chapter 6

The next morning came as a surprise as a complete stranger entered my room. She was brusque and efficient. She had taken every precaution against COVID and had full PPE on, so it was quite difficult to see what she really looked like. The first sensation I felt was the smooth, impersonal touch of hands wearing rubber or latex gloves. She was completely methodical as she washed and toileted me, made the bed and readied me for breakfast. With a stranger touching my private parts and seeing my most intimate actions, the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. Before it was my partner and we had been in a permanent relationship for a number of years. Now it was just anyone from the nursing agency and I had absolutely no say in the matter. As she dealt with me, she chatted. But it was a conversation which required no participation from me. It was chatter to fill in the time. I suppose like many invalids I was simply being talked over. I was just an object to be tidied up and made ready for the day. I had not appreciated how dehumanizing it was. I had no value, no purpose beyond being kept alive, no privacy, no independence, but this was after all what I had wanted all along by being immobile.

Breakfast was a great disappointment. Gone were the pastries and milk shake, in their place were a yoghurt, fresh fruit, toast and orange juice. It was the only time when I was fully awake as my empty tummy rumbled in anticipation of a proper, filling meal. Fortunately, the carers were only to be employed to get me ready for sleep at night, looking after me during the night, which mainly involved turning me, and getting me ready for the day. My partner still fed me at every other meal which consisted of my favorite fast food fare.

By the second week I had settled into a tranquil dreamy state. I was conscious most of the time during the day but in a vacant, almost out of body state. In the background a commentary droned on about such subjects as the life cycle of a beaver or the immensity of the Gobi Desert. I had no desire to do anything other than just lie there in a strange trance-like state. Time did not seem to have any real relevance. Meals came. Without any effort on my part the base of the bed was raised and I was fed. These were the highlights of the day. I simply closed my eyes and savored the rich tastes slipping down as my cavernous stomach, which gradually filled and expanded to accommodate it all. Apart from my mouth I did not move a muscle. When the meal was over, the bed base was lowered and I was turned back on to my side as I drifted in and out of a state of quiet detachment induced by my overeating. Before I knew it, another meal had arrived. Life was becoming a succession of rest interspersed with feasting; a combination which it quite difficult to better.

It must have been on the fifteenth morning when my partner appeared in my room. I was quite surprised at this as I had expected yet another anonymous carer. First, he washed and toileted me as if it was the start of a normal immobile day. "You have passed the immobility test with flying colors", he announced once he had finished getting me ready for the new day. "Now it is time for you to get up. You may be on the way to immobility but not just yet. Up, sleepy head." With that he released the guard rail and placed my clothes at the foot of the bed.

Slowly I raised my body. I had been lying down for over a fortnight. I felt heavy and weak. I lifted my arms to pull away my top bedsheet. It was an effort. I had no strength. Gradually I turned around, still sitting on the bed with my legs hanging down. "I don't think I am strong enough to dress myself", I said plaintively.

"Don't worry", my partner replied, "I'll help you." With that he proceeded to dress me with the only work on my part being to push myself up so he could put my underpants and tracksuit bottoms on. "Now stand up. Breakfast is waiting in the kitchen." I lowered my feet to the floor and straightened up. I was standing but I could feel my legs shaking. I held tightly to the rail at the foot of the bed. I was not strong enough to walk unaided. My partner held me. Putting my full weight on him I slowly staggered towards the door. I felt at any moment my legs would give way. Each step I took was small and tentative. Eventually we reached the door. :Hold on to that", he said as I clung to the door frame. "I thought this may happen, so I bought this for you." With that he disappeared into the living room and came back with a sturdy looking walker, which he placed in front of me. "Hold on to that". I did what he asked and grabbed the top rail of the walker. I was still unsteady, but I was reasonably confident that I would not topple over. Then very slowly, taking baby footsteps, I walked down the corridor towards the kitchen with my partner hovering behind me in case I stumbled. Eventually I made it to the kitchen and sat down. In front of me was placed a gargantuan breakfast: the biggest fry up you have ever seen. The walk was worth it, I thought, as I tucked in.

In the weeks that have followed I graduated from the walker to a bariatric walking stick: a quad cane for indoors, as it stands up by itself which makes it easier to use, and a conventional heavy duty stick with an offset handle for outside. Gradually my strength is improving but I still feel weaker than when I started out on my test. I leave the flat less often and I venture out for shorter distances. I have also put on quite a bit of weight since I tried out immobility for real. I have gained about twenty-five pounds and last time I weighed myself I was 430 pounds which means I am over thirty stone, a weight I never imagined when I started out that I would reach. Since I am moving less, sitting more and eating much the same, I continue to put on weight.

I think in the future when I look back, the immobility test will be a turning point in my life. It will be the time when my mobility was compromised in a way that had not happened before. Sure, before this I had slowed down, walking was a greater effort and I tired easily. Somehow this feels different. I have lost strength which I do not think I will regain easily. I will probably always need a stick. I feel completely insecure without one and were I to fall I could be immobilized for weeks and possibly wheelchair bound thereafter. So I have to be very careful. I know there are limits on how far I can walk so I stay close to home or close to the car.

Don't feel sorry for me because I don't feel sorry for myself. I have welcomed every aspect of morbid obesity. It has been my choice from the start. I am now entering a new phase of that experience when my mobility is an increasing issue. What I realize is that I now will always be dependent on some kind of walking aid as I am unlikely to manage to walk unaided, particularly as my weight is likely to increase. I know the walker has been stored away waiting for a time when it will be needed again. My partner also mentioned that a bariatric scooter might be a great help. I know I am quite young to be needing one, but I think it is worth thinking about.

So there is it: the results of the test. I will keep you posted on how things develop from here.