I Told Him So

Not being able to say those words to him is killing me. You see, I've been nagging John for literal years to go get a physical. He hadn't had one since he got out of the military in 1996. He had been to the doctor for various illnesses and claimed that those visits were just as good as a check-up until I asked him if blood was drawn. Every time, he would say, "No," and I would tell him it didn't qualify. He countered with his history of having a low heart rate, low blood pressure and normal cholesterol as being reason enough not to get a physical. Because gaining thirty pounds wouldn't make any difference in your health at all, now would it? But each time he went to the doctor for a sore throat or whatever, they would take his heart rate and blood pressure, and both remained low and healthy. He took that as proof enough that he was perfectly fine.

Meanwhile, his mother started having unexplained problems with high blood pressure. She's had sky-high cholesterol for years despite eating very healthy and taking medication. Her mom and sister have adult-onset diabetes. Her mom also battles high blood pressure. Her dad died of a heart attack. The family history is chock full of warning signs, but John seemed to think that his basic health would never change, even when some of the influencing factors did.

I nagged and nagged and nagged. He resisted and resisted and resisted. Finally, we went to marriage counseling, and I learned how to nag properly. It worked, and he made an appointment. I was worried when the office called not once, but twice to reschedule his appointment, because they have their heads up their asses and scheduled John's appointments on the day the doctor had to be at the hospital. The second time they called to reschedule, I chewed the poor receptionist for this inconvenience, because it wasn't just a minor inconvenience. You see, every change carried with it the possibility that John would not reschedule. He would put it off to look at his schedule or some other seemingly important reason only to "forget" to make the appointment later. But each time he rescheduled right away, and finally he went in. I like to think that my bitching at the receptionist help make the third appointment stick.

Everything seemed to go well that day. He came home and told me that he needs to go in for a sleep study and for a colonoscopy, both of which we expected. He has sleep apnea and not only keeps me up many nights with his snoring, but often freaks me out because he stops breathing sometimes. He has gotten more elbows in the back than he cares to remember when I can't take it anymore and have to nudge him to make him breathe again. I know he will eventually breathe again on his own, but what if one time he didn't? I would have to live knowing I didn't nudge him that one time, that I could have saved him and didn't. It's no wonder I have such trouble sleeping at night.

A couple days later, he got a phone call at work. His blood work came back. When my blood work came back, I didn't get a call in two days. I got a call in about two weeks, and it wasn't even a real person. It was a recording, telling me to call another number to listen to a different recording with my test results. As annoying as the whole recording business might be though, it's preferable to the real person calling in two days, because the real person means trouble. John's cholesterol was 528. His triglycerides were ridiculously high too, three times as high as they should be. He had to go on medication immediately.

He was very upset by this, and warned me before he told me not to be critical. I tried to reassure him that he couldn't help his genes. His mom had unexplained high cholesterol, and now he did too. I didn't mention anything about his rotten diet, lack of exercise or weight gain. I've asked him for ages to stop eating such junk and to exercise with me. His answer was always that he wasn't ready yet, and that he would do it eventually. Fair enough. I knew from experience that no amount of nagging would make him be ready. I usually left it alone and felt bad that he seemed to be set on this road of destruction. No one can eat as many hamburgers, steak sandwiches, gravies, and other fatty food and not suffer from it eventually. I knew this as he told me the numbers from his blood test, but I assured him we would do what we needed to do to take care of him. Secretly, I was happy that he was jolted into a change. Finally I would have him on my side when trying to eat better and exercise more.

In some ways, John has it worse than I do making these kinds of changes. I have never been able to eat whatever I wanted without worry. Food always affected my weight. When I ate too much, it showed, from the time I was in high school. It was easier then, and I was better looking then than I ever gave myself credit, but nonetheless, I had to watch what I ate. It was a way of life for me.

John was always one of those bony boys while growing up. Shoot, when he and I met, I only weighed about five pounds less than he did, and I was in pretty good shape at that time. I struggled to keep my weight below his. It was a matter of principle for me. He ate whatever he wanted (Big Macs, French fries, breakfast burritos, troughs of Coke), never gaining a pound. It was the way it always was for him. He could eat and eat and never gain weight. He tried to gain weight as long as he could remember but just couldn't.

I have a way of fattening people up though. I don't know what it is, but somehow I managed to put a few pounds on every single man that entered my life. My ex-husband was one of those skinny guys too until he met me. I try not to think that I made these men so dysfunctional that they gained weight, but sometimes it does creep into my head that I'm just a horrible bitch that drives men to fatness. That's beside the point though. The point is, John did not escape my influence. He started gaining weight.

The longer we were together, the more weight he gained. His family was thrilled. They told me how wonderful it was to see him look healthy rather than so gaunt and skinny. They talked about how he finally seemed happy. I reveled in it, until it became apparent that John was either really happy, or he had a weight problem just like I did.

It was a process, but most of the weight came on after he got out of the military and started making more money. More money also brought more stress. He and I were having relationship troubles too. All of those things combined with his bad eating habits created a bigger and bigger problem, located squarely in his midsection. When he moved to Pennsylvania to start his new job a month before I followed, he gained even more weight. I was surprised that I could see a difference in him in just a month's time.

Since moving here, he has put on some more weight. He eats out every single day at work, and I still think that's a big reason. We've argued about his eating out every day countless times, but he's stubborn about it. He won't give it up, and he won't quit eating the fat and cholesterol laden food he's used to eating. He took a little weight off here and there, only to gain it back again when he refused to change his habits for good. He's currently at an all-time high.

We resolved to change our diet and stop eating out so much to help him. I know I haven't been so good at hiding my excitement over this forced change. I have wished forever that he would join me in eating better. Even now though, he is in even more mourning over not being able to eat whatever he wants than I ever was. He just doesn't like healthy food. He doesn't like wheat bread, yogurt, cereal with fiber, rice, or salad without a gallon of dressing on it. He likes everything that's refined, processed, produced, served on a bun, fried, or drowning in fatty sauce. This isn't going to be easy. Still, I have free license to make whatever I want for dinner. Now, he's much more likely to eat it than before when he would go find something else to eat. Yesterday, he even took the skin off his chicken. I was impressed.

I am concerned about him. I always have been though. I don't see this as any change from how I felt before, but I think it bothered John that I didn't react with the same shock he had at the news of his health status. I suspected it already, and unfortunately, I turned out to be right. Maybe it will end up being for the best. John is more likely to change his lifestyle, and I think I will have a lot more success on my path to fitness with him on board. At least he knows how bad it is now and is out of denial. Even he can't eat whatever he wants without effect. At least, not anymore.