Three Hundred Pounds Plus

It occurred to me that through the years there have been a fair number of hefties at Sugar Loaf. Floyd Dinkle, aka Brunswick, the human bowling ball, and Tim Broadbent, the human tank, immediately come to mind. But males weren't the only ones who had to squeeze into Super-Large . Enter Big Jenny.

The reason Jenny was at Sugar Loaf was no surprise to anyone who knew her: she was a true, hundred-percent, bona-fide Compulsive. In fact, Compulsive Extraordinaire. I've found through my years that most people who can't control their self-indulgent trends fix on at least one of the following: alcoholism, drug addiction, overeating, sex, gambling, religious fanaticism, or they become speed demons in one form or another. Jenny was special because she was totally indiscriminate when it came to satisfying her gargantuan self-appetite: she could/would do any or all of the above and often simultaneously. The joke among Staff was that more than once big Jenny had been known to have bet how many men she could take on after having drunk two bottles of vodka, mainlined heroine, and eaten four jumbo pizzas.

If the man on the street saw Jenny he would have no idea that she couldn't say no to herself. He would probably see a woman with a boisterous laugh and phenomenal sense of humor and repeat the going myth that all obese people are jolly. The truth was that she was in the fast-track heading straight for self destruction. But that's getting close to

Clinical so let's leave it in the files.

At Sugar Loaf, Staff saw Jenny as a super woman balancing on a ball bearing. She was invincible, indestructible, and unflappable, yet at any moment could drop to vulnerable, easily destroyable, and uncontrollable. Able to tete-a-tete with the best of them, knew more dirty jokes than half the men at the Hay Bale Bar combined, could out-eat, out-drink, and out-sex everyone in town, still he she could hit rock bottom in a wink. It was no wonder that she was elected Permanent Miss Congeniality at Sugar Loaf. You wanted fun, justthink aboutBig Jenny. And if you thought about a person who had a real NEED for being at the Health Care Center, think about the same person.

Many of the people who resided at Sugar Loaf were low-profile, those who needed rest and a time to go into themselves hoping that relative inaction would help their imbalances stabilize. So when Miss Folsum bounded onto the Health Center premises she created, as you might expect a three hundred-pound canon ball jumping off a diving board to do, huge waves. Her energy alone made catheters pop and hyperventilation commonplace.

My notes tell me that the most difficult things Staff had to contend with were making sure that Meds were taken regularly, drinking soda between meals, excessive smoking. and over-eating, Our people tried their best to keep Residents regular and busy with timed Meds, meals on the hour, well-scheduled gym, arts and crafts, and Outings. But three hundred-plus-pound women don't fit well into the activities their smaller counterparts slide into, such as those iddy-biddy bicycle seats or on horse back. And if you made the mistake of putting them on a pogo stick, you might was well send a search-party half-way to China after the first bounce. So Jenny did few physical activities and consequently got off the

schedule. And because of her compulsiveness, that naturally led to over-eating.

Now, everyone who's been around any health facility knows that Staff's intentions are to get their Residents to follow doctors' orders and stick to their diets. In short, to keep them from feeding their maladies. Because of that, mealtimes are often the battlefields on which the war of self-indulgence is waged. And once Big Jenny learned that she would NOT be given seconds --- nor thirds, fourths, or fifths --- the large woman became like a Rhinoceros running through a jungle with a vacuum cleaner out each side of her mouth. The Residents who could maintain a coherent thought learned fast that if they wanted their meals they had to get to the Dining Hall the instant it was served. The poor late-comer learned the hard way that Big Jenny could not only eat enormous quantities but nearly at the speed of light.

One night Jenny and Marvin Picker, the Anchor Aweighs boy who had an equally uncontrollable urge to drink, slipped out the back door and headed for the Hay Bale Bar. Making six miles was reasonable for military-minded Marvin: he just started marching. But for one the size of Miss Folsum, walking fast is as realistic as an elephant flying. So when she saw getting to the bar would take too much effort, she changed the focus of her indulgence from drinking. When she leaned on unsuspecting Marve, the two of them slid into the ditch as easily as a semi in a river of mud. The squirming and squealing that followed must have been straight from the barnyard. I quote Sugar Loaf's report of March 7, 1995: "Jennifer Folsum was seen drinking at the Hay Bale Bar. She swallowed two bar seats. She drank twice as much to make up for taking up so much space. Sugar Loaf Security said that she had a pitcher of beer in each fist. She was very vocal, out-shouting, out-joking, and out-swearing every man

present. Security never found how the woman got there, but there was a very muddy ton pickup truck in the parking lot."

From the Hospital Report of the same evening came this: "Marvin Picker admitted 11:00 P.M., March 7, 1995. Crushed ribs, fractured pelvis, nearly asphyxiated. Completely covered with mud. Had to hose down before administering aid. Contacted Sugar Loaf Health Care Center for possible cause of injuries. Rushed to Intensive Care."

Big Jenny Folsum stood out from the majority of Sugar Loaf Residents not just because of her size and uncontrollable appetites, but because she was supremely entertaining, thunderously energetic, and possessed a wit to match Bob Hope any day. It saddened us all to hear that she finally reached her self-destructive goal by breaking into the Med Room by leaning on the door and O.D.-ing on two shelves of drugs. God knows it took that much to put the big woman down. As for Seaman Third Class Marvin Picker, don't think one more war story didn't stick in his mind.