature rising. His fists were clenched, as was his upper torso and hair. He yelled into the phone and his words exploded so loud that all of his co-workers raised their heads from their desks. “Listen! If you don’t pay this bill, I’m gonna repossess your kid!”
Russo screamed back “Go ahead! The little bastard keeps me up all night with his crying anyway! I go through thousands in Pampers alone! That’s part of the reason I don’t have the money to pay you! I can’t watch football anymore or nothin’! The wife is always bitchy and getting on my ass about one dumb-ass thing or another! And sex? Are you kidding me?! Forget about it! Go ahead! See if I care! You’ll be doing me a freaking favor!”
John sat there with a glazed look on his face. A little bit of spittle came out of the side of his mouth. His co-workers were staring in breathless anticipation trying to discern what the debtor had said. John just smiled and dropped the phone. After sitting in silence for a moment, he hung up the phone, started laughing and dialed another number.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Honeymooners-The Worry Wart - Part 1
This is the funniest episode of "The Honeymooners" they ever did. Ralph gets a call from the IRS saying they want to see him about his return, but they don't tell him why. Naturally, he goes out of his mind with worry.
If you want to study perfect timing in comedy, then this is for you. These people were masters at what they did. Enjoy!
NFL Week One
September 9, 2010
Minnesota Vikings - 9
New Orleans Saints - 14
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Cleveland Browns - 14
Tampa Bay Buccaneers - 17
Miami Dolphins - 15
Buffalo Bills - 10
Cincinnati Bengals - 24
New England Patriots - 38
Indianapolis Colts - 24
Houston Texans - 34
Denver Broncos - 17
Jacksonville Jaguars - 24
Atlanta Falcons - 9
Pittsburgh Steelers - 15
Oakland Raiders - 13
Tennessee Titans - 38
Carolina Panthers - 18
New York Giants - 31
Detroit Lions - 14
Chicago Bears - 19
Arizona Cardinals - 17
St. Louis Rams - 13
Green Bay Packers - 27
Philadelphia Eagles - 20
San Francisco 49'ers - 6
Seattle Seahawks - 31
Dallas Cowboys - 7
Washington Redskins - 13
Monday, September 13, 2010
Baltimore Ravens - 10
New York Jets - 9
San Diego Chargers - 14
Kansas City Chiefs - 21
My Weight Loss Surgery Journey - Part 1 - "So, What's It Like To Weigh 500 Pounds Anyway?"
Me On The Right With My Two Friends, Liz Nutton and Donna Poulin Presenting A Check To The Muscular Dystrophy Association. We Raised Money By Doing Three Dances With Me As The DJ Way Back In The Mid-Eighties. I was At About 375 lbs In This Picture. The Worst Was Yet To Come.
The anniversary of my weight loss surgery is coming up again. This year marks my tenth year anniversary. It’s hard to believe because the time has gone by so quickly and so much has happened. I wrote this a little while after I got the surgery but I never did much with it until now.
Now that I have my own blog, I thought I would share it with 27 loyal readers. I hope you like it.
I began the journey into my new life by being pretty useless. When I say that, people tend to get very angry with me because they think I am putting myself down. But those who have been through this journey, know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m just stating facts.
Please keep in mind that I was 500 hundred pounds. I will forgive you if you take a moment to put your eyes back in your head. In the meantime, I will say that that was a pretty good size if I do say so myself. I like to think that it took a lot of work to get there, but it really didn’t. Not unless you call driving to the Chinese food take-out hard. I will try to describe what it was like to be that heavy.
Because I weighed that much, there was hardly anything I could do without a great deal of effort. I couldn’t stand up for more than half a minute. To walk from one room to another, I had to stop at least once. My back hurt constantly and I was always out of breath because by the way, I also smoked about two packs aday. Other than that, I was fine.
When we moved into our house back in 1990, my wife and I agreed there would be no smoking in the house. That was easy for her to say because she had already quit. If I wanted to have a smoke, I would go down to the basement or out on the deck. Before you start pumping your fist in the air, shouting “Well, it was your house too!” keep in mind that I smoked just about everywhere else we went especially when we went on vacation and she never complained. So it was a fair deal.
Going down the stairs was relatively easy simply because weight rolls downhill faster. But, coming back up was another matter. There is an area above the stairs that has a shelf where I put my keys, wallet etc. Back then; it also became my leaning post.
