First ‘meal’ in more than a month of being nose fed

Last night was a highlight in my recovery process and a milestone in eventually pushing anorexia nervosa out of my life for good, like you would an ex-boyfriend after finding him cheating on you several times with different girls out of sheer boredom he claims, even though you were always there for him, loving him dearly and comforting him in times of solace; almost like an eating disorder voice, only instead of whispering soothing phrases into your ears, it looks down on you, scrutinizing every flaw that you have as a person - both personality and body wise. “You’re a fat pig, you don’t deserve to eat that.” “Do you really need to eat that last bit of carrot? It’ll only end up on your thighs and make you fatter,” You disgusting fat cow deserve nothing.” Having to battle this voice continuously twenty-four-seven requires strength and endurance, like serious athletes training for the Olympics. It’s agonizing pain and tough work that I have to endure on a daily basis. 

The meal I was about to scarf down - as I was anxiously anticipating the doctor’s final approval of being able to eat something - if you could even call it that at all, was cauliflower soup with one piece of rusk. Both were things I loved to eat before my eating disorder. It is a special light diet I am on, as my eating regiment here is being monitored very precisely, even several times daily. 

The importance here is that I chose to eat this willingly and without being forced to, astounding not only my father but the helpers as well. That was last night’s enormous victory; mostly for my mentality, as it showed how strong and determined I have become through my stay here; especially after my ‘rebirth’ on September 18, with the whole idea behind 2 days, half a body that shocked me to death, and still does.

Finally, real food I thought; something other than being tube fed. I felt a sense of relief, of ultimately doing something against these hunger signals that have been foreign to me since August 2011 when this all started; that I’ve been having these past few days. It was another baby step in the right direction, definitely.

The experts here have told me countless times that the time will come when I can eat on top of my meals that I am given through a nose tube. For the past four weeks, I had gotten my meals - breakfast, lunch, dinner with three snacks in between - via this tube that I so desperately wanted to get rid off at first, as I was not fully choosing to recover until September 18, my new beginning, like a pup wanting to rid itself of its cocoon only to evolve into a beautiful, breathtakingly butterfly. 

All I want is to enjoy and feel normal around food again, which will take its time. During these past few weeks, I have been having very few hunger signals, yet wasn’t allowed to eat anything as the re-feeding process is very complicated and there is plentiful of monitoring involved - my blood work, organs as well as the calories and the amount of liquid that my body is allowed to consume don a daily basis to ensure that everything is heading in the right direction and that no complications or drawbacks arouse. I am not saying that drawbacks haven’t happened, as they have, but I have full faith in the experts here.

So yesterday night, I was informed by the doctors that I finally reached the critical weight where I am allowed, not forced, but allowed, to eat a light diet in addition, that solely consists of one piece of rusk with my morning meal, and soup and another piece of rusk for both my lunch and evening meal. It might not seem like a lot to you or anyone else, but that fact that I chose to eat this willingly on top of my regular portion that I receive through the tube for my main meals is unbelievable; so much that my father started crying as he was unable to comprehend what was happening, Me, who has fasted fifteen days at times, was choosing to eat even though the need was no there; but I’ve been having hunger signals for the past few days - which, have been nonexistent for as long as I can remember - and I want to get better, so I sporadically decided to challenge not only myself but my eating disorder as well. And that my friends, is a huge step in my recovery process as I won and my eating disorder lost once again, like the Portuguese soccer team when they face the unbeatable Spanish team with goalie of the year, and one my favorites, Ilker Casillas. 

It felt amazing to be able to eat real food again after such a long time of being fed via this tube - that not only makes me look like an alien, with it hanging down from my nose while being fixated on my right cheek, but it also means that I have made enough progress on the gaining front to not only rely on the tube anymore - and the meal itself was quite delicious if I may say so. 

As previously mentioned, my father was sitting next to me while I ate - watching my every move - on my bed, as bed rest is still an issue, completely incapable of grasping the situation; of my sheer willpower and determination to stand on my own two feet again without needing the constant supervision and daily lab work that needs to be done here. The same can be said for the helpers who were here for their night shift. They were tremendously proud of me and I couldn’t believe how delighted they are of my mindset for being so willing to accept treatment, unlike many of the other seven patients here.

