Wednesday, Jul. 09, 2003/1:23 pm

assessment

Yesterday was a really exhausting day. I felt so drained by the end of it, didn't have enough energy to write. I just crashed after purging dinner.

The whole session was 2-3 hours long. There was a whole team of them, who sat and studied me with intrusive eyes and scribbled down notes i craved to see. At first i spoke very little, i just didn't know what to say. In the beggining they wanted to know more about being diabetic and how i feel about that. The questionaire part was emotionally easier because my Mum didn't have to be there, but still really confusing. It's so hard trying to extract facts from a long blur.

They gave me my diagnosis, anorexia nervosa, partly because of my deep fixation with weight and shape, then bulimia nervosa due to the frequent binging and purging.

In one section i was asked, for example;

"in the last month how many days out of 28 have you thought of food or eating?"

"In the last month how many days have you wanted a flat stomach"

"on average in the last 3 months how many days have you been concerned about your body?"

I got embarrassed and fed up of repeating 'everyday' over and over again.

Then in the last fifteen minutes, after a short break they came back to deliver the verdict. The bombshell. They want to put me in a specialist hospital in London as an in-patient.

I cried and said no, brushes of silence, so trapped and so vunruble.

They cannot give me all the help i need as an outpatient, even if they see me twice a week. Apparently the situatuon is severe and i could die. I kept saying i wouldn't go, i didn't want to, i couldn't. Then posed with the ultimatum 'Well what else will you do about it?' Nothing left to be said. They're sending a letter so i can go and look around the hospital.

I've never been so terrified of leaving this behind, of gaining those pounds back that i fought so hard to lose. Having a healthy plan set out infront of me, it's all too much. I've never even had counciling before, or any kind of treatment, it seems they're throwing me right in at the deep end.

Am i really that ill? Perhaps this mornings events could answer that. It took me two hours to get up, i couldn't lift myself off the bed. Even after injecting some insulin in desperation. My heart was racing and i was having burning hot flushes over my face. Silently praying for some life to light up under my skin. I eventually made my way to the scales. 80.5-81 Ibs but still not satisfied. Managed to make a coffee and have a few low fat digestive biscuits. My co-ordination is all over the place, i keep missing the space button out on the keyboard and having to correct. Typing with shaky hands and purple nails.

Why can't i see it? I look closer but i just can't see it. If i keep pushing harder where will i find myself? Gone? Tipped over the cliff-edge?

Tonight i might be going out drinking with some friends, i just want to forget everything, pretend none of this is happening.