I am awake incredibly, incredibly early today. I have been up and alert since at least 5.30am, not overtly stressed by the upcoming weigh-in but its obviously stressing me somewhere. It isn’t that any outcome matters overly in terms of not wanting certain things to happen. Ultimately I recognise now that I actually have succeeded in my terms in eating to the level that I always wanted to be able to eat at, and, if not with complete abandon, I have actually been welcoming to the increases throughout that process of learning how to do this. Success in this means that I have very little qualms about whether or not that way of eating is enough to put on weight. It almost doesn’t need to be – I am satisfied with my approach now which I have no been all most of my life and certainly in the last few years. The big problem with the weigh-in, therefore, is not what the outcome will be; it is the fact that the outcome of the weigh-in will be the deciding factor in a lot of things. It dictates in a large way my responses for the day and for the next period. It dictates the way I respond around the nurses – and they around me – and also dictates the way I behave for the next while. The outcome of this assessment of my behaviour for the last few days will dictate how my behaviour will continue and this in itself is very daunting. Oh – and we’re on the Cross of Tension! Beautiful!
Nevertheless successes keep occurring. Yesterday I rang Natwest, my main bank where all my ‘resources’ are fed to. They did not have a valid address for me on file and have been sending everything back to branch – in Yarm! Now I have registered my new address with them, however, and officially let the keeper of my finances know whereabouts I am. Symbolically this means amazing things for my access to resources – and their ability to contact and finance me!
Additionally: I have just been trying to log on to my computer using the fingerprint reader built-in software. Only one finger works effectively because when I tried to register and record my fingerprints my skin and hands were in such a bad state. Through physical deterioration the fingers’ skin had cracked and become not only ingrained with dirt, but also impossible to register a fingerprint. Given that fingerprints are a unique-ness identifying factor it is major that I looked today and my fingers have no marks on them. They’re readable, I have an identity! This all shows me just how a) healthy I physically am but also b) how well I am not only approaching and receiving everything but also how progressed I am in terms of healing and moving back out into the world once more.
GUESS WHAT GUYS: 31.9 KILOS!!! Sod the world, sod them all – sod the nurses, sod the doctors, sod the dieticians and sod my doubts! I’ve done it – and even gained 100grams!!! Which matters!!! Because I still sensed growth space within me – particularly after last nights’ meal. And I feel phenomenal because even if I do feel over-burdened with eating one day I have the willingness to accept supplement drinks now and the openness to have them without the overbearing feeling that I need them. I needed that result. I needed to know that I could put on weight myself, without help. I needed to know that I could eat to maintain my weight, without help. I have had little physio in these days: of that I am very aware. But I have been home, been to Waitrose etc. I have been far from inactive…I walked along the beach for Christ’s sake. And now I can sit here with full vindication, full justification and TOTAL pride – for the first time in my life my food response pride and confidence in my eating is backed up by my weight and the evidence that truly, truly matters. I feel great.
Monday, 30 June 2008
June 30th - blog 3 - my first meal meal
I’m being pulled two ways tonight. Phenomenally, for the first time in more than months I have eaten a meat, potatoes and veg meal – a genuine meal thing which was a recipe that I’d picked up. It was my first response meal and my first real meal – not a confusing jumble which required mayonnaise and herbs in abundance as well as loads of salt and lemon juice etc. It was my Mediterranean Chicken (a whole breast – no that’s absolutely major to have a whole chicken breast) and new potato, rocket and olive salad – yes new potatoes AND olives AND tomatoes AND rocket AND balsamic vinegar…AND (of course) the delightful Greek Basil that I’ve become slightly addicted to. It was like a proper recipe – a proper meal not just a combined mixture of stuffologistical stuff…bean salads with sliced meat or tuna mixes with potatoes…NO this was a MEAL! A RECIPE! A FULL PLATEFUL OF SOMETHING DEVISED BY SOME CHEF AS A MEAL!
And I’m so proud of my body for coping with it. I’m getting regurgitations – and have been since I started eating which I haven’t mentioned, but I know their place and cause as well. My stomach feels quite small and I get very bloated after eating. Trying simply to digest what I have just eaten I get a few regurgitations in order to try to truly take it in and deal with it. It comes sometimes because I’m not breathing properly…and I’m not concerned about them because I know as I gain weight and build up they will lessen entirely to a stop. They are my body’s throwback to when it didn’t deal with food and now it is learning how to do so again – using its old tools when it has a bit of difficulty.
This entire paragraph sounds more sorted than I actually have felt about this – I am sort of settled within the above mentality about it…I think my mind and head is just in a process of trusting my body immensely in doing whatever it needs to do in order to get through this at the moment and I can accept its regurgitations if it needs to do that. Wow, that is something I have never, ever done in my life. Accepted regurgitations as a necessary part of my body’s life – now that it is. I honour that there are times when it needs to happen…I’m shocked by my acceptance. Shocked and surprised and nervously uncertain about its truth. But its true.
Nevertheless – all this so far has been positive. But there is a real concern tonight because I have just changed and I look incredibly thin in the mirror. Whilst internally I don’t feel it and facially it doesn’t seem so I am so worried that I have lost weight – my torso is worryingly thin. I am eating more than ever – snacks need improvement – but I feel empowered by my consumption and truly as if I’m doing things well – especially tonight, by God do I feel it tonight.
But I am worried I have lost more weight. And if I have then a supplement juice mid-afternoon to help me would be welcomed because I do not want to. Something occurred to me just now about the…yes it was the admittance that perhaps my body cannot cope with the amount I require to eat which, in consultation with a dietician or Dr Gordon, would willingly accept defeat and honour its stomach’s size and use the tools in my immediate surroundings to help me out. I can almost see the me and dietician conversation wherein I concede that I would like to respect my appetite and have some help – I can almost sense the experience of resignation without viewing it in the same way as I would have done last Friday. If I have lost weight then I really do accept that I’ve had chance to try – I now eat and eat full ‘meals’ without bastardising or disguising calories in mixes, jumbles or even leaving bits because I cannot cope with the quantity or mixture or amount…I’m not doing that anymore…no way. Not even a scraping of yoghurt do I leave in my pots. Nor do I have the lower calorie options – its just a response-driven consumption that I am proud of beyond belief. And if that – that amazing selfness – is not enough then supplementation will obviously factor in my life and there will be an appropriate way forward which uses assistance now that I know I’m doing it myself anyway. Essentially: without assistance I am eating now, and eating correctly, and I am confident within that. If that confidence has Resource or the like to boost it and build it up then I can accept that requirement. Maybe the confidence is not to boost food intake but to accept supportive intake…perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Let us wait and see…and I am incredibly tense within that.
So much more could I say about today, yesterday, my life and feelings and thoughts…but I’m tired now and do not want to note down any more right now. Except one thing: since my paragraphs about regurgitation my belly expanded and my body has wholeheartedly accepted everything without second attempts and needing to ‘cope’ with it since that writing. I am moving mountains in every second and I am proud of myself, my attitude, my constant acceptance. Most of all I am finally, for perhaps the first time in four years, proud of what I have eaten – not for its calories but for its meal-like representation and its proper-ness. It was real. It was mine. It was also delicious (thank you Mum!)
And I’m so proud of my body for coping with it. I’m getting regurgitations – and have been since I started eating which I haven’t mentioned, but I know their place and cause as well. My stomach feels quite small and I get very bloated after eating. Trying simply to digest what I have just eaten I get a few regurgitations in order to try to truly take it in and deal with it. It comes sometimes because I’m not breathing properly…and I’m not concerned about them because I know as I gain weight and build up they will lessen entirely to a stop. They are my body’s throwback to when it didn’t deal with food and now it is learning how to do so again – using its old tools when it has a bit of difficulty.
This entire paragraph sounds more sorted than I actually have felt about this – I am sort of settled within the above mentality about it…I think my mind and head is just in a process of trusting my body immensely in doing whatever it needs to do in order to get through this at the moment and I can accept its regurgitations if it needs to do that. Wow, that is something I have never, ever done in my life. Accepted regurgitations as a necessary part of my body’s life – now that it is. I honour that there are times when it needs to happen…I’m shocked by my acceptance. Shocked and surprised and nervously uncertain about its truth. But its true.
Nevertheless – all this so far has been positive. But there is a real concern tonight because I have just changed and I look incredibly thin in the mirror. Whilst internally I don’t feel it and facially it doesn’t seem so I am so worried that I have lost weight – my torso is worryingly thin. I am eating more than ever – snacks need improvement – but I feel empowered by my consumption and truly as if I’m doing things well – especially tonight, by God do I feel it tonight.
But I am worried I have lost more weight. And if I have then a supplement juice mid-afternoon to help me would be welcomed because I do not want to. Something occurred to me just now about the…yes it was the admittance that perhaps my body cannot cope with the amount I require to eat which, in consultation with a dietician or Dr Gordon, would willingly accept defeat and honour its stomach’s size and use the tools in my immediate surroundings to help me out. I can almost see the me and dietician conversation wherein I concede that I would like to respect my appetite and have some help – I can almost sense the experience of resignation without viewing it in the same way as I would have done last Friday. If I have lost weight then I really do accept that I’ve had chance to try – I now eat and eat full ‘meals’ without bastardising or disguising calories in mixes, jumbles or even leaving bits because I cannot cope with the quantity or mixture or amount…I’m not doing that anymore…no way. Not even a scraping of yoghurt do I leave in my pots. Nor do I have the lower calorie options – its just a response-driven consumption that I am proud of beyond belief. And if that – that amazing selfness – is not enough then supplementation will obviously factor in my life and there will be an appropriate way forward which uses assistance now that I know I’m doing it myself anyway. Essentially: without assistance I am eating now, and eating correctly, and I am confident within that. If that confidence has Resource or the like to boost it and build it up then I can accept that requirement. Maybe the confidence is not to boost food intake but to accept supportive intake…perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Let us wait and see…and I am incredibly tense within that.
