So I was out of medication and my "favorite" doctor said he was no longer giving me refills if I didn't have blood work drawn and come in to see him. Jerk! I was not a fan of this doctor. He was practicing "tough love" with me. He was far from the beloved Dr. Mike that we left behind in Indiana! Dr. Mike was so kind and supportive, but was he too nice? I was wishing there was a happy medium between him and my new, rather blunt physician. Suppose blunt is what I really needed? It would not be a lie if I told you I hated this new doctor. I really did! I am ashamed to say it. However, he saw right through my affair and called me out on it! How dare he! He was not interested in being my friend and assisting me in continuing the elusive affair.
In his defense, which I can only say now after the fact, I had not been to the doctor in over a year. My clothes were tight, my sugars were high, and I was avoiding him. I felt terrible and I did not want to face the truth and end my love affair with food.
I was about to be delivered the truth, which slapped me in the face. The doctor delivered it just like that also, as if her were slapping me. My weight was at an all time high, and I cannot even type what my A1C was. He told me flat out that he did not want to hear my excuses. He needed me to hear the truth, that this affair was killing me.
The dreaded moment had arrived. I was going to have to go on insulin. I had told myself time and again that if I ever had to go on insulin it would be the beginning of a downhill journey and that journey had just begun.
His suggestion? It was the same has he had been preaching for four years, I needed to have gastric bypass surgery. He was right. The time had come. I had been researching for years, and this was what I needed to do. We talked about what I needed to do to get started. I needed to go home and call my insurance and see which hospitals I needed to consider and make the first move on this journey to ending my affair and rebuilding my health. And so it began.
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