| Thyroid Success Stories |
The thought of a nice juicy sausage and potatoes with gravy had
always appealed to me. I loved the sausages with the most
"juice,"
actually fat, and when it squirted out as I slid my fork or knife
into
them, I was at the portal of Eden. What pleasure! In the course
of
time I had learned where all the best sausages of the world came
from... and the worst. The best came from the German speaking
countries and the worst from what used to be called the British
Isles.
I never tired of sampling the wurst from Germany, Austria, Italy
and
Switzerland and conversely learned to stay away from the British
and
Irish ones. In Scotland I even found one brand that bragged on
the
wrapper that the contents are "guaranteed only 15% meat!" The
rest, I
found out, was mainly oatmeal. Shades of Haggis! How dare they
desecrate wurst! .
Then, of course, there was the good beer that naturally goes with
any
good sausage! I was (and still am) an expert on beers and people
from
all over treated me like the walking beer encyclopedia that I was.
Fat chance that I was going to stop enjoying myself.
In consequence of all the sausage eating and beer drinking I
found
myself (at 5'10") at 295 lb. (134 kg) in January of 1997 at the
age of
sixty-one. One day my doctor told me I had Type II Diabetes. My
feet
hurt. I had high blood pressure and was taking pills to keep it
within, if not normal, an acceptable range. I was breathing hard
with
every little exertion. People at work told me that they heard my
breathing seconds before I arrived in or passed their offices.
During
the night my wife told me that sometimes I stopped breathing and
she
feared that some night I might not start back up again. I tossed
and
turned and I snored...well... a lot. I was hot and sweaty most of
the
time. My daughter said I was "sick" on weekends and used that
excuse
to sit in my recliner and watch TV. In fact, I did suffer from a
lot
of intestinal problems and frequently had diarrhea, what I called
intestinal flu.
I was a perennial favorite Santa Claus at Xmas parties. I am a
jolly fellow and people laughed or at least smiled when I walked
into
a room. When I was serious they thought I was kidding. I was
taking
blood pressure pills, gout pills, and diabetes pills. All this I
took
in stride and called it the result of my own pleasurable
lifestyle. I
told myself that I was willing to pay the price. I ate a
"healthy"
lunch while my good friend Matt was working out in the gym. I
brushed
off invitations to join him with a smile and a dismissal.
I was a perennial favorite Santa Claus at Xmas parties.
But the announcement of my diabetes shocked me more than I
realized,
and my doctor said I had to start taking my blood sugar levels at
least every morning and every evening, and at least take the pills
he
prescribed. The effect was one of classic bio-feedback, I tried
doing
stuff to get that sugar reading down. I started writing all my
blood
sugar levels down. I graphed them on my computer. I learned all
kinds
of formulas to see if I could predict what would happen if I did
any
certain thing, as, f.i., increase or decrease my pill dosage, or
more
importantly decrease my total food intake, or increase or decrease
certain types of food like fiber, fat or sugar. Or exercise.
And so after much encouragement by Matt I went to the gym under
protest. I choose the stationary bike in the corner. I've always
liked biking. That first day, it was the 4th of February, 1997,
I
lasted 5 minutes at the most basic easy level. I was exhausted,
as
the Germans say, "on the floor destroyed," but I strangely enjoyed
it.
I weighed myself afterwards and verified that, yes, I was "down"
to
294 lb. already. Since it seemed to be fun, and with Matt
constantly
saying not to stop under any circumstances, I persevered and did
it
again the next day... and the next.
I read any and all books I could get my hands on just as I had
done
with my beer, this time about diabetics and the best diets and
exercise and found out that they all seemed to agree about a few
points. But I stayed my own coach. The first principal I learned
was
to lose weight, the second was to cut down eating fat, the third
was
to increase intake of fiber, and the fourth was to start and stay
with
a good exercise program.
