“I’m not sure I want to let you leave here…”
That’s what the nurse practitioner said to me this AM, not the hot lover I’d rather envision on this day of reckoning. Today, I went to the Lindora Weight Loss Clinic to review the results of my blood work. Short version: I am in not so very good shape.
My triglyceride count is 1,539. Normal is 150
My cholesterol is 271. Normal is 135-200
My CRP is 16.40. Normal is 1.0
My glucose is 293. Normal is 65-99
My blood pressure is 210/122.
I could have a stroke.
My type 2 diabetes is back.
I am developing a fatty liver.
I weigh 257 lbs.
I am 48 and I am slowly killing myself.
The nurse practitioner was calm in delivering this news to me. I was rather chatty going into her office this AM. I said precious few words once she ticked off the list of damage I was causing myself. My blood pressure worried her so much, she wrote me a prescription for meds on the spot and demanded I headed to a pharmacy after I left. (Yes, I did follow her instructions.)
Emotions dictate why I eat. And if you run a quick scan of this blog’s archive, emotion dictates a lot of my writing. I’ve been this way since I was a kid. And the hyperbole driven career I’ve chosen has only added to the 72 pt. headlines I often use to express myself.
In the year since my bohemian sabbatical, I’ve gone from a clear-eyed realist in good shape to a bleary-eyed depressed bowl of pudding. But it is more than depression. It is anger. It is disappointment. It is defeat.
A lot has happened to me and my family in the last year. Still, at some point you have to say, “Enough of this shit!” That moment arrived today. I don’t want to be Sick Guy. I don’t want to be Fat Guy.
I don’t want to die.
It’s not just about going from fat to fit to appease my vanity or turn the head of a former love. It really is about making a definitive life choice to ensure I continue to participate in life as a healthy man of a certain age.
I know I’m not alone in this. If you do find yourself reading along, I hope you share your own wellness stories with me. Support is essential in conquering addictions and I am a food addict. As I continue this journey, I will explore that theme a bit more as I explore the reasons for why I eat what I eat. Food addiction is as real as any other form. It is not just a cultural ism of being Latino, where food is used as a reward or a consoling gesture. My addiction to certain foods is probably my longest running relationship.
Time to break up with a really bad boyfriend.
I started the Lindora Program today and it will run for 10 weeks. Stick around. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride, but the outcome is so worth it.
PS — Some might be surprised by the photo that is the key image of this entry. It was a selfie I took in June 2014, just before I left for Spain. That was me at my leanest in my adult life. It’s a reminder of what was possible then…and now. When you have nothing to fear, you have nothing to lose.