When the doctor told him about his weight, and warned him that his cholesterol was way too high and that he was a borderline diabetic, he heard him – but did he listen?
In hindsight, I would have to say clearly he didn’t. The impact lasted just as long as it took for that doctor’s appointment. The prognosis went in one ear and went straight out of the other.
Needless to say it wasn’t long before he was back under the physician’s care, only this time it was for in-house medical treatment at King Edward VII Memorial Hospital, where he would soon be another patient facing amputation. The good news is they started by removing a few toes.
That sunk in for a quick minute, but as soon as he was discharged, it was back to the same old madness – a diet filled with fat and grease, no vegetables and fruit – nothing healthy! He didn’t even drink water because it had no taste, he said. If that beverage wasn’t packed with sugar, he wasn’t having it – ever!
And so the cycle of insanity – that process of repeating the same things expecting different results continued.
It wasn’t long before he was back in the hospital, this time for the amputation of his whole foot. He moaned and groaned during the healing process. But do you know what he complained about most – the food!
Despite his condition, he wasn’t having that, so what did he do? He convinced his so-called friends, even some of his relatives who claimed they loved him, to bring him whatever his heart desired. And what was that? More often than not it was a three-piece dinner from KFC, happily served up to him in that box.
He would sit up straight with a big smile on his face in anticipation of hitting that grease again when his smuggled goods arrived. He would never eat the coleslaw – never any vegetables for him. All this from a full grown man, minus a foot, and his mother, well, she made excuses and enabled him. “That’s my baby boy,” she said.
And so, the cycle of madness continued, right to the end.
How did it end? It ended with a funeral, and a lot of weeping and wailing. It ended with a massive hospital bill, which I’m sure his health insurance provider paid. As a community, I guess we should be thankful for the fact that at least he had insurance.
I won’t bother to regurgitate the facts when it comes to a ‘Not So Well’ Bermuda, where diabetes and obesity runs rampant, We reached epidemic proportions a long time ago. And where are we heading – straight down Fat City Row!
We already know that it’s not sustainable, and that healthcare costs will continue to skyrocket, if we don’t stop it. But does it matter? Apparently not!
The big question is how do you change the mindset of a people hell bent on killing themselves?
I often wonder about that man, wherever his spirit dwells. If I could, I would ask him if it was worth it and did he really enjoy killing himself. Ultimately, after all is said and done, he’s gone. And he did it to himself!
I got word not too long ago, of another case of an individual who has been eating himself into oblivion for years. He finally managed to eat his way into a diabetic coma. The good news is he survived. But has his experience changed his mind? Maybe or maybe not.
What’s really frightening is collectively, we’re passing on our bad eating habits to our children. No not everybody but there’s way too many who do. And you all know who you are, it’s no big secret. You don’t have to look far to see all those pizza delivery boxes sticking out of their trash bags all lined up for garbage collection.
Every now and then I get a taste for some fried grease from Ice Queen. The last time I was there a few years ago, there was a woman just ahead of me on line, with three young children. The youngest one was no more than three or four-years-old.
She asked him what he wanted and he told her he wanted a ‘Number Four’, or whatever number it was. I looked up at the menu, it was chicken nuggets with some fried cheese sticks and some sort of sauce.
And I said to myself: “Oh My God!” This child wasn’t old enough to read the menu but he knew he wanted a ‘Number Four’. That told me that he was used to having that for dinner on the regular. And once again, I said to myself: “Oh My God!”
With that kind of diet daily, at his age, by the time he gets to his teens, he will be a walking time bomb, with jammed up arteries, high cholesterol packed with obesity related issues. And where did it come from? It started at home, influenced most by ‘Mama Bear’. And I’m willing to bet my bottom dollar that there’s a microwave in that kitchen. After all, why bother to cook when you can just pop that mess in the microwave and eat in a matter of minutes.
As adults, we make choices and if you choose to eat processed food zapped by microwaves, frankly that’s your business. But do you have a right to push that mess down your children’s throats as well? They don’t know any better unless you teach them, and what are you teaching them?
When you send them off to school in the morning what did you feed them? Was it pumped with sugar? Do you know what that does to them – go ask their teachers!
There’s an old saying – too much of anything is not good for you and you are what you eat! Take a look around Mr and Mrs Bermuda. How much you packing around that waistline? When was the last time you were able to reach your feet?
I once knew a guy who ate so much junk he lost his toes, then he lost his foot. Now he’s six feet under and so it goes. He ate himself to death and the cycle of madness continues.
How do you change the mindset Bermuda? It starts with looking in the mirror with real genuine HONESTY! Then you have got to clean up your act, get up off your butt, whatever size it is, and get MOVING! And I’m not talking about running your mouths either – hear me!
Ceola Wilson – Keeping it Real on Bermuda Real