I have never been a person who believed in half measures, so,
"OK,
lets do it," I told myself. Go big or stay home. That's how I
ate
and that is how I'll do this thing, I told myself. Much to the
shock
of my family, especially my wife, I started demanding more
vegetables
and no meat. The salad dressings had to be non-fat. Cooking had
be
without oil, where before my daughter said I put oil on my
mayonnaise,
now lemon juice and salt was enough for my dressing. After a
while I
cut out many of the starches, pasta, cheeses, and went for non-fat
cheese and lots of kidney beans, and vegetables, vegetables,
vegetables, cooked without fat, but I never counted calories. On
tasting my new found diet my son announced that it tasted
horrible.
"How can you eat that stuff, Papa. It's like dog food." .
"It's not easy, but you get used to it," I answered. In fact, I
have
noticed that I am eating less and less all the time, i.e., I am
more
easily filled up as time goes by and I stick to my new life.
My blood sugar was going down and I kept computerized statistics
of
the downward curve. That was reward in itself. Slowly my exercise
time and effort level increased and I added other routines to my
basic
stationary bike rides such as power stretching and stomach
crunches.
Weekends were harder, but I rode my real bike outdoors. First I
got
out the old Huffy in the garage, dusted it off, got on and enjoyed
it
more and more every day. My rides got longer and longer until I
had
been around our neighborhood and then our islands.
My goal was to ride out to Tybee Island and back, a twenty mile
trip, and one day I did it and that milestone was crossed. But
the
rides around the Islands still are my favorites, especially in the
early morning or just after sundown. Another goal was to "do a
century" as the cycling books call it. It means cycling 100 miles
in
a day, but in my case, I aimed for 100 in one week and then that
was
accomplished. In fact, I've done centuries every week since then.
Goals multiplied instead of getting scarcer. Twenty-five miles a
day
then thirty, then thirty-five. Now I found out I could dream of
doing
things I never thought were anywhere within my reach.
Because of what I read in the exercise cycling books, I was
finally
convinced, after much hesitation, to replace my department store
Huffy
with a "real" bike. I could not afford it, but a friend of mine
who
had four beautiful and expensive bikes said that if I got him back
on
his road bicycle he would "permanently lend" me one of his dream
bikes. We pulled them out of his garage, fixed them up, got new
tires
and we were off. Even his wife started back and came with us for
our
ever increasing rides. Now I average 120 miles a week, every week! .
Two dreams became clear; doing a real century, and completing
BRAG,
the Bike Ride Across Georgia, fifty to seventy mile-a-day trip
through
Georgia (routes vary from year to year) for a week in June every
year.
Then one day I pulled out my Air Force discharge papers and
discovered that on the day of my discharge, 20 Dec 60, at 24 years
old, I was 175 lb. and very successful with the girls (I guess you
have to say woman nowadays), if I remember it correctly. Of
course
that memory may contain some embellishment on the real
circumstances,
but that's what I remember. That was not my real goal, simply a
good
one to tell the people who always asked, "Why are you doing this?"
.
So
one hundred and seventy five pounds avoirdupois became my weight
goal.
They tell you never to weigh yourself every day, but I did
anyway,
always at the same time of day after my exercise and it was always
a
reward when it went down and stern reminder when it didn't.
Although
the blood sugar curved down steadily, my weight curve was
step-like
down. The flat parts of the curve were my horror, but I did not
loose my motivation, on the contrary it increased. My blood
pressure
started to come down. Then one day about three months into my new
life I stopped taking my blood pressure pills. It kept coming down
and
I threw the pills away. It was getting to be a fun game. Part of
the
game was never to let a day pass without at least 25 minutes of
getting exercise with my heart rate above 100 beats a minute,
about
65% of maximum for me. That included travel days and conference
days.
Of course the day came when I could not fit it in no matter how
hard
I tried, but somehow it was the trying that counted, and I have
only
missed five days so far and I made up the next day for them.
.
Sometimes my efforts took hilarious forms such as the day and
most of
the night I spent flying and arrived at 5AM in the Atlanta airport
with three hours to kill before the next flight. The only really
good
hard exercise I could think of was to run up the long down
escalator
in the empty terminal. Try as I might I never reached the top
during
the half hour, but it was a workout and it absolved my exercise
conscience for that day. Three months later, in the same
situation,
in Biloxi, MS, I did the same on the very long down escalator at
one
of the casinos there. This time I made it to the top ..... twice.
