Throwers' BBQ

It has been pointed out to me that I neglected to include the LOCATION of the BBQ!!  Sorry about that.  It will be by the discus/shot put rings at Chaparral HS.  If you don't know where that is, ask your student-athlete, they should know where it is.  Please let me know of any more omissions. 

Coach Jaffe

November 15, 2002 - I

As I walked into my house, nothing seemed real. Everything seemed somehow detached. Like it wasn't really there, as if it were somehow detached from my reality. Or I was was detached from everyone else's reality. I walked down the hall and into the family room. I turned on the T.V. but didn't hear anything; only saw the images from a distance. I pulled a chair in front of the T.V. and sat down. It was strange...I wasn't hungry or thirsty or tired. Again, I just was. I sat there. And sat. And sat. I just could not wrap my head around what I had been told. Hours went by and I was still alone. I went upstairs and laid down on my bed and watched T.V. I could hear it now and in doing so was able to distract myself long enough to think. I decided to wait until I got the results of the second tests to say anything to anyone. I watched T.V. all night, not able to fall asleep. Afraid of what I might dream about. Afraid that I wouldn't wake up.

Dr. Bates had told me, in addition to the diabetes, that he was just as concerned about other things. He was concerned about a heart attack or stroke. He told me about something called a heart attack risk ratio and another type of risk ratio. I think that is what it was called, in any case, that is what it meant. What were my chances for having a heart attack or stroke due to a number of factors: cholesterol level, triglyceride level, weight, fat percentage of my body, NO exercise, etc. Low was 3.0 and high was 6.0. Mine was 19.5 or something ungodly around there! I was three and a half times above the high end of the scale. I found out sometime later that he and the rest of the staff used phrases like "ticking time bomb", "we'll see", "I don't know", and "I hope". They genuinely did not know if I would have a heart attack or stroke today, tomorrow, or next month. This is not an exaggeration. This is how close I was to death. This is what put true fear into my soul. I had let my health deteriorate to a point which I almost could not have come back from. And that isn't the scariest part. The scariest part was that I didn't even know that my health was that bad! If it had not been for my out of control diabetes, and subsequently the need to urinate every (what turned out to be) half hour to forty five minutes, I would not have gone to the doctor and would not have found out about it. In all likelihood, I would have just keeled over and died. That thought permeated my entire being. It was only through sheer exhaustion that I finally fell into a nervous and difficult sleep.

On Friday, November 15, 2008 I woke up to the sounds of the garbage man picking up the trash and to bright sunlight streaming into my room. It was only for a fleeting moment that I looked around my room with unconscious eyes. I was then jerked back to my reality with such force as to throw my mind into panic. Just running with such determination that I was unable to stop it. Just running, going, scurrying, sprinting, darting, and dashing endlessly. As I tried to watch my mind, my eyes shot back and forth, from object to object, without ever being able to hold on to anything for more than a second or two. My computer, my bed, the window, the street below, the carpet, the ceiling, the T.V., a chair, the doorway, and then nothing at all. I stared into empty space and then, gradually, outside. The sun made it difficult to see. Everything was so bright. I did not feel a connection anymore. My heart, little by little, slowed down. My breathing calmed. I came to and walked downstairs. I got some orange juice out of the fridge and sat down in front of the T.V. I was actually feeling a little bit better. I thought about what had happened yesterday and when I had woken up this morning. "Well...that was interesting," I thought to myself as I managed a stubborn chuckle and I sat back actually enjoying whatever crap I was watching, "Whew! I feel better now! Things'll be OK. The labs will come back fine." What a relief that I was feeling more optimistic. That, of course, was who I was--optimistic and happy.

This is when I got the call from Dr. Bates. It was around 11am or so and he told me that I definitely had diabetes. There was a finality to that...I definitely had diabetes. There was no room for any other interpretations. I couldn't spin this differently than what it was. Choice had been taken away from me, and what's worse was, I was to blame. Dr. Bates, as I will come to know in the next few months, was not one for sugar coating. He was not rude, but he wouldn't be "nice" to you just so that things would be easier for you. You had to be man, or woman, enough to act like an adult and handle your business. I was for sure, no exception to this. He had asked if I had gotten any books or done any research into what diabetes was. I told him, "No." He was 'miffed' to put it nicely. He told me that I, in fact, was the only one who could save me or kill me. I had to take action. He suggested a few books, one of them was the annual ADA's (American Diabetes Association) Guide to Diabetes. After a few minutes he was done and told me to be in his office on Monday. I hung up the phone and sat down in a chair next to the couch. I didn't know what to do or what to think. I did, however, try to call my parents. They, as luck would have it, did not answer and I left them both a voice mail. I called my sisters Tara and Tiffany. (I would have also called my other sister, Trisha, but she did not have a cell phone at this time.) Neither one of them answered either and I left them a voice mail also. I called some of my friends. None of them answered and I did not leave them voice mails. I stopped trying to call people. I hadn't told anyone. And I felt despair. I felt lost. I was alone.

