Losing 100 Pounds With Tirzepatide: My Journey

My cardiologist gave me two options. Surgery or lose 100 pounds. I chose the one I could do from home.

I need to tell you what 382 pounds feels like, because most people can’t imagine it.

It feels like wearing a weighted vest you can never take off. Every step requires effort. Your knees announce themselves when you stand up. Chairs are a gamble — you evaluate every seat before you sit down, calculating whether it’ll hold you. Booth or table at a restaurant? Table. Always table. Because the booth might not accommodate your stomach.

Your feet hurt by noon. Your lower back aches by nightfall. You sleep propped up because lying flat makes it hard to breathe. You wake up exhausted because your body spent the whole night fighting gravity.

At 382 pounds, I wasn’t living. I was enduring.

Your experience may differ from mine. This is my personal story, not medical advice.

How I Got Here

I’ve been big my whole life. Played offensive lineman in high school at 260. Joined the Army at 240 after losing weight at basic training. Got out at 27 weighing 270. By 35, I was 310. By 45, I was 340.

The progression was steady. Ten pounds a year, give or take. I was a long-haul trucker for twenty years — the kind of career that’s perfectly designed to make you gain weight. Sitting twelve hours a day. Truck stop food. No gym, no kitchen, no routine. You eat what’s available, and what’s available is burgers, fried chicken, and gas station snacks.

I don’t say this to make excuses. I made choices. But the environment made those choices easy and the healthy ones nearly impossible.

When I left trucking at 48, I opened a small appliance repair business in Nashville. Less sitting, more moving. I thought the weight would come off.

It didn’t. By then, my metabolism had adjusted to life at 340+ pounds. My body wanted to stay there. And the damage was already accumulating.

The Knee That Started Everything

At 53, my right knee gave out while I was carrying a washing machine up a flight of stairs. Not partially. Fully. I crumpled, the washing machine came down with me, and I lay on a customer’s staircase unable to stand.

The MRI showed bone-on-bone arthritis. My surgeon said the knee had been deteriorating for years, and the excess weight had accelerated the damage by a decade. He did a total knee replacement, which worked well mechanically but put me on my back for six weeks of recovery.

During those six weeks, I gained 15 pounds. Went from 365 to 380.

My wife, Donna, tried not to show her worry, but I could see it. We’d been married 28 years. She’d watched me go from the 240-pound soldier she’d married to the 380-pound man who couldn’t climb stairs.

She never said a word about my weight. Not once in 28 years. But I knew she was scared.

The Cardiologist’s Ultimatum

Six months after the knee replacement, I started having chest pain during mild exertion. Walking from my truck to a customer’s front door. Climbing a few steps. Nothing dramatic — just a tightness that would come and go.

Donna made me see a cardiologist. I went because refusing would have hurt her more than the appointment could hurt me.

The stress test was abnormal. The angiogram showed significant blockage in two coronary arteries. Not emergency-level, but heading there.

Dr. Patterson, my cardiologist, is a tall, lean man who looks like he runs marathons, which he probably does. He sat across from me and laid it out:

“Tom, you have two options. We can do bypass surgery now, which carries significant risk at your weight. Or you can lose a hundred pounds over the next year, which will improve your cardiac risk profile enough that we may be able to manage this with medication instead of surgery.”

A hundred pounds. He said it like it was a reasonable request.

“What if I can’t lose a hundred pounds?” I asked.

“Then we do the surgery. But at 382 pounds, the surgical risk is considerably higher than I’d like.”

He paused. Then: “Have you looked into GLP-1 medications?”

I hadn’t. My son, Jake, had mentioned them. Something he’d read about online. I’d dismissed it as another fad.

Dr. Patterson didn’t dismiss it. He said the clinical data on tirzepatide specifically showed higher efficacy for patients with significant weight to lose. He said it wasn’t a guarantee, but it was the most promising pharmaceutical tool available for my situation.

He also said something I’ve never forgotten: “Tom, you didn’t get here overnight, and you won’t get out overnight. But you need to start.”

Jake Took Over

My son is 30, works in IT, and is better with technology than I’ll ever be. When I told him what the cardiologist said, he went into research mode.

Two days later, he came over with his laptop and showed me Remedy Meds. He’d already compared four or five providers. He liked Remedy Meds because the assessment was thorough, the pricing was clear, and the reviews from patients with high starting weights were positive.

“Dad, just fill out the form,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

So I sat at my kitchen table with my 30-year-old son and answered questions about my medical history while he typed. My weight. My knee replacement. My cardiac situation. The list of medications I was already taking — blood pressure, cholesterol, blood thinner, the whole pharmacy.

The provider who called me was careful. She reviewed everything, asked about my cardiologist’s recommendations, and confirmed that tirzepatide was appropriate given my profile. She started me at the lowest dose, 2.5 mg weekly, with a slow titration plan.

“Given your starting weight and medical history, we’re going to go slow,” she said. “No rushing. We’ll increase the dose only when you tolerate the current one well.”

