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Men’s Health

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Even though obesity affects women and men equally, a UC Davis study shows that obese women are four times more likely than obese men to seek weight-loss surgery. When they do see a bariatric surgeon, male patients tend to be older, more obese and sicker than women.

“It is important for men to realize that obesity poses a serious threat to their health and lifespans,” said Mohamed Ali, senior author of the study and chief of bariatric surgery at UC Davis. “A patient who is 100 pounds or more above his ideal body weight poses a therapeutic dilemma and should be referred to a surgeon.”

For the study, published in the December 2013 issue of Surgical Endoscopy, Ali and his colleagues collected information from 1,368 patients who were evaluated for bariatric surgery at UC Davis between 2002 and 2006. A vast majority of them — nearly 82 percent — were female.

Both men and women in the study were likely to be affected by weight-related conditions such as hypertension, diabetes, obstructive sleep apnea, elevated cholesterol and fat levels in the blood, gastroesophageal reflux disease, musculoskeletal peripheral disease, back pain, depression and metabolic syndrome, a combination of conditions that increases the risk of cardiovascular disease.

Article credited: http://www.ucdmc.ucdavis.edu/publish/news/newsroom/8564

One of our men's success stories....

The weight loss procedure I chose was the vertical sleeve. OK my name is Daryl it’s been six months since I’ve had surgery and I’ve lost 77 pounds. Well before my weight-loss procedure you know my life was good but I was sad be down inside I know I was a good family man but there was that weight I’m not the physical weight but the weight in my heart and just how bad I felt about myself.

Did the physical challenges with not being able to do my job harder on me I would be able to do my job and not not like everybody else around me, the mental I’d feel terrible about myself, I’d mask it with humor and you know some people could see right through it now that I look at my before pictures I could see though it And I could see the pain in my eyes. Gosh yeah I’ve gone to theme parks, my rest periods at those theme parks were a long long time yeah I have tons of energy now.

Now if I had to do it all over again I would do it and I would do exactly the way it’s been done the last six months what advise when I give somebody that was what I would say do it in hanging on because of the changes that come about are going to feel like you have no idea good way, in a good way. As a man you know were brought up to get it on our own hero and all my life there’s athletes in my family that I would try and try and try and keep up with them and I just couldn’t and then I knew that I would get big quick so it really easy for me to get the weights at all brother stuff that comes with that so yeah I think part of the macho thing help me from getting the surgery for so long I’m more of a man now then I was before period. Somebody considering where he lost his do it do it and hang on because it’s a good ride I wish I would have done it sooner.

Sincerely I hope this helps with your decision,

Darrel

Fat Boy, Slim Guy

Make an “okay” sign with your thumb and index finger. You’re looking at the approximate size of my stomach. That tiny circle, the result of gastric-bypass surgery, has made an enormous difference in my life. It’s taken me from 360 pounds to 180, from a 60-inch waist to a 36, and from a four-door sedan to a cherry red convertible.

My journey into fatness began around age 7, when I started stretching the seams of my Sears Husky Boys pants. My parents weren’t heavy and I had no siblings, so I got the milk and cookies all to myself. I began reaching adult weight by the time I was in seventh grade, and I practically had to oil myself to squeeze into the school desk. Gym class was a nightmare—I couldn’t run (the teacher used to make me race against a kid who had one leg), and just the anticipation of a game of basketball would make me break out in a cold sweat. At our school, the teams would be “shirts against skins,” and if you’re a 12-year-old boy with breasts, you’d rather die than suffer the embarrassment of running up the court topless.

By 10th grade, I was over 200 pounds. In addition to Hershey bars and Wendy’s double burgers, I also lusted after girls. But as much as girls don’t want to be fat, they absolutely don’t want to date fat.

 

In high school and college (where I reached the magical 300-pound mark), I had a couple of girlfriends, but mostly I had girl friends who wanted advice on, of course, their boyfriends. Like many fat guys, I simply shut down the libidinous part of myself. One pathetic example: In college, I took a trip to Manhattan and had one night solo, the perfect opportunity to indulge in some primal pleasure. A night at Scores just wouldn’t have done it. Instead, I was in my hotel room, alone with . . . a pastrami sandwich from the Carnegie Deli.

To be that fat was to be constantly self-conscious and uncomfortable. Never let ’em see you sweat? My thick casing of insulation meant I always felt trapped in my own personal sauna. At job interviews (wearing my too-tight sport coat and tie), I’d feel sweat dot my forehead and occasionally run down my cheek, and I would instantly recognize the look from across the desk: “You are just not the image we want for our company.” I got the same look when talking to women. Carrying around more than 100 extra pounds was a burden on my heart, physically and emotionally.

Of course, after depressing and humiliating experiences like these, a guy needs some comfort. So on the way home from an interview, or any other fat-related rejection, I would hit the drive-thru and get a Big Mac, a Quarter Pounder, two small orders of fries, and a chocolate shake. (Two small fries? I always hoped this would fool the drive-thru person into thinking the order was for two people.) When I got home I would top off the tank with some ice cream and cookies. Anybody see a cycle here?

The only thing more frustrating than being fat was trying to get thin. I tried eating grapefruit before every meal, all carbs, no carbs, high protein, low protein, liquid diets (twice), and injection with the urine of pregnant women. (In the ’70s, injecting HCG, a hormone extracted from pregnant women’s pee, was the latest groovy diet aid.) I ventured into more legitimate approaches, too—Weight Watchers, NutriSystem, and Overeaters Anonymous, where I tried, but failed, to admit I was Powerless over Pizza.

It was through one of these dieting attempts that I met my wife. We were both at the lower end of our yo-yo weight patterns, and throughout our marriage our weight went up and down, sometimes in sync, sometimes not. As with any relationship in which both people are addicted to something (food, booze, cigarettes), attempts to get unhooked led to either support or sabotage. When we were both determined to succeed, the teamwork was great.

But when one of us was ready to fall off the wagon, we could drag the other off, too.

As the years ticked by, the scale clicked higher. But at least my health, for the most part, was good. A heart palpitation here, some pain in the knees there, but my blood pressure was surprisingly normal, and I wasn’t having much shortness of breath, lower-back pain, or any of the other usual symptoms of being (I still hate this term) “morbidly obese.”

My big wake-up came during a routine visit to my doctor, Ed Miller, in 1998. I stepped on the standard doctor’s scale, ready to watch the numbers climb once again, but this time the numbers couldn’t climb any higher. The scale’s 350-pound max wasn’t enough to weigh me. When the nurse told Dr. Miller, the two of them went to another exam room and wheeled in a second scale (as others watched, of course). I was shocked, scared, and red-faced with complete humiliation. They put the two scales side by side and had me step up, one foot on each. The result wasn’t exact, but it at least gave a rough idea of my weight. One thing, though, was perfectly clear: My run of moderately good health was sure not to last. I was approaching 40, heart disease and diabetes ran in my family, and I couldn’t recall seeing many old men schlepping around 360 pounds.

“You’ve tried everything else, so you might as well go all the way,” Dr. Miller said, and he recommended obesity surgery. He told me about the gastric bypass, a surgery that would forever alter my plumbing so that I absolutely had to lose weight and keep it off.

Article credited: http://www.menshealth.com/health/diet-strategies-gastric-bypass-surgery