After a short delay, Dr. Green entered the room and smiled warmly. He swiveled his computer to show Hope the x-ray images. “Your arthritis has completely worn down the cartilage in your knee,” he said. “It’s bone on bone. It’s time to take action.”
Hope took a deep breath, “So, I’ll need surgery?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to mince words, Hope. You must lose twenty-five pounds first. Every single extra pound will make recovery that much harder.”
Hope slunk out of the office with tears burning her eyes. Her knee was killing her and she didn’t have the energy to cook. On the drive home, she spotted a fried chicken restaurant and stopped off to order dinner. “I’ll start my diet tomorrow,” she mumbled to herself. “Today I’m too upset.”
The next morning, Hope woke up motivated to begin eating healthier. To limit calories, she decided to skip breakfast and go straight to work. When she got to her office, though, there was a large tray of doughnuts sitting on her boss’ desk. It was her co-worker’s birthday and they were all celebrating.
“What can I get you, Hope?” asked Janey pointing to the food.
“Nothing, I’m on a diet.”
“Oh c’mon,” insisted Janey. Calories don’t count at parties.”
Hope hesitated for a minute before picking out a jelly doughnut. She justified the treat by telling herself jelly has fruit in it and vowed to have a healthy lunch.
When noon rolled around, Hope went to the cafeteria and ordered a Caesar salad. She was feeling proud of her choice until the blue cheese dressing began calling her name. She grabbed a couple of packets rationalizing she was just eating lettuce.
That night, Hope’s knee was aching again, and all she wanted to do was sit. She called her husband and asked him to pick up a sausage pizza on the way home. She figured she had already ruined her diet that day, so she might as well enjoy dinner and begin fresh tomorrow.
The following morning, Hope decided a cup of good coffee would be just the ticket to curb her cravings, but when she entered the coffee shop, they were just taking fresh bagels out of the oven and the aroma was intoxicating. Hope’s defenses dissolved and she ordered a raisin bagel with butter. She ate it in her car, her stomach clenching with guilt.
When she got to work, Hope sighed deeply and pulled out her phone. She called Dr. Green’s office and wailed, “Doc, I need help. Would you write me a prescription for Ozempic?”