Hitting Bottom

Just like individuals addicted to alcohol or drugs it is often necessary for the morbidly obese individual to hit bottom before we do anything about our own addiction. I hit bottom or you might say got my wake up call on January 2, 2001. On this day I was at a clients residence when I was hit with a deep pain in the chest and was having difficulty breathing. For the last week or so I had been fighting a cold and thought that I may have developed a touch of pneumonia. I figured it would only take me another half-hour to complete my work and then I could go see a doctor so I continued. After about another minute I realized that I should go to the doctor now and finish the job later. Embarrassingly I went to the client explained to her the problem I was having and asked to use her phone to call my HMO, Kaiser Permanente. The client whose daughter is an emergency nurse asked, “Should I call 911?” I replied, “No, I think I will be able to drive to a clinic.” I phoned a Kaiser health nurse who asked me to describe my symptoms. The advise nurse told me that it could be my heart and not pneumonia, to hang up and call 911 and have them take me to St. Vincent’s Hospital emergency. With continued embarrassment I asked the consumer to call 911 for me so that she could give directions to her house, which was out in the country.

Here I was, possibly suffering a hear attack and I was embarrassed because I had to stop before completing my job and was leaving the job in an ambulance. Embarrassment was an idiotic reaction under the circumstances but that is what I felt. Within minutes medics from the fire department arrived and were giving me oxygen and treating me. Within a few more minutes an ambulance crew arrived. On the way to the hospital the medics on the ambulance were finding symptoms that indicated to them that I had experienced a heart attack and were treating me as they could.

Arriving at emergency I was immediately moved into a room and test were started. This came as a big surprise to me for a few months later I had driven my wife to emergency as I felt she had experienced a stroked and it took them two hours to see her. What I learned from this, if you think you have an emergency call 911.

At emergency an EKG was performed, blood test taken, a chest x-ray was made, constant monitoring, nitroglycerin patch applied. The testing went on for an hour or so and the doctor stated that I did not have pneumonia and that they had not found any positive indications of a heart attack. I have a hyatal hernia and the doctors stated that they thought I was experiencing a gastric reaction but they were going to keep me overnight for more testing and monitoring.

I was moved into a hospital room. I asked the nurse to bring me some pajama bottoms and she brought 3 pair but none were large enough to go around my waist. A bit later I called home to speak with my wife Lynda. Lynda had been hospitalized recently for a stroke and they had inserted a catheter as she was confined to the bed and could not get up to use the bathroom. Lynda asked me if I had been castrated? Now I knew that this was a slip of the tongue and she meant catheter, but I still kept my legs crossed the rest of the night.

During the night I require oxygen off and on. A 24-hour monitor was attached to me, A variety of heart test were performed that night. They also rolled a huge scale into the room to take my weight (301.1 pounds) Three hundred and one was bad enough, why did they need that point one?

The next morning I saw a doctor who stated that all of my test for heart problems had been negative but they were going to perform an echo-ultrasound and if that was negative a treadmill test. The echo was negative and I was taken downstairs for the treadmill test. Now this test is embarrassing in itself. Here I am a bloated whale with globs of fat hanging around my midsection. Wires are hooked up to me and I am gasping like the totally out of shape person I was. Still, I was going to do my best to hit the maximum on the treadmill, as I don’t quit easily. Huffing and puffing through this test I keep saying continue. Finally the doctor tells the technician to stop the test. The doctor then says to me, “You looked down and when someone looks down I figure they are about to get off so I stop the test.” While I was tired I was disappointed as I felt I could have gone a bit longer even if it killed me. The doctor informed me that he had stopped the test at 86% of a normal heart range and he saw no indication of a heart problem.

Back in my room my doctor comes in and informs me that I don’t have a heart problem at this time but if I don’t do something about my weight and exercise he can not guarantee that I wont. I was told that I could go home. The nurse removed the i.v. from my arm and left the room. He had not removed the heart monitor so I figured no problem I will remove it myself. Just as I took it off the nurse enters back into the room and says what have you done they will think you died. I said what do you mean, wasn’t the monitor turned off? No he replies as he runs out of the room to inform them that it was all a mistake and I was still alive. When the nurse returned to the room I asked why they had not ran into the room to try and save my life. The nurse replies, “Sometimes they fall asleep at the controls.” While I hope that he was kidding, I certainly don’t want to find out at some later date.

This was my wake up call. I had been given a scary and expensive warning. I had suffered embarrassment at the clients, my wife had asked if I had been castrated, I had exposed my flabby fat for all to see, and had flat lined (accidentally thank you). I do not want to face these experiences again and the best odds I have are to get and keep the pounds off and get some exercise. My doctors and many others had warned me but it took hitting close to bottom. Bottom is six feet under and I do not want to hit it.

My wake up call was also a wake up call to my wife. Lynda has a lot of problems of her own and was in and out of the hospital twice this past year. Even so, she had difficulty controlling what she ate and drank even when I would try to control what I ate. These changed things, we were both on a diet now realizing that if we want to reverse any terminally it would have to be now.

Back home we started our diet. We also gave up coffee, which for me was difficult, as I looked forward to its jolt. The doctors had previously encouraged me to give up coffee as they felt that it was contributing to my prostate problems, high blood pressure and hiatal hernia problems. Withdrawal was not as bad as I had figured it would. While we did switch to decaffeinated coffee I was still getting some caffeine through ice tea and an occasional diet soda.

01/06/2001

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