As I sit at the picnic table at the Bradley Parker State Park in Ipswich MA. my children are playing. Luke as usual is the social butterfly and has made friends with one of the boys who are adjacent to our tale. They are playing Jai Lai in the green field across the street. Emma has chosen to hit the wading pool, but it does have a few fountains shooting water that seem to be fun.
Two days ago I celebrated my 48th birthday. That's twice as long as the doctors told me that I would live. In 1981 I was told that I would not live to see my 25th birthday, surprise, surprise. I opted to take their advice and have their experimental stomach stapling surgery. I was one of the first in the state of Massachusetts to have it done. If I knew what would have happened, I never would have subjected myself to the pain.
To say that I shrank would be an understatement. I went from 475 lbs to 154 lbs in 13 months. I basically starved myself. At the end I could not hold food or water down. I had no blood pressure when I stood up. My roommate of the time Jay convinced me to call home and have me go to the doctors. I was 48 hours away from death.
The Lahey Clinic admitted me. I was so malnourished and underweight that they had to put a center line to feed me. While they were putting in the line in they punctured left lung. Nothing is as scary as not being able to catch your breath. For the first time in my life I was terrified. But I survived, 34 days in the hospital. My parents had to return from their yearly trip to Hawaii and I scared everyone who knew me.
The one woman who even to this day has a special place in my heart, was there when I woke up from my operation, Marcy McDonald. I woke up to her smiling face and I'll never forget that. But being playful as I have always been. I looked at her and said "Who are you?", I played the amnesia victim for a couple of minutes till I saw the concerned look upon her face and I ended the joke.
I go under the knife in two days for circulation problems in both my legs. To be honest, I am tired of living this life of constant pain. I don't know when the world began to bother me. Not long ago I could care less about what people thought o but now it is always on my mind. I can no longer do the things that I used to enjoy. In all the theaters of Boston I am too big for their seats. And if I do get in them the question is can I get out. So in short I cannot share my love of the theater with my kids. The only place I can do this is at the North Shore Music Theater which returned to operation this year. I will have to take the kids. Fenway park is out of the question. Normal people have problems, let alone someone of my size.
I start to cry now when I enter a room and everyone turns to stare in disbelief at me. I truly have become a cartoon character. Sometimes I wish I could just pass into the night. But I continue on for my kids. If I can teach them a couple of things then in some strange way I continue to live on.
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