IT'S GETTING KIND OF HEAVY

I can tell you what stopped the trips to Weight Watchers and Wendy's for my mother and I.  It was the death of my grandmother.  I can't recall a trip to any weight center after that.  I'm not sure if the timing is exact, but that is how my mind recalls it.  What I do remember is taking my grandmother to a doctor's appointment.  I remember because she absolutely hated going to the family doctor because of her size.  My mother carried on that legacy for a long time as well; avoiding doctor's appointments.  As my size increased I too became uncomfortable with going for routine check-ups, but my grandmother had a severe disliking for it.

She hadn't been to a doctor in a long time.  She started to complain of not feeling well and her personality was changing.  Suddenly she was very irritable and short tempered.  My mother and I took her to the appointment and were relieved when the doctor said she had the flu.  She was following typical remedies but didn't seem to be getting any better.  The news that followed came as a great shock.

My grandmother was in the hospital.  This seemed to happen in a blink of an eye.  It was explained to me that she had late stage Ovarian Cancer and only had a few months to live.  But my grandmother had the flu...?!?  It was a lot for my mind to rationalize at that age.  My grandmother had been misdiagnosed by her family doctor and had been hiding the pain she was in. When the pain became unbearable she was taken to the hospital where the diagnosis was given.  I can remember hearing some of the physicians whispering to my mother about the silent killer.  I also remember hearing that the problem was left go for too long so that the Cancer had spread through most of her body.  They would prescribe a level of treatment but ultimately she had only about three to six months to live.

I remember how fast those months seemed to go by as I watched my grandmother disintegrate.  I had never seen my grandmother thin a day in her life and now she was wasting away; this large, stocky, woman was now frail and incomplete.  My mother was devastated.  She's never gotten over it.  My grandmother died at age 62.

I'm not sure what gaps didn't get filled in for me as a child from the time my grandmother first got sick to the time of her death.  But I know one thing for sure, my grandmother's weight problem killed her every bit as much as the Cancer did.  Her obesity contributed to a lifestyle habit that did not include any exercise, did not include much self-esteem, and didn't include healthy interactions with the outside world.  My grandmother stayed glued to her living room chair for most of her years.  Most importantly, her weight problem contributed to a fear of living and confronting issues that kept her from routine medical care.

I can only imagine the pain she endured before finally agreeing to that doctor's appointment.  I've often thought about how in her own mind she had to know the diagnosis of the flu was not right based on the pain she had been experiencing; the fear she must have hidden along with her pain.

“More die in the United States of too much food than of too little.” ~John Kenneth Galbraith, The Affluent Society