My son was too BIG to live
Wednesday 18th July 2007
Desperate, helpless but hopeful. That's how I felt the last time I spoke to Pick Me Up about
my son, Chris. He suffered from Prader-Willi Syndrome, a genetic disorder where his brain failed to register when his stomach was full. Around one in 25,000 people in the UK have the condition, which means, no matter how much food they eat, they always want more.
Chris was 25 and weighed 40st. Doctors said that he would be lucky to live beyond 30.
Desperate, I did everything I could to help him, but somehow, he always managed to get his hands on chocolates and cakes, and the pounds kept piling on. Even when he was sectioned two years ago and lost nine stone, he put it all back on when he fell and developed cellulitus, an infection in the fat under the skin, which made it painful for him to walk.
In April, our GP was giving him a weekly check-up when she explained that Chris's heart couldn't take the strain any more.
'If your son doesn't lose weight, he'll die within weeks,' the doctor said.
'Oh Chris,' I gasped, grabbing his hand.
'It's fine, Mum,' he said, with a smile. 'I'm going to go to heaven to play for Arsenal, and look down on my friends and family and be happy.'
My heart ached for him. I wheeled his bed into the living room so he could watch telly and talk to his three brothers, Tony, 31, Martin, 29, and Jason, 27.
'If my son's going to die, then he'll do it with dignity,' I choked.
But as Chris heaved himself out of his armchair, he fell over. I tried to help him up, but I could barely move him an inch.
'Phone the fire brigade,' he managed to whimper.
Eight firefighters had to use an inflatable cushion to get Chris back on his feet.
'I just feel so humiliated, Mum,' he said, sadly. My heart bled.
Chris ate healthy food, but he didn't lose weight because he was too big to exercise.
'It's time for me to go into hospital,' Chris gasped a week later.
I welled up. I knew he was never going to come out again.
Doctors sent an ambulance with a special wide trolley and winch. Every day, I visited him at the Conquest Hospital, St Leonards, but as the weeks passed, I could see he was getting weaker.
'Is there nothing you can do?' I begged.
But the sad fact was, Chris was so big, he was beyond saving.
'Am I really dying?' he asked me.
'We're all dying love, it's just some go sooner than others,' I whispered.
Chris had been in hospital a month when the phone rang and woke me up one morning.
'He's near the end,' a doctor said.
Tears streaming, I rushed to my son's bedside. He was as white as a sheet and he was groaning.
'How will I live without you, Chris?' I said, grabbing his hand.
Scrabbling in my bag, I fished out his dad Phillip's gold wedding ring. Chris had worn it every day since his dad died of brain cancer in 2002. But a few days earlier, his fingers had swollen up so much he'd had to take it off again.
'Dad will look after you now,'
I choked, slipping it on his finger. I don't know how, but it fitted.
Chris's eyes flickered shut and I watched his chest rise and fall… Then, nothing.
'I'm sorry,' the doctor said. 'But I'm afraid he's gone.'
'No!' I gasped.
My brave boy had died of cellulitus and septicaemia. Cuddling his still-warm body, I never wanted to let him go.
The days after Chris's death were so hard. I'd dedicated my life to feeding and cleaning him. Now the house seemed so empty.
'I love you, Chris,' I wept, curling up with his Arsenal pillow as I cried myself to sleep that night.
Two weeks later, hundreds packed Hastings Crematorium for Chris's funeral. I'd ordered a mahogany coffin which was driven to the service in a special hearse.
'I miss you,' I cried, as we listened to Chris's favourite Arsenal song, Hot Stuff.
It's over a month since Chris died, and he's still on my mind. He loved life and tried so hard to battle his illness. Prader-Willi sufferers can't help overeating. People thought Chris was greedy, when all the time he was suffering from this terrible illness. There was a person beneath all that flab. A kind, caring man. I miss you so much, son.
Read other stories about people with remarkable bodies only in Pick Me Up:
The world's smallest mum
My daughter weighed nine stone at the age of 2