Please note that this post is not for the faint of heart, so please don't read further if you'd rather not know about the possible perils of extreme obesity that have befallen a beloved member of our community. For those of you who've chosen to read on despite my admonition, the sad tale below was related to me by Lexi, with whom many of you are familiar. She started Fat Fantasy many years ago, and her efforts have brought pleasure to many over the years. This is a long post, so if you don't have time to read it now, please come back when you do, as you might have some answers for a special person who's desperate for help.
As I've reported here in the past, Lexi has fallen on some very hard times in the last couple of years, in part due to the devastation that was visited upon her home and office during several hurricanes. She's also been having severe medical problems, most of which we've kept under wraps until now. However, she's become so desperate, we thought it was time to seek help and advice from the helpful folks at this fine forum. The state of Florida has treated Lexi horribly, and, in particular, the Florida medical "professionals." The only doctor she was ever able to get to come to her home is now refusing her even the basest of medical care, and has even stopped prescribing meds that are required to keep Lexi alive.
Please understand that this is in no way meant to be a cautionary tale, although I suspect some may take it that way. Instead, we've decided to bring her problems to a venue in which she feels safe and where others may have had similar problems and possible solutions. We also know that some of you are in the medical profession, and might be able to offer helpful advice. Here, therefore, is Lexi's story. I've added some details at the end to clarify a few things.
Many of you know me from my website. Some of you who are members of it know about a few of my troubles. A thread on DIM discussed Fear of Gaining, and I am living proof as to to what the reality is at the end of that fear.
As many of you watched me grow larger and were extremely complimentary about my size, it was also my biggest nightmare. My size over the last fifteen years became my prison. I am serving a life sentence inside the walls of my bedroom. There is no outside light for me to enjoy. Even the most hardened prisoner is occasionally allowed even five minutes of exercise outside. My only exercise is my daily frightening walk to my shower.
You might ask why it scares me. Well, over the last six months I have fallen nine times. Each episode required the assistance of between seven to twelve paramedics and fire rescue people. Getting me up is a painful, stressful, and humiliating procedure. I usually hurt for a week afterwards from the bruises that result. I normally end up unable to use my arm for a week as well, since it is already so badly strained from falls and having to pull myself out of bed.
Why do I fall? Well, so far we have only discovered one bed that works for me. It's made by Sealy, and is called Reflexions. Its a latex bed. I need a king size to function and turn my body when I get into bed, and I sit on it sideways, in order to support my girth. There are some bariatric mattresses out there, but so far all the ones we tried did not work well for me. I could not sit or lay comfortably on them. They also tended to cut off my circulation. Due to my weight, shape, height, and short legs, I have great difficulty getting in and out of the bed, especially in.
On December 24, I became really ill. I fell on the floor as my weight accelerated to over seven hundred pounds. I had gained fifty pounds in only three weeks, and they had no idea why, since I had not changed my eating habits or was eating unhealthy food. The doctors, of course, do not believe that. They prefer to think I was in denial and inhaling pizzas by the dozens.
Rescue workers came to my house to take me to the hospital. When they finally managed to get me to a sitting position on the bed, they tried to pull me up to stand, and I fell again on the floor. They lifted me back up, and it took four men to keep me standing. They wound up having to drag me across the floor on a tarp, after trying airbags and all sorts of fun tortures. It took over twelve hours to get me out of my house.
They tried to put me in eleven different ambulances. I was too big for all of them. I measured four feet by four feet around. I did not fit through any of the ambulance doors, so they decided to transport me in my own van. They threw a mattress in it, and helped me walk in on my lift. The paramedics rode with me. I have been on oxygen for fifteen years, so, of course, it came with us, too. We had called ahead to the hospital and explained the circumstances. They gave me permission to bring my own bed, so an ambulance carried it for me. We got a police escort to the hospital since my van has no siren.
When I arrived at Florida Hospital in Orlando, the trauma team head nurse came out as we had planned. She told me to walk out of the van and get on the big boy bed transport. I calmly explained to her that I was unable to walk. She told me it was all in my head, and I could. The rescue workers were now out of their assigned county, so they had to take their ambulance and leave. They told the nurse I needed oxygen and left. The nurse told me if I wanted my oxygen, I would have to walk to it and get it. I again calmy stated I could not walk, but that I must have my oxygen. I was outside in the heat and blazing sun, with no air conditioning or oxygen, so my condition was deteriorating. I knew my oxygen saturation level was rapidly dropping, as I was not feeling right, and knew the signs.
The charge nurse came out and told four male patient techs to go into my van, grab me, and pull me to my lift. My husband explained to the nurse quite patiently, without losing his temper (not an easy feat, under the circumstances), that my lift was not secured in place. It had to be locked into position, and had a weight max of 1,000 pounds. Since I weighed 700 pounds by myself, three big men joining me was unsafe. She did not care. They came in and dragged me by my arms; my feet were not even on the ground. They pulled this big boy bed up by the van, and when I got to the lift, I was quite unstable, as I still had no oxygen, and my legs were not carrying me well.