So much more could I say about today, yesterday, my life and feelings and thoughts…but I’m tired now and do not want to note down any more right now. Except one thing: since my paragraphs about regurgitation my belly expanded and my body has wholeheartedly accepted everything without second attempts and needing to ‘cope’ with it since that writing. I am moving mountains in every second and I am proud of myself, my attitude, my constant acceptance. Most of all I am finally, for perhaps the first time in four years, proud of what I have eaten – not for its calories but for its meal-like representation and its proper-ness. It was real. It was mine. It was also delicious (thank you Mum!)
June 30th - blog 2 - observations change
So – here we are on another day. The nurses on duty, only 3 of them; Jen, Cheryl and yes, you guessed it Claire. 3 trained staff and no NAs. Jen is truly a sensational nurse, and must have been having an off-day on the day when I first fell over. She has performed the work of 2 NAs all morning whilst assisting Claire, managing telephone calls from here, there and everywhere, taking control when a doctor in training couldn’t find his way around, picking up piles of towels from the floor and handling all her sister-ing duties. These today are quite onerous because she is sorting out what transpires to be a bit of a mess left after the weekend.
Agency staff are paid nearly three times as much as bank staff. For a bank shift Jen was paid £160 on Friday night. The same staff from an agency cost £500 or more. Yesterday Priscilla and Jane were our trained nurses on duty…only they weren’t and Jen had to pay (out of the ward budget which it transpires she manages) for an agency nurse yesterday that they ‘didn’t really need’. Only they did – because Priscilla was not here yesterday morning and has not altered rotas or told anyone this fact…controversy. Add to this that the agency nurse (Plecidia) completely cocked up on nearly all of the drug allocations. Including Mary who insisted yesterday that she had the wrong tablets…well she did. Not that that changes her negative attitude and the reception she is receiving from the staff on duty.
To whit she just asked for a commode. And Jen marched her to the toilet (she walked better than I can) and is now taking her blood pressure and criticising her defeatist attitude. Its fantastic! Gemma looks five hundred times better and is ‘starving’ – maybe I was wrong about her, but then I sense that she is turbulently emotional and that this impacts her nutritional intake. But then doesn’t it for everyone?
Yeah – it genuinely does. Emotionality affects the way we feel about food – and I have learnt this in an extremely physical and dramatic way. Yet in my emotional correctness now I feel fantastically competent around food. And Gemma, well I see her flimsiness and an attitude that won’t harm her, it’ll just always mean that she eats emotionally – which everyone does and billions of people feel no effect from. My tendency is to over-analyse people’s attitudes and responses to food forgetting that I behave identically, but my emotions and my potential to feel them all and accurately behave in response to all of them were severely limited by my chemical makeup throughout my youth. Gemma probably does not have that problem…she’s just a teenager, a stereotypical, bog-standard, emotionally volatile teenager. And by God is that refreshing…I like not seeing disorder in everyone, just humanity. Food is the first thing that goes out the window in hospital and people are so funny about it. And yet it is just the demonstration of their emotionality at the very fact that they are in hospital and emotional to begin with and their appetites are thus affected.
Understanding that, understanding that people are flimsy and temperamental and I was just the same but only couldn’t feel anything emotional to have authority or assessment capacity within. Well…I like knowing all that I’m learning at the moment. It’s a real observation of reality and not hyper-monitorisation. That’s huge because it changes the way in which I must be approaching my life…and I like feeling a little less tense and hyper-observational about myself, everyone else and everything else I contact.
Agency staff are paid nearly three times as much as bank staff. For a bank shift Jen was paid £160 on Friday night. The same staff from an agency cost £500 or more. Yesterday Priscilla and Jane were our trained nurses on duty…only they weren’t and Jen had to pay (out of the ward budget which it transpires she manages) for an agency nurse yesterday that they ‘didn’t really need’. Only they did – because Priscilla was not here yesterday morning and has not altered rotas or told anyone this fact…controversy. Add to this that the agency nurse (Plecidia) completely cocked up on nearly all of the drug allocations. Including Mary who insisted yesterday that she had the wrong tablets…well she did. Not that that changes her negative attitude and the reception she is receiving from the staff on duty.
To whit she just asked for a commode. And Jen marched her to the toilet (she walked better than I can) and is now taking her blood pressure and criticising her defeatist attitude. Its fantastic! Gemma looks five hundred times better and is ‘starving’ – maybe I was wrong about her, but then I sense that she is turbulently emotional and that this impacts her nutritional intake. But then doesn’t it for everyone?
Yeah – it genuinely does. Emotionality affects the way we feel about food – and I have learnt this in an extremely physical and dramatic way. Yet in my emotional correctness now I feel fantastically competent around food. And Gemma, well I see her flimsiness and an attitude that won’t harm her, it’ll just always mean that she eats emotionally – which everyone does and billions of people feel no effect from. My tendency is to over-analyse people’s attitudes and responses to food forgetting that I behave identically, but my emotions and my potential to feel them all and accurately behave in response to all of them were severely limited by my chemical makeup throughout my youth. Gemma probably does not have that problem…she’s just a teenager, a stereotypical, bog-standard, emotionally volatile teenager. And by God is that refreshing…I like not seeing disorder in everyone, just humanity. Food is the first thing that goes out the window in hospital and people are so funny about it. And yet it is just the demonstration of their emotionality at the very fact that they are in hospital and emotional to begin with and their appetites are thus affected.
Understanding that, understanding that people are flimsy and temperamental and I was just the same but only couldn’t feel anything emotional to have authority or assessment capacity within. Well…I like knowing all that I’m learning at the moment. It’s a real observation of reality and not hyper-monitorisation. That’s huge because it changes the way in which I must be approaching my life…and I like feeling a little less tense and hyper-observational about myself, everyone else and everything else I contact.
Sunday, 29 June 2008
June 30th - blog 1 - edgy air...
I feel discernibly on edge this morning (although have learnt a lesson already – how to spell discernibly!) and just feel wary and as if I want to withdraw from those around me. I suppose there is the sense that it is Monday and there is a lot that will occur today for all of the ladies around me, most of whom came in on Friday without really having chance to see a doctor and establish how their ongoing treatment would progress. There are tests happening for most of them today and that always leaves a frisson of nervousness in the air around us with uncertainty about both the procedures and the timings; always in the lap of the Gods’ and the porters’.
And yet whilst saying that there is a busy day ahead, there are always great swathes of inactivity wherein very little happens. I am not convinced that I slept very well, either which does not help. I had a period in the middle of the night not awake but definitely not asleep where I was aware of a lot of activity going on around me and next to me and disturbing the peace. Nevertheless I am sure I had ‘enough’ – whatever that means – but feel a small part on edge, as I said, about the way the day will progress. It is not that I imagine that I personally will see anyone. Regardless of my development I doubt Dr Gordon would go out of her way to visit me today, nor will a dietician. It will most certainly be tomorrow when I am reviewed by all and sundry. But the ward sister will be back on duty and I am concerned about her power without perceivable right. That’s the most irritating thing that I have just identified about all of these authority figures; power without authority or justification and the ability to make decisions about myself and my healthcare without either knowing me, nor bothering to find out about me and also without any real right to do so anyway.
And she’ll be back today. And perhaps so will Claire, which I always find difficult (although I cannot see her so far). After a delightfully peaceful and smooth weekend it could all transpire today that everything gets tensified again…and that impacts on the way I feel and how easy and/or not it is to cope with the altercations around me…its just a more difficult environment to be me within.
But essentially in pages of waffle last night that was what I was saying. This traumatic time has taught me how to be me – in all situations and with all people. Responding openly and perfectly with beauty in every single moment to the stimulus around me and yet holding my own but giving enough space and openness to the other person – and that is the key. It is the confidence that I must build up in here that I can hold my own space but be as open to the other persons within that. Its really reassuring to know – and that is why that whatever the edginess and tension, the stress and frisson of ‘will I go home’, ‘what will my procedure be’ etc. I can both allow the others to have their worries and life whilst holding onto enough of me throughout – without letting myself be jeopardised nor forcing myself on anyone. I can do difficult atmospheres as well as easy ones.
And yet whilst saying that there is a busy day ahead, there are always great swathes of inactivity wherein very little happens. I am not convinced that I slept very well, either which does not help. I had a period in the middle of the night not awake but definitely not asleep where I was aware of a lot of activity going on around me and next to me and disturbing the peace. Nevertheless I am sure I had ‘enough’ – whatever that means – but feel a small part on edge, as I said, about the way the day will progress. It is not that I imagine that I personally will see anyone. Regardless of my development I doubt Dr Gordon would go out of her way to visit me today, nor will a dietician. It will most certainly be tomorrow when I am reviewed by all and sundry. But the ward sister will be back on duty and I am concerned about her power without perceivable right. That’s the most irritating thing that I have just identified about all of these authority figures; power without authority or justification and the ability to make decisions about myself and my healthcare without either knowing me, nor bothering to find out about me and also without any real right to do so anyway.
And she’ll be back today. And perhaps so will Claire, which I always find difficult (although I cannot see her so far). After a delightfully peaceful and smooth weekend it could all transpire today that everything gets tensified again…and that impacts on the way I feel and how easy and/or not it is to cope with the altercations around me…its just a more difficult environment to be me within.
