But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Worst Hospitalization Ever That was the worst hospitalization ever. I suppose I should start from the beginning... I went to the clinic and all my labs were borderline and my pulse lying down was 135. When I stood up it was 154. The docs decided that because I haven't been taking my insulin I should take my long acting Glargine in clinic. I cried. My mom started to yell at me. The nurse went to go tell the docs that I was refusing. I walked out and went across the street to the children's hospital to say hi to the "Good" nurses and told them that I had ditched clinic. Bad idea. Apparently they could lose their license for not taking me back, so Wajma escorted me back. When I got there Kit, one of the residents, said, "Ethically I can't let you leave. I have to tell you though, all I see for your future is you being held down for shots and having food shoved down your throat for the rest of your life. I suppose you could live your life in the hospital but that is pretty bleak. And you aren't going to be on the ED unit. You are going to be with endocrine. It will be a new experience for you. I think the best place for you is the adult unit, but they usually won't accept minors." I was crying by now. "Please don't admit me. You have known me forever!" She looked at me and said, "It isn't about that." Then left. The dietician comes in and says, "You need to drink three cans of Boost tonight or we are going to give you an NG." I said, "But I have never had to have that much in one night!" We got into an arguement about it. She won. They lied. They said I wasn't going to have to deal with the eating disorder bullshit protocals. I was put on 3 South. When I got there I found out that not only did I have to drink Boost, but I was also on 24-hour observation, bedrest, a cardiac monitor, IV, and had to use a bedside commode. I actually drank the Boost. That is the first time I didn't get tubed. Everyone was like, "You are so skinny" with sad faces. I said, "Naw, you only say that because last time I was here they pigged me up to 120." No one thought that was too funny. The docs decided that they were only going to treat my very acute problems and then discharge me. The resident was fairly nice to me until he read my history. He said, "You have had tons of therapy. You are a smart girl. You know what to do. There is nothing we can do for you." Everyone was so frustrated that I was back. "I thought you would be better by now" was the most common phrase. Debbie, who used to adore me and come talk to me all the time didn't even say goodbye to me and got very irritated and yelled at me and my NA when they said we could go on a walk in a wheelchair and were gone for over an hour. Apparently they paged us but we were out of page range. I had to keep myself from crying. Debbie, who I have known for two years and used to try and get me as a patient, gave me the back of her hand and wouldn't even say goodbye when I was being discharged. I tried to be good. I followed all the protocals, didn't throw up, didn't hide food, stayed on my bed, didn't mess with my heart monitor... Still, I was called manipulative because of the wheelchair ride. I thought it was okay. They said that I manipulated my N/A into taking me all over, and that I knew better. I thought it was okay. Everyone glared at me. Then I was discharged. They were going to keep me another day or two, but my mom couldn't come to pick me up, so they let me go. It wouldn't have made a difference if they kept me another day or two it was decided. They said I was slowly dying and only I can save myself. That they give up. Only a few people who have known me forever were nice to me. Yvette was the nicest, probably because she has been through it. She was the only one who didn't yell at me. She made me laugh. The only RN who doesn't believe I am going to die, who still has faith in me, who I don't feel strange around. Wajma got a bit irritated with me, but I think she still likes me. Same with Corrine. I felt so out of place there. Everyone says, "You do this to yourself. What do you think of people who have cancer? Don't you feel bad that you choose to do this and they don't?" That would just set me off crying. It felt so strange to leave the way I did. All the nurses were mad at me. The resident on was mad. My mom was mad because of everything going on. In the car I was informed that we were going to a Thai restaurant. I didn't want to. I said I would stay in the car and sleep. I got yelled at by Paul. I had already eaten dinner! "We can take you right back to the hospital if you are going to act this way! Or we can put you on a 72-hour hold!" I started to cry. He yelled even more about what a whiner I was and how they wanted to eat Thai so I could deal with it and I was going to, too. In the restaurant I ordered a hot chicken dish. Than I realized I was starving. I ate a ton of rice, some fried bananas, and dessert. Afterwards we stopped at the gas station. I bought a blueberry muffin, a bag of caremel popcorn, and a few candy bars. I was going to vomit, but something felt wrong about it. Instead I took my insulin and went to bed. All night I had nightmares of Thai food and statues and burning fires. When I woke up in the morning we went to a truck-stop to eat. Ewwwwww! They said if I didn't eat there they would have me commited somewhere. "Fine, I will just purge" I thought. My offer to buy something more healthy wasn't good enough. I ordered pancakes with strawberry glaze and put syrup and butter on them. Afterwards I couldn't make myself do it. I took my insulin and fell asleep in the back of the car. More nightmares. We made it home just in time for my brother's violin recital. I binged when we got home. Then I took some laxatives and fell asleep. A few hours later I felt sick so I climbed out my window, walked into the backyard, went behind the pool, and puked. It was strange. It seemed like everything in my stomach had just sat there. As soon as my hand was in my mouth everything started to come up. I came back in, cried, and thought about how the whole world has given up on me. No one seems to think I can get better. I want help so bad. I am so sad. I can't even smile. I am almost in tears as I type this. I feel like because I have had this eating disorder for so long that I have been labeled as a chronic manipulative below human being that recovery is not possible for. Now both Stanford and Rogers believe I can't get better. People who promised to never give up on me have. They tell my mom that I am slowly dying, but there is nothing they can do. I want help so bad. I hate this fucking disease. It plagues my mind with horrible thoughts. It makes others hate me, think I am a freak, and give up on me. I started to cry and decided to call someone who hasn't given up on me. Thank God they still believe in me. They said I need to go back to school, and they also saw my accomplishments and small steps that I took today. Everyone else looks at the negative. I don't want to fucking die from this. I have dreams. I used to be happier. I used to laugh. Thoughts of Chris didn't rape my mind. I realized that I have really slid downhill since that whole incident. That my self-esteem dissapeared. The nurses got irritated at me because everytime they complimented me I turned it down. I also apologized for everything. Most of the time I didn't even really know what I was apologizing for. They got on me about that. But if I am worth something, how come so many people have given up on me? How come I am sent out to die? Will I ever be happy? Please...someone fucking save me!!! 10:42 p.m. - 2003-02-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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