Friday, Feb. 28, 2003/10:41 pm

doctors

I arrived swiftly, my feet echoing across the corridor floor like heavy paperweights. I told my Mum to sign me in whilst i made my way to the surgery toilets to rid myself of crisps and the remains of tagliatelle pasta. Whilst washing my hands afterwards i noticed a leaflet on the wall titled 'understanding anorexia and bulimia' The irony of it made me quietly laugh inside.

The waiting room torture seemed to last for eternity, minute by minute. Every time someones name flashed across the screen in red writing i looked up instantly hoping it wasn't mine. I noticed someone from my year there, a girl, who I don't really talk to. I wondered what was wrong with her. I expect she wondered the same thing of me. Eventually, after several flicks of magazine pages and glances at the clock my turn came. I picked myself up off the cheap, orange seats and headed for the doctors room. Convinced that everyones eyes were focused on me as i took each step. Before opening the door i took a long breath and told myself i couldn't go back, not now, this was it.

She smiled almost angelic like, and talked with a high pitched tone of voice. Sugar tinted sentences and sympathetic looks. She made me suspicious, like she was hiding something. I explained what had happened, what is going on, why i was there. I didn't detail on the situation. It took her a while to figure out that it was self induced but she got there in the end. Next came blood pressure, pulse, it was uncomfortable revealing my scarred arms but she didn't comment. She then felt my stomach to see whether she could find anything out of the ordinary. She asked whether it would be alright if she got a second opinion, i agreed and she proceeded to call someone at the hospital. When she hang up i got given the diagnoses. Most probabley the problem is burst blood vessels, from the impact of gagging. I thought this was strange because it takes me little effort to purge, but excepted it. After a dreaded weight measure she perscribed the pills i would need to help settle things down. Adding that if the problem persists after the weekend i need to go back to see her, sooner rather than later. Then the dreaded question, the one i was afraid of.

"What are we going to do about things on a daily basis?"

I swift my direction downwards and shrug. She suggests referring me to a walk in clinic. I pause then say okay. I feel lost, words are being said but i don't know if i mean them. I'm not sure it is okay. I leave, politely saying thankyou, she tells me to takecare. I am so relieved it is over.

Afterwards i feel numb, and guilty.

Numb because i can't quite figure out what just happened.

Guilty because I felt i should not be there, i feel i am not sick enough, thin enough, needy enough, or worth enough.

I give my Mum the smallest of information, she doesn't need to know, it is none of her business, she made that clear when i told her.

Doctors alert me, they all do, no matter how sweet they act. I feel threatened and want to run so they can't catch me.

I don't want anyone to catch me.

I'm unsure about all of this.

I guess it looks like i'm going to be okay.

The thing is a part of me, wishes I wasn't.