In addition to giving him a rundown on the crappy medical situation with the blood sugar and the protein in the urine and all the other crap that he had missed out on in the past several months, I also told him about the ribs. They've actually been healing up pretty nicely but it's easy to heal when I have the mobility of a slug on holiday while I'm at home. Actually leaving the house, climbing into and out of the SUV, and walking around for the appointment actually made them twinge some more, something I hadn't noticed in at least a few days while at home. It's still not anything major and I got a second opinion as he ran his fingers over them and concluded as well that he didn't feel anything to get worried over. The healing timeline of 3 weeks seems to be pretty much on course and i don't expect any more problems out of it.
The interesting highlight of the trip, and why I actually was interested in going to the doctor's for a while now is that I was also able to get weighed. There are a couple of scales in the house but I've never even attempted to use them out of the general fear that I would hear some Boing sound as metal bent and springs snapped. I think most household scales usually have a weight limit of 250 lbs and I haven't seen that neighborhood in at least around 10 years. So I went to get weighed on the good ol' truck scale, though when I called it that the receptionist made sure to correct me with a chuckle, calling it a 'wheelchair scale'. Seeing as I wasn't in a wheelchair I figure my naming was probably more apt though we could just cut to the chase and call it a scale for lardasses.
The last time I had gotten weighed at the doctor's office, I had been 318 pounds. I was actually pretty satisfied with that result at the time since for years previous to that I had been cruising closer to 330. The thing is, I've always been able to carry my weight pretty well and if you asked most people at the time I don't think they would have said they thought I weighed nearly that much. It's a cliche and an excuse but my family really is big boned. We all tend to have large frames with big shoulders and that tends to add a good chunk of mass. Connie, my sister, looks skinny as heck, but even she tops out on a scale far beyond what you would expect and has a hell of a time finding dresses that accommodate her shoulders form what I hear.
Anyway, enough with the beating around the bush. I chugged my way onto the truck scale and it said 263-264 which surprised the hell out of me. The last time I had seriously tried to diet several years ago I had gotten down to around 275, and hit a massive wall where I just didn't think I could go much lower. This time around, even with going off the diet for large periods of time down in disney world and then in chicago/gencon, I still managed to beat that number by a good 10 pounds. It's almost a ridiculous number in my mind and makes me wonder what the hell I was weighing before I set off for Chicago. I have no clue how much further it can go or if it'll even reverse. Since coming back to town I haven't been as strict on the diet and while I'm still not eating breads or pastas, I have been scarfing a large amount of fruit which I know can't be good for me. Hell, if somehow this continues to work maybe I'll call the tabloids and try to get them to write about my new slug diet where you basically lie in bed and congeal all day yet still manage to lose weight. It's a sure money maker I tell you.
On a sidenote, while I was driving to the doctor's office the power breaks on the Expedition gave out and freaked me out. I managed to swerve into the other lane and discovered that I still had some braking ability but only if I pressed the petal to the absolute bottom. I could have turned back at that point but I was already running a little late for the appointment so I just said fuck it and kept driving, though obviously a crapton more slowly since I couldn't be sure if what little brakes I did have would also go. The first thing I did was scope out where the parking break was so I had a backup in case the shit really hit the fan. Luckily, I was able to inch my way there and back without issues. It felt more than a little touch and go at times though.