But essentially in pages of waffle last night that was what I was saying. This traumatic time has taught me how to be me – in all situations and with all people. Responding openly and perfectly with beauty in every single moment to the stimulus around me and yet holding my own but giving enough space and openness to the other person – and that is the key. It is the confidence that I must build up in here that I can hold my own space but be as open to the other persons within that. Its really reassuring to know – and that is why that whatever the edginess and tension, the stress and frisson of ‘will I go home’, ‘what will my procedure be’ etc. I can both allow the others to have their worries and life whilst holding onto enough of me throughout – without letting myself be jeopardised nor forcing myself on anyone. I can do difficult atmospheres as well as easy ones.
June 29th - blog 3 - completing something sensational
I’m back, guys. And I feel amazing. I feel exhausted, tired and still worried and nervous about the energy expenditure vs. intake which has happened over the past few days and in the build-up to Tuesday’s weigh-in but I truly and genuinely feel amazing. I wasn’t going to blog this tonight because I thought I’d be too knackered, but I think its phenomenally important in the completion of any received wisdoms that I express it:
I spoke last night of the need within me for everything to have a purpose. In this journey through my weight fluctuations and illnesses there has always been the dim echo in the distance that one day I would write a book about my experience – be it a novel or a factual account, a help-book or a diary-like story, I have felt that I would always make a written record of it somehow. And recently this need within me has built to understand how to express the process. I have felt the conclusion of this process bring with it the need to tie it up by its expression within a single unit of a book but there has been no clue inside me where to start. My main worry has been that every book has to have a theme, a point, a main issue and something to say and I haven’t been able to identify the point of my life and what there was to ‘say’ about what I have learnt and what its all been about.
Today I discovered it…today I recognised what having a zinc deficiency has given me psychologically – as opposed to just recognising the impact it had physically. Today I pinpointed the lesson for my personality that has been given through having my physical difficulties. And the simple fact that I have identified the point almost in and of itself indicates the conclusion of the process itself. If you know the point, there is no point in continuing in the same vein. If you see the meaning and grasp what you have learnt – well after that, for me in my life, there is no continuance of the process. It always flows for me that the knowledge of what’s been going on comes at about the time when it isn’t going on any more.
And…its about relationships. Its about interaction and behaviour in interaction. It has been a phenomenal lesson which has meant that, through my close personal relationship to Mum, I have learnt how to behave in a relationship so that I am in constant receivership of the other person’s frequency in order to respond accordingly to their space and their needs. The key to relating to others has been shown to me – how to respect the individuality of every unique other whilst constantly holding enough space within a relationship for myself to have the room to breathe as well as the other aura. There is a perfection in imbalance – that see-saw motion of too-ing and fro-ing wherein every moment contains its own measured relating within the atmosphere of togetherness and interlinked interaction. Immensely beautiful has been the way in which I have been given my Mum to learn this from. By her constant objection when I did not demonstrate the correct level of Grace, the correct malleability and patience, the correct adjustment to her space I have witnessed the growth of my own self so that I am now proud of the way I relate to other people.
I am confident – because I am shown every single day in which I see her – that I can relate effectively with other people. I have a personality which I am impressed with – I love my adamant determination to guarantee that I am always in purity and honour wherein there is a perfect respect for the other person’s needs, requirements and behaviours without compromising myself and jeopardising my own spirit in the accommodation of someone else’s. I know I can do this, and I have absolutely no shame in the way I relate to anybody now; it irritates me when close proximity and cloistered-ness in here causes a slight snapping from me towards others. Out of hospital there will be the lack of cloistered-ness which will guarantee that such overbearing-ness never provokes such snapping.
And I have to just continue this thought process for you all – and Gemma showed me this today. The above paragraph has huge implications for my food intake. Interaction with people has been shown me by zinc deficiency, so has interaction with food. The process of emotional connection and processing of food is identical in its ratio within my life (and perhaps everyone’s). And if I am confident in my perfect and honourable conduct within relationships it must demonstrate that my body is confident in its perfect and honourable conduct with food. I am overjoyed (though I mean that without emotion but with appreciation and acceptance mentally) to recognise the importance of my feeling safe and secure within my conduct around other people. I am overjoyed at what it means for my conduct around food. I am just stunned and in awe of where that means I am. And the cloistered-ness of hospital is reflected in the cloistered-ness of my diet. There is no liberation at the moment – it is regular, routine and controlled much like the staying in hospital. This in itself creates the same tempestuousness where sometimes I find it difficult to deal with the restrictiveness and feel pressurised by the routine of my dietary intake.
But, do you know what, every slight wobble doesn’t worry me any longer. Slight wobbles are created within adverse circumstances – those within a ward and those within a restricted diet where I have to eat in circumstances (and live in circumstances) which I would not choose and are not ideal. Such imperfect situations are only temporary, however, and that is encouraging and also means I do not react when I have a ‘negative’ outburst or response (to either people or food) any longer. It is not reflective of my persona and body but is merely a symptom of scratchiness at circumstances. And such things do not bother me…I am delighted to see slight wobbles as such. And sometimes when I am overthinking what I have just eaten I recognise now that my body is just trying to compute it – and my mind follows suit. Everything feels fallen into perspective and I know what I have learnt, I know the major lesson of my life thus far…in preparation for the future my body has a perfect interaction with food and I have a perfect interaction with people.
What comes now is not filling me up or out but establishing my confidence. It isn’t that I am weak it and I need to be stronger, it is about demonstrating my confidence in my self-belief – through interacting with people and consuming food. I am confident that I have learnt how to do both admirably…that means more to me than anything I have ever known, been given or been shown. Knowing that I not only know that this has been the lesson – but also knowing that I have brilliantly learnt the lesson to a degree that I love the way I behave in relationships which is indicative of the way I behave around food…well this just blows me away!
I spoke last night of the need within me for everything to have a purpose. In this journey through my weight fluctuations and illnesses there has always been the dim echo in the distance that one day I would write a book about my experience – be it a novel or a factual account, a help-book or a diary-like story, I have felt that I would always make a written record of it somehow. And recently this need within me has built to understand how to express the process. I have felt the conclusion of this process bring with it the need to tie it up by its expression within a single unit of a book but there has been no clue inside me where to start. My main worry has been that every book has to have a theme, a point, a main issue and something to say and I haven’t been able to identify the point of my life and what there was to ‘say’ about what I have learnt and what its all been about.
Today I discovered it…today I recognised what having a zinc deficiency has given me psychologically – as opposed to just recognising the impact it had physically. Today I pinpointed the lesson for my personality that has been given through having my physical difficulties. And the simple fact that I have identified the point almost in and of itself indicates the conclusion of the process itself. If you know the point, there is no point in continuing in the same vein. If you see the meaning and grasp what you have learnt – well after that, for me in my life, there is no continuance of the process. It always flows for me that the knowledge of what’s been going on comes at about the time when it isn’t going on any more.
And…its about relationships. Its about interaction and behaviour in interaction. It has been a phenomenal lesson which has meant that, through my close personal relationship to Mum, I have learnt how to behave in a relationship so that I am in constant receivership of the other person’s frequency in order to respond accordingly to their space and their needs. The key to relating to others has been shown to me – how to respect the individuality of every unique other whilst constantly holding enough space within a relationship for myself to have the room to breathe as well as the other aura. There is a perfection in imbalance – that see-saw motion of too-ing and fro-ing wherein every moment contains its own measured relating within the atmosphere of togetherness and interlinked interaction. Immensely beautiful has been the way in which I have been given my Mum to learn this from. By her constant objection when I did not demonstrate the correct level of Grace, the correct malleability and patience, the correct adjustment to her space I have witnessed the growth of my own self so that I am now proud of the way I relate to other people.
I am confident – because I am shown every single day in which I see her – that I can relate effectively with other people. I have a personality which I am impressed with – I love my adamant determination to guarantee that I am always in purity and honour wherein there is a perfect respect for the other person’s needs, requirements and behaviours without compromising myself and jeopardising my own spirit in the accommodation of someone else’s. I know I can do this, and I have absolutely no shame in the way I relate to anybody now; it irritates me when close proximity and cloistered-ness in here causes a slight snapping from me towards others. Out of hospital there will be the lack of cloistered-ness which will guarantee that such overbearing-ness never provokes such snapping.
And I have to just continue this thought process for you all – and Gemma showed me this today. The above paragraph has huge implications for my food intake. Interaction with people has been shown me by zinc deficiency, so has interaction with food. The process of emotional connection and processing of food is identical in its ratio within my life (and perhaps everyone’s). And if I am confident in my perfect and honourable conduct within relationships it must demonstrate that my body is confident in its perfect and honourable conduct with food. I am overjoyed (though I mean that without emotion but with appreciation and acceptance mentally) to recognise the importance of my feeling safe and secure within my conduct around other people. I am overjoyed at what it means for my conduct around food. I am just stunned and in awe of where that means I am. And the cloistered-ness of hospital is reflected in the cloistered-ness of my diet. There is no liberation at the moment – it is regular, routine and controlled much like the staying in hospital. This in itself creates the same tempestuousness where sometimes I find it difficult to deal with the restrictiveness and feel pressurised by the routine of my dietary intake.
But, do you know what, every slight wobble doesn’t worry me any longer. Slight wobbles are created within adverse circumstances – those within a ward and those within a restricted diet where I have to eat in circumstances (and live in circumstances) which I would not choose and are not ideal. Such imperfect situations are only temporary, however, and that is encouraging and also means I do not react when I have a ‘negative’ outburst or response (to either people or food) any longer. It is not reflective of my persona and body but is merely a symptom of scratchiness at circumstances. And such things do not bother me…I am delighted to see slight wobbles as such. And sometimes when I am overthinking what I have just eaten I recognise now that my body is just trying to compute it – and my mind follows suit. Everything feels fallen into perspective and I know what I have learnt, I know the major lesson of my life thus far…in preparation for the future my body has a perfect interaction with food and I have a perfect interaction with people.
