a fat lot of use

A young woman comes today asking to be referred for a gastric banding procedure. Other patients have had this in the past, but she is the first to ask to have it performed under the auspices of the NHS. Her grounds seem good though; she is 5'3" tall and weighs, wait for it, 27 stone or about 165 Kg. Which means I am 6" taller than her, but weigh less than half what she does. In fact I always worry she is going to collapse my consulting room chair when she plumps down on it. It hasn't happened so far, which is a remarkable tribute to its robust design. I think the NHS will play ball; she easily meets their criteria. But isn't this procedure a bit like getting a smoker to stop by taping their fingers together so they can't pick up their cigarette? Shouldn't I be addressing why she eats for four when she should be eating for one?

This afternoon's baby clinic is busy, but manageable. My nurse has, thankfully, re-surfaced, heavily made up and adorned with skin-toned band-aids to cover the injuries. Fell over a goat, apparently...