Tag Archives: hospitalization

Just another Monday

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This morning, I waited about 4 hours for my parents to wake up so I could ask for a ride to the ER…again.

The emergency room I went to has you sign in via kiosk by scanning your ID and selecting why you’re there. They have about a dozen buttons for common ailments. Below that, they have an option to type in your own reason. I was very tempted to type “bulimia’s a bitch” as my reason, but instead just put “bulimia and laxative abuse”.

I was given a room pretty quickly (they know me well there) and was given fluids and poked for blood. My potassium was low. Big surprise. The re-hydrated me, gave me potassium pills and prescriptions to fill at my pharmacy, and sent me home.

When I got home, I was NOT doing well. I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I was feeling very depressed and wanting to stop existing. I had some disturbing internal dialogue that made me realize I needed to get out of my room and do something. I still wasn’t feeling well, but I made myself get out of bed. I determined it would be better to get up and binge and purge than to self-harm in that state of mind.

I came out to the living room and ordered Chinese food I can’t actually afford. I spent money set aside for future bills. However, I feel like it was necessary.

I shouldn’t have to choose between paying my bills or cutting my own fingers off…

Tomorrow, I am supposed to hear more about the partial hospitalization program. Depending on how long they say I need to wait, I may go back to the hospital and demand to be admitted. I am afraid of my own thoughts.

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I even fail at sleeping

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So, I didn’t succeed at sleeping for the next couple days.

I did ignore a call from my case worker because he was checking up on me to make sure I made an appointment with my doctor or went to the hospital, which I did neither.

Since I wasn’t able to sleep, despite the sleeping pills, I did the next best thing. Instead of eating nothing, I ate everything. I’ve pretty much binged and purged and swallowed pills (diet pills and laxatives) all day. Oh, and watched The Wonder Years. Kevin’s getting close to finishing the 9th grade.

Now, I’m…still eating…and introducing my mom to Attack on Titan. I have a pretty awesome momma.

I haven’t exercised at all today because I’ve been too busy stuffing my face. However, I know I’ll get it all in before I go to bed.

A friend told me today that she thinks I should go to the hospital. I explained that I don’t think I need to, and I doubt the doctors would think so either. Plus, I hate going to the ER explaining that I’m there for ED reasons. I know they all laugh inside because I’m so damn fat.

I feel like I have to prove myself in order to be taken seriously. And I feel like my behaviors aren’t bad enough that it needs to be taken seriously. I’m not in danger of dying. I’m not on a feeding tube. My electrolytes aren’t even consistently low. I was fainting while I wasn’t eating, but now I’m back to binging and purging and, while I feel consistently dizzy, I’m not passing out anymore. I don’t even know what I would tell the doctors at the hospital, “My symptoms? Uh…well, I feel dizzy a lot. That’s really about it…”

That’s not something you go to the hospital for. If I still couldn’t eat, I could see going in, but that’s not the case.

I just don’t see how it’s medically necessary.

Anyway, I have a meeting with my behavioral health case worker on Friday morning, which I’m not looking forward to since I’m ignoring him and I’m sure we’re going to talk about that.

I feel like, at this point, there’s just not anything anyone can do for me, and nothing I can do either, so I’m just waiting. Waiting for admissions or waiting to be sicker. We’ll see which comes first.

The Waiting Game

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So I got my call from the eating disorder center.

They say I won’t be admitted until probably the first week of July.

I barely managed to get through the call. As soon as I hung up, I started crying. More like sobbing.

I barely feel like I’m hanging on right now, and waiting 3 more weeks seems like an eternity.

She said that I may need to be hospitalized between now and admission if things don’t improve, and is going to talk to my case worker with the county behavioral health center.

I feel like giving up.

More treatment updates

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I went to the doctor this morning. I was threatened with hospitalization if I don’t get into treatment within the next week.

No pressure.

She is also worried about my heart. My potassium and iron are still low, and she’s concerned the laxatives and diet pills are putting too much strain on my heart.

I will admit, I’m a little worried. I had a friend die in September from bulimia. Her heart stopped.