Just walking up that short flight (five steps) would leave me breathless and I would have to stop to try to compose myself. When I caught my breath, I would stumble on over to my recliner.
If I wanted to do something around the house that involved multiple tasks, I would try to figure out how to do them all in one shot. For instance, let’s say I tried to clear off the table after dinner. I would look at the table and say ‘Okay, if I take all the stuff that needs to go in the refrigerator and possibly carry the plates as well, I won’t have to go back and forth three times.” Either way, it would take me about 15 minutes to do it. I became very adept at multi tasking.
Because our bed had wooden slats beneath the mattresses, like most normal beds, I could not lay on it because when I did. the slats would collapse. Neither my wife nor I thought that dealing with that every night would be that amusing, so I decided to sleep on a futon we had in our living room. Since it was extremely difficult to fold up every morning, we never did and it laid flat 24/7. This caused us to lose space in half the room.
I got used to it’s hardness after a while but because but I also had sleep apnea, a sleep disorder which is just another delightful by-product of being very overweight, I would wake up literally every two hours. Even if I slept for longer than that, I would still wake up exhausted. It was like I never slept at all because I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Even though I was laying down, because I was so big, my weight constricted my air passages.
A lot of times, I slept in in my recliner either on purpose or because I passed out there. Most times, if I sat in my recliner (or anywhere else for that matter) to watch TV or something, I would immediately fall asleep. And would be a deep, deep sleep. Normally, when a normal person starts to nod off, he can feel himself getting drowsy and finally passing out.
But, with this, it was like flicking a light switch, it was that instant. Also, because of the sleep apnea (and rotten sinuses) I snored like a jet engine. I was definitely a window rattler.
My wife couldn’t enjoy watching TV with me sawing wood like that and although she never really said anything, I could tell that she was angry or frustrated. I can’t blame her. Many times, I found her in the living room watching the TV or trying to read in there because I sounded like a buzz saw.
I did get a better sleep there than on the futon, but the problem with it was that my legs would swell to the size of caveman’s clubs. They would swell so much that I couldn’t put on my shoes because they didn’t fit. They were loafers; by the way because I couldn’t bend down to tie regular shoes. If I was lying down, they weren’t too bad. (Who am I kidding? They just a centimeter smaller.) But, if I sat for any length of time, it was worse. Patti would call my feet ‘pillow feet.’
On the days when I managed to go to work, to walk from my car to my desk, which is a distance of about fifty or sixty yards, became an effort of epic proportions. I got a company handicapped sticker using my back as an excuse, from work so I could be closer to the building. But I would still have to stop at least four times. God forbid if I forgot my ID badge in the car! I used to check for it constantly because one of my worst nightmares would be to haveto walk back to my car to retrieve it.
Next to the entrance, there was a little stockade fence that I would sit and rest on. How that thing held me up is a true testament to the wonders of Mother Nature. Who knew wood could be that strong? So I would sit there vainly pretending that I was having one last cigarette before going in. In reality, I was sitting there so I could catch my breath, praying that my back would stop hurting. Then the trek to my desk would begin.
Realize now that my desk was only about a hundred feet from the back door but I managed to find everything there was to lean on. I would stop at the postage vending machine. I would lean on the wall moldings because I could put my arm on it as well as resting on the wagons sitting in the hall waiting to be taken out to the loading dock.
I then would reach my desk and lean against the filing cabinet to catch my breath. To go to the cafeteria, which was the same distance, but further away, was unthinkable. But, it didn’t stop me from asking someone to get me something while they were going there. I really couldn’t do it on my own.
I was living in a constant state of denial. I would bitch constantly about how much my back hurt. I deluded myself into thinking it was because my father also had very bad back problems and I had just inherited it which actually turned out to be partially true. But carrying around five hundred pounds certainly didn’t help it. The difference was that he is a walking stick and I wasn’t. The only things I inherited from him besides that was allergies, rotten sinuses and a very strange sense of humor.
I really knew knew inside what the problem was. Deep down in the little nooks and crannies of my mind, there was that little voice constantly saying ‘You know what it is fender head. I wonder of there are any more potato chips left?’
Aiding in my delusion, my doctor at the time suggested I have some sort of an ultrasound test on my legs to find out why they were so swollen all the time. That test was lot of laughs. The procedure involves sticking these long needles into the affected area, namely my calves, and then sending a little shock though them. I swear I still have a twitch from it.