The nurse said I should jump up onto the bed. Now, for the average size person, that might work. However, the bed was about six inches higher than my butt, and was up past my breasts. Needless to say, I couldnt jump up onto it, but they pushed me, and I started to fall. Suddenly there were ten guys and nurses trying to break my fall and get me on their transport. This was all done in front of their hospital, and without my oxygen. They sprained my arm, and I wound up with bruises all over my body, but they eventually landed me on the transport.
They finally admitted me to the hospital after forcing a doctor to take me as a patient. My (in my opinion) worthless quack of a doctor did not return calls from the hospital staff. In fact, it was not until the day I was being released that she finally got around to calling them. Because my weight gain had been so sudden and rapid, they realized I was retaining tremendous amounts of fluids, so the hospital put me on very strong diuretics and a catheter, as I was obviously unable to get in and out of the hospital bed for frequent trips to the bathroom. The photos of my hospital stay are in my members' area if anyone wants to see them.
They prescribed some medications, then tried to evict me a day later since I had no insurance and Medicaid refused to pay for my care. However, they had no choice but to keep me since they could not find a way to get me out. I do not fit in the ambulances, and they broke my lift to my van. They ended up having to fix it to get me home.
The doctor they assigned me did not want to take care of me. In fact, the whole time I was in there, he came closer than six feet of me only once. After I complained about him to the staff, he decided he should at least listen to my lungs. That was the extent of his examination.
I was sent home to my own doctor, who never came to see me again. She is the only home visiting doctor in my area. They did put me on home health. They also gave me a CNA to help me for two weeks since when they were loading me into my van, they dropped a big canister of oxygen on my foot and fractured it.
Since I've been home these past few months, things have gotten worse. I have no medical help. My doctor refuses to respond. Even when she finally does order a test for me, she refuses to give me the results. She also ordered the home health people to remove the catheter I've been on for months, knowing I am unable to get off the bed more than once or twice a day, yet I still have to continue to take diuretics twice a day. The only way I can manage is to sit on diapers, which have to be changed hourly, and my home health hours have been cut in half, necessitating family and friends to come to my rescue when they're available, or my sitting in my bodily fluids until someone has time to help, which sometimes takes hours.
I am in serious trouble, and have no clue what to do now. My husband is burned out trying to care for me twenty-four hours a day. He feels like he is watching me die, which he might very well be. In a last desperate humiliating attempt to seek help, I am reaching out to all of you to see if anyone knows of something I can do that I have not yet thought of or tried. If anyone knows of any resources, please post them here or e-mail me. I'm unable to write much because of the chronic excruciating pain in my arm and hand, but I can read what you write. We are drained physically, mentally, and financially trying to deal with all of this.
Lexi's family and I have exhausted everything we can think of to try to help her. We've tried to find doctors who will come to her home, or get somebody in authority to do the right thing for her. We thought perhaps she could go to a hospital outside Florida that accommodates obese patients, but even they are unable to take someone of her size. Despite the fact that she's lost weight due to the fluids being washed out of her system, she's still too big to fit through even their doorways, among other things, even if a way could be found to transport her.
After much research, we've discovered that the doctor who had been willing to (occasionally) come to her home over the past few years, has a terrible reputation, and has left many patients in the lurch. She often provides only palliative care, then removes even that, and refuses to provide medications that will prolong a patient's life, giving rise to thoughts of Kevorkian. The only reason Lexi hasn't gotten rid of her and reported her to the authorities is that, for some reason, she's still willing to prescribe home health care, which Lexi desperately needs and cannot get without a doctor's approval.
I was going to post a photo or two of Lexi's hospital experience for those who aren't members of her site, but decided that this post, in itself, is upsetting enough. While she was in the hospital, her family and I desperately tried to get help for her. I called the hospital administration and patient representative, all to no avail, and her abusive treatment continued. I searched the Internet for home care for her, but came up against one brick wall after another. I've wracked my brain for ways to help her every time she has yet another bad experience, but have run out of ideas.
Personally, I believe she has to get out of the state of Florida, but where can she go that will give her the appropriate care? Is there any place that can actually accommodate her? In Florida, if she didn't have family to help, they'd force her into a nursing home, and we all know what would undoubtedly happen there. This nearly happened to her several years ago, when she was living alone, but there was no nursing home that could facilitate someone of her size, so the authorities backed off. I know that in NYS, she'd have all kinds of professionals trying to get help for her, but in Florida, they just don't seem to care.~Sadly and frustratedly, Fuchsia
Okay, I changed my mind (woman's prerogative
) and decided to include some photos after all. Some are way too graphic and even more depressing than these, so I tried to choose some that were supportive of this post, without going over the top. In order to observe the rules for posting photos on the Main Board, I've obliterated Fat Fantasy's copyright tags, and pray these photos will never find their way to one of those ugly hate sites.
