My Mother

Mothers - they bring us into this world. They nourish us as babies, accompany us through our childhood years and watch us grow into adults in our teenage years. They are always there for us in times of need - a shoulder to cry on. They give us advice. In short, mothers are precious.

My mother left to go back to Tokyo today for the next two weeks and I am okay with that. I'll be strong until she comes back; she will be greatly missed. These last two weeks with her were amazing - she's my backbone; I can tell her anything and everything. The hours just seem to fly by whenever I am with her. She gives me strength to carry on.

So I dedicate this post to you, mom. I love you.

I will end with a saying that I remember way back from kindergarten:

My mother is precious,

My mother is fine,

My mother, My mother,

My mother is mine.

Christmas Cookies

Christmas Cookies have, for as long as I can remember, been a staple item when it comes to the holiday season. From the joy that comes from baking these wondrous, small little biscuits to decorating them in festive colors to devouring that delicious piece of pastry heaven to giving your own creations to someone dear to your heart - everything that springs to mind when hearing the phrase christmas cookie is positive and merry.

For most people, christmas cookies are something they look forward to enjoying. Well, not me. Instead of symbolizing something so grand, every single christmas cookie that I come in contact with terrifies me, exemplifying my eating disorder related thoughts.

Sugar, Butter, Flour, Chocolate - whatever the ingredient, you name it - scares me. They are all fear foods of mine. I know that it's irrational and scientifically incorrect, but I believe that just one bite from a cookie - the teensiest of nibbles - will lead to instant weight gain and make me fat. That's impossible, I know. But my disorder is still too strong and so those thoughts don't go away as they remain to haunt and torture me.

Because christmas cookies are, like many other things, a fear food to me, I find the holiday season more difficult to deal with as you are constantly bombarded with cookies and the likes.

Want to hear the good news? On Christmas Eve, I received a gift from my favorite caretakes down at the intensive station - we were able to uphold the relationship that we had formed. I was given a friendship bracelet (I had made him one previously) and self-made christmas cookies. Self-made christmas cookies. Did I freak out upon this present? Yes, but it did not hinder my actions, my thoughts or my doings. 

I look up to this person so much, and to receive the christmas cookies shown above in the picture turned my world upside down. These cookies look good, smell good, are self-made and a present. There's nothing negative about them. No matter how difficult it will be for me, I decided that I will finish off these cookies; all of them - one by one. Hopefully I will be able to enjoy them as well.

Happy Holidays

I was overcome with emotion - joy, relief, you name it - when I was informed that I would be allowed to spend Christmas Eve at home with the ones that mean the most to me. I had gained enough weight over the weekend and so the doctor's had to comply with their agreement.

To me, Christmas symbolizes a coming together of loved ones where you simply enjoy each other's company in various forms. Additionally, eating, and treating yourself to just that one little Christmas cookie that sits there at the kitchen counter, enticing you - signaling to devour it. During the festivities yesterday and today I really tried to let go of my eating rituals and to not think about what exactly I am consuming every minute of every day. It was incredibly challenging for me to follow my given meal plan though, especially because I had gained so much weight over the weekend - due to the copious amounts of food that were consumed in anticipation of the weigh-in that decided my fate for the night-leave over Christmas Eve. Yet I managed it all. I just thought to myself, screw those thoughts; it's Christmas, so go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it. 

And you know what? That's what I did. I enjoyed my Christmas immensely. 

I love them to death. I don't know where I'd be without them. Being able to spend Christmas Eve with them was the best present I could have asked for.

I love them to death. I don't know where I'd be without them. Being able to spend Christmas Eve with them was the best present I could have asked for.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas from the bottom of my heart. 

Today was Simply Amazing

My whole family is reunited, at last. Best early Christmas present that anyone could ask for. It just wrapped up my incredible weekend at home so nicely. Everything was perfect.

Family photo in front of the Coca Cola Christmas Truck

I love my family. I'm so glad that we're all together for the holidays, even if I'm stuck in the hospital per se. It can only go uphill.