On top of that, the guy who administered it looked like he just crawled out of Frankenstein laboratory and he seemed to really enjoy his work just a little too much. I swear to God I thought I heard him giggling at one point. I kind of got the feeling that he secluded himself in his basement a lot, late at night, doing God knows what to small animals.
One day, I went to my doctor’s office yet again, complaining about my legs, back and just about everything else. I sat in his office extremely frustrated and said that I didn’t think anything is working, all the while wondering what I was going to have for lunch.
He tried to weigh me but his regular office scale didn’t go high enough, which is something I could have told him. He then tried having me straddle two regular scales, side by side, with one foot on each one to see if he could get a reading, but it didn’t work. He measured my legs and kind of pondered the problem. It was probably right then and there when he decided to stop feeding my delusions. Finally, he said, “I’ll be right back” and disappeared.
He came back with a scale. Only this time, it was a heavy duty one, not the little puny ones you see in any drug store. He told me to get on it.
Inside, I was having a not-so-mild panic attack because I knew I was finally going to have to face the problem head on. When you weigh that much, most people honestly have no idea exactly how much they weigh. Oh they have some faint notion (or fear) as to how much, but they really don’t know. Most of the time, if I had to make a choice of gouging my own eyes out and getting on a scale, the eyes would have lost.
I could have either got on it or turned around and hobbled on back to my car. But I thought, it’s now or never. I stepped on it and not only did I see what I really weighed, but it was about fifty pounds more than I thought. It was around 495 pounds.
I immediately broke down and cried. I felt like I the biggest failure in the world. How could I have done this to myself? He left me alone for a minute or so because he it was obvious that I was upset. When he came back, he just looked at me for a second as if saying, “Now you know what’s wrong.”
He told about a drug called Meridia that I could try and he gave me a prescription. He also told me about a doctor who did gastric bypass surgery and gave me his name and number. I asked if he thought the surgery would be the way to go and he just nodded as if to say, “Well, what the hell do you think?!” I asked him to let me try the Meridia first before I make any rash decision. I knew the Meridia wouldn’t work but inside, I was scared out of my mind. An emotional wreck.
I came home and told wife and what the doctor said. I didn’t tell her how upset I was, but she knew. In spite of my sometime outgoing personality, I also have a very quiet side. When I have something very important on my mind, I am not very talkative and I just kind of sat there contemplating my life.
I told her about the surgery but it was sort of dropped, or so I thought. I tried the Meridia and it did nothing. Probably because of my mental state. I just wasn’t ready for yet another in a long line of weight loss products.
After a day or so, we did start talking about the surgery and how it might help. The thought of it scared the daylights out of me because I never have had a broken bone or anything and I certainly have never had surgery. However, I also knew that for me, it was my only chance.
My wife is not the type of woman who will constantly nag at me and I thank God for that. But, she also knows when I don’t want to deal with something, I will put it off forever. Years before this, when I was putting off making a doctor’s appointment for a checkup I needed to have for insurance, she knew exactly what I was doing. I was putting off the appointment because overweight people and doctors are natural enemies. I will never forget the time I went to an emergency room with what turned out to be pneumonia and the doctor said to me “You know, if you weren’t so big, you would be having this problem.” For pneumonia!
Instead of bugging me about it, she came into the living room while I was watching TV and said, “What are you doing on the seventeenth?” I said, “I don’t know.” She said “Well, you better keep it open because you have to see the doctor. I just made an appointment for you.”
Somebody else probably would have gotten angry, but I just had to sit there and laugh to myself because I knew she was right. If it weren’t done for me, it would not have happened. I didn’t want to deal with it and thought if I ignored it long enough, it would just go away.
She did not nag me about it, but it was constantly in the back of my mind. Could this be the answer? Well, maybe. But as every overweight person knows, I was just afraid to raise my hopes up that high. I would think that either it or I would just fail again and I would be right back where I started. So waht would be the point?Did I have the strength to deal with it both mentally and physically again? I wasn’t so sure.
She would ask me if I called the surgeon at least to talk about it and I would say no, I haven’t gotten around to it. I would tell he I was busy and forgot, like I had such vast social life. Whenever I came upstairs and complaining that I was out of breath, she would gently ask me again. Whenever I complained about my back hurting, she would ask me again. Not angry, mind you, just asking.
Next; The Decision Is Made
My Weight Loss Surgery Journey - Part 2 - The Decision Is Made
My Pre-Surgery Mug Shots. I Was At My Worst In These Pictures. Notice The Futon In The Picture To The Right. That Served As My Bed. On The Right, I Am Doing A Pretty Good Alfred Hitchcock Impression.
