I was so desperate about my weight and my failure to lose it that I was considering getting a gastric bypass. That is the surgery where they make your stomach the size of a walnut and limit the amount of food you can eat at one time. It is very dangerous and is to only be used as a last resort; that is where I found myself. My doctors agreed that would be the only way I could lose any significant amount of weight and that it was my only hope of ever being normal. The more research I did, the more I was convinced it was my only option, too.
I went to an information meeting at a local hospital and learned everything there was to know about the surgery. I learned that one out of every 200 people who had the surgery had extremely serious side effects or even died. I heard all about the horrible diet someone would have to be on for the rest of their lives since their stomach was so small. I heard about how if I ate too much fat or sugar, my body would react violently and I would go into "dumping syndrome" (which was so horrible I blocked whatever it is out of my mind). I heard all these statistics about how "if you're fat, you're fat forever and you have about a .00001% chance of ever losing the weight on your own, so you better have this surgery or you'll eventually die anyway" (my paraphrasing, but still the same idea).
Even after all of that, even though it was extremely depressing to think of how horrible my life could be if something went wrong, even though I knew it was possible that I could DIE, I was still interested. I went through all the steps to qualify for the surgery. I had more than 100 pounds to lose, a weight related medical condition (sleep apnea), was mentally stable, and I had the money to pay for the post-op nutrition plan. My insurance was even going to cover the $25,000 bill for the surgery. Every step closer to the surgery was just confirmation that it was my only hope.
An Epiphany
And then something happened one day as I was sitting at my kitchen table, about to schedule my surgery date. I was thinking about how unhappy I was about my body and how it was almost hopeless for someone to lose more than 100 pounds without surgery. I was more depressed than I had ever been and I felt God's presence come over me. The room became silent and I heard these words, "Give this problem to Me. Just try one more time." Although I was alone, the words were so loud and clear that I wondered if it had been an audible voice. I knew it was God speaking because it certainly wasn't me. It didn't make sense. I had tried losing weight without surgery hundreds of times before and it hadn't worked. Why would I try it AGAIN?! I had spent nearly 13 months qualifying for this surgery and it was my only hope of ever being normal. I couldn't throw all that away now! I was angry that my only solution was slipping away.
Once I composed myself and worked through my anger and disappointment, I felt a sense of peace and calm. God was reaching out to me and offering me another way. I felt a very clear message that miracles were about to happen and that I was about to change.
I gave this problem to God and promised to give it one more, last-ditch effort. If I had known what would happen less than a year later, I'm not sure I would have really believed it. But it was true, my life changed, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God saved my life that day.
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