He's back home in Minneapolis 24 hours later, and as he drives to a welcome-home party (don't bother to look for me waving as he drives by), he tells us it's bittersweet, but he plans to continue his journey at home. He walks into the shindig and sees a big crowd fronted by his family in yellow TBL t-shirts. They talk about how great he looks, and he gives a speech about how he cheated death, and is in fact off all the meds he used to need. He says he was sad 24 hours ago, but now he's ready to continue.
Update: O'Neal is down to 250 pounds, down from his original 389. Now he can put on his own shoes, manage stairs with ease, has to move the seat in his car forward, generally feels better, can join mail carriers on their routes in his job as a Post Office station manager, and can get on his motorcycle without having to lift one leg with his hands. Plus his wife can get her arms around him from behind. So that's win-win-win-win-win-win-win, by my count. He hopes to create a foundation to combat childhood obesity. Look out, obese children!
Next week, makeovers for the final six. I say it's about time, and I've only been looking at them for two hours.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.