As I've reported here in the past, Lexi has fallen on some very hard times in the last couple of years, in part due to the devastation that was visited upon her home and office during several hurricanes. She's also been having severe medical problems, most of which we've kept under wraps until now. However, she's become so desperate, we thought it was time to seek help and advice from the helpful folks at this fine forum. The state of Florida has treated Lexi horribly, and, in particular, the Florida medical "professionals." The only doctor she was ever able to get to come to her home is now refusing her even the basest of medical care, and has even stopped prescribing meds that are required to keep Lexi alive.
Please understand that this is in no way meant to be a cautionary tale, although I suspect some may take it that way. Instead, we've decided to bring her problems to a venue in which she feels safe and where others may have had similar problems and possible solutions. We also know that some of you are in the medical profession, and might be able to offer helpful advice. Here, therefore, is Lexi's story. I've added some details at the end to clarify a few things.
Many of you know me from my website. Some of you who are members of it know about a few of my troubles. A thread on DIM discussed Fear of Gaining, and I am living proof as to to what the reality is at the end of that fear.
As many of you watched me grow larger and were extremely complimentary about my size, it was also my biggest nightmare. My size over the last fifteen years became my prison. I am serving a life sentence inside the walls of my bedroom. There is no outside light for me to enjoy. Even the most hardened prisoner is occasionally allowed even five minutes of exercise outside. My only exercise is my daily frightening walk to my shower.
You might ask why it scares me. Well, over the last six months I have fallen nine times. Each episode required the assistance of between seven to twelve paramedics and fire rescue people. Getting me up is a painful, stressful, and humiliating procedure. I usually hurt for a week afterwards from the bruises that result. I normally end up unable to use my arm for a week as well, since it is already so badly strained from falls and having to pull myself out of bed.
Why do I fall? Well, so far we have only discovered one bed that works for me. It's made by Sealy, and is called Reflexions. Its a latex bed. I need a king size to function and turn my body when I get into bed, and I sit on it sideways, in order to support my girth. There are some bariatric mattresses out there, but so far all the ones we tried did not work well for me. I could not sit or lay comfortably on them. They also tended to cut off my circulation. Due to my weight, shape, height, and short legs, I have great difficulty getting in and out of the bed, especially in.
On December 24, I became really ill. I fell on the floor as my weight accelerated to over seven hundred pounds. I had gained fifty pounds in only three weeks, and they had no idea why, since I had not changed my eating habits or was eating unhealthy food. The doctors, of course, do not believe that. They prefer to think I was in denial and inhaling pizzas by the dozens.
Rescue workers came to my house to take me to the hospital. When they finally managed to get me to a sitting position on the bed, they tried to pull me up to stand, and I fell again on the floor. They lifted me back up, and it took four men to keep me standing. They wound up having to drag me across the floor on a tarp, after trying airbags and all sorts of fun tortures. It took over twelve hours to get me out of my house.
They tried to put me in eleven different ambulances. I was too big for all of them. I measured four feet by four feet around. I did not fit through any of the ambulance doors, so they decided to transport me in my own van. They threw a mattress in it, and helped me walk in on my lift. The paramedics rode with me. I have been on oxygen for fifteen years, so, of course, it came with us, too. We had called ahead to the hospital and explained the circumstances. They gave me permission to bring my own bed, so an ambulance carried it for me. We got a police escort to the hospital since my van has no siren.
When I arrived at Florida Hospital in Orlando, the trauma team head nurse came out as we had planned. She told me to walk out of the van and get on the big boy bed transport. I calmly explained to her that I was unable to walk. She told me it was all in my head, and I could. The rescue workers were now out of their assigned county, so they had to take their ambulance and leave. They told the nurse I needed oxygen and left. The nurse told me if I wanted my oxygen, I would have to walk to it and get it. I again calmy stated I could not walk, but that I must have my oxygen. I was outside in the heat and blazing sun, with no air conditioning or oxygen, so my condition was deteriorating. I knew my oxygen saturation level was rapidly dropping, as I was not feeling right, and knew the signs.
The charge nurse came out and told four male patient techs to go into my van, grab me, and pull me to my lift. My husband explained to the nurse quite patiently, without losing his temper (not an easy feat, under the circumstances), that my lift was not secured in place. It had to be locked into position, and had a weight max of 1,000 pounds. Since I weighed 700 pounds by myself, three big men joining me was unsafe. She did not care. They came in and dragged me by my arms; my feet were not even on the ground. They pulled this big boy bed up by the van, and when I got to the lift, I was quite unstable, as I still had no oxygen, and my legs were not carrying me well.
