If the predicted stroke doesn’t dispatch her instantly, Chantal may be alive but in a sorry state.
Often the power of speech is lost and even worse the ability to swallow……if she is deemed viable a feeding tube up the nose will be inserted.
Imagine not being able to gobble down her usual stodge in the end of days! Ironic?
The only thing that will fill her mouth will be the thrush; a common side effect of said tube.
Tons of obese slobs seem to have this mindset that they’ll just eat pancakes until they keel over, quickly and suddenly. That if they just commit to the reality that they’re going to die, all the struggle will be taken out of it and they can enjoy life. That the only consequence will be a much shorter life, but one of quality.
I have a relative who took this approach for the last ten years. Avoided doctors, ignored his obvious contract with Lord Beetus and just puttered on, quipping that at least he was happy if anyone dared express concern. He was fat as hell, losing teeth all over the place, drinking 2 liters of cola like water, “napping” every time he sat down, getting cuts on his hands and feet that wouldn’t heal for months.
But then an emergency happened, and all of a sudden he has to face the music. You have raging uncontrolled diabetes that’s already done damage all over your body systems, and no, we won’t be prescribing you some fun pill and sending you on your merry way. You need constant antibiotics that aren’t stopping an infection deep in your guts, need an operation that we can’t clear you for due to a chronic UTI, and oops! Surgery’s pushed back another month because you just had a lil heart attack! Now his wife vents about how the stupid doctors aren’t taking his health seriously as issue after issue crops up and compounds his horrid diseased life.
And while all this goes on, he just acts mildly embarrassed like he’s going to get back to life as usual after this little hiccup. And he continues to sneak junk food and sweets like a fucking baby.
Chantal is no different. She’s worse, because she thinks she can bargain with God/reality, get her cake and eat it too. The reality is, to scrape another decent 10 years- to make it to 48 years young before keeling over- she would need to eat vegetables and protein, in human sized portions, walk for 3 hours a day, and take insulin and monitor her blood sugar with the help and supervision of a doctor. She would need to never touch a drug or sauce again. She would have to live, by her definition, a boring stupid dull life, and she would still die of the damage done within a decade.
She would still have no family, no true love, no interests or money or satisfying experiences and memories and joy to make life seem worthwhile. Her absolute best case scenario is that it’s too late, but for virtue’s sake she might try to live right, despite the dismal reality of the matter.
I know it can feel as tiresome as all the other topics du jour that get trod here every day, but truly, she is on a path to death and picking up speed. That speed is going to look like slowing down- she’s going to try to be cute and contrite as the long waiting consequences of her actions begin to show themselves. I really couldn’t believe it when she “broke her water fast” with a pound of mashed potatoes, but she offset it with a salad. She could have just had roast chicken on a salad. It’s just another little proof that she will never change; she will eat like a pig while her limbs rot off and her eyes go blind and she suffers countless painful medical emergencies.
She thinks she’s just a cute 38 year old teenager struggling with being a little chubby. 45 is a million years away, and she’d never be that OLD and UNCOOL anyways. She’ll probably limp to that age on a stump and a wheeze, but she’s collapsing across that hated finish line if at all.
I don’t care. I despise this bitch.
