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The Psycho PsyD

Here's a laugh...a gal from my baratric support group and a family friend both saw the same PsyD as I did and we all came to the conclusion that this woman was nuts or just doing it for the money.   In my case she asked me over the phone for my insurance info so she could confirm my coverage. At the consult she told me since I hadn't met my deductible I'd have to pay her out of pocket then and there. When I told her this wasn't the way my plan worked she had a mini-meltdown and I ponied up rather than to reschedule what turned out to be pointless.   She wasn't able to finish the survey and had to call me one night the following week to finish up!?! Then she emailed me my invoice and told me she'd also file it with my insurance company. When she didn't, I sent her a reminder note and she told me that since she'd sent me the invoice it was my job to handle reimbursement!?!?   I called my insurance company to find out how to do this and they told me it was her job and that she'd overcharged me - i.e., not the negotiated rate for my carrier. They're planning to review her contract and advise her that she's in the wrong!:rolleyes2:
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

Sleep Lab Part Deux

What a surprise - despite no hallmarks for sleep apnea I was forced to go to the sleep lab and attempt to sleep in a hot room with two loud fans and wires all over my head and face plus two tight elastic bands across my chest. Now I have to go back to be fitted for a CPAP(cha-ching$$$). I keep hearing this scenario from other patients - that it's almost pre-decided you have sleep apnea...:rolleyes2:
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

Diet Fatigue

I'm within three pounds of my goal weight for surgery and not really hungry. But I am so tired I can hardly muster the energy to do the laundry. As a rather fanatical housekeeper, this ain't good. Big snow storm coming and my husband is going out of town on business. Since he's refused to buy a snowblower(he prefers to shovel our 90' driveway by hand?!!) he's suggested I just get an early start tomorrow shoveling. Had to so say no to that one - like I could shovel this monster on under 500 calories??:rolleyes2:
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

Nutrition Meeting

I have my own nutritionist who I've been working with for a while, but I was required to meet with a nutritionist affliated with the hospital. Guess I expected more from the meeting. I wasn't weighed or asked how the Medifast was going. The nutritionist was a recent grad with little personality. The only way I caught her name was by her ID tag. She acted bored and as if she was dealing with an idiot. Let me guess - if you're fat, you're probably a dunce. She had all her required checklists all lined up in a rack and was whipping them out like a well-oiled machine. We went through the same questions I answered before my first visit with the surgeon, and during my psych consult. She read the Post-Surgical diet to me and told me to call if I had any problems. Meanwhile her phone line rang and rang. Methinks I'll be calling my own nutritionist.:redface:
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

The (No) Sleep Lab

Checked in at 7pm and immediately had to get into my PJ's. Thought it odd until the whole wiring process began - took almost an hour. Nice room - set up like a hotel with a half bath, but way too warm for me. And since I usually go to bed between 11:30 and 1:00am, 10:30pm was tough.   Barely slept - too warm, two fans going was unbelievably loud - sort of felt like a hot summer night when the A/C has died and you dooze at most. I'm punchy now and ready for bed - it's only 7pm!
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

Cardiologist

Spent five hours yesterday at the cardiologist. Had a nuclear stress test. They inject a radioactive isotope wait and hour, do some films(like a mini-CT), hook you up to the EKG/Treadmill, bring you to a target heart rate and then have you sit for another hour before doing a second set of films. Then I had an echocardiogram - mostly because I've had chemotherapy and it can damage the heart. No word yet from the doctor but the tech said that if they'd seen anything they'd have had me stay so...no news is good news.
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

Pre-Surgical Testing

A fun week so far - and it's only Wednesday. Had the upper GI series, chest xray and abdominal Ultra Sound on Monday plus the blood gases and PFT - none was too terrible. Drinking the barium was awful - a banana/vanilla cup of sludge..but actually better than Medifast and it sits in your gut like a rock! A definate appetite killer! Tomorrow it's four hours of nuclear stress testing and an echocardiogram then on to the sleep lab followed my the nutritionist on Friday. I get off easy next week - just the PAT's and meeting with the surgeon on Friday. Got a message from the patient coordinator that they want to move my surgery up a day, but that was two days ago and I haven't managed to get her to call me back!
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

