We finally made our way to the hospital, and were currently waiting in a room for people considered acute. Because somehow, I was considered acute. No idea where they got that idea from. Laying in bed was uncomfortable because it wasn't the softest. But I suppose waiting in the normal waiting room on one of those uncomfortable chairs would've been much worse. My bones were digging right into the bed, and I constantly had to adjust. And everytime I did adjust, Robin would crack another joke about it. After a bit of waiting, a nurse finally entered the room.
"Hey!" She said. "You're Diane Coutiere?"
"Yea." I replied quietly.
Once again I was asked the basic questions again, and then she explained why she was there.
"So, I'm gonna do two things ok?" She explained. "First we are going to take your height and weight. And then I'm gonna get some blood from you so we can see where your blood work is at. Sound good?"
I nodded. I really didn't want to be weighed in front of people. It was something I preferred to do alone. But I didn't really have a choice. It was something mandatory they had to do.
Since the scale was located outside of my room, I was walked over to it with the help of the nurse and Robin. Apparently they thought I couldn’t walk properly or something supid because they made me lean on them. Talk about babying someone. To my surprise, she didn’t tell me to step on backwards. I heard that was a common thing they did for people who had eating disorders. The scale numbers bounced around a bit before stopping at about 35kg.
“Hm. ok.” The nurse sounded a bit shocked, before asking me out of curiosity, “Do you know what that is in pounds?”
I nodded. I don’t know why hospital scales used kilograms when most of us used pounds. Luckily, i knew the conversion.“Yea. Multiply it by 2.2, so its about 78.”
“Wow! Not very many people know that!” She looked surprised. “So, I think you and I both know that that’s a very low number, hm?”
I nodded.
“Good. How about your friend helps you back to your room, and I’ll just go get the stuff for bloodwork, and get your bmi calculated.”
“Ok.” I looked over at Robin, who looked very upset about hearing my weight. She kept pretty quiet as we walked back to the room we were previously in. Only after I laid down did she say anything.
“So… What are you going to do about your weight?” Robin asked quietly.
I shrugged. To be honest, I didn’t see a need in fixing anything. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should work on fixing it?” Robin questioned. “Maybe get to a healthier weight??”
I shrugged. Before the conversation could progress any further, the nurse returned, looking ready to steal my precious bloods.
“Alrighty! So, I did the math and you’re BMI is dangerously low.” The nurse sighed. “So, depending on what the doctor says, you’re probably going to be here a little while. We wouldn’t want your body giving out.”
Shit. There was no way in hell I was staying in the hospital for more than a night. No thank you. Not happening.
“On another note, I’m gonna get some blood from you.” She said. “Mind taking your sweater off and getting an arm ready?”
I pulled off my sweater, and stuck out an arm. Blood tests didn’t bug me at all. As long as I looked away from the needle, I was fine. The nurse wrapped the rubber band around my arm, told me to clench my fist and in went the needle. It stung for a little bit, but she got it done quickly. She gave me a little bandage thingie for the little hole she poked, and then left to finish the process of bloodwork.
"You ok?" Robin asked. I nodded slowly. Robin was sitting on the edge of my bed, and now holding my hand. I was tired, so I laid my head on her shoulder. It made me feel better. Like everything was going to be ok.
An hour later Mrs Smith arrived. She had decided to leave work early to make sure I was ok, which was really nice of her. I had an evaluation done right after she arrived, at which both her and Robin sat with me through. It was a good thing that they did because I could have lied my way through a good portion of it. I didn’t like openly talking about how I felt towards food or my body. I rathered keeping it to myself.
By the end of it, it was confirmed that in fact, I had anorexia nervosa. I couldn't believe it. After all this time in denial, it really was true. Everyone was right, and I had been wrong. But that still didn’t change the fact I thought I was fine. All the time I spent in denial made it harder to accept that in reality, I was sick. The stress of everything finally got to me and for like the tenth time in one day, I had breakdown. Luckily, Mrs Smith and Robin were there to comfort me.
"Shhh…" Mrs Smith soothed as she rubbed my back whilst I sobbed. "It's all going to be ok."
"Recovery is hard, I won’t lie. But it’s definitely possible." The doctor doing the evaluation explained. "I'd say the best course action would be to put you into inpatient.”"
"No." I said as firmly as I could through my sobbing. I didn’t want to stay in the hospital and be forced to eat until I was fat enough for them.
"Honey, recovery is really important. You’re going to die if you keep going like this."
"I don't want to recover…" I whined. "I don't want to put on weight."
"I know honey. But you need to. You won't be able to survive like this much longer. Just think about the options ok? I have to go talk to another patient, but I suggest discussing this with your parents when they get here. All good?"
I nodded. I was crying so hard that I wasn't able to reply. Having to be put into treatment scared me. If Dad thought I needed to go, then that was it. I was going.
It took a couple hours for Dad to arrive. He wasn't able to get the time off work, so he had to finish up at work first. When he entered the room he had an extremely worried look on his face. Immediately he came and gave me a hug. He practically threw himself on me, which just hurt like a bitch.
