The Lighter Side of Large (21 page)

Monday morning, instead of heading for the gym after dropping the kids off at school, I return home and browse the internet for lap band surgeons. I call a few but am told that it will be two to three weeks before I can get an appointment. I finally get results with the sixth doctor.

“Dr Wilson has an opening this morning at 9:30 a.m.,” says the nurse on the other end of the line.

“I’ll be there!” I nearly shout and rush out the door. The doctor’s office is on a complex of doctors’ offices near Nelson Hospital. The building looks fairly new. “Which means higher rent, which means high doctor bills,” I mutter as I pull into a parking space on the street and hurry inside.

As per Sands orders, I avoid the lift and climb the stairs to the third floor. I’m panting when I reach the top and have to spend a few minutes regaining my breath and composure before entering an office marked with the sign, “Dr Warren Wilson, MD Bariatric Surgeon.”

After filling out piles of paperwork, I’m weighed and measured and placed in an exam room to wait. On the wall is the cover of a magazine which declares, “Top 100 Bariatric Surgeons in the Pacific Islands,” with a full shot of a handsome man in a white lab coat. The caption reads, “Dr Warren Wilson.” I’m glad to see he’s an islander.

I settle back with a magazine, prepared to wait forever and a day for the good doctor to show up, as what usually happens when I’m at the doctor’s, when the door opens and in breezes a man reading a file. “Hello, I’m Dr Wilson,” he says and shakes my hand. He sits on a revolving stool and continues to read the file for a few more seconds. “So tell me why you want bariatric surgery.”

“To lose weight faster,” I admit. “I’ve been dieting and exercising for just over a month now…”

“Good, excellent,” he nods.

“But the pounds aren’t coming off as fast as I’d like them to. It’s that simple.”

Dr Wilson crosses his arms. “No, it’s not that simple. Bariatric surgery will cause you to lose weight quickly, but you still have to eat right, eat in moderation, get enough water and exercise a day. It’s just as much a lifestyle change as a true diet is. By that I mean not a fad diet, but changing those bad eating habits and substituting them with healthy foods with low-fat content.”

“I understand,” I nod eagerly. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

“Right,” he nods. He then hands me a pamphlet on the types of weight loss surgery available and launches into an overview of them. He uses lots of big words and it seems very complicated. My brain can’t process it all: malabsorbtive, restrictive, duodenal switch, biliopancreatic diversion, lap band, sleeve gastrectomy, and Roux-en-Y gastric bypass are some of the words thrown out and which mean nothing to me, except for lap band.

“The procedure I do most often is the laparoscopic gastric banding,” Dr Wilson says. “I cut a single incision in the belly button to avoid scarring and then insert the band around the top of the stomach, creating a pocket about the size of a golf ball. The band can be inflated or deflated by pumping fluids in or out of it. The procedure takes only about thirty minutes to an hour, and you’ll be home by that evening if all goes well.”

“Really? That’s good,” I say.

Dr Wilson nods. “It is a relatively simple procedure. It’s the work-up and follow-up which takes more time. You’ll need a pre-op screening of blood tests, imaging, a gastroscopy - that’s where I’ll insert a camera down your throat to examine your esophagus, stomach, and duodenum. For follow-up, you’ll return every four to six weeks so I can adjust the band as you lose weight. We can also discuss your diet and activities to see where you can improve on those, if need be.”

Dr Wilson talks more about the procedure, the post-op diet, and the risks involved, but all I can think of is how great I’ll look standing next to Jae in my new, slim body, chatting with his snobby friends.

“Side effects include heartburn, diarrhea, constipation, gastritis, ulceration . . .”

No one will ever feel sorry for Jae again and think he’s desperate.

“Risks range from perforation of the stomach or esophagus, thrombosis, blood vessel damage, spleen or liver damage…”

I’ll show Tiresa, Mika, and Jae’s crowd the real me, the full me. I even picture Simon the Orange Suit, kissing up and acting all smarmy because now I am
the
person to know, the It girl of Nelson.

“Do you have any questions?” Dr Wilson brings me back to reality. It dawns on me that he’s been talking for quite some time and I haven’t heard a word.

“No, I think you’ve covered it.” I’ve made my decision. I’m going to get lap band surgery.

“All right,” he says shutting my folder and handing me a stack of papers. “Here’s more information on the procedure, as well as forms for you to fill out about your health history. And here’s information on insurance and my fees. If you do have any questions, feel free to call the office.” He shakes my hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you and I hope you’ll call soon to set up a time for those pre-op tests.”

I bounce down the stairs, excited about the days to come. I am going to look better than Tiresa. All with just a simple surgery.

I drop into the driver’s seat of my car and glance over Dr Wilson’s fee sheet - and my heart sinks. The numbers mock me in black and white: $15,000.

My dream fizzles away. $15,000? I don’t have that kind of money and I know my insurance won’t cover even a smidgen of the cost. I chew on a fingernail. Is there anyone I can borrow the money from? Mama Rose, perhaps? And then I feel ashamed. I’m struggling to get by as it is and here I am planning to get what boils down to be cosmetic surgery. I am a selfish person and a horrible mother and daughter to be thinking of myself when there are others who need money, like Dad and his mountain of medical bills.

If it felt bad to watch Jae’s phone number fly away in the wind, it was ten thousand times worse to watch my weight loss surgery dream dissolve in the sniggers and sneers of the grand opening crowd. I will never be one of that crowd.

And then it dawns on me. I know exactly who I can get the money from.

•

“Mr Fomai, there’s a Ms White here to see you,” the receptionist says into the intercom.