The anniversary of my weight loss surgery is coming up again. This year marks my tenth year anniversary. It’s hard to believe because the time has gone by so quickly and so much has happened. I wrote this a little while after I got the surgery but I never did much with it until now.
Now that I have my own blog, I thought I would share it with 27 loyal readers. I hope you like it.
I believe God talks to us every day in some way or another. I honestly don’t think he does so by shooting down bolts of lightning from the heavens, or by setting the back yard bushes on fire. I really don’t think even he is that dramatic. However he does talk to us in ways we can’t even realize and if we’re lucky, we notice.
Right before I finally called the surgeon, a whole bunch of little things happened that caught my attention. They convinced me that this was the way to go.
I was reading the newspaper on my break at work and I saw an article about singer Carnie Wilson. At this point, she recently had this done and the article was commenting on how well she was doing. The difference in her was dramatic. I always thought she was very pretty anyway but now, she was gorgeous. More importantly, she looked very happy. She was becoming the poster child for weight loss surgery and even had her operation broadcast on the internet.
That same day, I also got a call from an acquaintance at work who had this done. The call was about a problem he was having with his computer and he was calling me because I worked on the computer help desk at the time. He was the first person I ever knew personally who had this done.
I had heard of the procedure before but because of him, I finally learned some of the details. Before this call, I met him one day in a local convenience store while I was getting my daily newspaper and a cup of coffee. I hadn’t seen him at work in a while an I was amazed at how different he looked. He had lost all kinds of weight. I told him he looked great and asked if he was feeling okay. I was hoping he lost weight on his own and not because of sickness. He then started to tell me about his weight loss surgery and how great he felt. We talked about it at length, said out goodbyes and that was it.
I saw him around work all the time and there were times when he would be walking to towards me and I really would not recognize him. While I really was very happy for him, at the same time, I have to admit I was also very jealous and envious. When he would say how much his life had changed, in one way, it ticked me off because it was just one more example of how somebody was beating this damned problem and I wasn’t.
When I talked to him on the phone that day, I naturally asked him how he was doing. He said just great. He was down about 180 pounds and was looking forward to losing more. I asked if he had a minute, so I could pick his brain on the subject. I asked questions about the procedure and so on but what really sold me was when I asked him if he would do it again if he had to. When he said would in a heartbeat, it sounded like I was getting the go ahead from someone who knew what he was talking about. I got the assurance that it would be all right. I made the call to the surgeon that very minute.
When I went to visit my surgeon, I asked my wife to come along. Naturally, I wanted her for moral support but maybe she would think ask a question that I wouldn’t have. I wanted to get as much information about this as I could.
At the time, his office was near Fenway Park in Boston. We parked in the garage but we didn’t know where is office was, so we had to walk and kind of got lost. By the time we reached the correct elevator, I was puffing like a train, having to stop every ten feet or so. We got to the office and were escorted into a room.
The surgeon came in and introduced himself. He asked how much I weighed and I told him. He asked if I had any reservations and I said yes. He could see that I was still a little hesitant, so he said wanted to make a list of all the weight loss programs I had been on in my life, no matter how small or trivial. I was actually amazed, and at the asme time, very dismayed, at how long the list was. It went on and on until I had about thirty different programs on it. It dawned on me how much money I had spent over the years. Of course, every one of them had some degree of success but every one of them had also failed.
All through the conversation, he was acting like having this operation was a forgone conclusion. With me being in the sorry state I was in, that was definitely true. There were no discussions about other options, which kind of surprised me. That notion struck me later on. It never ceases to amaze me how strong denial can be. Although I knew how badly off I was, I still thought there would still be other options.
He then told my insurance would cover everything and most likely, a tummy tuck later on. I have to say this really surprised me because I thought the insurance company would have considered an elective surgery and deny it. They have since become much more stringent but back then, it was very simple. So, after hearing that, there really was no excuse now.
I thought I would have to wait a very long time for the surgery date, but his office called the next week and was told me the date had been set. It was to be August 21, 2000. It was now April so I had all that time to embark on the biggest emotional roller coaster ride of my life. This was the very first time that it really sunk in. This really was going to happen.
The surgeon told me that he had certain requirements of all his patients. I had to see his nutritionist so I could learn how to eat all over again. It would be up to her to tell us what to expect when your stomach is the size of a golf ball. What to eat, what not to eat. I also had to try to lose some weight before the surgery.