Reflecting On My Progress Since My Arrival

Tonight I went to visit someone who has become a good friend - let's refer to her as A - of mine down at the intensive station together with my mom. Unlike my mom, I have kept up with regular stop-bys at the intensive station, where I myself lay until October 31, to catch up with A. My mom hadn't been down there since the day of my dismissal at the end of October when I was transferred to my current station, 6B. I could see it in my mom's eyes that it was very strange for her to be back at the intensive station; even if it was just to see someone else. All the memories that surfaced in her mind regarding my state when I was there, my progress, simply everything that was somehow connected to my stay there must have been overwhelming for her.

Incidentally, that deja vu effect - or the reflecting on the past - didn't stop at that. Together with A, we talked about how far I have come since my arrival at the intensive station. My mom recounted a few incidents for me that occurred within the first week that I have absolutely no recollection of. I was in such bad shape physically when I was admitted - I wasn't in a coma per se, but I don't recall the first week at all; nothing, nada. 

Additionally:

• All my organs were failing
• I needed to have countless infusions a day
• My blood count was horrendous, requiring me to get blood transfusions and injections because my white blood cells ceased to exist and there was a severe shortage of red blood cells. 
• My weight was dangerously low, resulting in a BMI of around 10.3.
• I was unable to move.
• All my joints ached.
• I was fed over the nasogastric tube.
• I did not consume proper meals.

The list goes on.

Reflecting on my progress, on my journey, and seeing how far I have come and what I have been able to accomplish leaves me feeling good.

The conversation about what I have been through since arriving at the intensive station with my mom and A was hard for me - hearing what I put myself and my body through - yet rewarding at the same time.

A Big Sigh of Relief

Yesterday I mentioned going to bed feeling very tense, uneasy and anxious at the thought of today's weigh-in because of my dilemma. Well, it's over now and I'm still here; standing tall - both figuratively and literally, haha.

This morning was horrid. I was shaking stepping onto the scale and had my eyes shut tightly out of fear. Slowly gaining enough courage, I gradually open first my right and then my left eye, staring at the number. Thankfully there was no drastic change; my weight didn't plummet - it stayed the same. It was as if my prayer's had been answered because the last time I had an upset stomach, I was put on station lockdown as I had lost weight; but not this time. In my head, I immediately started doing a happy dance. A huge sense of relief spread all over my body and I was ready to face the day.

Another incredibly positive outcome of today is that my mom arrived back from Germany tonight. She is now back for the time being. It's good to have my mommy back, I've missed her tremendously.

Second Night-Leave!

My mom returned from Tokyo today and the reunion was lovely. Not only did I get to spend time with her by catching up and getting to know the current news of Tokyo - almost like story time for little kids as I sat there and anxiously awaited every word - I get to spend the entire evening and morning with her as well, as I am at home for the second time :3

Home to me is a placed where you are with loved ones. At home, you are able to relax and simply do nothing but be content with the entire situation; you feel completely at ease.

I'm learning to feel at ease again at home, and, like my ergotherapist suggested and instructed me to do: be capable of relaxing. Tonight was a lazy Saturday night in with my mom - we watched movies, gossiped, laughed.

Goodnight everyone. Now it's time for me to cuddle up in my own bed and get a good night's sleep, dreaming of tomorrow.

First Night at Home Since August

Last weekend, I was given the option of going on night-leave and so I, credulous me, thought that it would be no different this time - that the choice of going on night-leave would be there. Well, I was wrong. This week was eventful to say the least. From the station lockdown on Wednesday to the consumption of both additional eadible calories and liquid calories on top of my meal plan and my first real dining out experience for the past 1.5 years, it's safe to say that a lot has happened with regards to my recovery in the past few days.

On Friday, during the doctor's round, the head doctor presented his case regarding his decision not to give me the option of night-leave and my world shattered into a million little pieces, just like a mirror does when it is dropped. Then again, broken pieces of glass are supposed to give you luck - just a thought. He wanted to give me two day passes that are valid for the entire day, which means that I had the possibility to eat lunch outside in a restaurant or at home on both Saturday and Sunday. His reason behind this, and I quote, "we do not want to rush into anything like last time and take on too much at once." 

Anger-ridden me, because of the situation and his belief, started to argue with him. For 10 minutes I sat there and pleaded my case, trying to successfully convince him and the rest of the team that night-leave would be good for me. With the day passes, I would have two meals in total that wouldn't be at the hospital; I used that as my main point. Thankfully, we came to a consensus - that I would be allowed to go home on Saturday after lunch as long as I returned for lunch on Sunday; which also comes down to having two meals outside. I was overjoyed and full of excitement and my mood altered immediately to a much healthier state.