What comes now is not filling me up or out but establishing my confidence. It isn’t that I am weak it and I need to be stronger, it is about demonstrating my confidence in my self-belief – through interacting with people and consuming food. I am confident that I have learnt how to do both admirably…that means more to me than anything I have ever known, been given or been shown. Knowing that I not only know that this has been the lesson – but also knowing that I have brilliantly learnt the lesson to a degree that I love the way I behave in relationships which is indicative of the way I behave around food…well this just blows me away!
June 29th - blog 2 - an observation coming to me about fellow patients
Today has had the oddest atmosphere within the ward. Mary and Gemma – the two middle-bed patients – are having dilemmas and difficulties. Mary ‘feels so dreadful’ but there is something about the manner which she complains that belies her inauthenticity and unfortunately for her it is so obvious that neither the nurses, nor the fellow patients, have either sympathy or the willingness to demonstrate patience or assistance.
Gemma is having external trouble – her boyfriend has planned something for next weekend when she has already planned a camping weekend. They keep having angry and traumatic conversations on her mobile phone. And the funniest thing that I have been able to identify is Vivian (down the end bed on my side) is being the ‘supportive mother’ and reassuring her that she is worth more than him and that she is young and there are ‘plenty more fish in the sea’. And the worst thing that could have happened has happened – somebody told Beryl how to use the phone. Now every five minutes another somebody calls (or she decides to contact another somebody) and they are each regaled with the same conversation of how she is ‘not too good’ and her night was ‘a bit shabby’ and that her ‘diabetes is up the creek’ and she ‘may have to go on insulin’. So far she has controlled her diabetes using tablets and her diet. Now she is horrified by the knowledge that insulin may be on the horizon but its merely because her diet is more ‘up the creek’ than she’ll admit.
According to those more eagle-eyed than I, she actually threw half of her dinner into her bin last night and when the doctors were called to administer to her high blood sugar in the middle of the night she reliably informed them that she had eaten all of her food and was eating ‘fairly normally’. This woman had sushi, ice-cream and a strawberry cream tart for dinner last night. And then she picked at a bit of mashed potato and sweetcorn. And has marmalade sandwich at almost every conceivable opportunity. I am marveling at the surrounding people at the moment, and I can now see why.
It is the management of their own healthcare and their view of their own situation. It is also a reflection of the role of self-pity in experience and existence. Mary came to Storrington for respite care – a private, privileged home where she was pandered to whilst her husband took a break in Cornwall from his job as her full-time carer. She is now alone and afraid and doesn’t feel great, in a place that is far away from home and whilst she complains of dizziness and headaches and feeling ‘really bad’ she is currently tucking into her dinner and freely passes comment and joins in pathetic conversations moaning and bemoaning almost everything in the world. It’s strange to witness her self-pity and her adamance that every element of her healthcare is wrong. I think that it is to do with the difference between private health care and her foray into the NHS. It is also to do with her whole demeanour (which has just caused her to ask for Bread and Butter Pudding after devouring an entire plate of some horrific-looking meat thing with mashed potato). With a forkful of food she has just commented ‘I just feel so very, very ill’. It’s bizarre – the experience vs. the expression, the truth vs. the reported information.
Beryl is similar to this with the adamance that ‘no-one will sell my flat’ and she has planned her funeral and the attributions of money and resources once she has departed. She also LOVES her family fussing around her. She absolutely revels in the attention of her daughter who did not go to Wimbledon yesterday or today purposely to see her. There is a reassurance found here in drugs, medication and care. There is the bizarre attitude of women in decline to their future. One is fairly silent and continues, taking each day as it comes and seeing what happens. She struggles in near-silence and enjoys her family’s company but is not insistent that they always visit.
One is a permanent vociferous complainer. A hypochondriac who probably does feel a bit ropey but nothing extreme. She is also potentially petrified about the impending lumbar puncture that is occurring tomorrow for her. However, she is a nosy woman asking personal questions at every available opportunity. She cannot accept not talking to people. She regales us of the same stories continually and relates how she ‘gave up walking’, ‘gave up cooking’ and now relies on Marks and Spencer’s ready-meals. She truly feels victimised by life. Nor can she accept the stillness of silence – nor can Beryl actually although her commenting is far more about her own life and pity as opposed to nosiness. She ‘gave up walking’, ‘gave up cooking’
Beryl is facing a heart operation with considerable aplomb but is independently accustomed to her own way of dealing with things and her own life. Her conviction that no-one will sell her flat demonstrates how alone she is used to being in terms of her healthcare and how adamant she is to stay that way. Giving her her due she is also determined not to impose on her children in any way – completely amenable to their leading their own lives and actually paying for any help that she may require in her insistence at not going into a home. However, she does feel hard done by with everything that she views she has wrong with her. It is like the three women opposite me have almost given up. They are almost at that stage where they perceive their lives to be over and so are just attempting to settle into their declines. The way they are dealing with their bodies’ frailties is demonstrably diverse, however.
And all of it serves to contrast with Gemma who is obviously having a traumatic home life and boyfriend troubles and is an immature, incredibly traumatized girl. I thought she was settled but her food habits and her behaviour demonstrates something different and she is attention seeking to the same degree with her hospitalization and funniness in here. Still I haven’t sort of established quite what she’s doing here. And I sense its dietarily related difficulties – she is adamant she feels sick and is not hungry but is patently starving and playing with things. It is behaviour I recognise from when I felt insecure about my body’s relationship with food. I remember the evasive shaking hand thing that I used to have when I didn’t really want it but desperately did…
…which brings me onto the fundamental demonstration of my life…which I have to just leap and jump about for…but might save until the next blog…it deserves its isolation in its own special blogginess of its own…
Gemma is having external trouble – her boyfriend has planned something for next weekend when she has already planned a camping weekend. They keep having angry and traumatic conversations on her mobile phone. And the funniest thing that I have been able to identify is Vivian (down the end bed on my side) is being the ‘supportive mother’ and reassuring her that she is worth more than him and that she is young and there are ‘plenty more fish in the sea’. And the worst thing that could have happened has happened – somebody told Beryl how to use the phone. Now every five minutes another somebody calls (or she decides to contact another somebody) and they are each regaled with the same conversation of how she is ‘not too good’ and her night was ‘a bit shabby’ and that her ‘diabetes is up the creek’ and she ‘may have to go on insulin’. So far she has controlled her diabetes using tablets and her diet. Now she is horrified by the knowledge that insulin may be on the horizon but its merely because her diet is more ‘up the creek’ than she’ll admit.
According to those more eagle-eyed than I, she actually threw half of her dinner into her bin last night and when the doctors were called to administer to her high blood sugar in the middle of the night she reliably informed them that she had eaten all of her food and was eating ‘fairly normally’. This woman had sushi, ice-cream and a strawberry cream tart for dinner last night. And then she picked at a bit of mashed potato and sweetcorn. And has marmalade sandwich at almost every conceivable opportunity. I am marveling at the surrounding people at the moment, and I can now see why.
It is the management of their own healthcare and their view of their own situation. It is also a reflection of the role of self-pity in experience and existence. Mary came to Storrington for respite care – a private, privileged home where she was pandered to whilst her husband took a break in Cornwall from his job as her full-time carer. She is now alone and afraid and doesn’t feel great, in a place that is far away from home and whilst she complains of dizziness and headaches and feeling ‘really bad’ she is currently tucking into her dinner and freely passes comment and joins in pathetic conversations moaning and bemoaning almost everything in the world. It’s strange to witness her self-pity and her adamance that every element of her healthcare is wrong. I think that it is to do with the difference between private health care and her foray into the NHS. It is also to do with her whole demeanour (which has just caused her to ask for Bread and Butter Pudding after devouring an entire plate of some horrific-looking meat thing with mashed potato). With a forkful of food she has just commented ‘I just feel so very, very ill’. It’s bizarre – the experience vs. the expression, the truth vs. the reported information.
Beryl is similar to this with the adamance that ‘no-one will sell my flat’ and she has planned her funeral and the attributions of money and resources once she has departed. She also LOVES her family fussing around her. She absolutely revels in the attention of her daughter who did not go to Wimbledon yesterday or today purposely to see her. There is a reassurance found here in drugs, medication and care. There is the bizarre attitude of women in decline to their future. One is fairly silent and continues, taking each day as it comes and seeing what happens. She struggles in near-silence and enjoys her family’s company but is not insistent that they always visit.
One is a permanent vociferous complainer. A hypochondriac who probably does feel a bit ropey but nothing extreme. She is also potentially petrified about the impending lumbar puncture that is occurring tomorrow for her. However, she is a nosy woman asking personal questions at every available opportunity. She cannot accept not talking to people. She regales us of the same stories continually and relates how she ‘gave up walking’, ‘gave up cooking’ and now relies on Marks and Spencer’s ready-meals. She truly feels victimised by life. Nor can she accept the stillness of silence – nor can Beryl actually although her commenting is far more about her own life and pity as opposed to nosiness. She ‘gave up walking’, ‘gave up cooking’
Beryl is facing a heart operation with considerable aplomb but is independently accustomed to her own way of dealing with things and her own life. Her conviction that no-one will sell her flat demonstrates how alone she is used to being in terms of her healthcare and how adamant she is to stay that way. Giving her her due she is also determined not to impose on her children in any way – completely amenable to their leading their own lives and actually paying for any help that she may require in her insistence at not going into a home. However, she does feel hard done by with everything that she views she has wrong with her. It is like the three women opposite me have almost given up. They are almost at that stage where they perceive their lives to be over and so are just attempting to settle into their declines. The way they are dealing with their bodies’ frailties is demonstrably diverse, however.