"Oh my god!! Diane!!" He cried. "You worried me!! What in the world happened?!"
"Oof! Dad!" I could only manage a muffled oof. "I'm ok!"
"Well obviously you're not!! You’re in the hospital!"
"Mr Coutiere!" Mrs Smith said. "I wouldn't lean too much on her! She's not in good condition!"
Dad pulled himself up and sat on my bedside. "Sorry. I'm just super worried."
"Doesn't mean you gotta fall onto me…" I groaned. I was already in a lot of pain. For some reason restricting caused a lot of muscle pain and tiredness. I didn't need more pain to deal with.
"Ok, ok I get it. I'm sorry." Dad apologized. "Now can someone please explain to me what happened?"
As Robin had said she would, she explained everything to my dad. Mrs Smith added in any details she missed. I wasn't too sure about how I felt about them telling my story, but I also knew if I was the one telling it, it wouldn't be nearly the same. Finally, after what seemed like forever, my dad knew the whole story.
"My god…" He sighed. "I knew you were getting to a dangerous point, but jeez. Do you realize how upset I am by this? You've worried everyone so much! You should've told someone you were being bullied! And how you were restricting food for that reason! We could've helped you!"
"I didn't think I needed help…" I muttered. "But I guess I do…"
"Damn right you need it." Robin said. "About time you've admitted that."
If only I could believe it too though. I just said it to make them think I did believe it. I didn’t need to cause any arguments over something silly. Plus, if I made them believe I was willing, they might not force me into treatment, and I could ‘recover’ from home.
"So, about treatment then." Dad said. "What are we doing about that?"
I shrugged. Mrs Smith was the only one who actually knew much about this sort of treatment. I only had an idea, and it wasn't even a good one.
“I don’t want to stay in the hospital.” I said quietly. “I’d rather recover at home.”
“I don’t know Diane.” Dad looked a bit suspicious. “I don’t know if I trust you on that.”
“Please??” I begged.
“I know how you are. You’re going to somehow trick us all into thinking you’re doing better, but you’re really just getting worse.”
“I agree with your Dad.” Robin and Mrs Smith said in unison.
“I’m not staying in the hospital for treatment.” I stated.
“You don’t have a say.” Mrs Smith butted in. “You’re a minor. You’re only 17, so your Dad can decide this for you.”
I looked over at Dad desperately. Shit!! Why would she bring that up?!
“Ugh… How upset would you be if I did put you into treatment?” Dad asked.
“Very!” I exclaimed. “I’m telling you now, if you put me there, I won’t cooperate. At all.”
“That’s not how it works, Diane.” Dad sighed. “You’re at a low enough weight they would probably restrain you, or even worse, section you until you’re at a better place, if you weren’t cooperating.”
“What’s the point of that?!” I cried. “I’d just get out of the hospital, and lose all the weight again!”
“And you’re saying you wouldn’t do that if we did this from home?” Dad raised a brow. “Because I’m pretty sure if you went home, you’d go right back into what you were doing before, and before you’d know it, you’re back in the hospital with an even lower weight.”
“I swear that won’t happen.” I lied. “At least let me try.”
Everyone exchanged worried looks before looking back over at me.
“I really don't think you should do that.” Robin said to me. “Remember what happened when I tried to make sure you were eating? You freaked out.”
“Yea because I didn’t want to do better at the time.” I lied again. Man, I was just becoming a lying machine.
“Hard to believe that.” Robin replied. “I haven’t heard you say anything that shows you really think you need to change.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and I just glared at her. Robin was getting in my way. Again! She wanted me to stay in the hospital like the sick and broken girl she thought I was.
Of course she does. Then she can go talk shit about you at school and say how you landed yourself in the mental ward. Some friend she is, huh?
“I’m not staying.” I said. “Let me go home.”
“If you go home, I expect a solid attempt at recovery.” Dad stated. He stuck his hand out for a handshake. “You’ll eat three solid meals a day, no exercise, you’ll start seeing a dietician and psychologist, and you’ll let me weigh you weekly. Deal?”
Ha! He’s making it too easy!! You can easily eat three meals a day and still restrict calories! Screw the people he wants you to see, they’ll be useless. And as for weigh ins, you can easily chug water before those! Bam! This is too easy!
I stuck my hand out and we shook on it. “Deal.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Robin and Mrs Smith looking very worried. Out of smugness, I gave them a little smirk. They really thought they could win this one. Jokes on them. I wasn’t stopping what I was doing anytime soon.
“Alright then. It’s a deal.” Dad said. “If you go back on it, you’re going into treatment.”
I nodded. Dad then left for a bit to go talk to the doctor privately and see when I would be discharged. Apparently, the doctor didn’t seem so keen on what Dad and I agreed on, but there wasn’t much he could do. He did however suggest that I stayed overnight just so they could make sure I was stable. I wasn’t too happy about it, but it was better than staying for months.
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