...I just woke up from my first night at home of sleeping in my bed, with my sheets, in my room. Might I just say that I haven't slept this good since going to the hospital at the end of August - this night was pure bliss.

An amazing good night's sleep after an extraordinary afternoon and evening at home was simply beyond my wildest expectations of what would occur. Yesterday afternoon was spent with my mom and together with her, I organized my room and tried to tidy up my closet - which we achieved. The night was spent with my best friend, who came to look at our newly furnished and bought apartment, and we had a lovely time together - catching up and watching movies.

Having gone on night-leave was definitely the right option for me, as it has given me the incentive to try even harder in terms of my recovery because I want to lead a normal life again. And having a taste of that for the first time was, like I said, beyond my wildest expectations.

Station Lockdown

I'd be lying to myself if I were to say that today was a good day. On the contrary, it was anything but. It might have started out great - I had an excellent night of sleep, ate my favorite breakfast and finished my acryllic piece in ergotherapy - but there's an end to my exuberance, and that came with the doctor's round.

I lost a teensy amount of weight from Monday until today, something that seems insignificant to me as it is such a small number, that I received the worst news to date. For today, I was on house lockdown you can say, as I am not allowed to leave the station at all for whatever reason. That did not play well with me at all. I had plans for today, for tomorrow; and all those got shattered because of that stupid little number. Hearing the news for me was horrendous; I felt like a little child does when it finds out that Santa Claus doesn't exist - completely shattered and full of anger at the world.

That miniscule amount of weight that I had lost can be influenced by so many things - my bowel movement, the cold I had gotten and the extra calories the body now requires to heal that aspect, etc. In any case, it is something that I have no control over and just need to accept. Rationally, I know that the doctor's are only looking out for me; trying to do what's best for my recovery and general wellbeing. It's just hard to embrace the news as it is such a drastic constraint in regards to what I had planned for the following days.

Thankfully my mom was here tonight to cheer me up and reassure me that this is just another minor speed bump on my journey through recovery and won't be significant in the long run. Simply having her here beside me instantly brightens my mood and her advice and knowledge is something I cherish and really take to heart.

I genuinely hope that tomorrow is a day where I feel more stable and am in a healthier state mentally.

Rough First Times

Today was uneventful for a for a Monday to say the least. Usually, mondays are the busiest days as it is right after the weekend - all the doctor's need catching up with the helpers; the psychologists are back; physiotherapy starts up again; ergotherapy begins as well. Stressful, to say the least. There is people running around everywhere the whole morning until visiting hours begin at 2 pm. Doctors, nurses, helpers, patients just hustling about one another in the corridor and dodging between each other in the rooms; it reminds me of Shibuya and the crossing, the whole disorder that it entailed - with people walking and crossing the street wherever they pleased.

As I said, at 2 pm it quietens down as visiting hours start. Everything dies down: all the chaos, the stress, the noise level - all of it. It's okay during the day as it is bright out and the sun is still able to radiate through my brightly decorated windows to keep me positive. But it's a whole different story for the evening visiting hours from 5 to 8 pm. It's already dark out; the hospital lights make you dreary and sleepy; and the thoughts get stronger and louder, just like a lion cub does as it grows older.

So far, I've always had someone be here with me for the nightly visiting hours because of those reasons, so that I would be distracted and feel more at home; it also showed that I have support and encouragement from others. But tonight is different. Tonight is the first night that no one came. A dear family friend had planned to come but tragic events came in the way and it didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. The notice I was given was too short notice to find someone else to come, so I had to figure out how to keep myself sane and positive. And so far, I've succeeded.

Today, I have made 30 origami cranes, 3 window color paintings, written a story, read in my book, made a friendship bracelet, etc. I've been occupying myself productively. Looking at the list just now, I realize that everything is something creative. I've come to love being creative and producing things while being here. It's something I hope to keep up with once I am well and healthy again.

I am able to survive tonight, by myself. I can do this. I have come so far - this is no setback for me. I won't let those thoughts get the best of me, I will get the best of them by staying positive and doing everything I possibly can to occupy myself. Starting with a movie, yup, that sounds good.

