Living with obesity a life less lived is now worth living
I remember the feeling of weakness in the legs as I leave my bed disorientated for my weekly weigh in that had moved from the school setting to home. The feeling of trepidation willing that the red dial on the Salter bathroom scales had reached the anticipated notch below seven stone mark. Clammy, feeling nauseous, the chicken pox scabs brushing against my wash worn Beatrix Potter nightie, I had reached six stone ten pounds. Being considerably unwell with a bout of the Pox did not give me any respite to escape the feeling of shame - I was eight years old.
The weekly weigh in ritual in Mrs Ions office, seeking the much-needed approval from the middle school head teacher, the subsequent weekly call to my mother to discuss if I had this week been successful to determine if the Salter scales dial had moved anti-clockwise. The shoulder tapping of the school nurse making her weekly visit to my classroom, taking me to the Head’s office in full view of the other children was breath takingly uncomfortable.
The walk of shame to the office came with the overwhelming feeling of fear, the fear of disappointment that most weeks the dial had moved clockwise. The constant thought was how I felt, the longing to look like the rest of the other school children, to blend in and to be liked. I remember the praying inside that I was not going to be scolded for not losing weight. The vivid memory which is etched on the mind was the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be able to climb the PE apparatus without the blushes of not being able to reach the top of the wooden frame. I would have done anything to avoid the class sniggering at me. These were the earliest memories of living with obesity.
My journey with the disease like most who are living with the condition, has been a monumental journey to feel well, to ultimately feel accepted in this world. I have spent over two thirds of my adult life significantly overweight. Food has been my enemy, the constant noise, the daily grind of dilemmas of trying to determine of when and what I can eat that will not have the profound effect on whether my school uniform, PE kit and moving to the later years work skirts & trousers would not feel overbearingly tight. The buttons and zips being placed on the last hole or openings willing that they will fit without buckling under the pressure of the midriff.
The disease has dominated every thought and feeling of my being. Entering into the adolescence years where my peers could wear the clothes that were in trend, experiencing their first boyfriend, I was a ball of angst battling with shame and self-loathing, hiding away feeling worthless with the overwhelming notion that I could not find my place and not knowing how to find it.
From the latter part of my teen years to the late twenties I had reached a reasonable and stable weight, the early twenties actually slightly underweight. I had finally felt in this brief period of my life control and acceptance. I had made the move from the Midlands to London to seek the career as an Assistant, I also met my husband. Life should be good although the daily food noise was constant invading the thoughts reminding me of who I really was.
What should have been an invigorating time of my life, making a home, building a career, the constant worry of the condition continued to dominate the thoughts of when my fatness will return. In spite of shedding the skin physically, mentally I was unable to feel the same with both not operating in sync with each other.
My wedding day in 2003 should have been a time of excitement. However, trying to find a gown that could compliment and shield the growing girth was a huge challenge as the weight gain started to re-appear with momentum. As I reflect, the day was full of love and good wishes, although clouded with my anxiety that I did not feel as every bride should. My late father reaching the pinnacle of what every father wants for his daughter is to walk them down the aisle knowing his job is done, handing over to another - I did not feel beautiful. I remember the fear of what the wedding congregation could be thinking, ahh, she has tried to look her best. Perception is not always the reality, illustrating the constant feeling of seeking approval and acceptance.
Our daughter arrived December 2004, my greatest achievement. Her arrival did not come without months of complications. The pregnancy was onerous, unable to sleep with anxiety that my obesity problem will have a long-lasting effect on me and my unborn child. I was considerably unwell, the weight gain was in full force, losing mobility in the latter stages of third trimester with pre-eclampsia taking centre stage of what should have been the most uplifting and special time extending our family. She arrived by emergency C-Section as the conventional process of giving birth was not an option which obesity played it’s part. Needless to say, we did not try for another.
I was acutely aware that the disease was here to stay post my daughter’s arrival. Notwithstanding at conception the extra four stone of body weight I was carrying, I gained a further seven stone at full term gestation. At my six week check up with my GP postpartum, I was strongly advised that I needed to lose weight if there was an appetite to continue to extend the family. The journey of the next twenty years would be the worst doing everything in my power to regain some sort of normality, having no real clarity of what this could look or feel like.
