Dying To Be Thin
Lisa’s desperation to be thin had devastating consequences…
Sitting at my computer, I nervously typed the words ‘When can I see you?’
Lisa and I met through an online dating site and chatted almost every night for a year, but she was still too shy to meet me in person.
‘I’m a larger lady, Lorne. You might not fancy me if you see me,’ came Lisa’s reply.
She told me she had piled on the pounds after her first marriage failed and she was left raising her two young children, Sarah and Martin.
She got through her painful divorce by comfort eating. ‘Size isn’t everything,’ I replied. Being only five foot six and rail thin, I wasn’t one to judge anyone on their size.
After some gentle persuasion, Lisa finally agreed to meet me at a pub in Tipton.
When I first laid eyes on her, she took my breath away.
She had a wonderful smile and curves in all the right places.
We talked like we’d known each other forever. Our first date led to many more and after a while, we moved in together.
Quickly I realised just how much Lisa’s size plagued her.
‘Do I look big in this?’ she’d ask, whenever we went out.
‘Lisa, you look gorgeous whatever you’re wearing,’ I’d say.
But she ate more to console herself until she was trapped in a vicious circle and tipping 20st. In 2003, I proposed to Lisa. She told me from the get-go that she didn’t want to have a big
wedding. ‘I’ll look awful in a white dress,’ she said. ‘I don’t want any attention on me.’
We chose to have an intimate service with just our close family in attendance. I thought she looked
breath-taking. We went on to have our daughter Samantha. I was so happy. Lisa’s bubbly personality hid how unhappy she was.
‘If we ever win the lottery, I’d get a gastric band,’ she’d say to me.
By the time Samantha was at school, Lisa had put on so much weight that she needed a mobility scooter to get around.
Her weight was too much for her knees to carry.
With a BMI of 60, Lisa was more than twice the recommended level and grossly obese.
But I told her constantly that I loved her. I wanted her to be happy.
When she started to complain about joint ache, I suggested we go to the GP for help. ‘Have you ever thought about having a gastric band put in?’ the doctor said.
Without missing a beat, Lisa cried ‘Yes! I’d love one.’ There was a condition; Lisa had to lose weight first. At her current 23st 7lbs, she was too big to have it done safely. Lisa was a woman on a mission. She bought herself some bathroom scales and restricted her calories right down to just 800 a day. She replaced junk food for milkshakes and caloriecontrolled meals. On some days she was exhausted and hungry, but within weeks she had to adjust all her clothes to make them fit properly. In a year, she lost nine stone. ‘Maybe you have lost enough weight now, you don’t need to have the operation?’ I suggested. I was so
It was a dream come true for her
proud of her. But Lisa wouldn’t hear of it.
When she finally hit her target weight, she was given a date for her gastric band operation at Heartlands Hospital, in Birmingham.
I went with her on the day and had an anxious wait in the relatives’ room when she went under the knife for the hour and a half long surgery.
When Lisa woke up I was waiting at her bedside. ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.
‘A bit sore, but good,’ she said, with a beaming smile. She’d finally got her dream. The doctor said the surgery had gone so well, Lisa could come home the same day.
‘My stomach is so painful,’ Lisa told me that night.
‘You have been poked and prodded, Love,’ I said to her. ‘Give it a few days.’
Three days after the operation, Lisa woke me up in the middle of the night, shivering. ‘Lorne, I’m freezing,’ she said. She felt like ice despite being under two blankets.
Lisa didn’t feel much better when she got up in the morning and she dozed on the sofa all day.
When I came to bring her a cup of tea in the afternoon, she looked worse than ever.‘lorne, I think I need to go to the hospital,’ she whispered faintly.
At that moment I knew something was seriously wrong and dialled 999. Lisa never made a fuss. When we arrived at Sandwell hospital, Birmingham, a scan showed that Lisa’s gastric band was showing early stages of infection.
‘We’re going to have to operate and take it out,’ the surgeon said.
Lisa was too weak at that point to protest.
‘I love you,’ I said, kissing her hand as she was wheeled away. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ I turned to the doctor. ‘When she’s better, will they put the band back in again?’ I asked. ‘My priority is saving your wife’s life,’ he said.
Then it dawned on me that this was no longer about being fat or thin - it was life or death.
After the surgery I was taken to a relatives’ room.
‘Lisa’s heart stopped three times on the operating table. We were able to bring her back but her condition is unstable,’ said the surgeon.
‘There’s a chance she might not make it through the night.’ I broke
down in tears. ‘In that case I’m not going anywhere.’ I said firmly. We had barely spent a night apart in our 13 years of marriage. It was heart-breaking to see Lisa in an induced coma, wired up to all those beeping machines.
‘She’s not in any pain,’ a nurse said gently, as I sat by her bedside.
Before long, a doctor broke the news that it was unlikely Lisa was ever going to recover.
I began to sob. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew I had to. As much as I couldn’t bear to see Lisa go, I wanted her to be pain free and die with dignity. Reluctantly I agreed for them to switch off her lifesupport machine. When we were alone, I played our wedding song – Whitney Houston’s I will always love you - on my phone. I’d played it to Lisa when we were dating to show her how I was feeling when I couldn’t find the words to express myself. She was such a chatterbox, it had been one of the rare times she’d been quiet. I wished she wasn’t silent now.
As the music played, Lisa’s heart rate started to drop. Screens were put around her bed and she passed away shortly after that.
Letting her go is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
I know Lisa had a vision of a happier, thinner her and she never imagined that just nine days later she’d leave us.
We knew there were risks involved, but we thought it was such a common surgery.
If I’d have known, I’d never have allowed Lisa to have had this done.
I feel heartbroken without her and I’ve only been able to keep going with Samantha’s help. We both miss Lisa terribly. She was a fantastic wife and incredible mum.
I would urge anyone else thinking of having this procedure to think very long and hard. I loved Lisa the way she was. I just wish she’d have been able to do the same.