500 pounds later: Patrick Deuel is half the man he used to be

VALENTINE, Neb. -- He still is a mound of a man, but his blue eyes widen with delight as he presses his chest with his fingertips, smiles mischievously and makes the grand announcement: He can FEEL his ribs.

To Patrick Deuel, this small moment is huge. Headline huge.

Man Can Feel Ribs -- A First in 25 Years.

One year ago, Deuel weighed 1,072 pounds. He was so enormous that his bedroom wall had to be cut out to extract him from his home. Then, he was rushed to a South Dakota hospital in an ambulance with extra-wide doors that had to be dispatched from Denver.

One man. More than a half-ton. Mind-boggling.

So, too, were the grim realities of Deuel's life. He hadn't left his bedroom in seven months. He'd barely been outside in seven years. He couldn't sit up. He couldn't roll over by himself. He had heart trouble and diabetes.

Patrick Deuel was dying.

Now 12 months after being hospitalized for gastric bypass surgery, Deuel sits on a love seat that is propped up on cement blocks. He still looks like a plus-sized Buddha. But he is less than half the man he used to be and that, his doctor says, is amazing progress.

Deuel concurs.

"I'm used to looking in the mirror and seeing the Michelin man," he said. "All of a sudden ... I look a little more like a human being and I say, 'Ooooh, my God, where did HE come from?"'

Deuel is happy he can feel his ribs and see bones in his hands. But nothing is more thrilling than that number on the scale: 499 pounds.

He pumps an arm in triumph. He hasn't been south of 500 in two decades.

Deuel now goes out almost every day, walks a bit and thinks about all the things he hopes to do someday.

"Life," he said, "is infinitely better."

'Anybody can do this'

Patrick Deuel's weight was off the charts before he even knew it.

Before he could walk or talk, he says, medical records defined him as obese.

By the time the ambulance pulled into his driveway in this tiny town more than 40 years later, Deuel had long been a prisoner of his many pounds. He couldn't work, attend a football game, or -- for a time -- even sit in his parent's home.

And he wasn't shy about talking about it.

When Deuel arrived at Avera McKennan Hospital in Sioux Falls, S.D., he welcomed the spotlight, determined to prove he was no Guinness Book footnote but a man with a message: Obese people suffer because the health care system and insurance companies don't do enough to help them.

He also liked being an inspiration.

"If I can lose weight, anybody can do this -- and I mean ANYBODY," he said. "My willpower is basically zero."

In the year since, Deuel's story has brought him more than 2,000 e-mails and letters from as far as China and Saudi Arabia. He has acquired an agent and filmed a British documentary. And he has talked openly -- and often humorously -- about his obesity.

"My dad says I was supposed to be 8-foot-4," he joked, "but I quit growing."

Deuel, 43, was a fast-food junkie hooked on pizza, chips, beef jerky and chili dogs.

While those days are over, Deuel doesn't exactly believe in total deprivation.

He exercises with bar bells and weights, but still smokes (he's cut down to a pack a day), saying he can't kick two bad habits at once. And he defiantly refuses to consider any foods taboo.

"If you have a craving and don't take care of it, it's going to grow and grow and grow and it's going to make you do something stupid -- binge," he said.

About twice a month, Deuel indulges in foods most dieters would consider off-limits: a piece of chocolate, an ice cream bar, nachos.

"I've lost 102 pounds in 70 days, eating what I wanted," he said. "Tell me it doesn't work."

Dr. Fred Harris, the Sioux Falls surgeon who operated on Deuel last fall, understands -- to a point.

"An occasional indiscretion is OK," he said. "Every once in a while you have to have a piece of chocolate, providing you're not carrying the bag around all the time."

Practically speaking, Deuel can't eat as he once did. Surgery initially reduced his stomach size from two to three liters to the end of a thumb. Now, with the swelling long subsided, he can eat four to eight ounces of food at once. Anything more, he may feel pain or vomit.

Deuel concentrates on high-protein, low-salt foods.

So far, so good.

Harris says bariatric surgery works if a patient loses more than 50 percent of excess body weight. "If Patrick wouldn't lose another pound, I'd think he had been a success," he said.

Or, the doctor added, look at it this way: "He's lost two NFL defensive linemen."

Now, Deuel can move gingerly with two walkers.

He hopes to become a motivational speaker.

He already has plans for the future: He'd like to go fishing, attend a football game, and yes, drive to McDonald's for an Egg McMuffin.

"Just being able to go out and do what I want to do -- when I get to that point," he said, "I've reached my goal."

And his timetable for that?

"At least 15 minutes before I die," he jokes.

He smiles and reconsiders.

"Maybe a half-hour."