Word about Sheila’s operation got around fast. Phenomenal medical stories do. “Did you hear about Sheila Ehrman?” one old classmate asked another in the aisles of Safeway. “You remember her: the fat blonde who hung around with Gwen Strybulski? Ginny was working in the ER when they brought Sheila in for what turned out to be removal of an ovarian cyst. Dig this: the thing was over two hundred pounds! Can you believe it?”

“Whoa! What a way to lose weight” came the response.

“It’s a gross way to do anything. I hear she’s huge afterward anyway.”

“Is she still in the hospital? Should we visit her?”

“You wish. I don’t think that would be too cool – not after eight years of silence. I doubt she sees anyone other than her mom.”

In fact, Sheila’s obese father left the house to visit her. It was a cumbersome trip, and Sheila’s mother tried to avoid the attendant inconvenience by telling him that Sheila would be coming back home to recuperate and he’d see plenty of her there. But Sheila wasn’t due to be released immediately, and her father felt a strange rare urge to see her. His hug was awkward but wonderful.

The other surprise visitor was Gwen. The eight year gap didn’t stop her, and Sheila’s private room saw a sweet reunion between the former best and only friends. After the first ice-breaking teary afternoon, Sheila and Gwen got down.

“Okay, you’ve got to give me some details about this operation,” Gwen began. She sat heavily in the armchair by Sheila’s bed, ran her fingers back through her glossy brown hair, and settled her crossed arms above her bosom. “How could the surgery take 18 hours?”

Sheila pushed the button that raised the head of her bed. She pulled on the suspended triangle to lift her upper body, and settled back after Gwen adjusted the pillow behind her neck. “From what I’m learning, 18 hours is nothing. The remarkable fact about my operation is the size of the cyst, but even that isn’t a record breaker.”

“Get out of here! You told me the thing weighed 257 pounds.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you about Gertrude Levandowski’s; at 308 pounds, her cyst gets the prize.”

Gwen goggled. Her brows lifted into semi-circles as she rounded her hazel eyes.

“I don’t have all the details, but apparently Mrs. Levandowski weighed 616 before her surgery. She was from Burnips, Michigan, and the operation was performed in Chicago. Get this: her surgery spanned 96 hours! That was back in 1951.”

Gwen’s face grew pensive as she cast her eyes down for a moment. “How do they remove a cyst of that size? In pieces?”

Sheila reached for her glass of water. Gwen leaned forward and helped. “This is really gross,” Sheila said after a sip, “but most of a cyst is the fluid with which it’s filled. There usually has to be a lot of pumping.”

They made gagging motions. Then they giggled like girls. The nurse came in to check Sheila’s blood pressure and other vital signs. Sheila and Gwen composed themselves during the interruption. They were calm when they continued the conversation after the nurse left.

“Eighteen hours is an incredibly long time,” Gwen commented, “but I guess I’ve heard about longer operations. Seriously, though, how can any surgery take 96 hours? I mean, just imagine: twice 48 hours! Four complete days … I don’t care how big the body is: what can they possibly do for four days?”

“I had the same question. I asked some nurses and doctors around here, and I’m starting to understand the answer.” Sheila explained that they didn’t have the cautery equipment and micro-devices in 1951 that are available now. They removed 308 pounds of a 616-pound person, and that meant a lot of excision. Each time they cut through a blood supply, they had to suction, close, pack and stabilize the area. They wouldn’t have been working every minute of the 96 hours, but the patient would remain in the operating room and the procedures would continue for that period of time. “They didn’t remove as much of me,” she concluded. “I’m still 56% as large as I was. But they cut through enough that it took 18 hours to do the job even now, in 1996, with all their miracle machinery.”

“You lost 44% of you, in less than one day. That’s awesome.”

“I must admit, I’m looking forward to experiencing it. They haven’t let me out of bed yet. And the trauma from the surgery has me retaining fluid; they say I’ll drop weight fast when I ‘ambulate.’ I still need to lose over a hundred pounds.”

“Who doesn’t? Now that we’re speaking to each other again, we can try diets together. No, I don’t mean it. That never worked.” Gwen looked at her watch as if she were about to stand.

“The doctors have recommended some sort of counseling for me. I think my insurance will pay for it. Maybe you can come too? It can’t be worse than diet tricks.”

Gwen’s job at the county probation office paid enough for rent, food, and commute but not much more. She wasn’t sure she could swing it. “Do you think they’d let us go together?”

“Come on, Gwennie. We’re both 26, and I’m ‘in crisis.’ Sure they’ll let us. I don’t know how they’d stop us.” The voice came over the PA system, announcing the end of visiting hours till ten next morning. “Promise to come back tomorrow.”

“I will. After work.” Gwen brushed a kiss on Sheila’s brow, picked up her purse, and lumbered out of the room. Her brown hair looked shining and lovely, bouncing around her shoulders. Her back looked as monstrous as a manatee’s.