When I got home from the doctor, I called the treatment center and spoke with the intake coordinator. I explained the whole long story to her, and she set up an intake evaluation for Wednesday morning. It can’t get here fast enough

I’m ready. I’m scared, but I’m ready. I want to recover. I want to get better. I just really hope my insurance doesn’t fight it.

My doctor was really frustrated with my insurance this morning. She mentioned how they won’t pay for things people need, then they get worse, then they end up having to pay anyway, but pay for more.

It’s true. If they hadn’t cut me off, I’d be 2 months into treatment right now. Maybe I would be doing way better. But now, they had to pay for a hospital stay, and instead of paying for the intensive outpatient they need to pay for partial hospitalization or inpatient.

In other news, one of my close friends started PHP today. I’m so proud of her!

Because I have no right to privacy

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So I was checking facebook when I get a message from the friend of my sister. Our conversation goes like this:

Her: Are you ok???????
Me: Yes?
Her: Oh well I heard from <your sister> that you were in the hospital!
Her: ?????
Me: Oh, I’m fine.
Her: Oh well ok.

I’m so frustrated. I didn’t even tell my sister I was in the hospital. For this very reason.

If I want to tell my sister I’m in the hospital, that’s my business. I don’t need other people telling her. And I definitely don’t need her telling other people, especially people I only vaguely know.

I confronted her about it and asked her to stop sharing personal information about me, and she flat out told me no.

Update: I’m home!

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So, Wednesday morning I went to the ER feeling suicidal. Wednesday was terrible and long. Their response was to put a guard by my room and then ignore me for 12 hours.

Leaving a suicidal person alone for 12 hours with absolutely nothing to do is not helpful.

I got really anxious and almost tried walking out several times.

Around 7pm, they brought me dinner. I ate a small portion of it, then went to the bathroom and purged.

Still feeling very anxious, I broke the plastic fork and started cutting.

At 7:45pm, my nurse (who I hadn’t seen all day) came and saw that I had cut and took everything out of the room.

Four hours before that, I had taken my IV out because it was hurting me and I couldn’t get anyone to come and check it.

I stayed in the ER until nearly midnight, then I was transferred to a hospital with a psych ward. Oh, excuse me, I meant Behavioral Health Wing.

When I arrived, they checked all my belongings in and gave me scrubs to wear. They did a skin check, which meant standing naked in front of two nurses while they checked for injuries, rashes, etc.

After paperwork and vitals, I was shown my room. I tossed and turned for a couple hours until the night nurse offered me some ambien.

Yesterday, I woke up with a migraine. I saw the doctor, psychiatrist, occupational therapist, nutritionist, etc, etc. Between these meetings, I slept and tried to rid myself of the migraine.

The program has seven groups throughout the day, 3 meals, and 2 snacks. I didn’t participate in any of those. I tried one group yesterday afternoon, but it was stupid and triggering.

I didn’t eat at all while I was there, and it didn’t seem to be a big deal. I was offered Ensure several times, but it wasn’t forced.

The staff also seemed like they had no idea how to handle someone with an eating disorder. For example, the medication nurse said to me, after asking whether I’d eaten yet, “I wishI didn’t want to eat. I sometimes throw away food so I don’t eat it. Like ice cream and brownies and stuff. And I run 5 miles a day.”

That’s nice, lady. Please just give me my meds and stop talking.

The woman who ran the one group I tried kept talking about weight loss and how she needed/wanted to lose weight.

All the staff were like that.

I didn’t really interact with any of the other patients. I spent most of my time avoiding meals and avoiding the staff and patients. There was one lady with short, red hair. The color was gorgeous. One guy was anorexic, and he was beautiful.

One patient had bipolar, but I have no idea what most of them were there for.

Not much exiting happened while I was there, but I did determine I am too fat to recover (thank you, staff, for that) and that next time I’m suicidal, I’m not telling anyone because I am NOT doing that again.

I did get diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder by the psychiatrist. I’m still not sure how I feel about that.

Well, I think that’s all.

I have an appointment with a county behavioral health specialist on Monday. We’ll see how that goes. At the moment, I’m just not planning to continue recovery for my bulimia.