“I’ll be right out,” I hear Mika say as I sit on a plush, scarlet, sofa in the waiting area of Fomai & Associates Barristers at Law.

Mika appears in the hallway behind the receptionist’s desk. I overhear her whisper, “I’m really sorry, Mr. Fomai, she doesn’t have an appointment but insisted she see you right away. She claims she’s your ex-wife.” She rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, Miss Rogers. She is,” Mika says. Miss Rogers turns red and suddenly becomes engrossed in the files on her desk.

Mika approaches me. “Bella, what’s up? Are the kids all right?”

“Yes, they’re fine,” I stand. “I need to speak with you about something important.”

“Sure, let’s step in my office,” Mika says and leads the way. I catch Miss Rogers glancing at me out of the corner of her eye in obvious disbelief. Once inside his office Mika shuts the door and motions for me to take a seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he says as he sits behind his desk, obviously trying to keep it light. It’s the first time I’ve been in his office since he left me.

“I need to ask a favor,” I say.

“You know I’ll do anything for you. Just name it.”

I sigh. “I need $15,000.”

Mika’s eyebrows rise right up to the roots of his hairline. Not that $15,000 is a large sum to him. I am sure he lost that much on his and Tiresa’s first overseas holiday together in Las Vegas the week after he left me. I also know about the money he has squirreled away in offshore accounts all across the South Pacific, besides investments and bribes taken. It is the fact that I am now asking for so much after having refused to accept a cent from him after the divorce.

“Sure, Bella, I can do that.”

“Thanks,” I say with a sigh of relief. “I did the math and figured if you had paid alimony, that’s a pittance compared to what I would have gotten up to this point, so if you’re wondering…”

“Bella, I wanted to pay alimony…”

“I know, but…”

“But it doesn’t matter now. Just hear me out. I am more than happy to give you the money. Not a loan, but a gift, okay?”

I wonder what he will inevitably require in repayment. Perhaps another tumble in the sack? There is always a catch when getting into bed with the devil. I learned that about him years ago: the catch was that I stayed under 60kgs whilst playing the role of his wife and gopher. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I take it you need this money as soon as possible?”

“Yes, that would good.”

Mika opens a desk draw and pulls out a check book. “I’ll call my banker to let him know you’re coming. He’ll take care of you.”

The silence is loud as Mika writes out the check. I play with the strap on my ratty purse. Finished, he rips out the check and hands it to me. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No. That’s all.”

“Would you like to have brunch?” Mika asks.

I shake my head. “I can’t. I have to go to the gym and check in on Dad.”

“The gym? You’re working out?”

“Yes,” I reply, not offering any more information.

Mika nods. “You do look like you’ve lost weight. Good for you.”

“Thanks,” I stand. “I’ve got to go.”

Mika sighs. “Maybe some other time. But one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“May I ask what the money is for? I know it’s none of my business and I said it’s a gift, but I am curious. Do you need a new car? I can get you a nice one.”

“No, it’s not for a new car. I’m having surgery.”

Mika sits up straight. “Surgery? What’s wrong?”

I chuckle. “I’m fat, that’s what’s wrong. I’m getting lap band surgery.”

Mika sits back in his chair, relieved. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Why?”

I laugh. “What do you mean ‘why’? I no longer want to be the big fat cow sitting on the couch eating chocolate, as you used to call me. I’m fat and I want to lose weight fast. It’s not easy to lose weight, you know.”

“No, I just…” Mika trails off. Successful lawyer, smooth talker, and he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I wish you the best and hope it works out.”

“Oh, and one more favor?”

“Name it,” Mika says.

“I don’t want Tiresa to know about the money. Things are bad enough between us and something like this is just going to send her over the edge. We’ll both have a lot more peace if she’s kept in the dark.”

Mika nods. “I agree with you one hundred percent. That is a headache we should avoid.”

I turn to go but pause. “Thanks, Mika. This really means a lot to me.”

He gets up from his desk and puts out a hand out but I shie away. “Like I said, if you need anything else, let me know,” he says.

I rush out of his office, hoping this is the last thing I’ll ever need from him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Is there any feeling quite as thrilling as shopping for clothes and finding you have to go down a size?”

FROM BELLA’S BLOG
http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch13

Where have you been? I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Sands scolds me as I rush through the gym door.

“I had a couple of errands to run,” I pant, heading for the locker room. I change into my workout clothes and meet with Sands by the torture devices.

“How’d the date go?” she asks as I stretch to warm up.

“Fab. There was big turnout and Jae had me cut the ribbon with him.”

“Cut the ribbon. That’s got to be symbolic of something,” she croons.

“Then he took me out for dinner at The Boatshed on the waterfront.”

Sands jumps up and down. “The Boatshed? He really does fancy you.”

“And he kissed my hand.”

“That’s it?”

I stop stretching to give her a look. “Yes, that’s it. Not everyone hops into bed on the second date.”

“Will there be a third date?”

“Yes, we’re going jet skiing.”

Sands nods approvingly. “Good, good, keeping active is good. Outdoor sports burns calories and strengthens the heart.”

“Jeez, Sands, you make it sound so romantic.”

She holds up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying combining a date with exercise is smart. Lose weight while you’re having fun with your dream guy.””Speaking of weight loss,” I stretch out one calf, then the other, “I have some exciting news.”

“Do tell.”

I grin. “I am getting lap band surgery!” I wait for Sands to say something, but her smile melts into a grimace. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

“Surgery?” Sands echoes. “Why would you do that? You’re working out and eating right and losing weight. I don’t get it.”

“But I’m not losing weight fast enough,” I insist. “I am still going to eat right and exercise once I get the lap band, but this way I’ll lose weight even faster.”