My patient weighs almost 150 kilograms. KILOGRAMS. (2.2 pounds per kilo, people). Because of his extreme BMI, he has developed lymphedema; essentially, a backlog of the fluid that bathes our cells. Trapped fluid gets infected. Infections mean he has to come to hospital, where we try to calculate the dose of an antibiotic for a person who is 1.875 standard people.
Anyways, his wife came in with their darling baby daughter and I had an utter WTF moment. Who marries this man? How did they get pregnant? How does their daughter look at him? Does she see him as a mountain of flesh or just her Dad? He's had 2 previous lap band surgeries and still weighs more than twice me.
If I'm honest, this is not about my patient. There was an article in the paper for Valentines Day that said women who are still single past 25 are probably too picky and are doomed to a life alone. I look at people like my patient and I wonder if I'm too superficial.
Maybe there's a wonderful 100kg man out there who will be the father of my children, my best friend and apple of my eye.
Or maybe I'd rather be alone than share a bed with someone who suffocates in his sleep under the weight of his neck rolls.
Bah. Forgive me. Canada's hockey loss has put me in a foul mood. Well, that and the fatty.
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