Hunger Signals, Finally!

Yesterday was the first day in which I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner in God knows how long, maybe five weeks if I remember correctly. I mean, It was still an all light diet and solely consisted of 6 pieces of rusk and two delicious soups If I may say so myself - minestrone soup and herbs soup; both reminding me of Christmas and that heart-healthy feeling you get after eating something prepared by loved ones in times of joy and celebrations. I really can’t complain of yesterday’s food that I was forced to eat, but ate willingly, because I am stronger than that voice in my head. 

Not only did I eat my prescribed meal plan that I receive additionally to what I obtain via the nose tube, I asked for more. More food, that’s right, it’s like a big old slap in the face for that voice up there, because I have started to develop hunger signals. Which is a good thing! I’m excited like a little child at Christmas that is anxiously anticipating to rip the biggest, most decadently decorated Christmas present to pieces under the most beautifully ornamented fresh-smelling pine tree that I have every laid eyes upon. I can’t remember even the last time I felt remotely hungry, and yesterday of all days, in the presence of my father, they came back. I think it’s time for a little celebration up here, with party hats, the signature red plastic cups and the whole ordeal. 

The last time that I had felt even remorse hunger pains was maybe before Christmas, if not further back - that’s no exaggeration. I’m so glad that my body is slowly, gradually starting to heal itself. It shows that the baby steps I’m taking, where I laugh down at that rascal little voice in my mind - being stronger than him, time and time again - like lions against gladiators in traditional gladiator battles back in the day where the lion always prevailed. I know this all sounds splendid and wonderful, like a rainbow gently brushing beautifully over a city on a clear sky blue day, that I can finally feel and distinguish hunger signals, there’s some irony involved.

The doctor’s ensured me that it’s great that my body is starting to function normally to a certain extent, ensuring me that my health can only go up from here, but it takes time and the much required patience. The experts want everything to run smoothly, with as little setbacks as possible, in nursing me back to full health, that they are trying to do everything to ensure that I do not fall victim to the re-feeding syndrome that I mentioned on one of my prior posts. So, in normal english and the way it makes more sense to me, that is without all the medical terms mixed into it; back to the roots is what I’d like to call it, immediately making me think of caveman desperately trying to attempt to make fire by rubbing stones against each other, and my mood is immediately lifted - as the idea to do that in modern times seems absurd - for what I’m about to say.

Although I am finally experiencing hunger signals and couldn’t be more ecstatic, as it is yet another sign that my body is slowly capable of healing itself, there’s a downside, a setback, like there is whenever something seems to be going good for me. Basically, even though I have hunger signals, upon which a normal person would eat something as their body is informing them that it is in need of food; that it needs to be nourished and not neglected, like a cute three-colored cavalier King Charles spaniel pup that has been abandoned at a pet shelter.

For me, the hunger signals are not supposed to interfere with my current meal plan that is viciously overlooked, multiple times daily, by 4 experts and 2 nutritionists, like eagles stalking for their prey in the middle of nowhere. This means that I can’t just eat a piece of rusk or another soup, the only meals my body is currently capable of digesting and as recommended by the doctors.

But no, I need to endure these painful cramps and try to remain positive. I’m not even allowed to have something like sage candy or say, another glass of tea to numb the pain, because everything is monitored so carefully. It sucks, having to deal with all these aches and being able to do nothing about it, but I have to push through with this. It sucks, to say the least; It’s like planning the most scenic, splendid bridal shower only to realize that you yourself aren’t invitied to.

I need to constantly reinforce why I am here at this intensive station - it’s because I destroyed my body and nearly died as a result. The experts are only trying to ensure that I gain my health back the correct way, and that entails avoiding the re-feeding syndrome. I know recovery is a long and agonizing process, but I’ve come so far and there’s no way that I’m going back.

I am stronger than that voice, I can do this.