The medication arrived five days later. Jake came over to help me with the first injection. He was more nervous than I was.

Month 1-2: The Slow Start

Starting weight: 382 lbs

At 382 pounds, losing the first 15-20 pounds is almost invisible. It’s like taking a cup of water out of a swimming pool. Nobody notices, including you. The scale moves, but the mirror doesn’t.

First two weeks: mild nausea, some fatigue, and a noticeable decrease in appetite. I wasn’t repulsed by food, but the urgency was gone. The “I need to eat RIGHT NOW” signal that had driven my eating for decades got quieter.

I ate less. Not by counting or tracking. Just by not being as hungry. Donna started serving me smaller plates, and I didn’t notice for two weeks until she told me.

The constipation was significant. At my weight, with my diet history, my digestive system didn’t handle the sudden change gracefully. Fiber supplements, extra water, and patience.

End of month 1: 372 lbs (down 10 lbs)

Month two, I moved up to 5 mg. The nausea intensified for about five days. I barely ate, which concerned Donna. But it passed, and my appetite settled into a new normal — smaller portions, less frequent meals, almost no snacking.

End of month 2: 358 lbs (down 24 lbs)

Twenty-four pounds in two months. For the first time, I felt like the trajectory might actually work.

Month 3: The First Visible Change

End of month 3: 345 lbs (down 37 lbs)

Donna noticed first. “Your face looks different,” she said one morning.

My face had been round and full for so long that I’d forgotten what my jawline looked like. At 345, it was starting to emerge. Barely, but it was there.

Dr. Patterson ran bloodwork at my three-month cardiology follow-up. My cholesterol was improving. My blood pressure had come down enough to reduce one of my medications. He looked at the chart and said, “Keep going.”

I’d started walking by this point. Nothing ambitious — just around the block with our dog, Biscuit, who’d been walked almost exclusively by Donna for the past three years because I couldn’t handle it.

Biscuit is a golden retriever with more enthusiasm than sense. The first time I took him around the block, he pulled so hard I thought I’d lose my balance. But we made it. A quarter mile. At 345 pounds, a quarter mile felt like a victory.

I walked Biscuit every day after that.

Month 4-5: The Plateau

End of month 4: 327 lbs (down 55 lbs)

I hit a wall.

For six weeks — from mid-month-four through month five — the scale barely moved. 327. 325. 327. 324. 326.

Fifty-five pounds down, and my body decided it was done cooperating.

I almost panicked. I’d been losing steadily for four months, and the math said I needed to lose 45 more pounds to avoid bypass surgery. Stalling at 325 was not an option.

The Remedy Meds provider was calm about it. “Plateaus are normal, especially with significant weight loss,” she explained during our follow-up video call. “Your body is adjusting to its new baseline. We can increase your dose, but I’d like to wait two more weeks before doing that.”

Those two weeks were the hardest of the entire journey. Getting on the scale every morning and seeing the same number. Wondering if the medication had stopped working. Wondering if I’d hit my limit.

Donna kept me grounded. “Fifty-five pounds, Tom. You’ve lost fifty-five pounds. That’s a small child. A medium-sized dog. The fact that the scale hasn’t moved this week doesn’t undo that.”

At week six, the provider increased my dose to 10 mg. Within two weeks, the weight started dropping again.

End of month 5: 318 lbs (down 64 lbs)

Month 6: The Airplane Moment

I travel to Nashville-area customers throughout Middle Tennessee. Usually I drive. But I had a job in Memphis — four hours each way — and decided to fly.

I hadn’t flown in two years. The last time, I’d needed a seatbelt extender. The flight attendant was kind about it, but the passenger next to me shifted uncomfortably in his seat for the entire flight. I’d occupied part of his space regardless of how tightly I tried to contain myself.

At 310 pounds, I boarded the flight to Memphis, sat down, and pulled the seatbelt across my lap.

It clicked.

No extender. No asking the flight attendant. No apologetic glance at my neighbor. I buckled the seatbelt like a normal person and sat there with tears running down my face while the safety video played.

The guy next to me asked if I was okay.

“Better than I’ve been in a long time,” I said.

End of month 6: 308 lbs (down 74 lbs)

Month 7-8: Restaurant Booths and Dog Walks

The milestones started coming faster. Not on the scale — the weight loss was actually slowing, which my provider said was normal and healthy. But in life.

Month 7: I sat in a restaurant booth for the first time in three years. Donna and I went to our favorite BBQ place in Nashville, and when the hostess asked “booth or table,” I said “booth.” Donna looked at me. I slid in. Fit comfortably. She slid in across from me and reached across the table to squeeze my hand.

Month 8: I walked two miles with Biscuit. Two miles. Not a quarter mile. Not a half mile. Two full miles through our neighborhood, past the park, down to the creek and back. Biscuit was delirious with joy. I was out of breath but standing upright.

Donna walked with us that day. She said it was the first time we’d walked together in four years.