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. 

First Whole Meal

Today was hectic to say the least. First off, it's Monday, the start of the week. And secondly, the nursing team, including all doctors, psychologists, etc. needed to be informed on the occurences of the weekend - which took eons, just like mountains slowly changing shape over time, for each of the eight patients here. 

Usually this morning ritual ends at 10, today it ended just before lunch arrived. Stressful you say? You're most definitely right. Imagine Times Square in New York at its peak hour - having millions of people scramble all over the place, hurrying from one shop to the next, the traffic, the noise, the lights; simply everything - it just gets very overwhelming.

To make matters worse, and to add to all the already built-up anxiety, I was informed that I would, from now, eat WHOLE meals instead of simply half of a meal. The additional calories over the nose tube would remain though.

And I managed to get rid of that voice.

I successfully ate a whole meal even though I was anxious all day.

I overcame my fear of eating once again.

I defeated that little devil up there.

I tried to enjoy my food.

I used all the encouragement and support from everyone to keep going, because I know that my body needs all the nourishment it can get to heal and get healthy.

Support from Loved Ones

"A house is made of love and beams; a home is built with love and dreams" - Unknown

This quote says it all. A family is a place built on love and support for each other. The parents cherish their children and would do anything to help them grow and succeed as an indivudal in the outside world. Deep affection is clearly visible between the parents and their children, as there is no deeper bond between anybody else than them - as they are bonded through blood.

It is in human's nature, to neglect this oh-so-important reality at times - the fact that our family is always there for us, in both the good and bad times. That they are there to help us get through the tough times, supporting us one hundred percent, and by trying their absolute hardest to make the recovery to a better life as smooth as possible.

And that's what finally hit me today, sporadically, while I was enjoying my "kitty wash" this morning, thinking about how beautiful it is outside - longing for the day I can finally feel and inhale the scent of fresh air again. Ever since I developed my eating disorder and was officially diagnosed with it in November of 2011, my parents have done everything they possibly can to ensure that I live; to make sure that I survive just another day. We didn't   make plans for the future, as their worries and thoughts that ran through their head non-stop during the year revolved around me and my disorder. They planned how to survive the day with that devil that fell upon me, that chose me and my family. My parents sacrificed all of their time, my dad cancelling most of his business trips during the year to make sure that he is near me and enable to encourage me to eat - regardless of what it was, as long as I ate something to reassure him that I wouldn't go completely without food. A few days ago, my mom told me that she has cried herself to sleep everyday since this all began because she was so worried about me and if I would live, or if the disorder had alread taken over me completely and it was too late to do anything about it.

Even now, while I am at the hospital, my parents are adapting their entire routine around me, ensuring that there is always one of them in Vienna. Here, with me, beside me; helping me get through these tough times of successfully fighting against the voice several times a day. They haven't seen each other in more than a month, and it will be another week before they do. Because, I realized just how much time and effort they have given into helping me get better, they haven't had time for themselves. And so, my gift to them, is getting healthy again and enjoy living because that's all that matters. 

As I started with a quote, I will end with one as well - as it perfectly describes my thoughts right at this very moment.

Encouragement and Support

Today’s been a rough day to say the least - one of the worst for sure - like one of those school days everyone dreads, where the time just does not seem to pass, and you are stuck there for ages, robbing you all of your energy and zest for life. I am emotionally drained, incredibly anxious and am most likely getting a virus.

The day started out amazing, but now, at night time, I’m not in a good and positive mindset at all because I am genuinely scared of the night nurse, whom I have never seen here this past month, and am probably getting an infection as the evening ritual of checking one’s blood pressure, temperature, pulse, etc revealed that I have acquired a mild fever. In most cases, it means nothing, something that you simply have for a day or two because you over-exhausted yourself and need to rest. But for me, in my condition, it’s not good. I already receive antibiotic medication twice daily, which is generally used to lower one’s temperature. But now, with 37.4 C and all other symptoms, I am scared that it will lead to setbacks in my recovery process as my health is still in a critical condition. Panic-stricken, that’s what I am, like the children in the well-known movie Monsters Inc  in which the ‘monsters’ creep into children’s rooms while they are in deep slumber -  dreaming of their fondest moments they have experienced thus far in their short little lives - scaring them to death. I want to get better, to get healthy. I really do not need any more complications. Tomorrow, the doctor’s will be informed and hopefully I’ll receive excellent news, that it is simply my body adjusting and that it is normal to happen; like a student eagerly running home with the biggest grin on his face, showing his parents a report card with the best grades possible. We’ll see. And I promise that to who ever reads my daily thoughts and vents, I will inform you. I’m hoping for the best.

