The Sign that Saved My Life

I had been sober in Alcoholics Anonymous for 15 years, sponsored many AA fellows, done service at the meeting and intergroup level, and studied the steps, traditions, and concepts of world service. I had donated and put together a website for the local central office. I was “Mister Recovery,” don’t you know.

So when I saw a hand-written sign on the hospital information desk about a meeting for Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous, with a room number and a time, I was skeptical, to say the least. But the meeting started in ten minutes, and I could find the room. I decided to attend to see how badly they were messing up the traditions. I was 70 pounds overweight, but I was sure there was no such thing as food addiction. I thought I was just a weak-willed glutton.

I was unimpressed by the speaker, but there was a fellow who had lost 70 pounds. If I lost 70 pounds I would weigh 160, which is a healthy weight for me. I was interested.

So I found a sponsor and decided I would follow instructions. He said, “Buy a digital scale.” As a photographer with a triple beam balance, I didn’t need to buy another scale. Regardless, I found one at a local store. I discovered that I could put a bowl on it, press a button, and it went to zero. Okay, I thought, maybe this guy knows what he is talking about. He wanted me to call him in the morning and report my food plan for the day. It felt kind of humiliating, but I could do that. And he wanted me to call on time, asking that I calibrate my watch with his. I thought he was some kind of nitpicker, but I could do that, if it was important to him.

He told me my FA day begins after the evening meal, when I would write down my food plan for the next day, making sure I had the food on hand so I wouldn’t need to go out and shop for it, or have any other excuse to not eat my committed food. This guy is a micromanager, I thought. But I had said I was willing to go to any lengths, so I followed instructions. He also instructed me to put all my food on the table before starting the meal. Was he going to tell me how to chew, too? But I said, “I can do that.” In five months, I lost 70 pounds. It worked. I had been struggling for years to lose that weight. A few years later, my wife found a lump in my abdomen, which turned out to be an abdominal aortic aneurysm, or triple A. Left untreated, these would burst, and a person would bleed internally and die. I had surgery and had a stent put in my aorta. The aneurysm shrank around it, saving my life. Thank you, wife. Thank you, FA. I love being here above ground.

A few years after that, I noticed that I would get chest pain on exertion. I wound up in a room with a cardiologist, a treadmill, and an echocardiogram technician. I was diagnosed with clogged coronary arteries. My dad had that, and when he had triple coronary bypass surgery, he said he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. But this cardiologist was amazing. He told me I had a foodborne condition and should not eat any meat, fish, chicken, eggs, dairy products, or any added oil or fat. It sounded kind of extreme, but I was weighing and measuring my food anyway and could change my menu slightly. After doing that for a few months, the chest pain went away. Again, lucky me.

I get to work with others and there is nothing more gratifying than witnessing a suffering food addict achieve goal weight, get into service, and become joyful. But this got kind of boring for me after a while. I’m a realistic guy, and after being in Program for about 15 years, the rational voice in my head took stock of the situation and came to the conclusion that this isn’t rocket science. I know how to weigh and measure my food, and I don’t need to do all this service. I’m 79 years old, have done lots of service in FA, and deserve a break. I was working with over 10 other members at the time, but I decided to let them all go and leave. I thought I could do this by myself, that it wouldn’t be that hard. Wrong! I discovered that without the support of my HP and fellows, I was defenseless against the first bite. When I returned to the program, I was welcomed as just another newcomer, thank God.

Now the FA program is central to my life. I'm retired and have lots of time to devote to my hobbies. But FA is not a hobby. This is a serious business that I must attend to if I want to stay alive.

Remember that first FA meeting I attended? I later learned that the regular sign person for the meeting hadn’t shown up. The folks setting up the meeting decided that it would be okay without the signs for this one meeting. Except for the fellow who had lost 70 pounds. He decided to hand write a sign and put it on the information desk. That simple act saved my life. I have a new appreciation for doing service in the fellowship. Had he not written that simple little sign, I wouldn’t be writing today. My sweet wife would have had to bury me a long time ago. Setting up chairs, opening up the room, and putting out signs may seem inconsequential, but they are essential.

When I first came into the program my sponsor directed me to sit in the front of the room and not fidget or look at my phone. I followed instructions. Nowadays, I use a different strategy. I get to meetings early to help set up and sit in the back, because that is where newcomers like to sit. They tend to arrive late, sneak in quietly, and sit in the back. My happy hunting ground. I offer a friendly greeting and give them my phone number. They rarely call, so I get their number and make the first call. I walk them to the literature table at the break and make sure they get an introductory brochure. If I’m feeling financially flush, I buy them a copy of the FA book.

I can’t do this by myself, but together, with a Higher Power’s help, we can accomplish miracles and have a wonderful time doing it.