And all of it serves to contrast with Gemma who is obviously having a traumatic home life and boyfriend troubles and is an immature, incredibly traumatized girl. I thought she was settled but her food habits and her behaviour demonstrates something different and she is attention seeking to the same degree with her hospitalization and funniness in here. Still I haven’t sort of established quite what she’s doing here. And I sense its dietarily related difficulties – she is adamant she feels sick and is not hungry but is patently starving and playing with things. It is behaviour I recognise from when I felt insecure about my body’s relationship with food. I remember the evasive shaking hand thing that I used to have when I didn’t really want it but desperately did…
…which brings me onto the fundamental demonstration of my life…which I have to just leap and jump about for…but might save until the next blog…it deserves its isolation in its own special blogginess of its own…
June 29th - blog 1 - Sunday morning observations...
The air this morning is difficult to discern thus far. I have not yet identified (though probably will during the course of writing this blog) who is on duty today. As far as I’ve got is fancying a Weetabix instead of Shredded Wheat and a plan to bide my time in terms of requesting that because I need to judge who is on to respond to whether it is worth asking and being doubly difficult in my breakfast request than the mere simple obtaining of a bowl. It’s a weird way to judge ones life but it is the way I live in here – the constant evaluation from a physical perspective of whether there is a point or not in asking a question and how difficult and/or not it is going to be to obtain the outcome of the request. It makes every decision dependent on who is looking after me and perhaps this, rather than an ego or emotional factor, is why it is so important to me that I feel supported and encouraged by the staff in charge of my care as opposed to judged and vilified.
I hear Jane’s voice in the distance and she tends to be brusque but supportive. She is, however, showing somebody new where everything is – that means there’s a new NA working today. The breakfast trolley is here and there is a distant discussion ensuing about how to serve breakfast but I cannot identify the voices involved. The curtains are also still fairly drawn making seeing anything a bit difficult. This is the way my life is lived in here and is perhaps the most realistic description of most of the momentary silences that I have ever given. There is a perpetual wariness, an environmental and person sensitivity which constantly keeps one ear to the ground, one eye on the door and one tentacle tuned in to the goings on both within the room and just outside the door at the nurses’ station. Whilst sometimes this constant attunement may lead me to the over-analysis and interpretation of the atmosphere it is the only way to guarantee that I have advanced warning and insight into the temperament of both the people and the day. I feel far more comfortable in perpetual alertness and monitoring than without.
Last night there was yet another brand new trained nurse on duty. She was perfectly amenable but just a little green…and the new NA this morning looks lovely – and Alison is the other NA on duty. She is the most difficult because she is flimsy. She is sometimes supportive, sometimes difficult, occasionally totally on my side and occasionally completely difficult to read and complicated to interpret. I will, however, potter out to ascertain if there is a spare Weetabix. I will, however, wait until she has served the rest of the breakfasts…it is her who (where food is concerned) plays by the rules in terms of the amount and order in which she distributes things. There is a forgetfulness and conscientiousness which comes with both youth and veteran-ness…she is both trained adequately but sufficiently humble in her young age to create a strange combobulated approach which is neither confident (whilst being supremely so) nor weak (whilst following rules and her way of doing things which demonstrates a potential insecurity somewhere). All this in-depth analysis belies what is actually a genuine heart and genuine interest, but there is a little reservation within her – a hard shell which is impenetrable, particularly since her return from holiday, and it gives her demeanour a slightly unreadable edge. This, of course, is always supremely uncomfortable to someone who makes her life decisions and gains her security from reading people and the environment…it makes dealing with her a constant eggshell stepping operation which is more difficult than others sometimes. There is a predictability with some people and an emotional variety and temperamentalness with others – Alison is one of the others!
And there was in actual event no Weetabix available. Not that Alison was the one I asked. Nevertheless, Shredded Wheat was fine and I’m starting the day…it’s a good job I’m not trying to do this alone using hospital-given nutrition. They haven’t even sent up enough breakfasts for patients this morning. There is also a new trained nurse today so it should be interesting round on the ward where everyone is learning ropes and feeling disconcerted and new. Thankfully I am staging my escape – but right now I’m going to have a cup of tea and finish my bread…yes bread not toast! Nevertheless, it is calories and marmalade is something I fancy today…God this blog must resemble a food diary! Hope all of you reading are well and enjoying Sunday relaxation – all in bed at this time I hope!
I hear Jane’s voice in the distance and she tends to be brusque but supportive. She is, however, showing somebody new where everything is – that means there’s a new NA working today. The breakfast trolley is here and there is a distant discussion ensuing about how to serve breakfast but I cannot identify the voices involved. The curtains are also still fairly drawn making seeing anything a bit difficult. This is the way my life is lived in here and is perhaps the most realistic description of most of the momentary silences that I have ever given. There is a perpetual wariness, an environmental and person sensitivity which constantly keeps one ear to the ground, one eye on the door and one tentacle tuned in to the goings on both within the room and just outside the door at the nurses’ station. Whilst sometimes this constant attunement may lead me to the over-analysis and interpretation of the atmosphere it is the only way to guarantee that I have advanced warning and insight into the temperament of both the people and the day. I feel far more comfortable in perpetual alertness and monitoring than without.
Last night there was yet another brand new trained nurse on duty. She was perfectly amenable but just a little green…and the new NA this morning looks lovely – and Alison is the other NA on duty. She is the most difficult because she is flimsy. She is sometimes supportive, sometimes difficult, occasionally totally on my side and occasionally completely difficult to read and complicated to interpret. I will, however, potter out to ascertain if there is a spare Weetabix. I will, however, wait until she has served the rest of the breakfasts…it is her who (where food is concerned) plays by the rules in terms of the amount and order in which she distributes things. There is a forgetfulness and conscientiousness which comes with both youth and veteran-ness…she is both trained adequately but sufficiently humble in her young age to create a strange combobulated approach which is neither confident (whilst being supremely so) nor weak (whilst following rules and her way of doing things which demonstrates a potential insecurity somewhere). All this in-depth analysis belies what is actually a genuine heart and genuine interest, but there is a little reservation within her – a hard shell which is impenetrable, particularly since her return from holiday, and it gives her demeanour a slightly unreadable edge. This, of course, is always supremely uncomfortable to someone who makes her life decisions and gains her security from reading people and the environment…it makes dealing with her a constant eggshell stepping operation which is more difficult than others sometimes. There is a predictability with some people and an emotional variety and temperamentalness with others – Alison is one of the others!
And there was in actual event no Weetabix available. Not that Alison was the one I asked. Nevertheless, Shredded Wheat was fine and I’m starting the day…it’s a good job I’m not trying to do this alone using hospital-given nutrition. They haven’t even sent up enough breakfasts for patients this morning. There is also a new trained nurse today so it should be interesting round on the ward where everyone is learning ropes and feeling disconcerted and new. Thankfully I am staging my escape – but right now I’m going to have a cup of tea and finish my bread…yes bread not toast! Nevertheless, it is calories and marmalade is something I fancy today…God this blog must resemble a food diary! Hope all of you reading are well and enjoying Sunday relaxation – all in bed at this time I hope!
Saturday, 28 June 2008
June 28th - blog 2 - purpose = pleasure
Today has been shite in terms of atmosphere. The antagonism in the background environment has been absolutely disastrous – the women opposite me have verbal diarrhoea and busybody-ness and just general oldness that probably manifests itself because they are old, scared and frightened of what is happening to them. But the whole environment has been horrifically uncomfortable. It is like I am scratched by their behaviour and attitudes and their forcing themselves and their loudness upon everyone else. The environment around has also stunk today – its been one of those anyhow, heavy, nothing-ness days wherein everything as seemed oppressive and just dissatisfactory.
But – and it’s a big but – its been a phenomenal day. I broke out and went for a spin in a wheelchair around Waitrose. How fantastic! And I had the most sensational and amazing dinner which I felt genuinely proud of and delighted in the eating thereof. It was miraculous – it was delicious – it was wonderful and with added black Kalamata olives and Greek Basil from my recent shopping outing it was the best dinner I have yet had. I then knew that I needed a Prune Yoghurt and it was delicious – it was just all delicious and perfect.
This was after a successful and responsive lunch wherein everything there was also selected and enjoyed…it just worked and I was hungry and wanted it and ate it and enjoyed it and it was enough. I have actually succeeded today – its not been a ‘learning’ day, its been a day when my body has contributed to itself and its future, and I am incredibly proud of it for being at that stage. It slightly lessens (although does not totally lessen) the fear of Tuesday. I am delighted with the increase that tonight has shown possible and desired. I feel as if there has been such significant increase since my early dinners that I am truly and genuinely proud. It is not quite 2000 calories and therefore weight-gaining yet, I don’t sense. But I certainly hope and believe that the quantity I consumed today was a maintaining weight diet – at which I am delighted.
And that’s it. I don’t want to go on forever, I’ll let you all know more about everything tomorrow – not that there is a lot else to tell. I had a fun afternoon investigating the local environs and discovering the true distance of my bed from civilisation and the haven that is Waitrose. It was truly enjoyable and followed by a pleasurable meal…there has been not a lot of attitude to counter today and sometimes I know that there is more challenge and therefore I enjoy more the days when I do have to face challenges and struggle against opposing forces. I delight in the complaint but also I love the correction of the principles and the beliefs which fuel the altercations which can occur when I am being challenged. I know it is inherent within me to thrive on opposition, especially when I am in the ‘right’ and when there is something I am well within correctness to challenge and strive against. So days when there is neither support and encouragement nor challenge and hardship feel empty and without progress. The exploration today was my achievement but I felt until that moment without a purpose in my day.
