The story of how a Death Fat made me hate all fats forever. (NSFL) In nursing school I got assigned a bariatric patient that had been on the floor all summer. His backstory was that he was a 34yo male, brought in by his mother for trouble breathing. He was transported by car, I have NO idea how. She was his primary caregiver as he was 98% bed bound. He presented with pneumonia (in April) and a volleyball sized wound on his back (bedsore) that was so deep his spine was visible. By the time I saw him in September the wound was the size of a grapefruit. It was the first and only time in nursing school I dry heaved. I was the one who had to unpack his wound, apply cream, and repack it. The sight of the wound was not the issue, the issue was the smell as I was unpacking it. I had to tell him I forgot something, go outside the room to dry heave, and go back in to finish. I innocently asked the nurse I was working under why he had two belly buttons, one in the normal place and one about 12 inches lower. She smirked and said, "You'll see, come with me." We went in and four people and a lift hoisted him into a semi seated position, and she placed a bed pan and towels under his lower belly button. From about four inches inside, his poor buried penis let out a steam of foul smelling urine. The nurse cleaned up the best she could. There was no scrotum in sight, it was integrated into the lower roll of fat. Think like a smooth section of sand and in the middle you rake lines in a little round section.  However, that was not enough to make me hate fat people. The moment that I turned to the dark side was when I saw his "encouragement board". It was this white board where they would write his goals for the day (sit up 3 times, lift legs 5 times, etc.) If he met his goals there was basically a goddamn party for him. No one was ever allowed to say anything negative to him. He almost constantly threatened to sue the hospital for the lack of care he was receiving. They had had one bariatric bed in the whole hospital, which was being used, so it took 3 days to get a proper bed. Plus, his mom said that the hospital was to blame for some smaller bed sores he got while in the hospital. In addition, they were planning on suing because the first people that took care of him upon admittance were less than friendly (go figure). This 34yo man was NOT mentally disabled, I had many opportunities to talk to him, and his mentation seemed average. I have no idea how his case ended up, by the time I graduated in December, he was still in the hospital.