As I walked into meeting #2 with my new therapist, she grabbed a stack of something and sat down. I was thinking the stack was just something to bear down on while she wrote…then it dawned on me… she had my fucking medical records. Already feeling quite fractious at this, I hesitantly sat down and buckled up for what was to come.
Last time she told me that I looked “healthy”, and this time told me my weight as well as BMI. To me, I think these things were slightly ignorant and had me upset and aggravated. BMI in itself bothers me, especially since I am an athlete, run, lift, etc. Unless I just quit working out completely and my body relies fully on muscle consumption, I don’t see it drastically changing- unfortunately. At the same time she told me, “I’ve never really had any eating disorder patients, I usually have addiction patients. What I have been reading and researching though says this…” To me, that meant a lot. It means she actually took interest, or enough shits, to give a damn and look into what she is dealing with and what to do; I really appreciated that.
So, as mentioned, she also had my charts, files, etc, which to be totally honest, I am not sure how she acquired access to all of that. I am well aware that my doctor was the one who referred/scheduled me to be seen since, “I know if I don’t make the appointment you won’t. So I’ll go ahead and call the clinic and make an appointment for you to be seen.” Maybe that was enough grounds/permission, for S to get all of my files, maybe it wasn’t, not sure. Anyway, She had my weight, charts, bloodwork, cardiologist tests, etc from God only knows how far back. S asked if I wanted to know my weight from a while back, “Um, hell no, I was even fatter then than I am now.” Still stuck on the imperceptible fact that she had a long talk with my doctor about me and God only knows what else.
“Dr. M and I both agree that getting you plugged in with a dietitian is probably the best route to go at this point.” listening incredulously at the fact she had talked with my doctor. S also told Dr. M something I had said. I had expressed that my main concern was my teeth and the rupturing of my esophagus, not so much electrolytes or heart since I am so active. To that, Dr. M told S (I feel like this is all code, sorry.) “Rupturing of her esophagus is very likely, especially with all of the purging. I didn’t stick anything down her throat to check, but it is very very likely at this point.”
Everyone is so much more fucking concerned than I am.
She and I were both shocked that my body has done so well given the little nutrients I put in and how much I work out. “You must really be on good standings with someone, or have someone looking out for you.” S is also setting me up with a nutritionist on campus. She said a few things that really kinda resonated with me.
>“I hope this bloodwork doesn't give you a false sense of security.”
Well, to be honest, it did/does.
This started a kaleidoscope of explanations, false hopes, how I felt like a failure for not even having an eating disorder the “correct” way. S explained to me that the bloodwork she had ordered both times was just to skim the surface. “These results tell Dr. M that you don’t have diabetes, cancer, or an infection….Congratulations…. That’s about it. So I really hope this bloodwork doesn’t give you a false sense of security that you think you are so ‘healthy’.”
>“You think you’re so healthy, but your body is trying to tell you something. Your leg cramps. What about your period? Do you have that regularly?”
“Dr. M never asked me about it, I didn’t think to bring it up….no.”
“Maybe I know more about eating disorders than I thought. I was looking through your chart and didn’t see it anywhere.”
I told her I rarely, rarely get it.
This began a long session of “Your body is trying to tell you something, even with ok results, what is it going to take?” talk… which spiraled into a snarky off the cuff, “a feeding tube in a hospital bed probably.”
……Which, led to…….
>“Would it really be worth it to be, I don’t know, say 90 lbs, if you weren’t able to do the thing you love-like running?”
This one really had me thinking hard. This is such a valid point. When I was laid up from my surgery I was climbing the walls and so antsy, I can’t imagine not being able to work out whenever I want, even if I ever hit my UGW. Granted, There have been multiple occasions where I could barely stand long enough to get my shoes on, and I was so weak and tired I was barely to trudge through a couple of miles, but I was still ABLE to.
S mentioned possibly having me consider taking antidepressants, not sure what I think about that. I don’t think that I need them, but if it would help ease the anxiety of eating in public, or grocery shopping, I’m not really sure… any opinions?
All of this happened Wednesday. Today, I ate for the first time since last week-ish, It hurts so bad. I missed class Thursday because I felt so weak and sick, Friday I had a test, but missed my workout. Thursday was awful, I could tell that I was so drained, felt absolutely miserable, could barely stand or stay awake. I managed to trudge through only three miles, but had to go home because I began throwing up stomach bile.
Today, I felt better after attempting to eat something small for energy. During my run, I look up, and who drove past me, but S. She made a quick glimpse, as did I, unsure if we were both seeing each other for that split second. Then, I am not completely sure, I looked up about a mile later and she had driven around campus (or so I’m assuming) and was now driving toward me. Maybe she really wanted to make sure that it was me, or wanted to check that I wasn’t on the verge of passing out along my run.
Either way, I just heard her voice in the back of my head, “Running is your Prozac, so that way you don’t have to take it. It is your happy place.”