The complications of obesity were here. Insomnia, upper airway resistance syndrome a condition that mimics sleep apnoea, hypertension, anxiety and living fear of possibly being diagnosed as a diabetic was at the forefront of every waking moment. The armour of weight, carrying on what felt like an extra person on my back was consuming, a daily reminder that this condition was not going away - I needed help.
A metabolic consultation in early 2010 reinforced just how serious my obesity problem had become. After an array of blood tests in the hope to identify that something else was at play, it was established that overeating and genomics concluded as to why I was fat. I needed to determine a way forward on how this ingrained problem could be remedied.
The suggested solution was bariatric surgery and that the consultant would make a strong recommendation to my GP. I presented the ask, if there was a workaround. In short yes, a conventional diet and exercise combining with the weight loss medication of Orlistat. However, I remember the consultant with a sense of ambivalence saying that this would short term fix to the problem due to the magnitude of weight that I needed to shift. He said with an element of absolute certainty that I would be back revisiting the issue with him or another consultant seeking other options to combat my fatness.
It was strongly advised that surgery was the only solution and I needed to give it some serious consideration. I negotiated mentally that surgery was not an option at this time, the fear of my digestion system being replumbed, complications that may arise as a consequence, I decided that I would pull every ounce of resilience in the tank to diet, exercise and use the prescriptive weight loss management medication.
The uphill struggle over the next twelve years took its toll on me professionally and personally. Whilst the orlistat weight management drug had confirmed that I did indeed manage to shift eight stone of the body weight collaborating with a rigorous diet and exercise regime, the regain after the removal of the drug returned with a vengeance.
My late father made an early exit from this world on the 15th January 2019. As I lay sprawled across his torso listening to his fading heart beating in ICU, exhaling his last breath, the calling of his time of death was a pivotal moment. I had finally acknowledged I had to find a long-term solution to my obesity problem. Before my father entered into the final hours of end of life, he made me promise to him that I would get myself sorted. Being a parent myself you will do anything for your children. He wanted me to find a solution to be happy and content, as he didn’t’ want me to replicate on what his life had become. His words will never leave me – he died of all the complications associated with Type 2 Diabetes.
The ripple effects of Covid still prevalent as I leave my husband and daughter at the foot of hospital door the morning of the 5th January 2022, I took a giant leap of faith by putting my life literally into a consultant hands. Thank you Mr Somers that you did not make me feel that I was fat because of choice - I had weight loss surgery.
At pre-assessment the day before surgery I tipped the scales at 149kg’s, pre LRD (Liver Reduction Diet) 155kgs. Doing nothing was now not an option. I had to follow through, taking accountability to make myself well in addition owing this to my family and to the NHS.
I have spent the last three years adjusting to my new life. The words of Mr Somers leaning forward to me as I’m slightly hunched over from the laparoscopic puncture wounds in the hospital chair ‘If you follow this process, it will change your life’. I can confirm this long journey that I have endured has not only changed my life, it has saved it.
As I bring my story to the here and now, my previous life less lived and now in the land of living, I have reached a stable weight of 62kgs, I am shadow of my former self. I have finally found comfort realising that food is my friend not my foe. In truth, I’m still finding the feet adjusting as to what is looking back to me. Whilst aesthetically I am now a slim person, I am very much aware that I will be a person continuing living with obesity. The tool that I use every day sympathetically, the promise I made to late father, to myself and those who are close to me, I align healthy food choices and exercise to keep the fatness at bay.
As I re-appraise as to what was and to the now, I feel thankful, that I finally blend in not seeking in desperation acceptance from others, I accept who I am now. I am starting to feel comfortable in new body that I have created, it’s not perfect but I have finally given permission to be kind to myself. I am worthy of what lies ahead of me. The continued career within health which has been instrumental in my journey, being able to hopefully see my daughter accomplish her hopes and dreams. My long-suffering husband who has been right by the side through the thick and thin as we enter a period of our lives of the unknown of what is coming next, creating the next chapter which I will embrace.
