A little bit of reflection tonight….and  I apologize for how long it is.



While I may hang my hat in Long Island these days, I think in my heart Astoria, Queens will always be home. I was born and raised there. I spent the bulk of my life playing, working and going to school there. I still have some of my closest friends and family there too. So the other day I was passing through and I found myself face to face with P.S. 70, the elementary school I attended a lifetime ago. As I drove past the school, I was suddenly flooded with a memory that I hadn’t thought about in years. I was a 6th grader, running through the halls with a friend on our way back to class. Do you still have to go to the bathroom with a “buddy” in school nowadays? Well we were barreling down a straight hallway, causing quite a ruckus since neither of us were exactly lightweights. At the end of the hall we get stopped in our tracks by a woman I had never seen before. She didn’t seem mad at us for running either, which I was kind of surprised about.



What also caught me off guard was when she told my friend to go back to class on his own, and for me to come with her. As it turned out, she was the school nurse and dietician. Up until that point I didn’t know P.S. 70 even HAD a school nurse. And I had no idea what a dietician was. She explained to me that she was very concerned by my weight and my health. Had she NOT just seen me running? Or maybe she had and that is what tipped her off...lol. We spent the next hour or so talking. She asked me questions about my eating habits, my home life, mom and dad, my siblings, family history, were there any health issues, anyone else in my family who was overweight, etc. Before I got sent back to class she asked me to step on her scale. One of those old-fashioned medical scales where things slide, balance and make all kinds of clangy metal noises. It was June, right after my birthday. I had just turned 12 and I was told that I weighed 212 pounds.



Strange how I still remember the exact number after almost three decades. Some things just stick with you I guess. So I went back to class and didn’t give it much thought again. That is, until about a week or so later when I found myself back in the nurse’s office. This time my mom was sitting next to me, looking VERY unhappy about having to take time off from work to be there. The nurse strongly recommended a place in Brooklyn for me. A clinic just off the BQE that specialized in helping people around my age with my particular problem. So off we went. One of my uncles would drive my mom and I to this clinic, where they would poke and prod me. Take blood, run tests I had never heard of, plan out meals and consult me on my “situation.” I think I went for about a month. Four weeks, four visits, that was it. No drastic changes to my weight, but I didn’t gain anything in that time either. Small victories, right?



Yeah, not so much. Because the next time there was a NEW doctor waiting for me. He was a little dude too. Bald, glasses, some sort of accent. You could almost SEE the arrogance oozing off him. That much I remember. Definitely a man who was used to getting his way. On this particular day he was informing my mother (and me, although he was addressing her as if I wasn’t even in the room) that I needed an operation. Totally caught her off guard, which wasn’t easy to do back in mom’s better days. Anyway, this operation was something different. It was a form of weight loss surgery. Not like today’s surgeries either. No sir, this was 1983. Basically they cut away a big part of your stomach, fold you over, and staple you closed again. Staple. OUCH. He said it was kind of risky and still pretty new. He also showed us a picture of his latest “success” in the operating room. It was a kid around my age I guess.



He was standing in a pair of his jeans, pulled all the way out to show how much weight he had lost. The classic “after” picture. So after giving us a little time to process all of his, he told my mom that I absolutely HAD to be his next patient. Diets weren’t working. Nothing was working. This surgery was my only hope. Then, in full on drama mode, he removed his glasses and said the following (keep in mind I was all of 12 years old and was in the room at the time), “Mrs. McDermott, if your son doesn’t have this surgery he will be dead by the time he is 19.”  Then he put his glasses back on, folded his arms, and with a smirk on his face, waited for my mother’s response. I love this part. As I said, this doctor definitely looked like he was used to getting what he wanted without question. So you can imagine his surprise when it didn’t go his way this time. My mother, all five feet of attitude and life experience, ripped this poor man a new....well, let’s just say that he got it from her with both barrels.



She screamed at him for what seemed like an eternity, cursing him up and down for telling a 12 year-old his life was basically over unless he agreed to be cut, folded and stapled. Needless to say we left the little clinic in Brooklyn that day and never looked back. I wish I could say that the road I traveled after that was an easy one filled with good health and smart choices. But that just isn’t the case. It was rough. Sometimes it was really rough. So what is the point of this story then? Well it might not have all been pretty. But that really, really, REALLY overweight kid who was told that he wouldn’t live to see 19 without surgery will be 42 this year. There was a lot of hard work involved. Plenty of ups, downs, peaks and valleys…blood, sweat, and tears…and the most amazing daughter anyone could ever ask for. For the most part these days I am happy and healthy. At the very least I am heathy-er. Every day is an adventure and I constantly remind myself to make the most of each one.



Sometimes that is a hard lesson to remember. The important thing is that I am still around to live it. 



Little steps lead to big changes…



Starting Weight – 271 lbs
Current Weight – 265 lbs



Total Weight Loss So Far – 6 pounds

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Goal Weight - 199 lbs