Today I had to face up to my fears. I had to front up to my new psychologist that heard my desperate pleas for help on friday. I sat there swinging my legs burning as many calories as I could out of anticipation. I read the poster on the wall that I'm beginning to memorise. And soon she emerged from a corridor off to the side of reception. She greeted me warmly and then sprung it on me she was going to weigh me. And the anxiety hightened. She recalled me shaking. A 5.2kg drop in two weeks. She was noticeably worried.
She ushered me into a room I was unfamiliar with (the first and second time I had been there we had been in the same room I'm one who doesn't like change in 'familiar environments' this is going to be one of those 'environments') The room was blank it had three chairs and a little white desk in a room with bare walls. I sat there swinging my legs having a mental breakdown on the inside dreading ever turning up. What was she going to say about friday? It was bound to come up in conversation thankfully she left this matter to the end.
She did the get to know you thing all clinicians do in the initial appointments. She took a diagram of my family and asked about the family dynamics who I clashed with and who I got along with most. Simple I couldn't land myself in hot water with that question. And I didn't. She asked about my sleeping pattern my daily routine. Simple stuff that eased my anxiety of being in a place I wasn't too sure I wanted to be.
Then came the end She got me to fill in questionnaires where I questioned my answers and how they would be interpreted I didn't want to be labelled again with depression or something of the likes because of a few silly questions so i censored my answers yet still tried to be as open as i could be. Closing the session she commented on how I seemed to want help despite my ambivalence she said she couldn't admit me...yet. She was only just getting to know me. She offered instead twice weekly appointments and physical monitoring and said she would get me in to see the psychiatrist as quickly as she could (Which will be two thursdays down the track) and if there was any deterioration then we would look at an admission. One part of me wants it but the other part the bigger part is scared of an admission of being made to gain back all that water weight that has melted off.
I waked home. And on the way I decided to book in to see my gp. A 2.30 appointment was available. So I took it. Again the anxiety peaked I tried to sleep it off to no avail. I started walking down when i saw my grandma returning from her morning out. So I got a lift down. Thank heavens (I forgot to mention the dizzies have officially returned). I sat in the waiting room like I have so many times before the receptionists beginning to know me by face and name. Soon I was called in "what can i do for you today you didn't go home?" "I need my obs checked and bloods again" "Ok" And off he tottered putting cuffs around my arm pressing the machine. All within normal limits a slight drop in bp and increase in hr but nothing he seemed fussed about which makes me begin to think all of this is just in my head. It is, right? He then did a full physical examination I was NOT expecting that one apparently everything was a-ok despite my not feeling it. then he ordered the bloods. I was relieved to get out of there.
I went next door to get my bloods taken the woman asking "Why are you on a pension your so young" So I openly told her "I have anorexia, I haven't eaten for two weeks" her jaw dropped. She took my bloods tentatively and told me she could barely go two hours without eating let alone two weeks she asked "How are you still functioning?!" I said "Coffee and diet coke" upon completion and leaving she said to me now "go eat a hamburger" I laughed and went and bought a diet coke.
I walked home diet coke in hand. Once I got home my granddad slyly remarked "You've had a busy medical day, I hope it's done something". The simple response...."no"
I was given about five double sided sheets to write down my dietary intake between now and thursday my new case worker laughing saying "You'd be lucky to fill up one" She damn sure is right there. Food logs always make me more conscious of what I'm eating and lead me to eat less for fear of judgment and scrutiny that I may be the gluttonous pig my mind tells me I am.
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