His Words (bxb)

chapter eighteen

Sunday, October 4, 2020

✧noah✧

The nurse sets the plate full of food in front of me with a stern look, almost threatening me into consuming the whole thing, before she walks over to one of the chairs in the room and sits rigidly, glaring at me. If looks could kill, I would be long gone.

I glance down at the plate in front of me, intimidated by the amount. There is a huge mound of mash potatoes covered in lumpy gravy, two pork cutlets and a couple green beans that don't even look green. On the side sits a sliced apple, a glass of water, and a bottle of protein shake.

Side note to hospitals: if you want kids with E.Ds to eat your food and recover, at least make it edible.

I take a few deep breaths as I recite the mantras Dr. Willow taught me after an especially difficult meal. I am healthy. I give myself permission to take small steps towards recovery today. I will be gentle with myself if I get stuck. I will give my body the respect it deserves. I repeat these four phrases in my head until I am calm enough to grab my spoon and take the first bite.

Mealtimes have become a little easier over the past week. At first, I was eating the usual amounts I used to eat and often refusing to touch my plate completely. That's when they had to add that godawful protein shake to increase my calorie intake. I must have been such a pain in the ass to Dr. Evans and all the other nurses responsible for me. After a particularly stern nurse shared some very hurtful words and practically force fed me an entire bowl of oatmeal, I had a major panic attack and had to be held down to my bed with restraints when I couldn't resist the impulse to purge.

You heard me right: restraints. Yes, they still use those.

After that, I struggled a lot with oatmeal and had to have my breakfast option switched to eggs, sausage and toast. That was also the incident that led to one of the most efficient therapy sessions with Dr. Willow since the beginning of my stay. We talked about what I feel when I'm purging and what triggers it. I told her about the voice and she taught me how to combat all these horrible thoughts telling me I'm too fat, I'm not good enough, that I need to purge to be desirable, and so on. I still struggle with it a lot, but at least now I have an idea of what I'm feeling and what to do about it when it happens.

My sessions with Dr. Willow are the only things I like about staying here. It's all so uncomfortable. The nurses wake you up at the ass-crack of dawn to weigh you and take a urine sample, completely supervised at all times. You change into just the hospital robes (no underwear) and they pat you down to make sure you're not carrying anything to increase your weight. Please note, this is done by the tired, grumpy nurses who are just finishing up with their night shift and really want to go home... not a pleasant experience. They don't even tell you how much you weigh by the end of it. A couple hours later, another nurse comes in to take a blood sample, but this only happens every few days.

At around 8 or 9 am, we have breakfast. I have to eat in the seclusion of my room under the supervision of a nurse, but some patients have the privilege of eating together in the cafeteria. Eating your meals alone with just you and your thoughts doesn't make the process any easier. 

I'm served two more meals and three snacks throughout the day. The nurses give you twenty minutes to finish the plate yourself and then they start doing whatever they need to do to get it down your throat and keep it there. And no, using kind words and persuasion isn't on that list. The snacks aren't too bad, but the meals are definitely not something I look forward to. At the beginning and end of the day, as well as after some meals, I am giving a disposable ketchup cup with all my medication. Again, the nurses have to watch me swallow and check my mouth after each one.