My First Weigh-In and Class

Finally, after all the weeks of waiting, all the evaluations, and all the parties I had with food because I knew the diet was coming, the day had arrived. I would weigh-in, buy my prepared food, and join my 'modified-fast' group. The group wasn't filled with people who were all starting tonight. It was a revolving group. It was an evolving group. A group of people, some of whom had been there for what seemed like an eternity, and those who had just blasted in and lost the weight and were ready to leave. So I was joining a program...already in progress.

I had been the new kid all my life. This would be no different. My first experience being the new kid was in 6th grade. My catholic school of 5 years had to close and it was merged with a catholic school across town. They took our entire school and stuffed us together with a brand new set of kids. For good measure, they threw all of us in a hat and shook out the names (you would have thought this actually happened) and dropped us in one of two classes. So some of your old friends were with you, some were not. They put me in a seat right behind the girl who is today my wife. The finger of fate had pointed me out and stuck us together. For me, 6th grade would be the first in a long line of changes that would forever have me branded "the new kid."

"Ok class, we are all going to introduce ourselves and I want everyone to tell the class something about yourself." Let's start here. "Hi, I'm Tommy...blah, blah, blah" "Hi, I'm Liz..." "Hi, I'm Dick" Laughter. "What?", the teacher said. I was waiting for this, it always happened. "Dick...that's right, Dick...oldest son of two socially insensitive parents." Yeah baby, it was 1973 and the name Dick was just starting its entree into the English language with a brand new meaning. The dawn of a new era for me, like the age of Aquarius. The last year or two hadn't been easy. 6th grade is when you start to get wise to the social stuff. I had wished at times I could change the stupid name (and later I actually would for 4 years). I was named after my father, who was named after HIS father, who was named after HIS father. I was 4th in a long line of Dicks. The only one who really benefited from this was my younger brother, John, 11 months my junior. Let's face it, brothers don't really get along that well growing up and are always looking for an edge on each other. And if you are a younger brother in 1973 and your older brother is named Dick...well, face it, you just won the brass ring in the carousel of life. So with the blessing of a name like that, you learn how to be the new kid. If you can't laugh at yourself...well, you will be the only one not laughing, so you better just join in.

Before I could join the class, I had to weigh in and get my blood pressure taken. This was a big deal that day. This was the baseline against which all future progress would be measured. This was the data I was here to actually change. I weighed in at 286lbs and my blood pressure was 135 over...something. I never remember the bottom number, even though someone told me once it was the more important of the two. After you weigh in, you stand in line to get your food. They have one desk in one room and a palate of pre-mixed Optifast Shakes in cases. They also have the powdered mix, meal bars and soup (more on these two later). For privacy reasons (??) they make you stand behind a line outside the door and down the hallway a bit. This is to give the weight patients privacy as they buy their items. They then give you your shakes (and we all get the same amount of them because the diet is measured) and they give them to you in big transparent plastic bags. And then you leave and you walk BY the people in the corridor...who silently pretend NOT to see that you have exactly what THEY are about to purchase in your bag. The secrecy was hysterical. Like some perverted "don't ask, don't tell" policy. It would have been awesome if someone would have walked out with their see-through bag and half a bird from KFC with a canister of those big fluffy potatoes on the side (smothered in gravy, of course!).

So now, I finally got the chance to go to my class! I carried in my top secret see-through bag and pretended not to notice the OTHER see-through bags. Hey this was great! There was Ray, my buddy from work who lost all the weight! "How you doin' Ray?", I said excitedly.

"Great, lost about 70 lbs, tonight is my last night!"

The only guy that I knew in the class and he was ready to leave. He was going to the 'maintenance program" where you go when the diet goal is reached. They focus more on learning how to eat and keeping the weight off.

The meeting was run by a behavioral specialist and she had us all introduce ourselves. I have seen this movie before. "Hi, I'm Dick..." Silence. Wow. I guess people actually grow up and out of the whole "his name is Dick, ha ha" thing. It felt like Weight Watchers a little bit without the food talk all the time and, of course, no one ran out the door screaming. It also was roughly the same ratio of men to women as Weight Watchers...about 3 men to about 17 women. I didn't get it. Men don't care if they are fat or not? Women feel forced to bend to the societal underpinnings of needing to be thin to be beautiful? Whatever it was, none of these people seemed engaged. It's like they were dragged here. It bothered me. Because I was totally psych'ed up to be there. Why were they so quiet and down? Maybe because you have to pay a lot to be here and it has depressed them. Maybe they were starving...those little shakes were killng them. Maybe though, it's because they were somewhat unexcitable and boring? Perhaps...you be the judge. I just tell the stories.

Next: Is this a diet contest??