And that’s my revelation for tonight – that every day does not have to be productive, but it does have to have its own mini-purpose. Whether that is standing up for myself, behaving correctly, receiving encouragement…it can be anything at all but it feels as if my time has contained something worthwhile and whether it is an achievement, progress, wisdom gained or something actually done or simply said, felt, understood or recognised – I like my days to contain some sort of discernable something – a purpose. And its tough for me when mornings or afternoons yawn without aim or perceptible purpose that will arrive…
Tomorrow is a trip home. I cannot wait. It’s a day wherein I can have the purpose of experiencing my home environment and my Mum and have that to give me enjoyment in my day…yay!
But – and it’s a big but – its been a phenomenal day. I broke out and went for a spin in a wheelchair around Waitrose. How fantastic! And I had the most sensational and amazing dinner which I felt genuinely proud of and delighted in the eating thereof. It was miraculous – it was delicious – it was wonderful and with added black Kalamata olives and Greek Basil from my recent shopping outing it was the best dinner I have yet had. I then knew that I needed a Prune Yoghurt and it was delicious – it was just all delicious and perfect.
This was after a successful and responsive lunch wherein everything there was also selected and enjoyed…it just worked and I was hungry and wanted it and ate it and enjoyed it and it was enough. I have actually succeeded today – its not been a ‘learning’ day, its been a day when my body has contributed to itself and its future, and I am incredibly proud of it for being at that stage. It slightly lessens (although does not totally lessen) the fear of Tuesday. I am delighted with the increase that tonight has shown possible and desired. I feel as if there has been such significant increase since my early dinners that I am truly and genuinely proud. It is not quite 2000 calories and therefore weight-gaining yet, I don’t sense. But I certainly hope and believe that the quantity I consumed today was a maintaining weight diet – at which I am delighted.
And that’s it. I don’t want to go on forever, I’ll let you all know more about everything tomorrow – not that there is a lot else to tell. I had a fun afternoon investigating the local environs and discovering the true distance of my bed from civilisation and the haven that is Waitrose. It was truly enjoyable and followed by a pleasurable meal…there has been not a lot of attitude to counter today and sometimes I know that there is more challenge and therefore I enjoy more the days when I do have to face challenges and struggle against opposing forces. I delight in the complaint but also I love the correction of the principles and the beliefs which fuel the altercations which can occur when I am being challenged. I know it is inherent within me to thrive on opposition, especially when I am in the ‘right’ and when there is something I am well within correctness to challenge and strive against. So days when there is neither support and encouragement nor challenge and hardship feel empty and without progress. The exploration today was my achievement but I felt until that moment without a purpose in my day.
And that’s my revelation for tonight – that every day does not have to be productive, but it does have to have its own mini-purpose. Whether that is standing up for myself, behaving correctly, receiving encouragement…it can be anything at all but it feels as if my time has contained something worthwhile and whether it is an achievement, progress, wisdom gained or something actually done or simply said, felt, understood or recognised – I like my days to contain some sort of discernable something – a purpose. And its tough for me when mornings or afternoons yawn without aim or perceptible purpose that will arrive…
Tomorrow is a trip home. I cannot wait. It’s a day wherein I can have the purpose of experiencing my home environment and my Mum and have that to give me enjoyment in my day…yay!
June 28th - blog 1 - amazement...!
I haven’t blogged today, despite three separate ones yesterday – I obviously communicated myself out! And its also a Saturday, the day where things begin to die in hospital – probably literally as well as metaphorically. Throughout my stay (3 months now, officially) I have very rarely had my blood taken on a Saturday and yet today there was a phlebotomist here to do precisely that. It illuminated for me the other concern of the dieticians and the doctors now I am eating my own choice of food – the nutritional balance. I suppose it is also an element I didn’t consider in the change from all-drinks to all-foods – the nutritional makeup of my body will alter; has altered. I don’t know what this means or what changes will have occurred. I also doubt immensely whether the blood tests that they run will be able to detect any discernable alterations in the way my body works but it is a thought about contacting Jane Fini and questioning whether there is anything I need more of or less of, now that I am eating my nutrition and it is not being ‘regulated’. Perhaps this is why I feel healthier now than when I was drinking my sole source of energy and ‘goodness’.
And Jen this morning asked if I wanted ‘anything else’ with my Multi-Vitamin tablet. I don’t know what I picked up from her tone – an almost reluctance to ask, perhaps only because she knew I would be forced to refuse. Ultimately it was her to whom I expressed my concerns and feelings first yesterday: she weighed me first thing as she was ending her night shift. It was to her that I insisted they cancelled the weight and re-weighed me, and her with whom I discussed for the first time the new-ness of the regime.
Beyond this I have little to say today. I don’t really know whereabouts I am, is perhaps the reason behind this. There is nothing specific to say, to note or to feel today. There is simply a large emptiness which always comes in the vacuous-ness of inactivity which descends over the weekend. I would love to have lots to write but there is nothing much to say.
I slept OK last night, although I woke up regularly and in some quite considerable discomfort. I made it through, however without too much difficulty and only staying awake for a few short-ish periods throughout the night. I was awake early, as always, and reading. I felt – and possibly still feel – tired. There was an enormous outpouring of stuff that happened yesterday. The strength that I had to demonstrate I do not often acknowledge, perhaps its real and perhaps imagined but there was definitely activity even in inactivity yesterday, whereas today there is a spaciousness in the air which in and of itself is a little uncomfortable and disconcerting.
I also have few observations today. The ward isn’t quiet – its challenging with two old women opposite who are immensely cantankerous in their expressions and their discussions and incredibly difficult people to deal with. There is such difficulty in their manners and I go through periods of great patience but more often than not I wish that the world would disappear – or at the very least I long to vacate myself from what feels sometimes like incarceration. At others though everything just is. Its OK, it ticks over, it does, I survive, its fine…there is absolutely nothing to say. I could comment on many things but sometimes there is little value in expressions…I wish that my silence would rub off on the women opposite.
Expression – it is just an overshare, just too much, too in my face.
And why is someone celiac eating Lasagne and Eve's pudding i.e. apple sponge? And why is she playing with it – putting the lid on, taking it off, putting it on, taking it off and munching a few mouthfuls…And how long do I have to wait before she dashes out to the toilet? How long will It be until Mary asks (yet again) for someone to contact her husband to bring in medication despite constant reassurance that she will have everything she needs from pharmacy? How long will it be until Beryl mentions (yet again) that she has more wrong with her than she knows and that she has planned her funeral and that this NHS is the worst experience she has ever had? And how long before I am asked if I want a Resource? Oh shut up Victoria – practice silence.
The only problem with being silent right now and NOT writing to you is that the inactivity will then persist. If I do not write to you there is little to do – and so here again I come to that art course…? Umm…don’t sense its quite right. And I come to the novel/book/writing…is there anything there to be told yet? Have I found the point of my story yet?
(Oh and by the way – Mary has just asked if someone has rung her husband and pestering about ringing. Beryl has said she has ‘everything and the kitchen sink to deal with’ and complaining about her ‘floaters’ and not having had any lunch – oh and passing judgement on Mary’s ‘slippers – I need my slippers…someone ring my husband about my slippers…). Gemma is (mercifully) still in her bed and eating…oh god…the delights of hospitalisation. I’m going to leave you all to your sanity and normality now.)
Friday, 27 June 2008
June 27th - blog 3 - desires and hopes...
There is a lot going on tonight. Whilst there is very little practically happening (to the extent that I have been reliably informed by Claire that I cannot have my dressing done until the night staff take over) there are a lot of external forces attempting to diminish my spirit. The ‘lots going on’ comes from the fact that they are very nearly succeeding. Despite my strength there have been moments of severe weakness today – probably precipitated by the weakness in my legs and body after a little loss of weight and the lessening of my medication. My legs really hurt tonight in the shins where they used to. It really affects me that Claire has such a negative attitude. I am concerned about Alison’s truthfulness, and I haven’t seen Jane but know that she is fairly set in her conceptual ways. Mostly I am disheartened by the dietician’s insistence that I ‘really need to be on supplement drinks’ (her stress marks, not mine) and her lack of honesty in discussions with me where she agreed that I had done well and would be given until Tuesday to be suggested supplements for again. And beyond all of this, something that I have held off all day until this evening, is my own upset and depression.
By no means did I expect to have gained weight but I am, despite everything I logically know about the intake of food vs. the intake of liquid supplements (and the amount that I then had to work) I feel that there has been little appreciation for the emotional impact on me today of a weight loss. I know I have been conservative, reserved and almost played and experimented with the eating thus far. It has been experimentation and as such has been journeys of discovery nutritionally as opposed to calorifically oriented. There is no problem with upping things – I suppose here is where I have a privilege of fearlessness over the nurses and dieticians. I know that there genuinely isn’t, whereas they have no guarantees of that intent and capacity. And yet there is the feeling that beyond and above all of this I am responding in old ways to old stimuli despite there being entirely different foundations now. I respond with shame and guilt, despite meeting criteria and being proud of what I eat. I imagine fault and blame myself, despite me actually doing things that are quite impressive. So unused am I to nutritional success and improvement, congratulations and warranting praise, that I am almost pre-programmed to apologise and feel defensive despite being right.
More than this – and the most thing that I can touch on tonight – is my own upset. And my own fear. I am so frightened that I will not eat enough between now and Tuesday to prove myself. My mind is petrified that my life will not contain enough success to demonstrate in action the truth of my underlying foundations, faith and strength. I am worried that the result come Tuesday weighing will not reflect the sanity, the lack of mental health requirement, the facts of my enthusiasm, delight and desire to eat. I deserve that to be something that works, but I have no guarantees and at this moment in time, after a stressful day having to defend and be strong against other people, I have no wherewithal or desire to convince myself that everything will be fine, or indeed inform myself that everything will be as it should be. All I can do is be consumed by a passionate…fear is not the word…it’s a prayer. Its beautiful because it’s a passionate hope – and that is the only motivation that I truly praise and feel is correct for my thoughts within my life – a passionate hope that life this time contains success nutritionally and materially so that my aim to put on weight through eating (or at the very, very least, maintain weight) will be achieved. I hope beyond hope beyond hope that there is that end to this week of eating. The manifestation of weight gain, because I ate enough. I am frightened that this won’t happen and I hope to God that there is the life I desire (Resource-free eating weight) in my trajectory and on my horizon. I don’t feel I deserve it or ‘should have it’ – I just sense that that would be pure bliss for me and really help me in my ongoing reputation both within this ward and with those monitoring me from further afield.
