My mother used to tell me, with great pride, how she overcame my need for frequent feeds as a baby. She couldn't or wouldn't breastfeed me, possibly due to the demands of her other children. My brothers were 8, 6 and 3 years of age when I was born. Apparently, I was not keen on consuming all of the offered bottle and would wake again before her routine expected.
Her solution? She bulked up the formula in less water. So I would sleep according to her timetable. I have no idea how long this regime continued, but I do remember early photographs of myself being a short and plumpish child, with a pot belly. Unknowingly, but still irresponsibly, she set me up to develop obesity and heart disease.
I have struggled with my weight all my life. I longed to be tall and lean like my brothers. I also had red hair, freckles and buck teeth, which made me an irresistible target for school bullies. I yo-yo dieted from my early teens, culminating in only eating one meal a day after I left school. If I couldn't be tall, then at least I would be thin. And I would be able to squeeze into that little black dress for a Saturday night out. Constipation stalked me mercilessly, but I didn't care in my quest to maintain the ideal body shape.
I added exercise to my habits as a weight control method in my thirties. I power-walked and then jogged for ten years. During times of unhappiness, running allowed me to reduce my appetite whilst still being able to drink like a fish in the evenings.
Much to my relief, my weight was pretty stable into my forties. When I met Michael, I was about fifty-five kilograms, a bit heavier than I would have liked, but still acceptable in my eyes. My running gradually petered out, but I still enthusiastically power walked whenever I could. I joined a walking group after we moved to Beverley and still pounded the pavements with energy and determination.
As I moved into my fifties, I began to have severe digestive issues. I tried removing gluten, then lactose. I thought I'd redeveloped the egg allergy I'd had as a child, so I took those out of my diet as well. I tried kombucha which I found disgusting and actually gave me the an explosive dose of the trots. I spent years terrified of being too far from the loo...
Then my knees wore out. Over the course of five years, I had two complete knee replacements. Each of these surgeries took months of rehab. And so my weight began to climb...
The good news was that I was able to reset my gut through a treatment of bovine colostrum. Don't get me wrong - I was as skeptical as the next person about the odds of success. At last, I was able to eat normally and not fear any nasty repercussions. But my weight was continuing on its ascent.
Catching COVID was the final straw. I developed Small Airways Disease, followed by Pulmonary Hypertension. Then earlier this year, the final piece of my health puzzle fell into place. My inability to exercise since September 2023 had been caused by a specific form of Heart Failure - HF PeF (look it up!).
Three months ago, I tipped the scales at over 90 kilograms. My cardiologist and GP strongly recommended I try Wegovy. Apart from the eye-watering cost, I was not entirely convinced, especially when I was on the lower dosages.
I moved onto the one milligram injection four weeks ago. At that point, I had lost about two kilos over the previous eight weeks. I thought persevering would be worthwhile. I was wrong.
During the time I have endured this dose, my side effects became utterly debilitating. All those celebrities cheerfully stabbing themselves on social media don't quite let on about this awful side of Wegovy. The all-encompassing nausea. Chronic constipating. Vomiting. Insomnia. Nightmares. Anxiety. Fatigue. Self doubt. Horrible bouts of low mood. And try experiencing all of these symptoms whilst camping in a tiny caravan.
Finally, the decision made itself. I tossed the last dose of Wegovy into the rubbish bin yesterday. I told the GP, who supported me and has suggested another alternative. I have declined for this week as I just want to feel better before embarking on any other drug.
If I had kept going, my final one milligram dose would have been tonight. I am still nauseated from last Saturday's dose. The next stage would have been a jump to 1.7 milligrams, costing around $360 a month. And ironically, I have gained a kilo now the vomiting has stopped. Go figure...
I am trying to limit my carbs, eat protein and watch those pesky kilojoules. I have also become reacquainted with Barry, my beloved exercise bike. So far, I have managed a ride with him most afternoons when the nausea abates. My heart condition meds are allowing me to enjoy exercise again, so I actually have high hopes of becoming fitter. And maybe even a bit lighter.
And now, my tribute to Wegovy -
'Oh Wegovy
I thought you'd show me
That weight loss was easy
Without being queasy
But that was a fanciful dream!'
The End.
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