I went to see my dietitian and doctor this week in the early morning, and one of the first things my dietitian asked was if everything was OK, because I hadn’t blogged recently. I’m doing all right, everybody! And much of that is thanks to the time and effort of the healthcare professionals at our hospital, and the love and care of my family (especially my mom and husband). I know sometimes people at big institutions can all get lumped into one entity. “Oh, I’ve been there, the service is horrible!” someone might say after one visit to an establishment. Or “All of the staff there are really mean”. I’ve had my ups and downs with the hospital in our town but this time around, I have only been treated with respect and the highest level of care I could expect. My doctor and the dietitian have been wonderful to work with, and I am so happy that though they may not specialize in eating disorders, they are learning and doing what they can to help me. My doctor hardly even knew me, and one of the first things she did was schedule me for an appointment on her day off…if that isn’t dedication, I don’t know what is. And my dietitian regularly will check up on me via Facebook message, asking me how my day is going, or how I am doing incorporating new additions to my meal plan. This one goes out to you, Cara and Dr. S!
I am happy to be able to say that my doctor told me she thinks I am doing well, and am most likely past the danger of refeeding syndrome (hooray!), and that though I am at high risk for osteoporosis she’s going to let the x-ray screening for that go for a little while, since the most I can do is try to get more calcium. She told me that if I keep doing as well as I have been, I might get to go three weeks between visits with her. My dietitian didn’t have a whole lot of time with me on this morning, but thankfully our meeting didn’t end in tears from me today. She asked me to continue to add what I have been, and to try to add another half cup of milk in with my dinner. I am also to add another slice of toast to my breakfast, and we added an option of an egg sandwich to my breakfast choices. There were smiles and figurative pats on the back all around. They told me they were proud of me. And I know they are. I know I’ve done a good thing. But that doesn’t make it any less scary. This all feels temporary…and I have to keep reminding myself that no, I am trying to cultivate habits that will last a lifetime. I am attempting to bring back what I once used to be: a competent eater.
I used to have all sorts of things to fall back on if I was feeling anxious or bad about myself. Eat too much? Go for a walk. “Feel” fat? Eat less today. Mad at myself for something I had no control over? Cut. Say something stupid? Don’t talk for the rest of the day. Now I have little of those things, or none. When all of your safety nets are pulled away, where do you fall? I know that the fact that everyone says I am doing well is because my weight is going up. I say that is good and healthy. Ed says nuh uh, they’re making you fat. I look in the mirror and see the same old me. Ed says I feel fat. I say that fat is not a feeling anyway, and what is he trying to do, make me crazy? I can’t go run off my fat feeling. I can’t restrict to make me feel good and clean inside. Nope, instead I am sitting in a chair, reading. Feeling my belly full and digesting the food and nutrients I have given it today. I am satisfied. For now.