Getting in the Pre Op Diet Groove

I've been struggling since my Pre-Op MediFast start date of 2/1... The first three days I dropped three pounds but by that weekend I was covered in hives and running to the bathroom. Soy allergy. Between the cringe worthy beef broth and the awful tasting MediFast I lapse into - No, not non-nutrious eating - but eating real(GASP) foods. Back came the three pounds. Now I'm using Jillian Michaels' Whey Powder(same counts as Medifast, trace soy, taste is passable) and it seems to be clicking. Switched to "Kitchen Basics" Veg Broth - acceptable and am sticking to the plan. Oddly enough, I feel okay and actually feel like I have more energy. My poor husband is trying to eat what I do for dinner(except more) - tonight's fare (salmon,steamed broccoli and a cup of lettuce) didn't do it for him. Do we have any frozen pizza in basement freezer?!:confused:
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

1
 

Reasons for Weight Loss Part II

(Continued) Through the remainder of my college years and through my twenties, I kept my weight under control; my weight averaged between 125 - 136, but I worked and worried about it endlessly, always feeling “fat”. As my career started to really take off and my responsibilities grew - travel, business dinners, I had to aggressively restrict my food intake to maintain my weight.   I spent the first seven years after I graduated living at home, helping to support my financially irresponsible father, nursing my mother through breast and then lung cancer and caring for my youngest brother.   I was finally able to break free in 1995. Money was tight and the debts incurred supporting my parents were high. I worked for an international insurance company, but the pay wasn’t great and my boss difficult to work for. Turnover in my department was over 50% that year, so I was working long hours, weekends and living in fear that I wouldn’t be able to keep a roof over my head. My weight escalated to 176 by January 1996.   As I became more acclimated to living on my own and managing my career, I was able to better manage my weight. Between January 1996 and August 1997 I lost 37 pounds.   I started dating my future husband, in July of that year. We both worked for the same company and although it was not against company policy to date a co-worker we opted to keep it a secret. That in addition to living 150 miles apart, was stressful and I began to battle my weight again. In the first year we dated, we both gained 20 pounds.   In 1998 I was offered a plumb position with a competing company, one that would provide a new direction to my career, a company car, double my salary, and eventually transfer me to the same city as my future husband.   I now telecommuted from a home office and inherited a service territory which hadn’t been handled in two years. Coupled with the fact that the promised “training” wasn’t provided, I was now working at times 14 hours a day, seven days a week.   Often on the road for hours at time, I turned to fast food. Late nights at my desk with pizza, long work hours, long distance relationship and loads of stress and I soon became a junk food, comfort food and binge eater. By the end of 1998 I was 166.   In 1999, I was a top performer with my company and was offered a relocation to the same city as my future husband. I was made aware that my assignment had problems and as I worked my way into my new territory, it became clear that the “problems” were quite serious and in some cases, potentially litigious. I was charged to, “treat this territory like it was my own business”. I did, and won the support of my direct manager and home office staff. I was still working 12 to 14 hours a day plus weekends. I ended 1999 at 183 pounds.   Year 2000 would prove to be the most stressful year of my life. My company decided to dramatically change my (and my co-workers) job duties. I was now juggling tasks that had been handled by three separate individuals. In April I got engaged and began planning a wedding for October in my future husband's home state, a 1,000 miles away. In August I found a lump in my breast and was diagnosed with breast cancer the same weekend the invitations arrived from the printer. Fortunately I became a patient at a world recognized research facility, but it was still a crazy, stressful time. Between August and October I was diagnosed, packed my apartment, moved to my fiance's house, arranged a wedding reception for 150 people, had surgery and worked full time. In November I began chemotherapy. By the end of 2000 my weight was up to 213 pounds.   