I was so nervous by the time I got to the hospital that I felt like throwing up. I kept praying to God to help me through this... and yeah, ok, I asked for an open-minded doctor. I found out the real name of my primary care provider (the appointment taker said it wrong on the phone) and waited. Ten minutes later a grumpy nurse came to get me. I should have known then that things could get bad.

She weighs me- 240 (Had a lot of salt yesterday, but I was sooo good this weekend, its sick)- and when she speaks to me, she is mumbling. I had to ask her twice to repeat her instructions. She took my blood pressure and that was my first shock of the day... it was high. I have never, EVER come up with a high bp, even when I was in the late 240s during the pregnancy. So as the nurse is putting my information into the computer, Im fidgeting with my hands, and she starts mumbling again. I then realize she's mumbling about me and how much weight I had gained since October (my last appointment with another doctor).

"Mmmm...oooeeeeee, you gained some 9 pounds, ya did. You sure did enjoy those holidays...mmmmmm.... all those breads and starchy foods you been eatin'....mmmm its all about what ya put in ya mouth."

I just couldn't believe it. The one thing I was worried about -being lectured about being a lazy ass face stuffer-- was happening to me even before I saw the doctor. I croaked out, "I'm walking and watching-"

She cut me off, "Its not the walkin'...mmm.... its those sweets and all that bread." She nodded to herself and actually looked down her nose at me. Which was quite a feat since I was on the exam table. "Can't be havin' no excuses now..." She mumbled somthing about she had lost some weight and something about a thyroid and not being over 160 ever in her life...it was hard to understand because apparantly she sucks on marbles. And then she stepped out.

My whole body felt numb and I stared at the door she had closed behind her. My face felt hot and I could feel my eyes tearing up, becuase I was so humiliated. I just knew that it was just a taste of what else was going to happen. This was all going to become an excercise in how best to make me feel like an even bigger shit than I did then.

I sat alone for fifteen minutes getting myself calmed down. I was worried the doctor was going to walk in and I was going to go apeshit and bawl and throw myself on the floor on the doc's feet. The the doctor walked in. Exactly my height.... and tiny. Tiny tiny tiny. She weighed less than my mom, I swear, she had to be just 95 pounds. My stomach was trying to climb up my throat.

She had taken extra time and looked over my records. She was friendly and instantly started asking questions about my life and problems with obesity. I felt off kilter with her manner-- she wasn't rushed like the other dcotors I have seen at my clinic. I told her that I have made sweeping changes in my life the last few years and that my morbid obesity is the last true hurdle. That Im so heavy now that I feeel like IM a hostage to my body. How I joke with my hubby that my body is slowly falling apart.

After some conversation, she shocked me (second shock of the day) by mentioning my 'other options' after checking my thyroid. I then took a deep breath and told her that I did want to see about a referral to the bariatric program at PNH (the big hospital in our area). I cannot tell you how happy I was when I realized she was already heading in that direction after our discussion (it lasted about a half hour). I told her how nervous I had been. She honestly had no clue why. I told her how I have had the "stop stuffing your face" lecture and that I thought I would be blown off. She just smiled and said, "No. I can see you've made an effort. Now we are going to just make sure that its not your thyroid and clear out some tests first. I would have to give you these tests anyway for the referral."

So... this Friday I have some lab tests to do. I see her again to discuss the results and 'my options', on February 24th. I left the hospital with a huge smile.

Someone listened to me. They didn't sit in judgement and they didn't make me feel two feet tall. I might regret saying this later... but even if the bariatric clinic decided I was not a good candidate or if Tricare chose not to approve it, I can handle it. Because someone finally listened.

So I get home and Im happy and hubby is playing with the baby. Im so excited and happy to have survived and had such a positive experience after being so scared that I talk a bluestreak. Finally, after talking to my sister and calming down and enjoying the moment-- hubby approaches me with his hand behind his back.

I'm thinking "He got me flowers! Early!" He leans forward, kisses me, and says, "I hope you like this."

And then he handed me a Sony Cybershot DSC-W5 a 5.1 megapixels digital camera. THE EXACT CAMERA I'VE WANTED!!!

I shrieked. I jumped around. I yelled. I scared the baby.

I am having the best damn day.