End of month 7: 298 lbs (down 84 lbs) End of month 8: 292 lbs (down 90 lbs)

Under 300 pounds. I hadn’t been under 300 since I was 43 years old. Thirteen years.

Month 9-10: The Cardiologist’s Call

End of month 9: 288 lbs (down 94 lbs)

Dr. Patterson called me personally. Not through a nurse. Not through the portal. He picked up the phone and called.

“Tom, I’ve reviewed your latest bloodwork and your weight trend. I want to repeat the stress test.”

I went in the following week. I walked on the treadmill longer and harder than I had during the first stress test. The results showed significant improvement. The blockages were still there — they don’t disappear — but my cardiac risk profile had improved substantially with the weight loss, improved cholesterol, lower blood pressure, and increased activity level.

“I’m taking bypass surgery off the table,” he said.

I had to ask him to repeat it.

“Your risk factors have improved enough that medical management — medication and lifestyle — is now the appropriate approach. We’ll monitor you closely, but surgery is not currently indicated.”

I called Donna from the parking lot. She didn’t say anything for about thirty seconds. Then I heard her crying.

Then I called Jake. He said, “I told you, Dad.”

End of month 10: 285 lbs (down 97 lbs)

Where I Am Today

Ten months in. Ninety-seven pounds down. Three pounds from the hundred that Dr. Patterson said I needed to lose.

Here’s my life at 285 pounds compared to 382:

• Walking: Two miles daily with Biscuit. Rain or shine.
• Stairs: I climb them without thinking. My replaced knee handles them fine.
• Sleeping: I sleep flat, on my back, without propping up. I breathe normally.
• Eating: Three meals a day. Reasonable portions. Donna and I cook together most nights — something we hadn’t done in years.
• Medications: Down from four to two. Off one blood pressure med and one cholesterol med.
• The dog: Biscuit has lost weight too. Turns out, when your owner walks you two miles a day instead of letting you out in the backyard, dogs get healthier as well.

I still have weight to lose. Dr. Patterson would like to see me around 250. That’s another 35 pounds, and I’m realistic that the loss will continue to slow. I’m on the highest dose of tirzepatide and the easy losses are behind me.

But the bypass surgery is cancelled. The seatbelt clicks. The restaurant booth fits. I walk my dog.

At 382, none of those things were true.

Side Effects, Honestly

I’ve had nausea with every dose increase. It’s been manageable but unpleasant — usually three to five days of feeling queasy before it settles.

Constipation has been an ongoing issue. Fiber, water, and occasionally a stool softener. My provider says it’s one of the most common side effects and something I may deal with for the duration of treatment.

I had one episode of significant fatigue around month six that lasted about two weeks. My provider ran bloodwork to rule out other causes and determined it was likely medication-related. It passed.

I lost some muscle along with the fat. At my age and starting weight, that’s expected. I’m doing light resistance exercises now — nothing heavy, given my knee — to preserve what I can. My provider and I discuss this regularly.

The Cost Conversation

I won’t pretend $199 a month doesn’t matter. It does. I’m a small business owner, and every dollar is accounted for.

But here’s the math I did: a cardiac bypass surgery costs $70,000 to $200,000. Even with insurance, my out-of-pocket on a surgery like that would have been devastating. My medications before the weight loss cost roughly $340/month in copays. Now they cost about $180. The $160/month savings doesn’t fully cover the tirzepatide, but it offsets it significantly.

And there’s the stuff you can’t put a dollar sign on. Being alive for my grandkids. Walking my dog. Sitting in a booth with my wife.

That’s worth $199 a month. That’s worth considerably more.

What I’d Say to Someone With 100+ Pounds to Lose

It feels impossible. I know. At 382 pounds, the idea of losing 100 pounds sounds like climbing Everest in flip-flops. The number is so large it paralyzes you.

Here’s what I’d say: you don’t lose 100 pounds. You lose one pound, a hundred times. Some weeks you lose three. Some weeks you lose nothing. Some weeks the scale goes up and you want to quit. You don’t quit.

The medication helps enormously. It turned down the hunger signal enough that I could make better choices without fighting my body at every meal. But it didn’t do the work for me. I still had to walk, cook, make decisions, and show up for follow-up appointments.

If you’re in a similar position — facing a health crisis, needing to lose a significant amount of weight, not sure where to start — I’d encourage you to at least explore your options. If you’re interested, you can take Remedy Meds’ free assessment to see if you’re a candidate. My son helped me with the process, and I’d suggest having someone you trust involved too. It helps.

Ten months ago, my cardiologist told me to lose 100 pounds or get surgery.

I’m at 97 and counting. The surgery is cancelled. The dog gets walked. My wife and I eat dinner in a booth.

I chose the option I could do from home. And it’s working.

Tom H. is a reader in Nashville, Tennessee. He submitted this story in February 2026. Individual results with GLP-1 medications vary, especially for patients with significant weight to lose. Always work closely with your cardiologist and primary care provider when managing cardiac conditions alongside weight loss medication.