The Beginning: Just Another Day

I went to the introductory seminar about lapband surgery early this summer. It was hot and humid outside. I had to park a couple blocks away and I was winded by the time I reached the meeting room in the hospital. So was everyone else that walked in beside me, some in much worse shape even than I. Pulling oxygen tanks. Being pushed in wheelchairs. I recognized the painful, telltale signs of obesity we all share: slip on shoes, baggy pants, long shirts at which we tug in some sort of crazy effort to cover our substantial behinds.

It was like some sort of flashback to the old tent meeting alter-calls I remember from the pentacostal upbringing of my childhood. Like those old days, we're all hurting and it's a good bet we've all tried just about everything else to take care of our problem. We've come here looking for healing. But this time the savior is a surgeon.

I came home from that meeting with a fat packet full of paperwork to be filled out and pages and pages of information. I flopped on my bed, pulled out my insurance benefits booklet and began to read. Bariatric surgery was a covered benefit, however.........my heart sank just a little bit. There always seems to be a "however......"

I've been to Weight Watchers dozens of times starting wayyy back in the old days when you had to eat so many ounces of #2 vegetables a week or the program wouldn't work. Those days WW members ate a whole bunch of tuna and counted every dang pea.

Phen-phen came along after my kids were in school and it was AMAZING what that combination of two little pills did for me. I lost weight! (For a while.) I had energy. (Understatement. I was grocery shopping at WalMart at 3 AM because I didn't need much sleep.) Thankfully when I plateaued at about 40 pounds of weight loss and couldn't seem to budge, my Dr. told me my ride on the Phen-phen merry-go-round was over.

More Weight Watchers. And more. And more. Weight down.....weight up. Slim-Fast. Weight down....weight up. Vegetable soup diet....weight down...and weight up.
My story isn't unique. it's probably much like yours.

The "however...." in the lapband chapter of my story is my insurance company requiring a 6-month to 2-year physician supervised weight loss program prior to approval for lapband surgery. Everyone from my surgeon to the insurance specialists in his office warned me that my insurance company was well-known for this requirement. "Some of our patients get very discouraged by this," my surgeon explained. "My advice to you? Just start the program with your Dr. now, that way when they deny you, you'll already have a few weeks of the physician-supervised program under your belt...."

"When will I know for sure?" I asked the surgeon. "Will you call me when you hear from my insurance company?"

"Oh," he said, "you'll hear from them before we do. They will send out a letter to
let you know their decision. Just remember....don't be discouraged. A denial letter doesn't mean no forever, it just means there are some things you'll have to do."

As I left his office I took a deep breathe and resolved I would do whatever it takes to get my insurance company to approve lapband surgery. It took me a lifetime of poor eating habits to get here. I can keep walking toward this goal like I've walked toward all the others I've reached: one step at a time. Meanwhile, I took my required nutrition class, went for my psych evaluation (an insurance company hoop) and joined a fitness center. Honest? Joining is as far as I got. If carrying the membership card around in my pocket counts for anything, I'm doing great at this new fitness thing. But that is kinda like saying my clothes all smell springtime fresh because I bought a washing machine. Truth is, I'm still going to smell like an armpit if I don't throw them into the machine and add some soap.

This afternoon I unlocked my mailbox and pulled out a stack of letters. On top of the stack: a notice from my employer the entire company is taking an unpaid 3-week furlough over Christmas. HoHoHo. Halfway through the stack I pulled out an envelope from my insurance company. This is it, I thought. Just sit down and read it and don't let it get to you.



It was a beautiful day in Iowa today. Sunny and a balmy 75 degrees we rarely see in the first week of November. I sat down on the grass by the mailbox and cried, the letter from my insurance company in my hand. I must be reading this wrong......Medically Approved..........is that what it says?
Is that what it really, truly says?

Indeed.