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It all started back in October of 1997. I graduated college in the best shape of my life. I was about 170 lbs. and extremely fit. I ran between 3-6 miles a day to keep me ticker's pace regular. I lifted weights to keep my muscles strong and durable. My flat bench was about 275 lbs. at the time of graduation and went to about 300 lbs. a few months later. I could shrug about 375 Lbs. So, my slim 170 body was composed mostly of muscle, with a body fat percentage of around 11%. Between exercising, working 4 jobs, being a resident assistant and taking 18 credits almost every semester, I was the man of perpetual motion. After graduation I went home from the incredible blur of a pace that I kept in college and relaxed for about 3 months. Then it became time to enter the "Real World". I needed to start my search for a career. I think my parents were sick of seeing my ass around the house. It didn't take long to find a job. The area that I had looked was Manhattan and Manhattan's job market was pretty healthy at the time. I wasn't really sure what field I wanted to go into but I had a Fine Arts degree and an interest in digital media. The first job I landed was at a company called Quad Graphics. They are a printing and digital prepress company that not only has a nationwide presence but a world wide one as well. The hours that I worked For Quad were extreme. My starting shift was was 7pm to 7am. (Yes, overnight!) Well, a combination of the unusual hours and the move from Mom's wholesome home cooked meals to eating various indigestible, fatty, fast food delights all precipatated some of my weight gain. The hours that I worked almost completely eliminated the possibility of any kind of real workout schedule and the food was definately sticking to my ribs. I stayed at Quad for about 1.75 years and then decided to change jobs to make more money and be better appreciated. There were other reasons but they are not important for this story. Writers note: When I left quad I weighed about 192 Lbs. This wasn't a bad weight for me but, it was about 20 lbs. more then when I left college. A 20 pound gain in almost 2 years wasn't awful and I was a bulky, thickly built person anyway. So, I carried it fairly well. About the same time I changed jobs I met a girl. And any guy will tell you that a good "I got fat" story always begins with, "I met this girl". Ahhhh, a lovely girl she was. We spent a great deal of time together. The only problem was that she was a skinny, sedentary girl who could and enjoyed eating sticks of butter and not getting fat. (exaggeration, but you get the point) For the time we were together I partially took on her eating habits and level of activity, which was not helping the matter. But anyway, fast food and relative inactivity added to the factors then taking toll on my ever expanding waistline. About a month later I was doing some routine exercises at the gym. For what ever reason, be it that I hadn't stretched enough or maybe I wasn't warmed up enough, I was doing an Exercise called the "Clean and Jerk" and I had a catastrophic dislinkature in my spine. The bar that was using was laden with 190 Lbs. and it was at full extension over my head. A loud "Pop" came from my spine. It sounded bad and felt worse. As a matter of fact it felt like someone hammering railroad spikes into the center of my hipbone with a sledgehammer. I tossed the 190 lbs, forward and crumpled to the ground in agony. For a few minutes I lay there unable to move my legs. I couldn't even wiggle my toes. The pain was torturous, I could hardly think. The rack that I was lifting at was in a seperate room of the gym and there was noone around. So, I decided to drag myself across the floor using my upper body to get help. I flopped over on my stomach which sent a wave of biting, needling pain through my entire body. Laying face down I reached forward with both hands and grabbed at the rubberized floor and pulled myself a few inches forward. The pain was so intense that my eyeballs started to sweat and I was seeing unnatural colors. Again, I reached out and pulled forward. Repeating the motion I had traveled a few feet into agony. When suddenly a rush of beautifully tasty pins and needles flowed down my spine. My feet began to move and my legs responded. I stood shakily to my full height and the fell rubber leggedly to my arse. I made the attempt again. Quickly and solidly I was on my feet. I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief....thank the human body for endorphins. I gathered my stuff and went home. I figured I would rest for a few days and be back at the gym in no time flat. 
