Later, I was on the couch curled up in a ball next to dad. The amount of food that had suddenly entered my system shocked my digestive system, and it couldn't handle it. So my body expelled everything. And I mean everything. All of it came back up, and I didn't even have to try.
"Feeling any better?" Grammy asked after she finished cleaning the huge mess I made.
I shook my head no. My stomach was still very upset, and I felt very nauseous.
Grammy sighed. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I did give you too much."
"I-its ok…" I said. Gramps was on the other side of me. Since Gramps used to be a doctor, his instinct were to test a couple things, like blood sugar. Apparently they were low, but I didn't really care. I just wanted to go home and sleep. This whole dinner had been a disaster.
"David, I think you oughta get Diane to the doctor sometime soon." Gramps was talking with dad about the whole situation. Like usual, I went and worried everyone. Everyone was sitting in the living room stressing over me, and I hated it.
"I know. I'm trying to get an appointment, but you know how booked they get.” Dad replied. “The closest I can get is months away."
"That's not good." Gramps sighed. "I'm not sure she can make it that long. Especially with how fast her health is declining."
"No kidding." Grammy added. "I say get a dietitian for her. Fixing her eating issues would be a good start."
Dad sighed. I was stressing him out. At this point, I was becoming a burden. Not on just him. On everyone.
"Sweetie, are you sure you don't want a ginger ale?" Grampy asked me. Usually everytime someone got sick, a ginger ale was offered. Funnily enough, it usually worked. "It'll settle your stomach and help with your blood sugars."
I shook my head no. Soda wasn't worth the calories, nor was it healthy.
"Is there anything you would be willing to eat?" Grammy asked with a worried expression. I once again shook my head. I heard a sigh from almost everyone. “Dear, it would really help you feel better. Especially something like crackers.”
I shook my head no.
"Did you eat anything else today?" Grampy asked gently. "You puked everything you had for supper and dessert, so it would be nice knowing you at least something else today that had time to digest."
I kept silent and looked down at my hands.
"Diane."
"...No."
"Oh my god! Diane!" Grammy cried. "You've gotta eat something!! You are not leaving this house until you eat something! I don't care what!!"
"Mum! She just puked!" Dad reasoned. He knew how upset I got when I was forced to eat, and knew it wasn’t worth it at that point. "I don't think she wants to eat anything right now! I know you're just as worried as I am, but be reasonable!"
"C-can we go home… please..?" I muttered. I was scared of having to eat again. I just wanted to go home and sleep. "Dad? Please?"
Dad sighed. "Yea. I think it's time we went. Jack, Bella? You ready to go?"
They both nodded.
"Alright. How about you help Diane get her stuff on, and then you guys can wait in the car? I gotta talk to your grandmother and grandfather."
Bella and Jack agreed, and then helped me up and out of the living room. I was quite shaky, so I had to lean on Jack a bit for support. While we were getting our stuff on, we could hear dad and our grandparents fighting over what to do about me.
"They're really upset, huh?" Bella pointed out.
"No kidding." Jack replied. "Oh! Diane? You need help getting your jacket on?"
I was struggling to lift my arm high enough to get it in the sleeve, so Jack helped me get my arm in the sleeve.
"Probably best we don't stick around. Let's go wait in the car." Jack said. "I don't wanna be around if they start fist fighting."
"Really? I thought you would wanna join in!" Bella joked.
"Ha! No! I may like to cause trouble, but I don't get involved in others' troubles! Let's go!"
So, with that, we headed out to the car. Dad argued with Grammy and Gramps before he finally met us in the car. I'm not sure how it ended, but it probably wasn't good because he was very cranky. The whole drive home was fairly silent, with the only noise being Christmas music softly playing from the radio. Though, after hearing Rotton Rotton Rudolph 4 times, Dad turned off the radio.
--
When we got home late that night, I had the intentions of going to bed, but Dad stopped me. He said he wanted to sit down at the table with me and have a chat. I already knew what this was going to be about, but in order to prevent more arguing, I did as I was told.
“So.” Dad began with a heavy sigh. “Eating habits. We need to work on those. Agreed?”
“I’m fine.” I lied.
“Diane. I know you’re skipping meals. I’m not stupid.” Dad said sternly. “And your weight is getting incredibly low. You have to start eating more.”
I stayed silent. I didn’t want to risk an argument.
“Would seeing a dietician help?” Dad asked. “Or possibly a therapist? Bella has come to me quite often to say she’s worried you might be anorexic. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people are worried about you.”
“I’ll fix it on my own.” I lied. “I don’t need to see anybody. It’s not that big of a deal. Now, can I go to bed? I’m starting to feel queasy again.”
Dad sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to win this one. “Alright. Hopefully you feel better tomorrow. And just know, if you ever need to talk, I’m open to listen. Okay?”
I nodded before getting up and heading to my bedroom. I flopped onto my bed, wrapped myself up in my many blankets and instantly fell asleep.
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