Dying of Obesity

CAUTION GRAPHIC. LIKE VERY GRAPHIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

I am a medical supply home delivery driver (Adult diapers, walkers, wheelchairs, Oxygen tanks, pills) and at one place, I saw a woman who was clearly loosing her battle with obesity.

 At a glimpse:
Ethnicity: White
Height: 5'9"
Weight: ~650+ Pounds
Bodytype: Heavy Pear
Age: 35


Details:

I was at this apartment building run by a charity. It primarily served low income women but those with disabilities as well. On each level, right in front of the elevators was a common area that opened up onto a balcony where the low income women smoked their cigarettes and hung out with each other. The common area also had a public TV. As I exited the elevator the only person in the common room was a bony woman with leathery skin propped up in a wheelchair drooling onto a bib. As I turned the corner for this particular delivery the elevator opened behind me. I kept going, got my money, returned and immediately froze.

She was standing in front of the couch apparently getting ready to sit. She was wearing a too small and too tight homemade (Or handmade) grey dress covered in stains while her lymphodemic legs, pale with cellulite, stuck out underneath it. Her breasts sagged under the fabric and in front of her was a walker that she was leaning on. A black bag, an oxygen concentrator of some kind, with a clear plastic tube ran from the bag up her body and then to her nose. I started as she dropped the remaining foot onto the couch. The sound of the couch groaning and of fat slapping was amazing. She saw me and wheezed out, "Can you hand me the TV remote please? It's next to the TV." Neither one of us paid attention to the bony woman near the window.

I grabbed it and turned back. My legs, having given up on my brain's ability to function carried me forward and I probably was staring openly at her. She wasn't paying me any attention. She had produced an iPhone from somewhere and was typing something. Her belly, pale, discolored, and covered in stretch marks some old some recent, had forced it's way out under the dress. I advanced on her taking in more subtle details. Her face floated in fat and her double chin wobbled as she wheezed through her mouth. Her hair was greasy and she was sweating.

As I got within four feet of her the smell of old sweat, garlic, urine, fecal matter, and just general lack of hygiene almost knocked me over. I could also see the walker and on the side facing her was a cupholder with a big water bottle in it and behind the oxygen concentrator was a small plastic basket with a huge pill reminder, about a half dozen pill bottles, and a couple inhalers. Also hanging from the walker was a cloth bag with a giant doritos bag in it. The hand she reached up for the remote was flabby and  her arm fat drooped. Sweat glistened on her face as she fought to breath. I gave her the remote, she wheezed a thank you, and I left. Her smell seemed to follow me all the way out to the truck.