Walking for the first few days after my injury was, shall we say, difficult. I didn't let on to my friends and family about how much pain I was in. I didn't want to make them worry. Hell, I didn't even tell my family about the injury until after I went to a real doctor. (which was months later) Knowing that I was a Little pain, my girlfriend suggested a local chiropractor to see if a simple adjustment could relieve my pain. For this story we will refer to the chiropractor as Dr. Billem N. Hurtem. Dr. Billem brought me into his office, asked me what was troubling me, listened for about 20 seconds, then gave me a 5 minute "adjustment" and sent me on my merry way after scheduling another appointment. We tried "adjustments" for about two more weeks with no long term benefits. Dr Billem quickly broached the topic of getting an MRI. Then shoveled that idea away and opted for more adjustments. This continued for about 2 months. Which happened to coincide with the time when I received the first statement from my health coverage carrier. I was completely covered but I found out that Dr. Billem was billing out each 5 minute session at about $180 per visit plus, my $35 co-pay. Which made things clear to me. If he was able to schedule 8-10, client visits, per hour he would be billing out at about $1720-$2150 per hour. At this point I decided there was a chance he wasn't looking out for my best interests. In my next visit, I asked him about that MRI. He said, that he thought the "adjustments" were helping a great deal. I said "A Great Deal..... hmmmm, let's go ahead and schedule that MRI appointment." He said, "Are you sure you want that, its a rather uncomfortable test?" I said, let schedule for Friday, I am off of work." He said with a pouting face who's full chubby cheeks resembled a banks money bags, brimming with cash, "Ok, if that is what you want." I said, "It is" I got the test taken and it was fairly uncomfortable. The technician slid out a shelf that was centered in this large white machine that looked like it might have been taken off of the set of The Wizard of OZ. She motioned for me to lie down on the shelf. |
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She Stated that I should get comfortable because I was going to have to lie completely motionless for about 40 minutes and if I moved it would mess up the test and I would have to do it again. She then slid me into the belly of the machine. The shelf really had no clearance. My nose was almost touching the top of the shelf. Granted I have a large schnoze but still, that's not much room. Good thing I am fairly calm person and not too claustrophobic. The technician went into another room where I could see her only through a glass window between the rooms. I guess she wanted to be a safe distance away. Then the machine hummed into operation. The humming wasn't too bad but when it started popping, chugging, and chorteling it was pretty disconcerting. The tech's voice came over a PA and said, "Don't be alarmed by those sounds, they are perfectly normal."
I thought to myself, "Yeah....."
Now I felt as if I was laying in the belly of some kind of convoluted Wizard of Oz-ian popcorn maker.... 40 minutes that seemed like about 6 hours went by. I had remained completely still as not to have to do this crap again. The tech came in and slid me out of the machine like a hunk of roast beef across a meatslicer. She told me I was all done. So, I hopped up off the shelf taking no concern for that fact that I was wearing one of those butt exposing hospital gowns....Who cares, she could watch my fat ass leave. A few days later it was time to meet with a real doctor who had looked at my MRI films and get my verdict. I was going to have to go into work late in order to make time to meet the doctor. I was already unhappy about that but there was no choice in the matter. I got to the doctor's office and had to wait almost 2 hours to see him. Evidently he is famous for being late.... When I finally did see him, he greeted me warmly and began asking me questions to get to the bottom of my problem. He asked me to perform a few physical challenges involving my balance, leg strength and coordination. He did this to observe how my body handled the tasks. Then we sat and looked at my MRI films. He began to blabber on in intranslatable medical terms. Until I stopped him and asked for a more user friendly desrciption of what he was seeing in the films. What I saw looked like a human frame (hopefully mine) and it looked to be decently undamaged. Writers note: MRI- (Magnetic Residence Imaging) Films look like a Typical X-ray What he explained as the problem was that there was a pea sized (a large freakin' pea) intrusive bulge off of one of my vertabral discs. The bulge was on the inside of the vertabrae and it was putting