What next?

So, I went to the surgeon on October 24th. Let me describe THAT experience. First, after getting lost for over 20 minutes, I finally find the place nestled in a doctor office complex that looked like the old portable buildings that we used for extra classrooms at school. I walk in the office. Doesn't look too bad. Only one other person waiting. I filled out my paperwork early, so that I wouldn't have to come in 45 minutes early. Well, the attendant tells me there's MORE paperwork. WTH? I already filled out six sheets, what more could they possibly want to know??? 

After filling out these pages, I sit on a nice comfy bench...with the TV blaring in my ear. Some survivor show shit. I don't know. I don't want daytime TV, so I have no clue what it was. Finally after waiting 30 minutes pasted my appointment time, I get called back. But wait, before we go on, maybe it would be fair if I were to explain MY expectations of this facility. 

The seminar I went to was in a nice conference room, with slides showing the stellar accommodations of the hospital rooms. The slide show was also touting the advance technology that was being utilized in surgery to reduce complications and all that jazz. So, I expected the surgeon's office to be an extension of this. 

This was NOT the case. When I was called back, I stepped back into the late 70s early 80s. In terms of structure and decor. The ceilings were low, the halls were dimly lit, and there was wood paneling on the walls. We go back to a room, with a door no sturdier than the old trailer closet doors. The nurse says that she needs to weigh me. I say ok, prepared to walk back out of the hall (as I am used to a triage room then the patient room). NOPE. the scale is behind the door. She tells me to go all the way in so we can close the door. Yes, the room was pretty small. 

Anyways, I jump on the scale. Do you know what I realize at this moment? I have gained back almost all of my weight since my last "healthy life style change" binge. 7 more pounds, and I'll be back at my all time heaviest. I was ready to cry. To the nurse, it was no big deal. She asked me one question and out she went to get the doctor. 

I do what I always do in these offices. Sit in the chair and stare at the walls. This office was very interesting. There was an old timey dawn bottle (without the label) on the counter filled with something white. I'm hoping some sort of hand soap, but I wasn't THAT curious. I was in a chair facing the door. To my right was the exam table. Looked just like every other exam table I've seen with the step stool coated with sand paper for grip and paper lining the sitting/laying part. To my left was an interesting area. It looked like a small closet. There was a rod with a shower curtain looking divider. The divider was pulled so the room was open to see in. There was a chair and a shelf (high enough to be like a work station). On the shelf top was a few examples of the different bariatric procedures and lots of pamphlets. 

In pops the doctor. Shakes my hand, introduces herself. Cold hands. She proceeds to sit on the bottom step of the exam table. We talk. She sees that I've had a rough year (with a gall bladder issue and being diagnosed with sleep apnea). So she indicates a few tests that will need to be done and says it was nice meeting you. See you soon. 

Thank you very much. 

A week later, I'm confused, scared, and not sure what to do. I think back to my feelings as I stepped on the scale...if I couldn't sustain that "life change", how in the hell am I gonna do this?!?!?!? I'm in for a long journey.