November 14, 2002

I had scheduled my doctor's appointment with every expectation that I would be hearing the usual stuff. The same things that I had heard before from doctors and from my family and friends, "Well, you need to lose some weight." That was a nice way of saying, "HOLY SHIT! I can't believe that you're so big!" Which in turn was another polite comment really meaning, "HOLY SHIT! Your fat ass needs to lose a TON of weight!" No matter how it was said or not said, it was true, but that had not yet made an impression on me in the slightest way. Until now that is. I was still in what can only be described as one of the best examples of "Thick Headedness". Yes that's right...I used it as a word. Some of you may be saying, "But you really didn't notice it because it was a gradual increase in weight." No, I realized it and promptly forgot it. Ah! The way of humans. To see something important and ignore it. To not do a damn thing about it because it may cause some discomfort or unpleasantness. As you can see, I was no different; but for some unforeseen reason, I had an appointment with the doctor in a little while.

Now at my appointment, I commenced the common and familiar paperwork that we all know too well. I handed it to the woman sitting behind the counter and was asked to please have a seat and wait until called. Which I did. Looking around I saw only a few other people there, all students as it was the Student Health & Counseling Services for CSUSM. Those two girls looked pretty healthy to me. Probably getting their immunizations so they could register for the spring semester or some "woman" thing. I heard my name politely called and I rose up and walked through that door to the back. They weighed me--hold on for a second. They didn't weight me! What? Why not!??! I looked at the nurse and she seemed uneasy. I didn't understand. Why did she have that look on her face? What...the...hell...was...going...on? What the hell was going on was that the scale could not weight me. It had a limit of 350 lbs. To put it in politically correct terms: I was, as you have figured out, considerably heavier than that. The nurse, embarrassed for some reason, said that was OK and asked me to sit down so she could take my temperature and blood pressure. This was to prove to be 'unpleasant' as well. The temperature was OK, but my blood pressure was cause for concern. It was around 170/105. Just a bit high. The nurse, once again, seemed uneasy. This time she only said, "OK".

As I waited in the examination room, I still was in good spirits despite the nurses cryptic facial expressions and uneasiness. While I was waiting I had to go to the bathroom. This, as you remember, had become a frequent activity in my daily life. I did my business and returned to the room. Soon after the doctor came in, Dr. Bates. He immediately read my chart and began to ask questions: How long had I been overweight? Was there anything in my family history that he should now about? Did I have frequent urination? Well, yes I did and I told him so. He said that he was concerned about a few things. I had lab work done before my visit and he said that the results were alarming. Now, at this point, things finally took a serious turn. I asked what was so alarming. He said that my cholesterol was over 500, my triglycerides were over 3,000 (I'll come back to this), and that my blood glucose (sugar) level was around 450 - 470! For those of you who don't know, your glucose level (even after a big meal) should not go above 120 or so. Mine was about 4 times that. Going back to my cholesterol and triglycerides, normal total cholesterol levels should be below about 200 dl/cm3 (deciliter per cubic centimeter) and triglycerides should be below 150 dl/cm3. He told me that they could not accurately measure my triglycerides and that they were, in all likelihood, probably much higher because of how high my glucose levels were.

