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What Happens When A Doctor Needs To Lose Weight To Save His Own Lifevar  

Six years ago, I was pushing 340 pounds, and everything—my body, my job, my love of travel—was crumbling beneath the weight. There I was, a doctor, constantly reading about and lecturing on obesity and its negative effects on patient outcomes, yet I had sleep apnea, high blood pressure, and prediabetes. Just leaning over patients during long surgeries had become impossibly painful. The irony wasn't lost on me, but like anyone who struggles with their weight, I was able to ignore it for a long time and, when that was no longer possible, justify it. I am busy building my career. I'll get my weight under control later.

"For breakfast, I swapped cheesy egg scramble for hard-boiled eggs and vegetables."

"Mementos from my trip to Asia are daily reminders that staying fit gives me freedom."

But things snowballed when I ruptured two disks in my neck and was forced to hang up my scrubs. Though I stayed busy lecturing, standing in front of a podium wasn't the same as being in the OR. I didn't realize it then, but I was angry. So I ate, felt worse, and then ate some more. It got so bad that I took taxis despite living a block from the subway: I didn't even have the energy to drag myself up and down a few flights of stairs at the station.

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On a trip to the Bahamas, the simple act of sitting in the plane was unbearable, and I had to ask for a seat belt extender. Then the airline lost my luggage, so, while my friends waited, I wandered the streets in search of 3XL clothing. That was it, the moment too humiliating to ignore. I needed help—quick—and signed myself in to a residential weight loss center. 

"I don't work out for looks; I train so I can be ready to tackle my next adventure."

"Planning ahead has been key. My go-to dinner is salmon, spinach, and brown rice."

You'd think that I'd have known the right way to eat, but that wasn't part of my med school curriculum. A lot of the healthy basics I learned at the center were eye-opening. The therapists there also helped me get to the bottom of my out-of-control appetite. It's a familiar story: I was at the point where I didn't like myself and was using food to numb the pain. I decided then to throw all my old enthusiasm into my health.

It took me 1½ years to lose the extra 125 pounds, but once I did, many of my health issues disappeared. To celebrate, I booked a trip to Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. I climbed the steep, narrow steps of the ancient ruins in Angkor Wat and kayaked along Ha Long Bay. The trip confirmed something that still amazes me: For all the lives I helped save in the operating room, it wasn't until I saved myself from an early death that I discovered my own grit. Now I go out of my way to take the subway stairs I used to avoid. With the money I've saved in cab rides, I funded this year's adventure—to Burma.

John E. Ellis, 56, has kept the weight off for 3 years.

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