pressure on my spinal cord. This was the source of the pain. Because of the location of the injury it was causing pain not only in my back but down my leg as well. He explained that this was because the nerve that feeds my leg is being squeezed by the bulging disc. There was one thing left unexplained. My symptoms were affecting my left side but the bulging disc would indicate pain on the other side. This bothered him and he continued to look for something else. But there was nothing else there. He wanted to send me to take another test. He said that the MRI is very good for seeing what is happening in the tissues of the body but a CT Scan (pronounced CAT scan) would give a better view of what the bones were doing. This and the use of much medical jargon began to really scare me. Never in my life had I felt fear. He was asking me to go for another scan to see if any of the bones in my spine were broken. After that I left and I was feeling very uncertain about what he had said. Now there was the possibility that I had broken my back! OH FUCK!!!!! I was having trouble breathing and I was feeling like I was back in the Popcorn maker from OZ. I went to work very shaken and very quiet. I calmed down and had to go for my CT scan. This time I was strapped to a table and they slid a big white doughnut around me. And you guessed it, again it popped, crackled and chorteled. Another version of the Popcornmaker From OZ. I went back to my doctor, who I found out was a neurosurgeon. The sheer fact that I was seeing a neurosurgeon was incredibly scarey for some reason. Fear was a very strange feeling for me... He looked over the CT scans and said, ok, nothing broken! A huge wave of relief came over me. So, I asked, "Where do we go from here?" He said, "There are two options.", "It all depends on how much pain you are in?" I said, "Hunh?" He said, "Well, you can either have an Intervertabral Discectomy, which is an invasive destructive surgery on the inside of your spine to remove the disc bulge and have the possibility of being in exactly the same condition in 3-5 years or you can do absolutely nothing." I looked at him like he was the nutty professor... So, he figured he should explain further. He said, "Here's the situation, if you are in tremendous pain I would recommend the surgery because it can provide relief." I asked, "But this a relatively risky surgery?" He said, "Not really, it's done very regularly and it's successful." I thought to myself, "Do I wanted to the nutty professor sticking a microscopic scalpel inside my spine to remove a chunk of occlusive disc material?" Then I asked aloud, "What are my other options?" He said, "If the pain is bearable you can try physical therapy." I said, "Let's go that route for now." He said, "Ok, that sounds like a fine idea. We can always go back and do the surgery later. But once the surgery is done we can't undo it." No shit, Jerry Lewis! He recommended a physical therapist in my area. I began treatment a day later. The therapist was a genuinely nice guy with a good practice. He was jovial and he really knew his stuff. He had me lifting weights to strengthen the muscles in my back and then he had me stretching muscles that hadn't been stretched.......ever. Part of the treatment was a set of electric paddles. At the end of the session he would set them on my back and crank up the wattage to a point just further than when I would tell him to stop. Supposedly the electricity causes increased oxidation of the cells in the treated area and this helps to speed the healing process. I didn't care, it felt damn cool! I went about 3 days a week and felt like a million dollars each time I finished a session. After about 2 months it was time to end the sessions. I was improving my condition and my healthcare provider wanted me to stop the therapy. So the therapist taught me some ways to continue my therapy on my own and sent me on my way. As it happens, just when the therapy ended, my old gym re-opened under another owner. I signed up immediately and continued my therapy. Getting back to the fat story....... At this point I was feeling better considerably but I had hit a spritely 220 Lbs...... sometimes 225. I had tried to excercise along the way, but it just wasn't helping. It was December in 2001 and I starting to realize what the problem was. I was in a bad relationship. The emotional stress added to my life by the problems in my relationship were taken a toll on me. It was affecting my mental state plus, it was affecting my eating habits. I continued to work out with some results. I was getting stronger and more cardiovascularly fit but I wasn't losing weight. I had wanted to lose weight not just to aid in my appearance but to reduce the load (and I do mean load) carried by my body's frame. Being strong and