Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Welcome, Buchenwald

"Veganism is for bitter lesbians and first year college students."

~ Arpo Butcher

2:00 pm

Ha ha! I'll stop. I can see that getting really old, really fast.

Ugh. Grave (wretched cow) just came in our hop-sital room, armed with Restoration Menus. She's currently harassing Day Program right now, but she's already warned me that she's after my blood, too.

So I'll just write until she comes to take me away. And then I'll come back full of rage and destruction, and spew toxicity all over this blog for the third day in a row...

Oh, phew! Thank-you, Je-bus! She just came over to my bed and reviewed my menu 'mistakes', then said she'll burn bridges with me later, after Afternoon Snack.

Hooray! One more hour without the urge to kill.

So anyway, guess what?

No really, guess.

That's right! We got a new concentration camp victim last night! How did you know?

Ah, Buchenwald-the-Lifer, our new girl. How profoundly starved your brain must be. It was absolutely phenomenal to watch her last night and today, just as breathtaking as watching Creepy Crazy Old Lady wander through the mental halls of her own dementia. Poor Buchenwald, she's even worse off than Aushcwitz-the-Lifer was when she got here, and I didn't think that was even possible.

Buchenwald-the-Lifer arrived late yesterday afternoon, after a 700-km flight, and a ride in the ambulance. She was wheeled into the room by Grave (wretched cow), her tiny little skeletal face peeping out from under layers and layers of sweaters, jackets and blankets.

Grave (wretched cow) rolled Buchenwald's chair and IV into the centre of the room, then turned around and walked out again, leaving the poor skeleton sitting there, helpless. Wretched cow, thought I, and smiled with pity at our new Will-Be-In-And-Out-Of-Hop-sitals-For-The-Rest-Of-Her-Life roommate.

Buchenwald-the-Lifer! This is your life...Errr....

"Hi, sweetie" I said to her from my hop-sital bed, which she was parked/abandoned in front of. "I'm Kage."

She slowly, oh so fucking slowly, turned her head to look at me. Then the skin where her cheeks used to be folded in half, and her skull grinned some big-ass metal braces at me. Her eyes were completely blank.

I fought the urge to pull a Christine Daae (to recoil in horror! From a skeleton...Hello?)

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she breathed. "That's so awwwwwwwwwwesome. My name"

She talked like a retarded four-year-old, who had just been in the Christmas sherry. "Uh, sorry?" I asked.

"Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuchennnnnnnnnnn," she breathed again.

I couldn't stop staring at the way her skin just folded in half when she smiled. She looked like Jack Nicholson as the Joker. "One more time?"

"Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuchenwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaald," she finally managed, in her strange, helium-ey voice.

"Oh, Buchenwald," I repeated, and inwardly rolled my eyes. And I thought Auschwitz was hard to listen to? This girl couldn't even say her own fucking name in one go. God.

I cruelly asked her a few more questions, just so I could watch while her starving brain tried to process the information, and come up with a response.

"Where are you from?"

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...."she said, still smiling that completely blank, empty smile. "Another Citttty."

"And how old are you?"


Fucking. Incredible, thought I.

And there was more good viewing to come!

Buchenwald-the-Lifer was forced (on pain of feeding tube) to join us for dinner last night. After choking down her half-serving of rice pilaf, she sat completely still, her bright red hands folded under her chin, with their prominent, dark blue veins popping out absolutely everywhere. I was seriously wondering what was up with the weird tattoos on her hands, until I realized they were her veins, trying desperately to claw their way out of her body and jump from the sinking ship that was Buchenwald-the-Lifer.

When everyone had finished our dinners and bused our dishes, all the anorexics gathered around the table again, and each did our Feelings Check Out.

(Mine went something like this: "Hey Grave (wretched cow), thanks for telling me to follow the wrong fucking program and now I've lost weight and because of you I have also lost my Sunday pass. I hope you think of me this Sunday when you're spending time with your loved ones, you wretched cow).

When all the regular players had taken their turn, we finally came around to Buchenwald-the-Lifer. I tuned back in again, and listened with rapt attention. This should be interesting.

"You guys are so awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwesome," she said, in response to Sweet Aussie Sue asked her how she was doing.

"Yes, but how are you settling in?" Sweet Aussie Sue asked.

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmm," Buchenwald said, in her little girl voice that is just so...brain-dead. That really is the only word I can think of to describe it. "I'm...goooooooooood."

I watched as the blood rushed up to her face with alarming speed, and she suddenly turned bright red. Incredible, I mused, as I sat and watched her. That is NOT a natural color. I wondered if she was going to have an aneurysm, right there in front of me. Cool! Finally, something interesting was happening.

"Any concerns?" Sweet Aussie Sue pressed on. "How was your Dinner?"

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmm," she smiled. "It wassssssssss.....reallllllllllly......hard. But I......I was the.....ummmmmmmmmmm...and I guys awwwwwwwwwwwwwwesome..."

Good God, I thought. She can't even complete a sentence. How is she still ALIVE?

