Wednesday, Apr. 23, 2003/2:24 pm

home

I'm still so weak.

My bones feel ready to crack apart.

Veins are bruised, grey and pinpricked.

Eyes unsteady.

I can still recall the smell of anticeptic.

The continous beeps of machines.

Clean wiped surfaces and white folded sheets.

Magnolia lino floors and visitors that just don't know what to say.

They discharged me yesterday afternoon. The worrying thing is i don't feel as if i'm any better inside. Or any wiser, i think i might still be in shock. I just can't bring myself to believe what actually happened.

Most probabley i had a mild heart attack. Triggered by throwing up over and over and the extreme fluctuation of my sugar levels. I left it so long after the initial chest pains that they cannot be certain but that was their diagnosis. I put alot of strain on myself. The paramedics took my pulse in the ambulance and it was incredibley fast. Blood pressure was in the danger zone and i was still having trouble breathing properly. My whole body was shadowed in whites, greys and blues. Heart. Attack. Heart. Attack. It hasn't properly registered in my head yet. I'm only 16 years old. Things like this only usually happen to other people, it can't be real, it doesn't feel real, it feels like fiction.

I tried to avert my attention from the truth, passing it off in my head as just the usual problems associated with bulimia. Nothing serious, but some things are different since Wednesday. Something serious must have happened. I need to fully come to terms with that. My visions terrible. It comes and goes, at times i cannot read at all, only see a blur or lettering and fuzzy shapes of colour. I don't know if this is permanant, i might have damaged it for life, and it's all my fault.

I had a drip in my arm most of the week to give me insulin or glucose. They alternated it depending on what my sugar levels were resting at. Potassium was added to it later on and i also had to take potassium tablets. My levels of it had fallen very low due to the purging. When they eventually took the drip out my sugar levels started to mess around again, but that was mainly due to the fact that i wasn't following the rules.

I was purging whilst in the hospital, alot. There wasn't one day where i didn't. One nurse was on to me for a while but the rest were pretty stupid. They even let me have a shower after finishing all of my lunch. At one point i devoured a packet of biscuits, hiding the packet under my bed covers, then discreetly fleeing to the toilets. Yesterday morning alot of fresh blood seeped from my mouth whilst getting rid of breakfast. My throat is very sore. My stomach usually kills afterwards too. When i didn't want to eat i hid food in bags or left a bit of bread under the napkin on my tray so they didn't notice. I even skipped injections and squirted insulin down the loo or in a cup which i later put in the bin. I was being weighed for a while, under kilograms which was so frustrating, i cannot convert. I gained a little at first, then lost again. On the last day i kept my breakfast and some lunch down so that my blood sugars would relax and they'd let me home. Consequently i gained a few pounds again. I was so terrified of it. The only way i could really know that it would be alright was by grabbing onto the jut of my hips. Gripping my thumb and index finger round my wrist, relieved that i still could quite comfortabley. No matter what was going on i was sure that i was being gradually swallowed in fat. I came home at 89, by today i have lost two pounds, back to 87.

Everyone saw my scars, the lines of pain. I had refreshed myself in red both two nights previous to my admittion. I wandered the corridors with slashed up arms, in a gown which had the words 'hospital use only' printed on them. I lost myself in music, laying in bed, headphones plastered to my ears. Tori could be my only get away, my saviour. I was stuck in a ward with 40 year olds and upwards talking about their lives, children, experiences. I knew that i was ruining all possible chances of anything like that. I didn't really talk to the others, i entrapped myself, i split into tears sometimes. Moods were all over the place. I was depressed in there, it brought me down, i just wanted to be let out.

My Mother has been a mess. Changing her face in a matter of seconds. She could be showing concern, next start calling me a drama queen, acusing me of always trying to spite her, then leaving her to pick up all the pieces. At other moments she just looked at me, shook her head and muttered 'what have you done to yourself?' 'You look such a state.' I felt so guilty, ashamed, selfish, i wanted her to walk away from me but i also wanted a hug.

Since being home i have binged and purged numerous times. As soon as stepping foot in the house i looked through the cupboards. I didn't take my insulin last night, ran so high off my meter again. My weight then decreasing by this morning.

I have dropped back down again,

Right back down.

The familiar white dots crowd me as i got up, feeling dizzy, having to stagger, holding onto furniture, trying not to fall.

The spotlight has landed on me but i cannot sing. They want glitter and loud sound, all i can manage is a quiet hum, so i don't attempt to do anything.

I don't know what will happen. I have to speak to people, councillors, eating specialists, it's all being organised. I will go, i will, i can't help myself, i do realise that.

I thought thinngs might change but they havn't.

My toes stepping across cold glass once again.

I've never felt this unsafe before, or scared of the look in my own eyes.