The reason behind being solely nose fed for such a long timeframe is because at the hospital I was in prior, they started to put my body through what is known as the ‘re-feeding syndrome’ in which it is very likely that you end up in a coma and die. As part of the re-feeding syndrome,  you are given a certain amount of calories via a nose tube on top of regular meals and portion sizes that your body is unable to process this correctly. Your inner organs, all their functions and your blood work are so destroyed because it they been used to nothing for so long and the sudden dramatic influx in calories leads to the coma. Had I not gotten one of the eight beds here, I would not have survived; which I later found out through the doctors here and that information is completely hard to take in still, and tremendously shocking to think about how close I came to dying. They gave me two days, at most, if I had stayed at the psychiatric station there. I mean, I would have never seen my mother, or brother, or any other loved ones for that matter, ever again.

It’s been three weeks yesterday that I thankfully received a place here at the intensive psychiatric ward, the best in all of Austria. Only here are they able to nurse my body back to health; it is nowhere near healthy still, but I am no longer under a complete life and death situation; it is still life-threatening though. Blood tests, careful calorie and liquid counting, ECKs, ECGs, as well as daily talks among the four doctors that specialize in anorexia nervosa with two of the top dietitians in the country, occur on a daily basis to ensure that everything in my recovery is moving relatively smoothly.

Upon my arrival here, my caloric intake over the tube was lowered immediately that I continued to lose weight, but was a necessary step to avoid the outcome that would’ve occurred had I not been brought here due to the previously mentioned re-feeding syndrome that had started at the other hospital. Over the course of the last three weeks, my weight as well as everything else regarding my body, has been monitored several times a day to ensure that there are no signs of major complications. 

Also during this three week period, the caloric value that I received increased several times, I wouldn’t know how much or when, as the words weight and calories are strictly prohibited to be talked about between these specialists and me, like the word Voldemort is generally avoided in Harry Potter; they are simply not mentioned. I find it beneficial as I haven’t thought about my weight or how many calories I’ve been consuming. 

This process has been horrible for that eating disoedwe voice up there, yelling, screaming, cussing at me that I’m only getting fatter and am a failure, a worthless piece of blob that does not need to exist. But you know what? Those voices can go down the drain, because again, ever since September 18, my mentality has witnessed a onehundredaandeighty degree switch and I am now fully accepting recovery and the agonizing process of waiting it out here in this psychiatric ward, and to diminish the voice that remains, talking down on my twenty-four-seven - nothing but horrid images, thoughts and demands to me - as much as I can through distractions. 

It is unsure of how long I still need to stay here as weight gain and how fast your body heals and recovers after such a life-threatening situation is unknowing, it is unable to predict and say exactly how long I have to remain here. At least I have reached the first step, and to think that took three weeks is unfathomable, but I am now allowed to eat the given small light diet portions previously mentioned to my main meals that I get via the tube. The next step is to weigh enough to be able to not have bed rest anymore. That’s all I know for now, as the doctors don’t want to promise me anything unrealistic as to my dismissal, so they only let me know what the next step is. It is an agonizing process, but one I need to endure, even when times are tough.

Maybe my blog makes it seem easy to choose recovery, because I try to stay positive on it. It takes so much strength to fight and endure this long and agonizing process, but I know that it is worth it in the end, for I will gain my health and life back. Being on bed rest for three weeks and more to come; having your phone taken away; only being able to communicate through internet; limited space for personal belongings, that need to first be checked by the team in case there is something they consider detrimental in any of the patient’s recoveries; to only having a little night stand; to being forced to wear lumpy old potato-sacks when you are stuck on bed rest; the other patients here, where some, like the ‘new’ arrival that was in my room for a night that I mentioned, scare me to death that I continuously cry myself to sleep; those are the conditions that I deal with on a daily basis.

The purpose of this blog is for me to vent my feelings regarding my recovery. For me, it is a form of therapy as it helps get all the thoughts out of my head and onto paper, or in this case, the blog. 

Recovery is anything but an easy process, if it were, the death rate of anorexia wouldn’t be so incredibly high. But right now, with my mindset, and the baby steps that I am so courageously taking and making, I can sometimes already see the light at the end of the tunnel. And that’s something I’ve not been able to say since August 2011, when this all started to ruin my life.