I stole a look at Auschwitz-the-Lifer, and my breath caught in my throat as I clocked her expression. UH oh! I did not like what was reflected in Auschwitz's eyes, as she sat with her pin-thin arms crossed over the bulk of her ribcage.

I saw jealousy, resentment, and the first flames of fierce competition being fanned by poor, hapless, brain-dead Buchenwald.

Ding Dong! I thought with a smirk. Here we go.

I can't help but wonder...of the two of them, which one's gonna die first?

8:10 pm

Having a pretty good day today, all things considered. Though that could be the Topimax. Ha ha!

Ahhhhhhhhh, whatever. I'm still here, I'm still doing the work, I'm still trying to get better. And that's all that matters.

Amazingly, Grave (wretched cow) agrees with me. Can you credit that?! I gasped incredulously when she told me, then checked suspiciously under my chair for the end of the world.

But t'was true! Grave (wretched cow) told me this afternoon that my explosions and mental meltdowns over the past few days have been vast improvements to when I first came into hop-sital.

"Whaaaaaat?" I snorted. "I was an angel when I came in here."

"Well, Kage," she rolled her eyes. "Actually, when you first came in, you never expressed any emotions, at all. Everything was fine, everything was always just fine, you would say - but then you would completely shut down emotionally, and no one could reach you."

"Ha ha! Yeah," I smiled fondly. "Good times."

She ignored me. "But those emotions don't just disappear because you want them to. Outside of the hospital, you have said that you would eat and use drugs to avoid having to feel anything. But while you are in the hospital, you cannot chase your feelings away with food or purging or drugs or alcohol. In here, you are being forced to face them, without any crutches."

"That's true," I admitted.

"And you have also said that you have a tendency to run away when you get to this point, when you feel your emotions are catching up with you. Isn't that right?" Grave (wretched cow) looked to me for confirmation.

"Yeah huh," I said, but I was thinking, Get to the point, wretched cow.

"You wanted to run last night, didn't you? When they caught up with you."

"Yeah huh," said I again, slowly. The old moo cow was (so goddamn slowly) coming to a good point.

"But you didn't run," Grave finished softly. "You could have at any time, but you didn't. You stayed and faced your emotions, and you won - you're still here."

Huh. She was right. Even if she was a wretched cow.

And even though I hate her, and I do, I couldn't help but smile broadly.

Yeah, fucking right! thought I.

I did face them and win, didn't I?

Cuz I am still here, still doing the work, still trying to get better.

And sometimes, some days, that's all you can do.

10:45 pm

Whoa. Dick Nuts strikes again!

I took a brief sabbatical from Mindful Eating today, so I could stuff my face, and try to get my Sunday pass back, when we get weighed tomorrow morning.

As a result, I have been in agony all day - swollen, distended tummy, burping up large chunks of food, unable to meet my reflection's eye in the mirror. But I kept telling myself it was just for one day, to try and get my pass out of the hop-sital this Sunday.

Well! Cat the NA was just in here so we could use the bathroom. And as I waited for my turn, I heard a familiar voice.

You gotta purge, Fatty.

Wey-hey! Dick Nuts! I thought warmly. It's been too long. How are you?

Shut up and listen to me, my Eating Disorder said. You went completely overboard today. A Sunday pass is not worth the damage you have wrought! Have you any idea what you have done, you fucking moron?

I want my pass, I thought back stubbornly, as FuBu vacated the bathroom, and I walked in and closed the door to the pink tape (this keeps the door open about six inches, so the nurses can hear us and check on us/bust us for puking/exercising/attempting suicide).

As soon as I saw the toilet, my hand lifted to my mouth, to insert the two fingers that would tickle my tonsils and send the food packing again, immediately relieving me of the pain in my tummy.

Um, HELLOOOOOO? my own thoughts cut in desperately. What are FUCK are you doing?

Just do it, Ed said.

What the fuck, Kage? I fumed, yanking down my silk pyjama bottoms and pointing my arse firmly towards the can. What the fucking FUCK?

Fix this. Fix this. Fix this. Fix this, Ed pleaded.

Kage! I screamed. You did this for a reason, remember? You wanted to get your pass back! If you listen to Dick Nuts here, do you think you'll gain the weight you needed?

Who cares? Ed countered. At least you won't be a fat fucking hippo.

Even just sitting there peeing, my fingers were itching to get in my mouth. I had gone too far, eating all those Extras. Ed was right, they needed to be out of my body, right now.

No! Listen to me, my own voice was breaking in again. You promised me no more purging. If you don't like how much you ate today, then stop doing it! Fix it tomorrow, eat only what's on your menu. But that is all you can do to fix it now - purging is not an option!

You're right, I sighed. Okay.

No! Ed cried. And while he ranted and raved and threatened and cursed me out, I finished going pee and flushed, washed my hands, then slammed the door open and ran back to my bed, where I immediately played an episode of Sons of Butcher. The ultimate weapon.

It is now half an hour later, and I still haven't puked.

Nice try, Dick Nuts.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...