More than that it will also be the step in the right direction towards health, leaving here and starting living properly – in total responsivity to more stimuli than the confines and limitations of hospitalisation where I behave as well as I can given the restrictions placed upon me by my location, situation and circumstances. For tonight I am exhausted – emotionally and in my legs, my heart and self…my self is exhausted through having to hold itself strong all day…and all I do is pray…hoping for the life I would love to have.
June 27th - blog 2 - further assessments
OH MY GOD…there is an over-intrusive element set up as soon as you share a little of your story. There is a phenomenal over-attitude from Gemma – commenting and trying to help in everyone’s health care – telling people that the IceCream “definitely is diabetic” and that “the more you worry about it the worse it will be” and basically just being loud and loud-mouthed. And then the girl at the far end who had anorexia when she was younger tried to empathise and I put her to rights with an assertiveness which demonstrated my annoyance. Whilst yesterday the inactivity was the difficulty that I was going through, today there is too much talking, everyone is too in my face...the woman opposite asking random questions and me just being irritated with it all. Bad behaviour – which I hate.
THEN Claire comes up to me and puts a food intake diary in my folder and starts patronising me by asking me what I had for breakfast and says I ‘should be on one’. And whilst this is all well and good because it demonstrates something I did spend time asserting that I am not an eating disorder patient and the reason I am not at St George’s is because I should not be being treated like one. I expressed that I felt the patronising attitude of being asked what I ate just maximises the whole focus on it – to have someone coming up to me every five minutes is boring. I asked if I could fill it in myself and she agreed but I did disagree with her and said, “I am not here because I am an eating disorder patient, Claire, I am here because I desperately need building up. I feel immensely patronised by being monitored every five seconds and the dietician told me that it was unnecessary on Tuesday. Why, all of a sudden, am I being put on a food intake chart?” Apparently, legally they are obliged to do this. Legally they haven’t for the last few days…
…oh blah. I know I am reacting out of a matter of principle at being treated like I am not eating although I am. And I have no qualms about what I am eating – which I did at Darlington and so hated being monitored for – which means that they are perfectly able to watch and know…so its no big deal really. Its just the attitude of Claire to be 100% honest. I can tell she doesn’t believe me. And for her to be on duty on the day that I am weighed once more, without her having spent any time with me over the last few days, well that is just bad luck once again – and obviously the lesson is…no I can’t see the lesson right now, except to change my attitude where an older me would have been reticent about them knowing what I’d eaten because I wouldn’t have been ‘proud of it’ – like I was saying last night. The pride I now take in my intake means I should love to fill in a little chart at the end of my bed. The ‘but’ comes from the fact that I feel there is cynicism behind their treatment of me, and it is a derogatory perspective which I could well…
…I was going to say ‘well do without’. But I’ve just seen something major – and perhaps this is the lesson from having these nay-saying attitudes around me today of all days. It doesn’t matter what attitude the nurses have. It has mattered whilst I’ve been progressing, starting, establishing and discussing how I was going to start to do this. Now I feel this has been established there is very little mattering about their opinions. They can think what they like – and this is the first time I’ve not just known that logically but its ‘occurred’ to me by bubbling up from inside my body. My body doesn’t mind what they think anymore because it knows it eats – and its eating for it’s health and there is no shame in what I am eating in order to satisfy that end. And its beautiful that I forgot part of my mid-morning snack when I told Claire about it…I’ve never forgotten something I’ve consumed before. Things must be changing.
And yes, I was trying desperately to have a problem with the food intake chart and the attitude and the cynicism. Up until now I have wanted support and belief and a lack of judgement. I have needed it when I have been so surrounded by their energies. And yet there is only so much breath I can waste. When I am asked by the girl in the end bed if I am ‘alright’ after my altercation there is every tendency to fall back into allowing myself to feel weakened by my treatment. But I don’t, not really. The principle stinks, but there is no energy to revolt against it because it is unnecessary. I have no shame about what I am eating – they can know, they can analyse and they can sit and swivel if they think that I am not going to continue eating, breathing, living and healing throughout their negativity and/or positivity. A demonstration of what they think of me is that Claire thought I’d only had a Shredded Wheat for breakfast. How narrowed their view – that that would be all I would eat and that that would be something that someone like me would eat. It would be something an anorexic trying to avoid calories would eat, but not me – not me, no way. So I put her straight and set her right and I will continue to do that over and over again. If people have held a judgement of me before my words have had to convince them that their assessment was off the wall…now my behaviour can…
…and THAT is why there is a food chart at the end of my bed – and why I can embrace it without feeling the need to surreptitiously document things in my private notebook. I can proudly write – for every nurse, doctor, dietician and psychiatrist to see – my food intake in the green folder at the end of the bed. And I have no qualms now (thank God for this blog!) about doing so…
Thursday, 26 June 2008
June 27th - blog 1 - assessments
It was strange for me to blog last night (you can read that first if you haven't yet seen it!), but important. It was disconcerting so far in what I had been eating to be at a complete place of acceptance of my body’s lessons yet feel anxious about the way the world was going to receive the outcome of those lessons. Whilst I felt – and expressed to Mum yesterday – completely at home and delighted with the way I could and can perceive my body is responding to different foodstuffs to become accustomed to nutrition again, the rest of the world is not like me in their perspective and this morning is the day where their judgements of where my journey has needed to go become relevant once more. I do not know where that is going to be until I am weighed: this should be soon.
Until then, I am pleased I blogged last night because it means I have will not lose that congratulatory feeling if I am taken by surprise by the scales this morning. It was important for me to feel pride within those observations of my journey – it wasn’t just an appreciation of a ‘process’, it was success within that process – which only served to increase my appreciation of my progress.
This morning, however, the main thing is the pain. It was excruciating through the night – reminiscent of the nights where I had to be turned. I am beginning to recognise the role of morphine in the easing of the muscular ache that I am permanently exposed to through living, lying and mobilising the way I do. Every hour to two hours I awoke with aching in every muscle and pain as the weight of my body had squashed me in a certain way and on a certain joint. The total body ache thing that I have logically appreciated but only felt at certain times of extreme tiredness or after extreme exertion is real this morning. I don’t think its going to be a permanent thing and I am not of a mind yet to reinstate any morphine. There is a liberation possible and I felt it yesterday after physio. It only comes with feeling.
I spoke of letting in the world. Well at my physio session I was reserved and yet let in the world enough to fall again. The day before I had been reserved and held back, petrified once more of toppling over and refusing to allow progression ‘just in case’. Yesterday I was careful because I was aware that my stamina was not immense but I was stronger in certain areas – namely the trampette. I was jumping alone (no support) and then when it came to the running my right knee didn’t quite have the resistance to hold one slight wobble and I fell. And I was fine. The topple was allowed in and encouraged me that falling isn’t always the end of the world – these things happen and are still going to happen from time to time in my balancing attempts through the building up of strength. And it is not something to hold off progression for fear of.
And the pain in my legs when we returned was also illuminating. Muscularly I could not have coped without the Oromorph and posturally I do not know what would have happened had I not had it. But have it I did and then I had one more dose at bedtime. I still feel today though that the difficulty over the next few days will be in the muscles and the weakness. The precise comfort factors have been reduced and reality has been let in once more.
I had to explain my story again last night. To someone young (19) and sympathetic to the degree that they knew how to be (artificial – more pity than empathy or recognition). Yet there was no doubt and a recognition that there are boxes into which we all don’t fit. Yet there was vacuous-ness too. No real comprehension or appreciation and then a relating of her own story which didn’t quite stack up in total truth when questioned – the precise tests which revealed her ‘problems’ (I was sick after foods and they’ve only just discovered I was celiac and anaemic. They NEVER tested, can you believe it??? So then I went through a phase of being bulimic but that was just being stupid and silly and then they knew I was celiac.)
Unfortunately for Gemma the diagnosis would have totally been unquestioned by me had she known how it was discovered that she was celiac and if I felt her strong enough to have cleared her food issues. She hasn’t – she ‘loves’ it (a little too much) and has this ‘can’t eat’ Nil By Mouth thing that she’s wearing a bit like a badge of achievement…it’s a bizarre relationship leftover from a Vegetarian anaemic upbringing. My only comment was ‘how nice to have a label of illness’ – and that’s it. If you can’t get on with food emotionally wouldn’t it be nice to have a label of something which allows fussiness. I almost had a hundred labels and yet didn’t want a single one. Not mental – hell not even physical. Any physical label I wanted to buy into was past and previous to establish the truth of my body’s development, progression and growth. I do not want labels to buy into now.
And I’m privileged to understand that about digestive disorders of any magnitude or severity. They are emotional in origin and whilst some are inescapable due to time or history, the depth of suffering or the insightfulness of the patient there are those, like everything I have ever suffered, that were designed to be discovered and overcome. I was not meant to live my life with a zinc deficiency and subsequent difficulties (however they manifested) around the intake of nutrition – whether mentally, emotionally or physically. I am not designed to retain any issues and I know that because not only have I evolved so much mentally and emotionally – but my body has had the opportunity to evolve physically as well. This is a privilege which means that I do no need a label or a difficulty with certain substances which allow me to be ‘fussy’. I will be able and perhaps even can now, eat everything and anything. It then becomes a matter of choice which I feel competent enough to make.