I finished chemo in January 2001. A month later I started five weeks of radiation therapy. I continued to work full time, often 70+ plus hours a week. Despite winning multiple “key contributor” awards that year, I was given my first “unsatisfactory” performance review and told that as soon as my radiation therapy had finished, I should’ve been able to get back to my old service numbers. I was constantly stressed, sleeping sometimes just four hours a night - terrified that I’d lose my job and hence my insurance coverage. Couple with my new job duties as a “wife” I threw in the diet towel and ate whatever I wanted. By the end of 2001, I was 252 and 2002 added another 31 pounds - 283. In 2003 I was diagnosed with Type II diabetes and not surprisingly, due to the radiation to my chest, my thyroid had shut down. The job stress was incredible . My territory was supposed to be staffed by four people, but despite numerous promises from corporate that additional staff would be hired, I continued to hear that management didn’t feel we needed additional staff , since, I, "managed it all so well”. When once again my recommendations were ignored and resulted in a loss to the company in excess of 1M, I realized that I was just wearing myself out for nothing. My husband and I discussed it and as it looked like his company was going to transfer us to New York in 2004(actually took until 2005) we decided it would be best for me to quit before it killed me. Following my early “retirement” I enrolled in a local hospital's Simple Success Weight Loss Program and lost 20 pounds over 8 week period.   Over the last seven years, my weight has averaged between 253-267. I can manage weight loss for a limited time, but stress leads me to binge eating. I find myself haunted by memories of my childhood and sometimes wonder if I’m not stuffing myself to stuff down the painful memories. I am the primary “homemaker” and find that everything from paying bills, to housework, to family obligations are my resonsibility. I have minimal down time and often find my days are just as long now, serving my family, as it was when I worked full-time. I jokingly say that I “gave up” one of my jobs - now I can’t figure out how I managed to work the hours I used to and do all that I do now?!?   Nevertheless, not working has created a gap in my life socially and for my husband and I financially. I need to get back in the work force, but I’m afraid to get out there at this size. In the South, where I'm from, people are a little more gentile, a little less willing to pick on someone for their weight. I’ve found since I’ve moved to New York, that people, even strangers, will very directly comment on someone’s weight. I’ve had a neighbor snub me then very loudly comment on my weight and make disparaging remarks to other neighbors. I’ve had business professionals I contact on behalf of my charity work feel free to comment. I even had a medical professional at Memorial Sloan-Kettering harass me to the point I left the clinic in the middle of an MRI! I have had enough of dealing with and being defined by my weight, by being weighed in the balance and being found wanting because I’m too big.   I’ve spent 32 years with issues related to food and my weight coloring every aspect of my life. I was able to overcome the short comings related to growing up in a physically and emotionally abusive home; going on to have a productive professional career, a real family, and being an active member of my community. Despite numerous attempts to control my weight, this is one area in which I have failed repeatedly. I’ve been well-educated through nutritional counseling, and my own efforts to self-educate. I know the risks this extra weight puts on my overall health and I am already seeing the effects. Coupled with the social and emotional aspects of being “plus sized”, I feel like the “life” is gone from my life - that I’m avoiding doing more and more activities because I’m trapped in a body that doesn’t feel like mine. When I dream, I don’t look like this. I’m willing to make the changes needed to lose weight - I’ve done it before, but I need a partner(so to speak) to help me down the long road back to being me.
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

