It’s a crazy thing to lose lots of weight over the course of a few months, or even a couple years. You look back at old photos of yourself and think, “Wow. I never realized how big I was.” You gradually collect boxes of clothes you can’t wear anymore and replace them with a size or two smaller. It’s a process, and usually a ‘slow and steady wins the race’ sort of process.
That was me in 2002.
My wife and I had just gone through our second miscarriage and I’d wondered if it was me. I was the heaviest I’d ever been at 264 lbs. I’d gone to the doctor and gotten bloodwork done. I was very overweight for my height and had decided I wanted to be healthy. So I joined a place in town called The Wellness Center. It was affiliated with our local hospital and they evaluated you when you joined; checking flexibility and your BMI. They helped you figure out an exercise regiment, and had a specific circuit set up for you to switch between upper body, lower body, and cardio. There was also an indoor track you could walk on.
I started there in the spring of 2002 at 264 lbs, and by June of 2004 I’d slimmed down to 217 lbs. I put in the work, going there nearly every day and exercised. I also stopped eating any fast food and worked on better meals at home. I lost the weight the old fashioned way: I earned it.
Well fast forward 22 years and I’m at home swelling like a human water balloon. I’m thinking it’s a thyroid issue but it was actually a blood pressure and heart failure issue. The day I went to the ER I was 272 lbs. My heart got overworked to the point it lost 20% of its pumping power, letting my body slowly fill with fluids. Starting at my feet and working its way up my legs, then the last couple weeks it began backing up into my abdomen. Years of not going to a doctor for yearly check-ups or not keeping track of my blood pressure, as well as an extremely stressful last few years(and in-particular months) at work put my BP into maximum overdrive.
An ambulance drove me 45 minutes in the wee small hours of a Saturday morning, April 4th, to Parkview Regional Medical Center. For five days I was pumped full of Lasix as well as heart and BP meds. I laid in a hospital bed urinating into plastic pitchers, filling them freakishly quickly. Every morning they’d wake me at 6am to weigh me. I arrived early Saturday morning and by Sunday morning I was down over 20 lbs. Every morning it was like that; another 15 lbs, 10 lbs, 15 lbs, 12 lbs until the Thursday I left I had literally pissed away 60 lbs in five days. I went from 272 to 212 lbs.
I entered the hospital horribly obese and bloated and left a completely different human being. In five days I was a few clothes sizes smaller and medicated to save my life and fix my heart.
While it’s wild to lose that much weight over the course of months or a couple years, to be 272 lbs on a Friday and then the following Thursday be 212 lbs is downright bizarre. While I’d never recommend the heart failure weight loss system as a means to get svelte, I’m not taking it for granted. It does kind of feel like cheating, but hey I was dying. This weight loss did not come easy, folks. There were repercussions, like injuring my heart. And putting my wife, kids, family and friends through Hell. It’s not the way to go. Regular doctor visits, diet and exercise, and keeping your blood pressure in check is more the way to go.
Two months ago I couldn’t walk to the mail box without getting short of breath or hyperventilating. I felt trapped in my own body. It was awful. I couldn’t walk the dog, or even walk into the grocery store without a feeling of panic and eventual shortness of breath. I had marked it all up to stress and panic attacks. This was going on basically from last December on. Within a couple days of going to the ER my clothes were not fitting, getting tighter and the obvious bloating was hard to ignore. By the day I went to the ER it felt like my face was superimposed on someone else’s body. It was an absolute nightmare.
I’m not a religious person. I don’t thank the Lord for saving me. I thank my wife for telling me it was time to do something. I thank the docs, nurses, the funny and personable EMT drivers that picked me up at 1am to drive me to Fort Wayne, and the meds they eventually put me on for righting that sinking ship that was me. I thank science and chemists and researchers for creating the meds that would fix me. I thank technology that keeps me connected to my cardiologist and nurses pretty much 24/7. I thank the Family Medical Leave Act, employee-provided health insurance, friends that “get it”, a wife that keeps my meds in order and the trains arriving on time, and fellow employees that gave a shit about me and my well-being.
And I’m thankful for second chances. Or who knows, maybe this is my third, fourth, or fifth chance this time around. Regardless of what number of my nine lives I’m now on, I’m thankful to still be here with my wife and kids and grand puppy.
As of today I’m at 201 lbs and feel pretty wonderful. I got to take my four-legged friend on two walks. Tomorrow I’ll mow the front and backyard, make a delicious low sodium meal for us, and will live yet another day. Thanking every one of those goddamn lucky stars.
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