Of course, the natural reaction to hearing this was “If I could do that, what the hell do I need you for?” What the hell was this guy thinking?
He stated that there are two reasons why I needed to lose some weight before hand. It proves to him that you are truly committed to making this huge lifestyle change and I wasn’t just screwing around. This was going to change everything not only physically but mentally as well. Most of us have no idea what it’s like to be thin and we had to get used to it. I also had to see a psychiatrist just for that very reason.
You would be very surprised at how many people don’t understand that. He had to feel that you were ready for it mentally because otherwise, he was just wasting his time. The reason he would be wasting his time was because if you’re not very careful, the weight will be gained back.
It also made his life easier in the operating room. Without going into gory details, think about what it’s like to have to move around all of that fatty skin?
I also had to see a psychiatrist to determine if I was somewhat sane, a question that has baffled experts for years.
The psychiatrist asked the usual questions about why I wanted this done and did I think that I was ready for a totally new lifestyle. I said yes to everything because at that point I really was. The only other alternative was death and I found no humor in that option at all. After a very good discussion, she agreed that I was ready. That was one hurdle out of the way and after that, I still saw her on a regular basis. She put me on an anti-depressant which is something I should have done years ago because it keeps me on even keel.
I would also have to attend at least three support meetings.
The support meetings were held twice a month. My wife came with me to all of them.They were held at the hospital where the operation was going to be. Unfortunately, the entrance to the hall required us walking up a long flight of stairs. Either that or we could use an equally long ramp on the other side.
When I used to see things like this, I would go into a slow panic. Just the thought of trying to climb that ramp (the stairs were out of the question) was upsetting. No matter where I went, I would scope what I had to do to get inside. A lot of times, if I could not get a space close to the entrance, I would seriously consider just turning around and going home. In fact, a lot of times, I did just that rather than having to deal with it. If I didn’t find either a handicapped space or something just as close, that would be it.
I parked the car as close as I could and started my climb up the mountain. Every step was an effort. Lifting my legs was difficult because each one felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. A small landing was reached after about halfway up the ramp and it was there that I would rest and do the rest of it.
Once I got to the entrance I’d have to rest again so I leaned against the stand up ashtray outside the door. Naturally, I would light up a cigarette, trying to catch my breath.
The meetings would end with a question and answer period with the nutritionist and the surgeon. There was a pretty good turnout, so the questions come fast and furious. There was really a mixed bag of patients. Some were pre-ops, like myself. Others had already had the operation either very recently or were a couple of years out.
The pre-ops asked the most questions. In spite of my sometimes outgoing personality, I’m not one to talk in front of a crowd so I just sat there and listened. As I said, I wanted to get as much information as possible.
Some of the post-ops also got up to talk and share the experience. One lady started talking about how she has felt so great since the operation and how much she has lost. As I was listening to her I could feel myself starting to well up and cry. A flood of emotions just enveloped me and it wouldn’t stop.
My wife looked over and asked me what was wrong. I told her for the first time in my life, after a lifelong struggle, I could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. Would the days of being ostracized and made fun of because of my weight, really be over? Could I really just enjoy life without carrying this burden around every day really be coming true? That was the very first time that it struck me that it was possible and I just couldn’t believe it.
The one fear that everyone has about this surgery, whether they say it or not, is that it is going to fail somehow like all of the other diets we have tried. Overweight people lose and gain and lose and gain, throughout their lives. You hear jokes like “I have gained and lost four thousand pounds since I was a kid.” The thing is that it’s probably very true.
That’s one of the reasons our self-esteem is usually very low and why most of us are depressed. We constantly feel, and are meant to feel, like failures.
Even when we have lost the weight, there is a nagging fear that it won’t last. As a result of this, even though we know that this will be permanent thing, in the back of our minds, we have that dread.
That’s why I was crying. It was right then and there that I decided the best thing I could do was to take the optimistic point of view. I had to believe that this was going to change my life forever, for the good. It is a miracle, but it’s also just a tool. People reading this who have had this done will agree when I say, the doctor fixed us physically but he didn’t fix us mentally. That part was entirely up to me. I had to change the way I thought about food and just about everything else. It was a very foreboding thought.
After leaving the meeting, it was the best I have felt in ages, mentally that is. Now all I had to do was wait.
Next; The Big Day
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