Just over a year ago, on October 13th, I went for my annual diabetic checkup. I’d been diagnosed with Type 2 back in 2017 (which explained a lot) and initially responded well to medication, dropping weight and feeling generally better. However, a combination of CoVid lockdowns and simple indolence led to all the good work being undone, and then some. I knew it wasn’t going to be good news – I’d weighed myself that morning and the scales read 241lbs – but wasn’t exactly prepared for what transpired.
My doctor weighed me, pulled a face, sat me down and delivered what has now entered my lifestory as The Lecture. I wasn’t just obese, nor even clinically obese: I was morbidly obese, with a BMI of 36.4. It should be 25 for someone of my age and height. Further, my blood sugar levels were essentially off the scale and combined with my weight meant that there was an excellent chance that my T2 would turn into T1, and in very short order. As my doctor told me, T1 is where bad things could easily happen, never mind the daily insulin injections. His plan was as simple as it was draconian: I would go on a regime of 1200 calories and 10,000 steps a day, and when I came back to see him in four weeks I would have lost four kilos (about nine pounds). No ifs, ands or buts. I left his office hugely chastened, but determined to do my best.
As it happened, on my return I’d not lost four kilos: I’d dropped nine (nearly 20lbs), and had stuck rigidly to the 1200 calories, with the utterly invaluable aid of the NutraCheck app he’d recommended. The 10,000 steps a day proved more difficult, but on average I managed 8000 or so, and the results were astonishing. Long story short, by the end of June this year I’d lost just over 80lbs, or 37kg/six stone… or roughly a third of my body weight. The upshot was – and remains – that my BMI is now 24.8 and my blood sugar level is that of a normal person, not even pre-diabetic, which resulted in me being taken off all the diabetes meds I’d been on for some six years. Since then, my weight has stabilised at 160-162lbs, and my calories have been steadily upped to 2000 daily, still far less than I used to ingest: one of the first things I did was enter a standard day into the app, which is how I discovered I was eating over 3500 calories a day! The wonder is that I wasn’t even bigger.
So, do I feel better for it? Well of course: if nothing else my knees are saying thank you on a daily basis and… there’s no other way to describe it but I’m moving better, if that makes any sense, and according to a lot of my friends, I look better. My doctor told me I’d added ten years to my life, so apparently I’m good for at least 2032. As ungrateful as it seems, there are downsides (albeit very minor): the local charity shops have done a fair trade with me buying clothes that actually fit: my waist went from 42″ to 34″ and my shirt size from 3XL to L and, such is my life, a few weeks before The Lecture I’d bought a few pairs of new jeans. Duh. Also, I’ve been asked by friends and relative strangers (customers) if I’m OK: in fact one long-time friend flat out asked me if I had cancer, and the term “gaunt” is something I’ve gotten used to hearing. I’ll take all of those.
So ends Phase 1, the loss: now comes the harder bit, maintenence. I can do this, mainly because I have to. Since last October I’ve had unstinting support from friends IRL and online, and I’m not going to let them down. I can do this. And I will.
