Goodbye Intensive Psychiatric Station, Hello 6B.

This morning I received the best news yet. One of the leading doctor's, my favorite - an added plus - came into the room, straight up to my bed with a big, ginormous grin on his face and said "There's a bed open for you." At first I couldn't register anything. A bed? I have a bed here...But then I remembered the talks I had with him and the other doctor's last week about possibly moving to a different station at the hospital - one that specializes in people with eating disorders - in three or four weeks when one out of the twenty beds opens up. They said three to four weeks; but now, it's tomorrow. It only took six days after our talks.

I can't believe that it's my last night here; feelings of schadenfreude fill the room. It's too early and it's too short notice, I think to myself. But then again, it's good because the station I'm moving is specifically for people with eating disorders and the therapy that is provided there is much more meaningful and helpful there. I just don't want to leave my roommates here, I've become so close with some of them. 

So, enough with the blogging, time to get packing.

Tomorrow I'll be writing from my new room, in the new station, surrounded by new people and new faces. 

A Perk of Recovery

When I arrived at the hospital, skeletal, lifeless, dead as a doornail, I couldn't move any of my joints at all - I was in that much pain. But I didn't care, because that voice controlled every aspect of my life back then. Now all I hear are thoughts, and even those are diminishing, slowly, just as time is ticking away day by day. It will still take an incredible amount of persistence, strength and time for those thoughts to ultimately disappear - just like that red handkerchief always does when the magician flicks his wand and says a spell.

As I was incapable and unfit to even move from one side to the other on my bed upon arrival here, you could say I was pretty much unable to move at all. But now, as I am slowly gaining my health back, the perks of recovery are definitely becoming visible. At the beginning, all I did was sleep. Now, I don't, obviously or I wouldn't be writing this, ha. One thing that hasn't change is that I still have strict bedrest as my weight is still incredibly low (I am only allowed to leave my bed for my daily shower, or with the physiotherapist). But I'm trying to change that willingly and so I've accepted that bedrest is the best option for me right now, as I know that weight gain is a slow and tiring process.

Now, I am able to not only blog here; I am able to have proper conversations again without forgetting what I've said a minute before, or not hearing part of someone's question - always an embarassing thing, especially when it happens to you when speaking with a doctor; I can make friendship bracelets; I read; I can do things. That's the most important thing. I'm not lifeless anymore, I am finally able to move and live again.

Today in physiotherapy I managed my first 1 km on the stationary bike with no resistance - I feel on top of the world writing this down because it shows how far I've come. I know it doesn't seem like much, but it's a milestone for me. I was unable to even take a step five weeks ago, don't forget, and now, here I am, biking a whole kilometer! Bizarre. I loved every minute of it, I cherished it greatly. Tomorrow I'm supposed to play table tennis with my physiotherapist, we'll see how that goes. One thing's for sure, I'm looking forward to it!

Best News Yet

If you think yesterday was an amazing day, false. It was good, but nowhere near as exuberant as today. Today was most definitely the ultimate day I have wittnessed. Even though I had to say my goodbyes to one of the people I care for the most, my mother - as she quickly (with special permission from the leading doctor here) dropped by on her way to the airport as she is currently heading to Tokyo - and received food over the tube, today beats all days so far. I know I should be sad about my mother leaving my side, of our parting, but I'm so full of joy for her: she'll finally be reunited with my father as well as my brother and just the thought of them being together, in our house, in the environment we put together and feel comfortable in, makes me happy. I'm grinning from one ear to the other right now; that's how big my smile is. I love my family to death.

Now, enough with the family appreciation, although I do love them dearly and am fighting for my life, in ultimately trying to be with all of them again. The four of us, in one place. That hasn't happened since the summer. And that's something I miss and want to return oh so desperately, like a chocolate lover craving his chocolate but being unable to reach the bar that's just beyond his reach - but the smell prevails and continues to torture him and his cravings.

Today at the daily talk with the doctors, I asked about the tube and how I'd been working so hard for the past week, eating three full meals willingly while additionally getting food via the tube. It's important to note that everything was willingly, as in they didn't force me. They would've forced me to eat somewhow had I not done it by my own will. And since I had my "Oh" Moment about recovery a bit over three weeks ago, when I created this blog, I also realized that I need to nourish my body and look after it for it to function properly. And now comes the good news, the leading doctor praised my cooperation and let me know that tomorrow, my NOSE TUBE WOULD DISAPPEAR because of my teamwork and all the effort that I've been putting into this journey. I would finally look normal from the outside. I wouldn't look werid with this thing stuck in my face. Sure, I would still be skeletal, but I would look human and not like an alien with a tube that comes out from its nose. I'm sitting here crying tears of joy just at the thought of it. I'm so excited. Finally.

***instead of getting fed over the tube, I would now receive three high-caloric drinks daily to make up for the calories.