The only really good hard exercise I could think of was to run up the long down escalator in the empty terminal. Try as I might I never reached the top during the half hour, but it was a workout...
One day about 6 months after I had started, my doctor did an
extensive blood analysis. Ten days later he called to tell me
that
the results were amazing. I seemed to have lost my diabetes,
something he had never experienced with any of his patients.
"Although you will never lose the threat of getting diabetes, you
don't have diabetes anymore. Don't let that stop your diet and
exercise program, but I still feel it is amazing," he said with
some
wonder in his voice. When I visited his office he ceremoniously
shook
my hand in congratulations. I cut the diabetes pills down to half
dosage and my blood sugar held steady. A month later I threw them
and
the gout pills away. No pills! Wow! All I take are my vitamins
now.
That's a form of pleasure! .
My fellow employees and friends helped immensely. I was
constantly
encouraged by people stopping in the hallways and uttering various
form of, "wow, you look good." Stories I read or heard about
people I
knew who had lost a lot of weight and kept it off, motivated me.
But the biggest change has been in the way people treat me.
Instead
of the jolly ole fellow treatment I have gotten for years, I now
got a
serious reaction. It was not that I had changed, it was that
subconsciously they had changed with regard to me. People
listened
and believed me more and more. Some of them even admitted that
their
respect for me had increased because of the will power I was
apparently showing them I had. Of course, I didn't have any more
or
less than I had ever had, but it was visible now. I had made a
statement about who I was and what I am made of (less fat, that
is!).
The phrase I hear most now, in the form of a question or a
statement, is, "You must feel better now." I am expected to say
yes.
Supposed to reaffirm what society-du-jour is telling everyone;
that
you will feel better if you lose weight. Well, I disagree. I
don't
feel better. In fact, I felt worse, at first. I ached all over,
was
always, always hungry, have an entire closet of clothes that don't
fit, am constantly cold, something I never ever was before, my
wedding
ring didn't fit on the correct finger anymore, the doctor recently
diagnosed that I had a hernia brought about through my weight loss
and
I had to get it fixed, and I never have any time anymore because
my
former free time is filled with workin' out. That doesn't sound
like
I am feeling good, does it? But if I have to I'll admit it; I do,
but
it's a bother.
So why am I doing all this work, this mighty bother? Because
it's
fun. I love riding on my bike and I miss it if I don't get out in
the
outdoors and do it even for one day. Because I can do stuff I
haven't
done in years, like fitting into an airline seat ... even with
room to
spare, like seeing my toes while standing at attention, like
fitting
past people in tight hallways, like buying clothes in a normal
store
and finding my new size everywhere rather than only in the "big
and
tall" section, like not having people stare, like not having to
be
embarrassed every time I see a doctor, people treat me better or
at
least with more respect. And, yes, I have to admit it; I enjoy
seeing
that young women giving me the eye and that old slow smile, even
though that's as far as it goes these days! So OK, that's my
story,
and I'm sticking with it! .
The fun aspect of losing weight is too little stressed. It's all
about "feel good" and "healthy life" rather than about the
pleasure of
doing things little and big that you have not been able to do for
such
a long time. It's about changing course, diverging into a new
life.
So do I feel better...no, but I do have more fun.
As of this writing, four years later, I
weigh
in at 195lb., down 100 lb. from my original 295 lb.- AND STILL
COUNTING!
The story is not over. As of this writing, four years later, I
weigh
in at 195lb., down 100 lb. from my original 295 lb.- AND STILL
COUNTING! My hernia operation is behind me and I feel that the
rapid
healing was because of the shape I'm in. In was back on my bike
within four days of my day surgery and by the fifth day I was
doing 12
miles again. Within five days I was back to my minimum of 15 miles
a
day. And I am still looking forward to BRAG! And every now and
then
I party and have a beer or two! It doesn't matter now. .
See you on the road ...about 10 lbs down the road.... or at the
gym! .
Franz
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