Friday, September 3, 2010

I Like Pooping

"Stop. For the love of God."

Busy morning today. Was woken up at 6 for more EKGs and bloodwork, which is actually turning out to be a great thing, though I never would have guessed it - I used to be a total needle-phobe, crying and hyperventilating as the needle drew ever closer to my arm. Now I just put Mr. Reznor on full blast, turn my head away and screw my eyes shut really tight. I still give a little yelp of fear when the needle first penetrates my skin, but I’m sure that will go too, since all of this daily bloodwork is just prepping me for the TATTOO that I’m gonna get when I get the fuck outta here.

Fell back to sleep for a bit afterwards, while all the other girls were getting their vitals done. I had stayed up till almost one am the night before, writing my blog entry for the day, and I was tired.

FuBu shook me awake just before eight o’clock. “Kage! Breakfast.”

“Hmmphflksd?” I mumbled.

“Breakfast!” she repeated. “Let’s go.”

I swung my legs down from the bed and stumbled after her. Yay! I thought. Breakfast!

Prolly not what the other anorexics were thinking, but whatever.

When I walked into the Group Room, the first thing I clocked was not my breakfast, as usual. No, instead of my yummies, the one and only thing I could see? Were Auschwitz-the-Lifer’s scrawny little thighs.

She was wearing spandex pants. Not like shiny bicycle hot-pants kind of lycra, but matte black stretch leggings.

My estimate yesterday, of her thighs being five inches in diameter? Was way off. More like four. Possibly THREE.

I had to physically force myself to tear my eyes away from her, and look for my own breakfast instead.

It took me a minute to refocus. I shook my head as if to clear it, and looked for my name on the table.

There it was! Two bowls of oatmeal and two cups of soy milk, all for me. Yummy! Without looking at Auschwitz again, I did my usual thing, adding the soy milk to the oatmeal and zapping it in the microwave, before sitting down and hungrily lapping it up.

Then, still not looking at Auschwitz-the-Lifer, I decided to try things a bit differently this morning. Instead of eating an Extra right away, then having a cup of tea and then another Extra, I decided I would have a cup of tea first, and then see if I still felt hungry. If I did, then I could have an extra Extra.

It went okay. I was still hungry at the end of my tea, so I served myself a bowl of Bran Flakes with granola. But instead of having two like I usually do, I only had one. When I was finished, I sat back and contemplated how I felt (don’t look at Auschwitz-the-Lifer). I really, really wanted to keep eating, of course I did, but that was nothing new - just my eating disorder fighting back as I tried to free myself from it.

But I was satiated, and my tummy was full. Time to leave it be, and see if I could make it till snack time (don't look at Auschwitz-the-Lifer).

As I sat there, trying to resolve to conflict raging within me, I finally noticed the conflict that was raging outside of me.

Auschwitz-the-Lifer was struggling to eat her food to completion. Her breakfast? One apple, and one pack of peanut butter.

“You have to scoop all the peanut butter out,” FuBu told her, and flicked back Auschwitz’s very-mixed-up-but-hardly-scraped-out peanut butter pack from the middle of the table, where she had tried to abandon it.

“What, all of it?” she asked.

“Yes,” chorused, FuBu, Day Program and Sweetface.

Auschwitz-the-Lifer picked up her fork, and with one tine, slowly began scraping the sides of the plastic pack.

“Here,” said the supervising nurse (I can’t remember who, one of the interchangeable ones) and rolled her chair back to the counter. She opened the drawer, and rolled back a moment later with a spoon. “Use this.”

“No, I’m fine with my fork,” Auschwitz said with a cheery smile.

We all watched her. We couldn’t help it, we were all curious to see how the skeleton maintained her bones, and besides - what the fuck else were we gonna do?

She kept scraping uselessly with the one tine of her fork, until the nurse had finally had enough. Nurse #1994638 picked up the spoon and the peanut butter pack, and scooped out every last molecule of peanut butter, then handed it to Auschwitz.

“Here you go. Eat it,” she said, and went to sit back down.

Auschwitz-the-Lifer sat and stared at the spoon for a few seconds, like she was contemplating suicide (she prolly was). Then she took a deep breath, and with a shaking hand, applied the peanut butter to her apple slice.

And then she ate it. The whole apple slice, with all the peanut butter, was slowly but surely consumed, bringing her meal to completion.

We all breathed out a sigh of relief, then looked around in surprise, like we didn’t expect that anyone but ourselves had watched the drama unfolding. Then, blushing and caught out and refusing to look at each other, we all turned away, and back into ourselves.

1:20 pm

WHOOOOOOO HOOOOOOO! OH yeah! Thank God and all the angels in the skies above! FUCKING EH!!!!!!

Just had my first normal bowel movement in over a week!

It was okay.

Just kidding. It was fucking fantastic! Yay for me!

So! Now that's covered, where were we?

Ah, yes. After breakfast this morning, I came back to the dorm room to snooze a bit more, before I would get up and get dressed for the day. I was just snuggling into my pillow and murmuring sweet nothings to myself, when another random nurse came in.

“Kage, you have an appointment this morning at 10:30,” Nurse #287613e78623 said, and handed me a slip of paper that said, coincidentally, “Appt. 10:30 am.”

Very helpful, thought I.

“What’s it for?” I asked as she walked away.

“Bone density,” she called over her shoulder.

Oh. That didn’t sound too bad.

And it prolly wouldn’t have been too bad, if LynnLynn hadn’t come to fetch me for my appointment at 10:20. Precisely halfway through Morning Snack time.

“What? No way,” I said, when LynnLynn opened the door and looked directly at me. “What about my snack?”

