One Year to Live…
Or One Year to Die: Watching My 600-lb Life
I recently embarked on a binge watch. Binge watch seems an appropriate term, considering I watched the fascinating reality show My 600-lb Life. Originally aired on TLC, I used my trusty Hulu account to watch this show and found myself addicted almost immediately — I couldn’t stop watching and lost sleep to watch the next episode and the next one and the next one.
It kind of hit close to home for me, as a loved one in my own life is morbidly obese with absolutely no end in sight to the eating addiction. And as I watched these 600-pound people share their lives and journeys, I couldn’t help but think of my mother.
Now, this show isn’t just about the food addiction, but it’s about overcoming that addiction and becoming healthy — which left me feeling inspired but also sad. These people all deal with the same issues my mother does: inability to control hunger, lack of impulse control, no real medical help, and often times pain pill addiction. They see their local doctors who don’t address their food issues, and instead prescribe an insane amount of pills to just get them through their day. High blood pressure? Here’s a pill for that. Retaining fluids? Here’s a pill for that. Chronic pain? Here’s a pill for that.
The cycle never ends…
Until they see Dr. Nowzaradan, an uber specialized bariatric surgeon who aims to address the issues of the super morbidly obese patients. Dr. Nowzaradan, aka Dr. Now, is often the last hope for these patients. Every doctor they see simply states the same thing: “You’re too big to help.” Dr. Now is a real hard-ass kind of guy, though. He tells them straight up that their issue is food, and even when they say “I stuck to the diet, I don’t know how I gained,” he calls them on it. He’s the kind of the doctor these people need. He won’t consider them for gastric bypass surgery until they prove that they can control their eating habits.
He’s the kind of doctor that is trying to educate medical professionals, and lay people alike, about the serious dangers of morbid obesity. And it seems like people would just know the dangers, but it’s surprising to see how easily enabled a person is. And I begin to ponder…
Food addiction is like any other addiction. It’s destructive and isolating, often feeding a cycle of depression and unchecked issues. And yet, where is the rehab geared for this addiction? Where is the support? In the years 2015 & 2016, 93.3 million Americans were affected by obesity, while 21 million Americans had an illicit drug problem in 2015. The difference in these statistics is staggering, and yet medical treatment and counseling for the former hardly exists.
It’s common knowledge that Americans are fat (I believe it’s a joke around the world), but the fact is that obesity is an epidemic. And yet, there seems to be little concern. A morbidly obese person’s food addiction affects the lives of others just as much, if not more than those with drug and/or alcohol addictions. As the daughter of a morbidly obese woman, I see the effects up close and personal. I can’t talk to my mother about how concerned I am about her eating habits or lack of mobility or sedentary lifestyle. Like an alcoholic or drug addict who isn’t ready to come clean, my mother’s defenses are always up and she cannot hear what I say. It has driven a wedge in our relationship, and I avoid talking to her at times, because our conversation consists of her endless complaints of aches and pains, which could be lessened if only she lost weight and moved more. But I can’t say that. I can’t say anything. We don’t see food as a dangerous substance, and perhaps that’s why food addiction and obesity aren’t addressed similarly…
But, having watched My 600-lb Life, and seeing Dr. Nowzaradan put effort forth in educating the nation, I’m hopeful that perhaps, in the near future, food addiction and obesity will be treated like the disease that it is. And maybe I can have a real conversation with my mother, and she can get the proper help she needs.
