Here we go, I am about to describe
my first experience in the hospital for my eating disorder. It was an extremely
hot July day in 2006. I said goodbye to my Nana (although I did not know it was
the last good bye ever), I said goodbye to my dog and to my 10 year old sister.
I had no idea what was about to happen. I sat in the old 1995 Dodge Grand
Caravan as my dad drove. My mom drove the other car separately, because one of
my parents planned to stay in a hotel during my first few days in the hospital.
At least I think that's what they planned. We arrived in Towson Maryland
(located right outside Baltimore City) 6 grueling hours later. We arrived the
day before I was getting admitted so we stayed in a really nice Sheraton Hotel
attached to the mall. At that point in time I had no idea of what was actually
about to happen. I was still on the anorexic high I had been floating on for
the last year. It wasn't until the next morning that reality nearly knocked me
on my ass.
After the 2 hour admission process
in the outpatient administration building (pavilion) I was on my way to the
inpatient unit. The program structure and rules have changed a little bit since
2006. I walked into the corridor and the thick locked door with the
"elopement precaution" sign locked behind me. My parents looked as
nervous as I did, as they signed me over to these people. Then we got a tour of
the unit. Now I am going to do my best to describe the way things looked through
13 year old eyes. The unit was very new and renovated as the whole program had
actually moved from a medical hospital across the street over to Sheppard
Pratt. We were told this was a very nice unit. The first thing is a long
hallway with lockers for the partial hospital program (PHP), I saw various ages
of women and girls laying/sitting/curled in fetal positions along this hallway.
At the end of the lockers is inpatient "milieu" where patients
watched TV and hung out. Then there is the nurses’ station, and to the right of
that is what used to be the "PHP day room". Now the partial hospital
patients are in a completely separate area from the inpatients but back in 2006
all inpatients and PHP patients were essentially mixed together in a lump sum
of 27+ inpatients and at least 20+ day patients. 47 anorexic and bulimic women
was a bit of a culture shock for me when I first arrived.
This strange environment in the
years to come would provide a sense of comfort; and above all else it provided
a place of true friendship for me. I
could relate more with these people than anyone else ever before.
The first day was undoubtedly
traumatizing though. As my parents were finishing up paper work I was
attempting to get to know some of the other patients. I walked into the milieu
and a bunch of women that were at least 10 years older than me immediately
started drilling me with questions such as "have you been in treatment before",
"how long have you had your eating disorder", "how old are
you", and other questions I assumed personal at the time. These are common
questions people asked when new patients arrived. I looked around and I was
getting more anxious by the second. Not only was what I was seeing scaring me,
but it was telling me I had competition now. For months I was used to being the
"skinniest" person around. Here there were dozens of emaciated people
of all ages, of all races, and walks of life. Additionally, I was raised in a
private school, in a quiet family, so I was just not used to this odd seeming environment.
Well it was time for lunch and the nurse walked me into the dining room. The
first thing I saws was 4 tables of girls and women anywhere between the ages of
10-60 "eating" their meal. To me it looked like some of the were inspecting
it like some would dissect a frog in 6th grade science class, some were crying,
some were not eating at all, and some were eating. As I walked into the room, all
of their bug eyes stared deep into my own eyes. I could see the pain in their
eyes, and I felt the pain in their heart.
As I sat down in my seat my worst
nightmare caught the corner of my eye. A tube, I mean a girl with a tube in her
nose. The thing I had been threatened with for the last couple months was right
across the table. She looked miserable. She looked like a sweet girl. And she
was. But she had a tube. I was so frightened I ate my meal within ten or
fifteen minutes. Let me just say that now the program does not "tube"
patients on the unit. If one refuses to eat, then they get sent to the medical
hospital. Like I said this was back in 2006 and things have changed.
Well my first day was sincerely frightening. For the next 3
days I called my mom begging her to take me home, saying "mom, I am
eating, I actually ate rice, I am fine now, pleassssse". My mom later told me on her way back home from dropping me
off she cried her eyes out the entire 6 hour drive. She was torn about leaving
me there because it is not a place to leave a child, but I am thankful she did.
Sheppard Pratt has saved my life on several occasions. For the next five a half
weeks my life revolved around 5:30am weights in paper gown, labs every day, nutritional
supplements (ensure plus), group therapy, individual therapy, psychiatrists, nurses,
and above all else the meticulous meals served 3 times per day, and the droned
broken bodies of the eating disordered. For the first time since the onset of
my disorder I saw the sickness for the dirty raunchiness it was. I watched as a
girl put her hair in her supplement in an attempt to reduce the amount she
would have to drink. I witnessed a grown woman putting a whole milk up her
sleeve and later throwing it in the trash, I watched in amazement as a young
woman chucked a cup of applesauce at a staff member saying "you eat the
fucking applesauce"!!!! I saw symptoms that I didn't even struggle with
such as purging (vomiting).
I even celebrated my 14th birthday
there. It wasn't half bad. In fact I still have the card that the patients made
me. In the hospital there is no age, you will see a 50 year old playing cards
with a 12 year old. All stipulations are gone. Everyone is equally there and
equally in pain.
Eating Disorders are raw and they are miserable,
and they are not worth being "thin", and they aren't even about that.
My hope is that my story has let you take a look into the world of the untold.
I still have much more to say, so please keep listening. (=
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