THE ALGORITHM OF THE FORBIDDEN HEART

Chapitre 12

Carla: (Stiffens) I...

Dr. Alan Scott: That, combined with your body mass index (BMI), which is very low for your height and age—you are in an advanced state of emaciation—and signs of gingivitis and slight dental erosion... The diagnosis is quite significant, Ms. Your body is fighting to survive.

Carla: (Whispers) And so?

Dr. Scott: And so, we are not just talking about a broken arm. You show signs of a severe eating disorder (ED), likely of the anorexia-bulimia or restrictive anorexia type with compensatory behaviors—the act of making yourself vomit. Your body is under maximum stress. This is what we call physical distress secondary to psychological distress.

Carla: I'm fine. Let me out.

Dr. Scott: Absolutely not. For medical reasons, and for your safety after the self-harm, you will remain under observation for at least 48 hours. We need to hydrate you intravenously, monitor your heart, and begin stabilizing your nutrients.

Carla: (Tears return) No... I can't stay. I have my classes.

Dr. Scott: Your work comes after your health, Ms. I will notify your institution. Give me the number for a contact at the Columbia secretariat. We will inform them that you are hospitalized and that your release is not planned until Tuesday. It's protocol.

I give the number, defeat visible on my face. The doctor leaves to make the call.

Dr. Alan Scott: (Returning after a few minutes) Ms. The number has been passed on. My secretary will call the campus tomorrow morning to confirm your hospitalization. They will be aware of your absence until Tuesday.

He looked at me, his expression softened by compassion.

Dr. Alan Scott: In the meantime, is there anyone I can call for you? A family member? A friend?

Carla: (Hesitates, gently shaking her head for family. She thinks of Dona, but refuses to give her number directly.) My friend... Anja. I'll call her.

Dr. Alan Scott: Very well. We'll give you the necessary time. We are going to get you settled and start the infusion.

The doctor leaves. I am alone in the hospital room, phone in my hand.

I had to talk to someone. Not Donatella, not my parents. Only Anja, my only truly neutral friend in this chaos.

I dialed her number, my voice trembling.

Carla (on the phone, trying to sound calm): Anja? It's Carla. Listen, I'm... I'm at the hospital.

Anja: At the hospital? What happened? Carla, are you okay? Is it your hands?

Carla: It's... it's complicated. Yes, the hands, but also... well, I'm dehydrated, a little thin, and they want to keep me for two days for observation.

Anja: I'm coming. Where are you? Give me the exact address, right now.

I gave the address, exhaustion sweeping over me.

Carla: Don't tell anyone. Especially not Donatella, please.

Anja: Okay. I'm hanging up. I'll be there within the hour. Hang in there.

Carla puts down the phone, feeling a small relief. She waits. About an hour later, Anja was there. She entered the room, her face a fresco of worry and affection.

Anja (rushing to the bed): Oh, Carla. Your hands... And what is this wire in your arm? (She looks at the IV drip.)

Carla (giving a weak smile): It's for dehydration. I'm glad you're here, Anja.