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PSA | PJ Newman


Community Service? Paying it forward? Listening to too much Pink Floyd? As if!!!

So, long time readers (or those of you whom navigated back 6 or 7 years worth of this) will recall when I came home with Type 2 Diabetes. It’s gone, thank Dog, but the ramifications are not.

As in

When the good doctor confirmed the disease, he gave me some pills, said lose weight and ushered me out of the exam room. He didn’t tell me a thing about my newly acquired polysyllabic shadow. As in how I got it, what it does, what it can do in the short and long runs, how to get rid of it and will I have to buy it its own ticket when I fly?

So, here’s a quick run down to and fro and then the reason for all of this and then we’ll return you to the regularly scheduled blog….

Genetics played a bit part, somewhere between a walk-on and a regular support player. Dad’s side of the family threw that in the gene pool, but packing around extra weight and eating SAD (Standard American Diet) made me a shoe in (shoo in?). Watching my uncle lose a few body parts then his life rather quickly, recording Isaac Scott in is wheelchair shortly before he died. Enough, said I. Problem is/was, the big mistake I mistook thinking that once I started (a life sentence) these MIRACLE PILLS I could go on eating the crap that brought me there in the first place. They don’t tell you this. The doctor knew all he had to know about it, the drug companies conveniently omit certain pieces to the puzzle.

Long and short of this, I took control and sent this life threatening accessory back to think about what it had done. I learned about, owned the disease. Found out what it took to make me healthier. I promised not to preach and point fingers at people and their bad choices. I have mentioned to a few friends what I did and, if they so chose (choose?) to, where to get the information.

Now, FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY, I am extending the courtesy to you. Write and I’ll point you in the direction. It’s all free. It worked for me and my family. May or may not be your thing.

Aside 1: A neighbor recently had a couple of stents installed. Two, I think. A few weeks after the upgrade, we were talking about health issues and the stents came up (conversationally. Hopefully they are still in place!). I mentioned a couple of complications associated with the procedure that I had heard about from a very respected doctor.* My neighbor was eating an ice cream cone. When he/she saw me looking at it, half jokingly he/she said, “Don’t tell my doctor!”
I won’t have to. Next time they cut him/her open, the doctors should be able tell what was on the menu.
This person is also overweight, obese, maybe even morbidly obese. Not sure. I used to have a friend who was morbidly obese. Made me sad. I had to cut my ties with this person because I couldn’t fight excuses with facts.


If you’re interested, I’ll tell you what I know. It’s been an eye opening learning experience filled with laughter, the thing that’s not laughter, amazement and the ever present threat of a Zombie Apocalypse.



*Doctor…I remember reading a short story by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. During a conversation, one person asks the doctor to whom he is speaking with what sort of doctor he is. His reply is Real Estate.
Ask questions. If you don’t like the answers, get another opinion. Then another. No one person has all of the answers.