The Doctor's Visit - The Final Hurdle

Ok, maybe I just expect too much. I went to the psych evaluation and thought that the person evaluating me should be the kind of person who has empathy for fat people, as in, the person should have been fat. She wasn't and obviously had never been. That should really have been the tipoff that I was in Seinfeld's 'Bizarro World.' Am I wrong here? Is it too much to expect that the people who profess expertise in something be the picture of what they profess? Where would Sylvia Browne be with all her psychic books if she wasn't even marginally psychic? Don't you expect that when you go to a mechanic, his car shouldn't be broken down in his driveway? When you go see Dr. Phil, do you expect that he is going to be a divorced psycho mess? So I go see the Doctor who RUNS the Weight Management Program and I expect him to be? Help me here. That's right. THIN! But instead, in walks the kind of jolly guy that I expected to see in the psych eval. Yessiree Bob, this paunchy little fellow runs the whole program. I am looking around for all those little shakes they showed us in orientation...maybe he is currently ON the diet. Maybe he is drinking those babies down four or five at a pop like Yoo Hoo and he ran out. Maybe he gets thin, then fat and then gets thin again, just to show the patients how well it works. I really have no idea. So I can't wait to hear what he has to say.

First, I have to tell you, I didn't really want to be there. When you are over 40 you do NOT want to go for anything called a "physical." I could take the EKG heart test with the super-glue stickers they use to remove the hair from your chest. I could take the tube they stuck down my throat when they did an endoscopy like Indiana Jones looking for an ulcer. I didn't even mind all that much when the Ear, Nose and Throat doctor stuck the tube in my nose and down the back of my throat...and I still have no clue how she was supposed to find the source of my allergies that way...but I didn't mind that much. So there I sat with my eyes just scanning the entire room feverishly for that little box that looked like tissues, but had those clear rubber gloves in it. I was here for the diet, not to make intimate friends.

The other thing is, no doctor has ever performed a physical on me where I thought they had the potential to discover anything that I couldn't already have imagined I had or had self-diagnosed on the internet. I always get the same questions during the appointment. Real penetrating questions. Family medical history (I wish they would type it into a permanent record...I didn't make it up last time and I don't expect it to change...much), job history (stressful?...and they are always surprised when you say 'yes') and recent emotional history (they want to make sure they can get out of that little room alive). Blood pressure. Listen to the heart ("take a deep breath...now don't breath normally"). Take the temperature. Someone, at some time, should explain to me how accurate those new thermometers are when they get dragged under your throat and across your forehead for 1.5 seconds. How the hell is it that you have to shake down the thermometer in your house for 5 minutes and suck on it for 3 minutes yet this thing can register your body temperature in 1.5 seconds? One time, seriously, the nurse said "96 degrees". I said, "shouldn't I be 98.6?" She said, "close enough." Medical science. As we reach the finale we always have the rubber glove handshaking...his glove, my shaking. Then there is the usual final diagnosis..."you need to lose some weight." Seriously, somewhere in Granada there is a third world medical school that is just pumping out the graduates.

Compared to my usual visit, this one was quicker and more efficient. My jolly doc just went through the standard questions, reviewed the blood test I had taken at their request, told me how the diet would work, and asked me if I had any questions. I had read a lot about the diet, no questions really. He said my weight and BMI (body mass index) had me right on the border-line between overweight and obese. Obese...gotta love that term...or better yet 'morbidly' obese. Nice to know they have a term for those times when obese just doesn't quite decribe you. Because I was border-line I got to choose between two programs, Full-Fast or Modified-Fast. The difference you ask? Modified-Fast is three 160 calorie shakes per day and one carefully measured meal. Full-Fast is 5 of those same shakes per day, all liquid. I chose Modified-Fast, no need to be extreme here right? I was quite happy. We did all this with my clothes on.

He told me I would have to get an exercise evaluation but that I could start the program without that...I could get that later. I chose a Thursday night program that I would have to attend once per week (more on that later). And so there I was, ready to start the program. Finally, after all the waiting and evaluations, I would start the program. I was actually excited.

DickThinks
As an aside from my diet, I should apologize because I missed blogging last night. You most likely don't care. I did, however, make a promise to myself to try to have an entry every weekday. Last night didn't work out. My very generous son gave me his cold...something I actually haven't had since before I began my diet last July. The sore throat was starting and I went into the cupboard in search of my old friend. There it was all the way in the back, hidden from months of non-use. That tall fat bottle with the clear plastic cup perched upside down on top of it. Yep, 40% alcohol and 60% heavy duty medicine. You know you are using stuff created by a pro when it comes with its own plastic shot-glass. You got it...Nyquil. The Nightime, Sniffling, Sneezing, Coughing, Aching, Stuffyhead, Fever, So You Can Forget Tomorrow Medicine. It's the only medicine I've ever taken where I can wake up 10 hours later and feel like I am wrapped in cellophane. It says on the side of the bottle that you should take it in bed. That's because if you don't you might pass out between the bathroom and your bedroom and hit your head on a coffee table or something. Nothing like medical lawsuits. So needless to say, I did a shot of that and was out like a light. Sometime this morning in the middle of a 10AM staff meeting I woke up and wondered what I had eaten for breakfast. But at no time did I remember blogging. So tonight, I blogged first. Now, off to my Nyquil. I am going to try to dream that the Conflicker virus does not infect anyone and that April Fool's day is uneventful! Until tomorrow...

Next: My First Weigh-In