I genuinely hope that by journalling and writing down my thoughts, that I can clear my mind and get rid of that wretch up there that is so dominating right now it is almost unbearable; just like having a big, strong, muscular and tough looking man bawl at you, and scrutinize you only with foul language without stopping. It’s horrible, trust me.

This morning I was finally able to take a shower and now my hair is finally bearable again - conditioned, taken care of, the whole lot. It honestly felt like I was sitting at the hairdresser, getting my hair pampered by getting the best hair cure treatment known to man. Realistically, I know I didn’t, but boy it felt good to finally be able to wash and condition my hair again. There’s even better news: I walked the ten meters to the shower by myself, without the help of a nurse - completely wobbly on my feet - but still. And that’s all because of starting physiotherapy yesterday. It seems like a miracle to me - like witnessing a shooting star soar through the horizon in a flash before it disappears before your eyes - being able to not need someone else's support to walk a short distance in such a teeny span of time. But I did it, I managed.

Then, at the daily round of the nursing team and doctors that occurs everyday at 10 am sharp, like clock work, I was informed that my meal plan would change abruptly. I would now have 1/2 of the typical portions for breakfast, lunch and dinner as well as being fed over the tube, still. Pure horror. Not only that, but I wasn’t told in advance, so I couldn’t mentally prepare myself and try to rationalize with my mind that it is what’s best for me, for my health, and that the experts know what they are doing. And guess what? I managed most my meals today  - with all the help, support and encouragement that I have from everyone around me.

Although regular patients here at the hospital, are able to chose from three different selections for all three meals, I was simply given three today, robbing me of my freedom in a sense. But again, I managed. I was so anxious, so afraid of the food - the voice in my head was screaming like it hadn’t in ages - because it wasn’t things I wouldn’t have chosen to consume. Noodles; I don’t remember the last time I had noodles - it seems like a decade ago - as they became a fear food for me that I avoided at all costs during the depths of my eating disorder; but I achieved to eat almost the complete half portion successfully. At lunch, the psychologist sat with me: comforting me, reassuring me that it is necessary for my body, my health - to try and eat as much as possible from the portion I was served - and was able to distract me from those horrid thoughts nested up there like a bird, still making itself feel at home. But slowly and surely, the voice is diminishing. At dinner, my mother was with me, and she basically did the same as the psychologist. In regards to eating, today was a success I must admit, most definitely.

And then it clicked. I realized how many people are here for me, supporting me through these hard times that I have to endure at the moment. I receive so much encouragement from everyone around me that it astounds me; I am speechless -  just like a woman that finds out she is pregnant and will start a family with her beloved.

So I dedicate this bog post to everyone who is there for me, supporting me in whatever way they can - whether that is by simply reading my blog, messaging me over facebook or another site, as there are so many nowadays that one really can’t keep track, to visiting me and sitting beside me while I eat. So thank you. I never realized how many people cared about me; but I realize now that I am surrounded by loved ones who would do anything for me. Take my parents for instance, they alternately travel halfway across the world from Tokyo to Vienna to ensure that I am never alone. Not to mention all the visitors I receive, bringing me small little gifts - to be honest, it feels like christmas whenever I receive a lucky charm, a card, a drawing, etc; whatever, as everything, no matter what it is, is a sign of love. And that, that alone, knowing that I have so many people rooting for me, gives me the strength to pursue with my recovery.

My window shelf, displaying things brought by people who have visited me thus far 

A lion I was given by elementary school friends that has the saying "Get Better" on it's scarf that I received today, that will now occupy my bed for the remainder of my stay here.

The hospital book that I started in which everyone that visits creates a page of their own,, writing words of solace and encouragement; that I will then forever keep.

Thank you everyone, for all the support. It means the world to me and helps me continue to fight.