The nurse said I should jump up onto the bed. Now, for the average size person, that might work. However, the bed was about six inches higher than my butt, and was up past my breasts. Needless to say, I couldnt jump up onto it, but they pushed me, and I started to fall. Suddenly there were ten guys and nurses trying to break my fall and get me on their transport. This was all done in front of their hospital, and without my oxygen. They sprained my arm, and I wound up with bruises all over my body, but they eventually landed me on the transport.
They finally admitted me to the hospital after forcing a doctor to take me as a patient. My (in my opinion) worthless quack of a doctor did not return calls from the hospital staff. In fact, it was not until the day I was being released that she finally got around to calling them. Because my weight gain had been so sudden and rapid, they realized I was retaining tremendous amounts of fluids, so the hospital put me on very strong diuretics and a catheter, as I was obviously unable to get in and out of the hospital bed for frequent trips to the bathroom. The photos of my hospital stay are in my members' area if anyone wants to see them.
They prescribed some medications, then tried to evict me a day later since I had no insurance and Medicaid refused to pay for my care. However, they had no choice but to keep me since they could not find a way to get me out. I do not fit in the ambulances, and they broke my lift to my van. They ended up having to fix it to get me home.
The doctor they assigned me did not want to take care of me. In fact, the whole time I was in there, he came closer than six feet of me only once. After I complained about him to the staff, he decided he should at least listen to my lungs. That was the extent of his examination.
I was sent home to my own doctor, who never came to see me again. She is the only home visiting doctor in my area. They did put me on home health. They also gave me a CNA to help me for two weeks since when they were loading me into my van, they dropped a big canister of oxygen on my foot and fractured it.
Since I've been home these past few months, things have gotten worse. I have no medical help. My doctor refuses to respond. Even when she finally does order a test for me, she refuses to give me the results. She also ordered the home health people to remove the catheter I've been on for months, knowing I am unable to get off the bed more than once or twice a day, yet I still have to continue to take diuretics twice a day. The only way I can manage is to sit on diapers, which have to be changed hourly, and my home health hours have been cut in half, necessitating family and friends to come to my rescue when they're available, or my sitting in my bodily fluids until someone has time to help, which sometimes takes hours.
I am in serious trouble, and have no clue what to do now. My husband is burned out trying to care for me twenty-four hours a day. He feels like he is watching me die, which he might very well be. In a last desperate humiliating attempt to seek help, I am reaching out to all of you to see if anyone knows of something I can do that I have not yet thought of or tried. If anyone knows of any resources, please post them here or e-mail me. I'm unable to write much because of the chronic excruciating pain in my arm and hand, but I can read what you write. We are drained physically, mentally, and financially trying to deal with all of this.
Lexi's family and I have exhausted everything we can think of to try to help her. We've tried to find doctors who will come to her home, or get somebody in authority to do the right thing for her. We thought perhaps she could go to a hospital outside Florida that accommodates obese patients, but even they are unable to take someone of her size. Despite the fact that she's lost weight due to the fluids being washed out of her system, she's still too big to fit through even their doorways, among other things, even if a way could be found to transport her.
After much research, we've discovered that the doctor who had been willing to (occasionally) come to her home over the past few years, has a terrible reputation, and has left many patients in the lurch. She often provides only palliative care, then removes even that, and refuses to provide medications that will prolong a patient's life, giving rise to thoughts of Kevorkian. The only reason Lexi hasn't gotten rid of her and reported her to the authorities is that, for some reason, she's still willing to prescribe home health care, which Lexi desperately needs and cannot get without a doctor's approval.
I was going to post a photo or two of Lexi's hospital experience for those who aren't members of her site, but decided that this post, in itself, is upsetting enough. While she was in the hospital, her family and I desperately tried to get help for her. I called the hospital administration and patient representative, all to no avail, and her abusive treatment continued. I searched the Internet for home care for her, but came up against one brick wall after another. I've wracked my brain for ways to help her every time she has yet another bad experience, but have run out of ideas.
Personally, I believe she has to get out of the state of Florida, but where can she go that will give her the appropriate care? Is there any place that can actually accommodate her? In Florida, if she didn't have family to help, they'd force her into a nursing home, and we all know what would undoubtedly happen there. This nearly happened to her several years ago, when she was living alone, but there was no nursing home that could facilitate someone of her size, so the authorities backed off. I know that in NYS, she'd have all kinds of professionals trying to get help for her, but in Florida, they just don't seem to care.~Sadly and frustratedly, Fuchsia
Okay, I changed my mind (woman's prerogative
) and decided to include some photos after all. Some are way too graphic and even more depressing than these, so I tried to choose some that were supportive of this post, without going over the top. In order to observe the rules for posting photos on the Main Board, I've obliterated Fat Fantasy's copyright tags, and pray these photos will never find their way to one of those ugly hate sites.