This brought Dr. Bates to the part that has changed my life forever. I do not use the word "forever" lightly either. Before this, I may have. Before this, I did not have a real grasp on the true sense of the word. I was now about to be exposed to the reality of the full meaning of the word "forever". I was told that I had diabetes. I had no thoughts. No words. No feelings. I just...was. Dr. Bates, kind as he was, kept talking. Explaining a few things and telling me that he was debating whether or not to send me to the hospital for insulin therapy to get my glucose level under control. See, I had what is known as uncontrolled diabetes. That is to say, they were out of control. This, as it turns out, is a more common occurrence than one would think. They (the doctors and researchers) say that out of the population in the U.S. that has diabetes, about a whole third of them do not know it. They have uncontrolled diabetes. This makes up 33.333333...% of the U.S. diabetic population! I was now, or rather had been, part of that group. Misery loving company and all, I did take solace that I wasn't alone in making that mistake, but I didn't know that at the time. He wanted to put me in the hospital??!? Hold on! I had drifted and missed what he had said after that. He repeated himself as I now attentively listened. As he was talking, he drew more blood to double check the results. He said he would put a rush on this and we would have the results tomorrow. It was decided that I did not have to go to the hospital, although he thought I should to be on the safe side. Dr. Bates left it up to me. I chose not to go. Dr. Bates said that if he did not see improvements by Monday that I should expect to be taken to the hospital directly from the campus health center. He also told me to get books and look on the Internet for information on diabetes, as he felt that was the best way for me to learn the basics on diabetes. He wrote me more prescriptions than I had ever seen at one time and handed them to me. He said to get those filled now. Dr. Bates looked at me and said that he had a lot of experience with patients that had diabetes and that he and others at the health center would do their best to help me as long as I made the effort and did what it took to get better.

That was it. I skipped the rest of my classes that day and went home. I didn't listen to the radio. Silence. Just plain silence. What I was thinking about actually came as a surprise to me looking back on it. The only thing that I could think about is how I didn't want to tell anyone about this. Almost as if I were ashamed of it. But what was there to be ashamed of? Regrettably, there was something. Me. It was my fault. It was! Maybe I would have gotten diabetes eventually, but I got diabetes now, not later. Why? Because I LET myself get fat. I let myself eat that shit! I stopped exercising. I got lazy. I DID NOT PUT FORTH THE EFFORT! I did what I despised. I didn't do something because it was hard and what's worse is I not only preached that to those I knew or those who would listen to me, but I did it while I was not! I was my worst nightmare...a hypocrite. How could I tell anyone that? How could I tell my parents, family, friends? For the first time in my life, I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to go on.

It has come to my attention...

So...it has come to my attention that I should let everyone know that I am ok now. That I have, to date, lost over 210 pounds. Ok. I have lost over 210 pounds. What? You don't believe me? Alright here are some pictures. The first picture is with my cousins (left, Brad - right, Brent). Many people said that they thought that those who read this should know, even though I feel it may take away from the dramatic effect of the story, that there is light at the end of the tunnel and I am now almost into that light. That there is a light for everyone who is like me. The road that I have traveled, and am still traveling, is not easy. Let me be more accurate, the road I have traveled and am still traveling is perilous. I have come close to death. I have lost more than most people will understand. I am not the only one though. There are hundreds of thousands who have lost, and are losing, more than any human should. I am not saying that others, not in my situation, have not lost as much as I. Or that have not lost more. I am saying that most cannot understand what has been lost. It is an un-needed loss. For some, self control was the issue. For others, it was beyond their control. I, more than anybody, was utterly unable to comprehend how out of control things were. I just didn't know. Not until I decided to do something about it. And that was the first step because, God knows, I could not and cannot do this on my own. I needed help to save me. Pictured with me in the above picture is my sister Tiffany. She is just one of the caring people that stood at my side to help me. All that being said, things are better now. I am happy. My life has more meaning than it did before and my life has value.
What quality was there before? Living to eat? Living to hide? That, of course, is not living. That is an existence in hell. Who wants to live in hell?!?? Not me! These are a few reasons why I made the decision to take control and not to give up. Not to commit suicide one day, one meal at a time. Anyone who is in the same predicament that I was/am, can do something about it. You have the power to save yourself. This is not only true for me, for those who are overweight or obese. This is true for everyone. Not to sound to "self help"-ish, but the key is self-empowerment. What are you going to do? Who are you going to let control you and your future? Someone/ Something else? I should hope not. My other sisters, Tara (above) and Trisha said that to me. Don't get me wrong, there are amazing stories and medicine out there, but a miracle is not going save you. There is no quick fix to a problem like this. As I said before, the road is perilous. It probably is going to be the most difficult thing one will endure. I do not know how many dark moments that I went through. I do know that there is a way out. You are most likely not going to look like a supermodel or a movie star in the end. You are, however, going to look very good. You are going to be healthy. You are going to be happy. So please bear with me as I tell my story. Know that things work out. Take from my accomplishments, as well as my mistakes and shortcomings, knowledge that will help you. We must use the knowledge at our disposal to help us. We must use the help of others. We must overcome the fears that we entertain in our darkest thoughts. We must not be afraid to face who we are. It is forever a battle with one's self that we all must fight.