In the ten minutes since we had been in the Group Room, I had actually already managed to consume both my orange and my Nutrigrain bar, but still. At the very least, I was owed a cup of tea.

“You can take your tea with you,” LynnLynn said drily, when I loudly protested the complete miscarriage of justice that was unfolding before us.

“Oh, really? Okay,” I said happily, and skipped over to the kettle to make my drink.

Now, before you say (or think) anything, this was more than just me being happy about getting my way, for once. Remember this morning at breakfast, when I was trying to skip eating an Extra just one time, to see if I was just overeating to feed my addiction? And though I did manage to get it down to just one Extra this morning instead of two, I still wasn’t able to leave the food alone, on my own?

I had planned to try again, at Morning Snack.

Except, of course, when the time came along and we were unleashed upon our Morning Snacks, all thoughts of trying to stop myself from overeating went straight out the window. I wasn’t sure what I would be having for my Extra, but there was still some All Bran and granola, plus I think there were Rice Krispie squares again, or those Oreos were still good -

“It’s time,” LynnLynn had opened the door, interrupting me mid-obsession.

Huh. What timing. How bout that for cookies? Or rather, for lack of cookies?

I put a lid over my tea, then followed LynnLynn out of the Group Room and into the hallway.

Where a nurse was waiting with a goddamn wheelchair.

“What the smeg?” I exclaimed. “I’m not on ‘modified’.”

“No, it’s just standard procedure,” LynnLynn said, and swept her hand over the seat. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady!”

Reluctantly, I sat down clumsily in the wheelchair, and allowed myself to be wheeled around the hospital to the Cancer Centre, where my bone density test would be.

Being in the wheelchair was both a relief - we really did go a long way, and I was so exhausted - and fucking embarrassing, as I was wheeled by people who would turn to look at the state of me and wonder, What’s wrong with her?


I was relieved when we pulled into the Nuclear Medicine Wing, and my wheelchair and I were abandoned in a dark corner to wait.

The bone density test was easy and boring, I just lay there while machine zoomed slowly up and down my midsection, hopefully frying my ovaries along the way. When it was done, an orderly showed up to wheel my sorry ass back up to Unit 32.

The entire process had taken about half an hour. When the orderly tipped me out of the wheelchair outside the elevators, I picked myself up and walked into the Group Room for the last half hour of Group.

Once again, it was a good one. I decided that, In The Name Of My Recovery - snort - I had better fess up to the struggles I was having with the Extras. When it was my turn to share, I told the group exactly what I was dealing with - that I was always hungry and so I wanted to be free to eat Extras when I needed to, but that I was also struggling with the temptation to overindulge on them, and that sometimes I did overindulge on them.

Lovely Aussie Sue was so great about it. She asked me if I wanted staff intervention at meal times, and I said no - I didn’t want my freedoms restricted that much, because I would only come to hate and resent the staff, and possibly car-bomb them.

“I guess what I need is support,” I told the group at large. “Like, even just telling you guys that I am struggling with this makes me that much more accountable for my actions.”

So it was agreed that I could be verbally challenged around Extras, but no one would physically try to stop me if I wanted more food.

Shortly after that, it was time for lunch.
My lunch plate was very simple today - a cup of steamed carrots, and a veggie burger patty with slice of tomato, on a dry brown bun. Sounds boring, I know, but it was actually delicious. It was not a lot of food, though. I decided to try my technique of drinking a cup of tea before looking in the Extras cabinet.

I finished my tea. Still hungry. Two bowls of Corn Flakes with granola and Soy Milk were consumed. Then I was very full, but was I too full? I just didn't know anymore.

But when I went to the bathroom and pooped just like a normal person, and when I gave the food a chance to settle in my tummy, I decided that yes, I was full; but no, not too full.

And I was okay. I was okay with the food inside my body.

I kept this fullness in mind when I went for Afternoon Snack just now, and guess what?

No Extras! I ate my banana and Rice Krispie square, had my cup of tea, and stopped. For the first time, both here in the hospital and for the past ten years back in my real life, I put down the fork when I was done, and stopped eating.

I didn’t say anything to the others, but I was flushed with pride at my small accomplishment.

Maybe I can do this?!


Argh! I spoke too soon. I am really fucking struggling right now. I ate too much for Evening Snack tonight, and am now sitting up in my bed, bloated as fuck and miserable. I had a shower right before snack too, and had to look in the mirror and take in all the places where I have gained weight in the past five days.

And now I am miserable, and why? Because my Eating Disorder is torturing me with visions of myself fat and cellulitey, miserable and alone. See, what I don’t understand is, if I hate people so fucking much and just want to be left alone, then why have I not let myself become morbidly obese? Why do I care so much about what other people think, when I just want them to leave me alone anyway?

I hate that Ed is winning this round, telling me that I cannot and WILL NOT love myself if I weigh too much, that no one else can love me that way, either.

I am trying to fight back, telling myself that I am merely taking a break from my Eating Disorder for the next four months. No one’s gonna fucking see me, why not take four months off from that fucking dick, Ed? Why not try just eating when I’m hungry, stopping when I’m full, and trying to learn something in between? I can always go back to my old ways and starve myself to death if, at the end of the four months, I have not changed in any way.

I like this train of thought usually, and it always helps me wrap my head around this. I guess Ed is just stronger than that voice tonight, and that blows.


I don’t know if I feel like writing anymore tonight. Need some comedy, to remind me of what’s important (Sol Butcher!) and what’s not (me gaining a few pounds).

Please God, keep me motivated and strong, and keep me in this hospital.

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