The Ick Factor

There is an a term used in direct mail fundraising called the "ick factor"; its the look of a somewhat commercial, slightly hokey looking ad that screams at you boastfully. It has always been a turn off to me - bright colors and lots of graphics. In my mind most serious organizations never use that kind of marketing. Anyone who's ridden the NY subway system knows Dr. Zitzmor the dermatologist, it's in that vain. When I worked for the Michael J. Fox Foundation they were adamant about spending extra money to create their mail campaigns away from that ick factor. How could any serious group of competent doctors use this??

As I poked around the New York Bariatric Group's website I was surprised by how comprehensive it was. It was about surgery, and it wasn't about surgery, it was about everything. The content couldn't be anymore in depth and organized. The credentials were there staring me in the face. I was quite surprised and very curious. It turned out to be one of the best websites I have ever read through. I was impressed and big lesson learned about the ick factor.

I felt that feeling of anticipation and doubt. Do I actually do this? Do I really call? How many others to I look into? More research was necessary and it was quite interesting. The only person I knew that had this surgery in my current circles was a friend of my best friend. She told me to find out about the sleeve, the sleeve is the best. My own doctor's opinion was that the lap band doesn't work. Well, that seems odd to me, the lap band not work? Isn't that the most popular surgery? It was clear I needed more information.

The next step would be to mention my consideration to my family. Hoping for their support, and knowing how smart they all are, I would get good, trustworthy opinions. In May I met a friend of one of nieces' who had weight loss surgery. She is a young, vivacious person who's generosity in sharing her experiences truly helped me to feel good about making an appointment. I was ready - to at least hear what a surgeon had to say.

So there it was, the journey would really begin in June of 2013. Little did I  know at that point it would be a journey and not just surgery. It would be a complete undertaking. The consultation was set for June. Of course, insurance rules everything so I didn't have a choice in surgeons, but perhaps that was a good thing. How am I supposed to judge? What did I know? At that point half of it is gut feeling (eww, pun). All I could do was listen and be open.

I love situations where I don't know what to expect, it leaves little room for know-it-all expectations. This was going to be a big decision; understandably I was nervous. My little laundry list of questions actually seemed to be for more than just a surgeon. I had raked my mind for all the things that I needed to ask. I knew that this is a major altering of my physical body, it would also have a huge psychological component that I was eager to address. To me, both were equally important. First and foremost I wanted to know from the surgeon how risky it actually would be and how many people die from it. How do I decide which surgery is for me? How long will I need to recover and return to work? Nothing anyone else wouldn't want to know.

After getting a packet of information from the staff that showed me that the psychological part would be addressed among many other things, I was ready to listen to what this surgeon had to say.