The Beginning II

I just want to make sure everyone understands how BIG I was! Take note of the belly on the subject to the left. Notice the "hang" of the midsection...this is what is referred to as a "dickeydo". What is that you ask? Simple, it's when your belly sticks out further than your dickey do"! I apologize for the toilet humor, but it gets the point across. We left off right after the "shower scene". I was looking into the mirror and not recognizing the man looking back. The physical problems were really beginning to stack up. Sleeping 16 - 18 hours a day, unreal snoring, wearing a tent as a shirt (I was only a few pounds away from wearing a Homer Simpson moo-moo!), sore joints, always tired & alone, etc.

I decided to take action!!...tomorrow. I didn't see why I should worry about it that night when I could lay back enjoy my cigarettes and watch my movies with a truckload of food. This, predictably, stretched out to a few months. I was thinking that I had just started a new semester and didn't have time to fit the gym and healthy eating into my busy schedule. Of course I did have time. To everyone but me, this was obvious. This is what almost killed me.

My sister Tiffany called me and told me that there was a fire burning near by and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her, her husband Greg and my two other sisters, Tara and Trisha. (Before anyone says, "But you shouldn't go watch fires burn. It is dangerous, you might get in the way of the firefighters, you could get in trouble, etc. I know this and have already asked God the Almighty for forgiveness, so please don't worry yourselves unduly.) So off we went, trying to locate this fire. About ten minutes into the trip, I had to go to the bathroom (#1, if you're wondering). So we stopped, I did my business, and we got on our way. About half an hour after that I had to go again. This went on for a couple of hours. We never found the fire and I had my sister drop me off at my house.

The next day, I was driving from Murrieta to San Marcos for a class that I had that day. I, as had become the tradition, went to the bathroom before I left. By the time I got to campus, I was about to die! I couldn't find a parking space...I couldn't even find a place in the loading zone! I couldn't hold it anymore. As I ran behind a tree in the most remote parking lot on campus, I felt angry. I felt helpless. And the hardest thing to admit was that I felt embarrassed. I was embarrassed for the obvious reasons, but most of all, I was embarrassed because this was my fault. I did not go to class that morning. Silently, after putting a towel down on the seat, I got back into my car and drove home.

When I returned home, I called Student Health & Counseling Services (SHCS). I told them the reason I wanted to schedule an appointment was for a physical because I wanted to get in shape. I did not mention anything else. That, unfortunately, was not my low point. That was yet to come.

The Beginning I

That’s me, Tighe (Ty), in May of 2003. 548 lbs. Cholesterol 507. Blood pressure 170/105. Blood Glucose level 400+. Triglycerides 3,000+. And, not known to me yet, Type II Diabetes. Why am I still alive? That’s a good question. I got lucky. Here’s the first part of my story:

I didn’t even know there was anything wrong with me. Well, that is except of course for my weight, but even my morbid weight was still not a comprehensible thing for me. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I was overweight and needed to get to the gym and stop putting Twinkies and burgers into my mouth. Even then I did not, at all, understand what was happening to me or the very real probability that I would soon die if things didn’t change. Wondering how I got lucky? That’s easy. My Godfather, Joe, was visiting my parents and I happened to be over also. As he was leaving, he pulled me aside and with the most frightened look on his face that I had ever seen he simply said, “I’m very worried about you.” I told him that I understood and began to say goodbye to him. He firmly grabbed my arm above my elbow and looked right into me and said, “I worry that you are going to die.” It stopped me for a second, but I told him that I had already starting going to the gym and was watching what I ate. This, obviously, was a lie. He knew it, but I didn’t care because I had believed the lie for years and years before I told it.

Sometime later I was out with a bunch of friends at a bar down in the Gaslamp in San Diego and this picture was taken of me. Now, this was in the day largely before digital cameras and I did not see it for a few weeks. When I did, I felt I was looking at some distorted reality. THAT’S NOT ME!!! NO!! NO, IT’S NOT!!! And I put the photo away. Uh huh, that’s right. I ignored it...I ignored me. A pretty amazing thing to ignore oneself, but I managed to do it. The next time I actually didn’t ignore myself I was taking a shower. I was washing my hair and I had to stop because I was winded. My shoulders and biceps were burning! That was it. I thought about what Joe had said and everything else. Avoiding stairs because I knew what would happen. Wearing what amounted to tents for shirts and jeans. Back problems. Snoring and sleep apnea (when you stop breathing while sleeping). No girlfriend. Not going out. Looking in the mirror and not seeing me.

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