Tipping the Scales

Glorioski and hallelujah! After almost a year battling stubborn-to-heal leg sores, I was officially discharged from my wound doctor’s specialized care. All healed and see ya later. I was relieved and most grateful. That is, until I had a nasty shock.

The Wound Center was switching over to a new computer system during my last days there. It caused some chaos and many headaches for the staff. But all patients’ records are now fully done and can be accessed by doctors/patients at any time. I think this is great because I’ve always had the suspicion of not being fully told the whole story of my ailments. Call me a conspiracy theorist but my mind goes where it wants to go.

Anyhow, all my vitals were duly entered except my weight. When asked about it I truthfully said that I hadn’t been upright on a scale for probably four years. I could have lied and said I was 114# but I thought they might get suspicious with that number. The nurse said not to worry. They could get the weight after I reclined on the hospital bed where they routinely took care of my legs. I guess the bed had a gizmo that subtracted the weight of the bed and the number remaining was all you.

Herein lies my shock. I can’t believe the pounds I packed on in the four years since I’ve been wheelchair-bound!  I am not talking about a few here. Needless to say, my joy at being released from their care was tempered with the knowledge that I am now classified as a porker.

I came home from the center with a fire in my soul. I would lose lots of weight if only I would just give up all that has previously given me happiness: cookies, cake, peanut M & Ms. Unfortunately, I calculated that if I lost one pound per week – the recommended safe way to do it – it would take me years,  and I’d be so old and wrinkly and forgetful I wouldn’t remember why I started dieting in the first place!

Still, all that aside, rational thought has prevailed, and I am religiously adhering to my new snack-less diet. And speaking of religion, I remember a plump holy person once saying: “If our bodies are temples, then I am working on a basilica.” I think as long as I’m not working towards the Vatican, I’ll be OK.


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