Luna's fight with Anorexia Nervosa (true story)

10

May 2010, 13 years old
POV Maria

'Luna, hurry up, the bus is almost here!' I don't want to yell but irritation over Luna's resistance is winning from my patience. She hates taking the bus to day treatment every day. My heart breaks every time I see her in the bus with a pale and angry face.

Luna walks down the stairs. 'I don't want to go there. Why do I have to do this? It's not helping.' I sigh. 'You know why.' 'No one has to sit next to me while I'm eating.' I keep my mouth shut with effort. There's no point in arguing. Luna keeps saying that she can eat by herself.

However, the guidelines of the eating disorder clinic are very clear; 6 meals a day under supervision. Anorexia patients are unreliable. They smuggle their food every chance they get. Supervision is the only way to make sure enough calories are being eaten.

The first weeks of day treatment we weren't that consistent yet but after the 2nd hospitalization we had learned our lesson. On the days I don't work I spend half an hour with Luna at breakfast and in the evening when she eats her snack. The other eating moments are at daycare.

During the weekend Robert and I take turns. 6 times a day one of us sit next to her for half an hour. Although I don't think I lose sight of her for a second during her eating moment, Naomi says that I'm naive. 'You don't see anything, mom. She puts everything in her sleeve.' She said yesterday.

Luna angrily puts on her coat. I suppress the tendency to hold her in my arms and tell her she doesn't have to go, that we can fix it ourselves. I know we can't do that, but I sometimes also doubt the effectiveness of the day treatment. Of course, a lot of things happen there but for example, with yoga Luna is often not allowed to participate her weight is too low and that while she likes yoga and it does her good.

Sometimes my hand itches to make it more cozy in the common space where those girls spend so many hours. Some nice pillows, big plants and colorful walls would make the atmosphere a lot better. 'You have to go Lun.' I give her a kiss. I wave at her when the bus drives away. She doesn't wave back.

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June 2010, 13 years old
POV Robert

Luna is not doing well. Her weight was so low again at the end of May that she was admitted again to be able to give tube feeding. She was furious. She resisted against us in every way at times. It's not hard to think where she learned that is possible.

Fortunately, because Maria is a nurse, we were able to give the morning and evening tube feeding at home and on the weekends, so Luna could be discharged from the hospital. Since she's been home, she's trying to exercise all day. Walking outside, walking inside, and if we don't allow that, she stays standing.

It's all pretty exhausting. We try to live our lives, work, be there for Luna, but also for Emily and Naomi, but it's not easy. When Luna goes to day treatment, all the attention is for the other two. Then the meals are normal and fun. We're trying not to talk about Luna all the time. The girls think it's a hassle. 'I don't understand it,' Naomi said the other day. 'You just need to eat, right?'

Incomprehensible. That is this disease indeed. For everyone. Sometimes I let the realization in that this is what makes Luna so lonely. Because no one understands anything about this disease. We also see it when Luna comes to watch Emily and Naomi's hockey games with us.

The pitiful looks when people see the plaster of her tube on her face, the disgust, the misunderstanding. There's also warmth people come to her, ask how's she's doing. The girls from her team are sending cards and tell her how much they miss her.