cardiovascularly fit is great but I needed to weigh less. Now, I had drawn the line. I wasn't going to buy anymore fat clothes. I was going to take control of this. About a month and a half later I felt something change in my body. I refer to that as the day I smiled goodbye at my fat self. I was still overweight but I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt in control and I felt the changes taking place in my body. About two weeks later things had gotten pretty bad between my girlfriend and I. It was the height of emotional stress. So, one night I decided that I was going to end it. It was the toughest decision I had ever had to make. I loved her with everything in my soul but it just wasn't healthy and it couldn't continue anymore. I called her and made plans to get together..... The night rolled on and I was nervous because I knew what I had to do was going to be very tough.... Well, she never showed up. She just blew me off. because she had something better to do. Then the next day she called me and said, "We need to talk" Well, evening time rolled around and she arrived at my house late. We looked at each other and knew what was on each other's mind. I won't get in to the detail of what was said, except for one thing.... When someone tells you that you are too fat to love, that's the kind of injury the leaves a mark The above statement is a translation of what was said not the actual words used. That night I left my house and went to the gym with a dead spirit and went through a pretty tough workout. I felt physically good after the gym but I was destroyed emotionally. A few days later, the change that I felt coming in my body took form. I dropped 10 lbs!!!!!!! The change that I had felt was my metabolism cranking back up to where is was 3 years ealier. This was what I needed to lift my spirits. I felt energy flowing in me again. The change wasn't done yet but, it was just beginning. Another 5 pounds dropped off before I went to Mexico I was at 205 pounds when I went go have fun in the sun. I had lost 5 more pounds before I went to Las Vegas. While I was in Vegas I lost 5 more pounds, inspite of the all you can eat buffets. When I went to Italy I was weighing in at about 195 pounds. When I came back from Italy I was about 190 pounds, which kind of shocked me. In Italy I ate everything that wasn't nailed down. because everything in Italy tasted "Multi Bene". The pounds were dropping off like a crap filled poopy diaper falls off of a stinky baby's butt. 190 pounds was my first goal that I had set for myself and I had reached it! I was so happy with myself that I nearly jumped out of my shorts when I weighed in. I smuggly looked at myself in the mirror and said, "I knew you could do it". My next goal and final goal was 180 pounds. I had figured that after being 220, 180 was a fairly respectable weight for someone of my build. I continued a healthy excercise schedule and I made a concerted effort to eat healthier foods. I didn't eat any low-fat, artifically sweetened, low calorie, dog shit tasting diet crap. I ate full fat, sugar using, good tasting foods that were healthy. I was enjoying eating. Everything tasted better now that there wasn't an emotional string attached to everything I ate. It became a quest to find new and tastier foods everyday. By the time I went to Maine I was tipping the scales at 180 pounds even. I had reached my second goal. Where do you go when you have reached your destination? You just enjoy the ride! There was no third goal other than to keep fit and healthy. My back was feeling immensely better having lost 40lbs. Which reminds me, I have to go see my physical therapist and shake his hand! I continued to exercise and hold on to a healthy lifestyle (except for the occasional bout of drinking with friends). Every few weeks I'd check my weight just to laugh at the scale, I had hence made the scale my bitch! But I noticed something. Suddenly one day I looked at the numbers and was very surprised. The scale was teetering at about 170lbs. Oh, shit I had lost another ten pounds..... I hadn't been paying attention. I went home that night and got naked and looked at myself in the mirror. I gave myself a poke in the ribs and said, "Oh shit, I have a six pack again!" Going from having a keg to having a six pack isn't usually considered a good thing except in this particular case. My uni-ab had given birth to some extra bumps and formed a six pack. I was feeling pretty good about myself...... Moral of the story, when you think you've reached rock bottom there is always farther to fall. But there is one thing that will help you, having faith in yourself. If you don't believe in yourself, chances are, that no one else will either. Even a second's worth of doubt can cost you everything. On to bigger and better things... |