2
 

My Reasons for Weight Loss Surgery

Reasons for Weight Loss Surgery Part 1   I was a normal weight child and very active - a “Tomboy”. My home life at best was dysfunctional , at worst, physically and emotionally abusive. Food and access to food was controlled by my mother. You ate what was put on your plate and if you didn’t finish by the time everyone else had, you sat there until you did. Didn’t finish? Your plate was put in the refrigerator and served again at breakfast and again until you ate it. You were not allowed to help yourself to something to eat in between meals and there were no “after school snacks” unless I had a friend over. When I had company, treats like milk and cookies were offered but I knew better than to have any - as soon as the other child had gone home, I’d be castigated for having eaten the “treats” which were “just for company“. I was also schooled not to accept any snacks at a playmates’ house. If by chance the other parent mentioned to my mother that, “the kids had a snack of…“ as soon we got home I would be punished.   Food and the withholding of food figured prominently in our disciplining. Poor grade on a test - I was sent to my room to await my father’s return from work. At which point I would be beaten with a belt and sent to bed with no dinner. Accused of “back talking” - sent to my room to write 1,000 sentences; “I will not back talk” - and provided an apple and a glass of milk per day until the task was completed.   My mother designated food as belonging to certain people; “your father’s cookies”, “my ice cream”. To ensure my brothers and I didn’t, “steal” or “sneak” food, it was often hidden. When I was 9 or 10, my younger brother already had a weight problem so to ensure neither of us were eating outside of my mother’s control, we were locked in our rooms at night.   Mealtime was itself was a miserable experience. My father would come home from work to down a pitcher of martinis and as my mother would harangue about a variety of issues, we would sit down to dinner. To deflect my father’s anger away from her, my mother would pick a scapegoat. Usually, it was me. Both of my parents made it clear from the time I was a small child that they hadn’t wanted a daughter, thus I was fair game for humiliation for any shortcomings ranging from a poor grade or a messy room to not being invited to a party. More often than not the verbal abuse would denigrate to being slapped, punched or dragged by my hair from the room before being beaten with a belt. I learned to eat fast and get away from the table as quickly as possible.   At age 13, my mother became concerned that I was getting, “too fat” and took me to the pediatrician for my annual physical. The doctor assured her my weight was normal and that I was developing into a woman. As we left the doctor’s office my mother told me that she, “Didn’t care what the doctor said - you’re going on a diet!“.   I tend to recall that day as the day my problems with food really started.   My mother was an expert dieter - 5’6’’ and no more than 118 pounds ever. Extremely proud that at the birth of her last child, my second brother, she’d gained no weight, her eating habits were poor: coffee and a cigarette for breakfast, a weight loss shake for lunch, minimal servings of whatever we had for dinner, followed by a large serving of frozen yogurt for dessert.   Following the fateful doctor visit, the focus on my weight became excruciating as did the rules. No bread, no dessert, breakfast of coffee and orange juice only. My lunch was packed for me daily and was the same thing - dry tuna, an apple, a thermos of skim milk. Dinner was portioned out by my mother - no seconds allowed. We did not celebrate my birthday one year as I was “too fat”. Now in high school, the control over my eating extended to my personal life. My mother went though my drawers, reading notes from friends, refusing to allow me to drive, or work, putting me on social restrictions for months. Despite this I was a solid B+ student, class officer and involved in numerous clubs and school organizations. At home the physical and verbal abuse continued; I had, “thunder thighs”, “whale lips”, “piano legs”.   I chose a college five hours away from home. While I quickly got the hang of college life, the availability of food was something I wasn’t used to. I joined at sorority and lived in the house. We were provided with three meals a day and it certainly wasn’t the narrow selections offered to me a home. Other girls were eating bread and dessert - it wasn’t long before I was eating like everyone else.   I was 118 pounds when I left home and 133 when I came home for Thanksgiving my freshman year. My mother was furious and refused to speak to me again after advising me that if I wasn’t down to 118 by Christmas, there’d be no presents. I wasn’t and there weren’t.   When I came home for the summer break that year I was up to 156. This time I was advised that it was too humiliating to be for her to been seen in public with a “pig” and that if I wasn’t 120 by the time it was time to return to school there would be no new clothes. That summer passed with her indirect references to me as “her”, “she” and “it”, using other family members to communicate as necessary.   I came home from my summer job on my birthday to find my parents had left that day for a beach vacation with my brothers. The note left indicated that no one wanted me to go as it was too embarrassing to be seen with someone as “disgusting” as me.   I left for college that fall - 123 pounds but no new clothes as I weighed “too much”.   I haven’t worn shorts or a bathing suit since then. (Continued...)
RavenClaw779

RavenClaw779

5
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