And that’s it – people invite disorder and disease when they fear their own incompetence within a situation. It is a safety net of avoiding dealing with a problem which is secure in its prevention of over-questioning. I’m delighted that I have never been happy with security blankets. I don’t want to be comfortable because I’ve got a blanket of ‘support’ or cotton-wool from the outside. I want comfort to come from a complete and total resonation through my whole body about the correctness of every decision and every action. Therein lies total internal self-sufficiency – and the only comfort level I have ever been interested in. And it means that I do not need to hang onto any labels or convenient food intolerances because if I don’t want to eat a certain foodstuff (e.g. red meat or wheat) it needs no excuse of a physical difficulty, it has the concrete basis of a correct choice for my body at that moment in time. I love that – and here come the scales…
…and I’m 31.8kilos. And so I up the calorie amount of every meal and intake. I can do that, easily and with comfort now I’m used to the eating frequency and I’ve explained to everyone why I’m eating so often. I feel as if I may not be given the chance to prove myself and I hate that but I’ve just rehearsed my discussion with the dietician with Jen and 400g is not a lot given the fact that I have completely reintroduced food over the last few days. It will be a ‘discussion’ during which I hope beyond hope that I can give myself until Tuesday. I am desperate, desperate, desperate to have a little more chance because I didn’t expect it to be so hard for me to eat so often. Now I really want to up the calories – the mayonnaise in my tuna, the bulk of my fibre in the brown rice. I know that the carbohydrate is what I am going to load up on over the next while – which won’t help muscles and tone but will help the weight and the energy thing. I know what’s happening and what’s been built in but I just need to be allowed the chance to show it. Please don’t put me back on Resource so soon, Universe. That isn’t fair and it isn’t right. There is no way I want to stay eating the amount I am eating – it has been shrouded with fearful consumption which has been to do with the fact that it was the specific food it was (and I had no idea what it was going to be like). There has been lots of fear around it – and I don’t only want to eat as much as I have been eating, that’s the thing. I want to eat more and now I can and will because I know its not working. I just hope beyond hope that the dietician allows me to have a few more days to demonstrate my own aspirations within this field and up the calories in every single meal – more milk at breakfast and more spreads. More calories in lunch, less fruit as snacks – biscuits instead (or even having oatcakes and biscuits as well as the fruit) and definitely more calories in dinner – my rice and Ratatouille tonight. The rice helping is up to me and will be judged by my appetite, not the look on the plate which may have been the thing so far.
And on Saturday I know the tuna mix I want has plenty built into it – with the same amount of potatoes as on Wednesday that calories will be instantly more. And then the biscuits – I’ve been nervous around the snacks – which was why the supper last night was so good, I really wanted the cookie and the sweet. It has already begun, you see. And I really want the chance to eat more without them trying to rescue me too soon. I WANT to be able to eat more. I WANT to eat more…not I want to want to – not I want to feel like I desire more. I’m used to frequency and types and quantities now – I want to up them and up the calories of them. And I just desperately, desperately , desperately hope that I am allowed to without feeling patronised by Resource again. God now I’m going to be in fits of nervousness until I see the dietician because I don’t imagine this is going to be easy. And I hate that. I really hate that. And I’m sad, and upset and I don’t think they’re going to give me a chance. I just have to express that I’ve proved I can eat – now I need to prove I can eat enough and more. I have to be allowed to do that. Please world don’t take me backwards…I’m upset now. Really upset and worried and I know I’ll have what I need but I don’t feel I need to be told I failed – not yet. That’s not fair. And its what it means to be put back on Resource so soon. I failed. And I haven’t even been given a fair chance. By Tuesday – absolutely. Today? Not fair. Please. Not fair.
June 26th - blog 3 - nothing and everything to say
I don't have anything to say tonight. I don't know why I'm writing to be honest, it's not like I've been in all of my history - filled with things to talk about and yet without the energy to write at night. I'm not knackered tonight. Nor do I feel as if I am somehow empty...I feel really fulfilled by my supper, I think. I think that's the long and the short of it tonight. There is something sensational about the way of my eating supper tonight which I feel requires some self-congratulatoriness. To be honest, I can't even describe it to you - just wanted to say that I feel worthy of praise tonight. Stupid - given that I don't like it when I compute life in that sort of way: good vs. bad, congratulations and recriminations. But then I do...
...I've always tried not to but ultimately I know now I will never escape viewing life in terms of winning and losing, success and failure - essentially 'right' and 'wrong', up vs. down, good vs. bad - always a ranking of results and a hierarchical attribution to every single element of what happens. Beneficial vs. non-beneficial. And I've only just tied this all up in writing this about my supper! This life is hilarious in its progression...
I have always aspired to be neutral in terms of the way I interpret and review something - essentially I've wanted not to attribute a judgement to it at all. Yet it is natural and more than that 100% correct for me to view everything in terms of better and worse. And yet I also saw today that everything that happens to me now, simply happens. There is an appreciation of the purpose and role of things - and as I have just seen an assessment in terms of success and failure/better worse/good bad about everything. There is never, however, a personal judgement around that. I never criticise because I understand the process, but in understanding the process there is an evaluation of the status and an assessment made about the relative progression and whether this is furthering or hindering that progress. Almost...it's like I see things in terms of good and bad whilst accepting that everything has a place, whether 'good' OR 'bad'. And it just so happens that 'good' feels more happy, more comfortable, although the response is sometimes to 'bad'.
All of which brings me back to my supper. Which was Good. And I don't want to tell you why because it involves discussing a 'bad'. Now that I have done the 'good', however, my ego has had a huge boost, I feel as if I honoured myself entirely - and essentially the biggest progress of this evening was the fact that there was much less confusion at supper time, much less lack-of-hunger reluctance and much more desire to have my supper - an Orange Vanilla Cookie and a Sherbert Lemon. Yum.
Perfection. Tonight's perfection. And whilst last nights' perfection was disjointedness and jarringly assessed as 'bad', tonight's was 'good'. And the scale of good and bad for me is fulfilment, hunger and calorie load at the moment. And there is nothing wrong with that being my assessment scale. In fact, the fact that that is my assessment scale is really encouraging for the ongoing progress to continue being 'good' - fulfilled, comfortable and calorifically satisfied.
...I've always tried not to but ultimately I know now I will never escape viewing life in terms of winning and losing, success and failure - essentially 'right' and 'wrong', up vs. down, good vs. bad - always a ranking of results and a hierarchical attribution to every single element of what happens. Beneficial vs. non-beneficial. And I've only just tied this all up in writing this about my supper! This life is hilarious in its progression...
I have always aspired to be neutral in terms of the way I interpret and review something - essentially I've wanted not to attribute a judgement to it at all. Yet it is natural and more than that 100% correct for me to view everything in terms of better and worse. And yet I also saw today that everything that happens to me now, simply happens. There is an appreciation of the purpose and role of things - and as I have just seen an assessment in terms of success and failure/better worse/good bad about everything. There is never, however, a personal judgement around that. I never criticise because I understand the process, but in understanding the process there is an evaluation of the status and an assessment made about the relative progression and whether this is furthering or hindering that progress. Almost...it's like I see things in terms of good and bad whilst accepting that everything has a place, whether 'good' OR 'bad'. And it just so happens that 'good' feels more happy, more comfortable, although the response is sometimes to 'bad'.
All of which brings me back to my supper. Which was Good. And I don't want to tell you why because it involves discussing a 'bad'. Now that I have done the 'good', however, my ego has had a huge boost, I feel as if I honoured myself entirely - and essentially the biggest progress of this evening was the fact that there was much less confusion at supper time, much less lack-of-hunger reluctance and much more desire to have my supper - an Orange Vanilla Cookie and a Sherbert Lemon. Yum.
Perfection. Tonight's perfection. And whilst last nights' perfection was disjointedness and jarringly assessed as 'bad', tonight's was 'good'. And the scale of good and bad for me is fulfilment, hunger and calorie load at the moment. And there is nothing wrong with that being my assessment scale. In fact, the fact that that is my assessment scale is really encouraging for the ongoing progress to continue being 'good' - fulfilled, comfortable and calorifically satisfied.
June 26th - blog 2 - resonating, realising and revelling...
I forgot to actually write this this morning. It was the most disturbing part of my psyche and it was the point of writing really…I needed to express this part of my experience because it tied in with the discomfort with being next to someone yet again.
I woke up every time throughout the night with the awareness that I had been having some fairly nasty dreams. In semi-wakefulness there were some horrible thoughts that I was left with and it was a nightmarish thing to be involved within. It was stressful because it related to my history and the development of all of my illness – it was once again into the territory of ‘what if it wasn’t a zinc deficiency’. But the most beautiful thing, I think, was to wake up and categorically see instantly the distinction between that dreamlike fear and the reality of how I feel about it. And that is a key statement because it indicates that my experience through ill health and the history I possess with my body has gone beyond simply ‘knowing what happened’ intellectually and being able to tell a story with my mind and my mouth.
My body instinctively knew that the dreamlike myth with which I was left as I awoke was not wrong – it physically jarred my system to imagine that I was mentally paranoid about weight and that had begun my journey into an eating disorder. It was the wrong story – and I didn’t just have to assert it with my mental fortitude – it didn’t fit within my body, it couldn’t settle in my muscles and inside my energy system and it was nothing to do with me – it was a dream.
And there was another brilliant thing that I saw today. Even if Dr Gordon believed me anorexic, she certainly knew it wasn’t stereotypical. Her feeling, and she confessed as much directly to me, was far more concerned with food phobia than anything related to a lack of desire to be fat and/or healthy. My big paranoia about tomorrow – and it revolves around what I have known I’ve needed to eat to acclimatise myself to the feeling of food and being surrounded by eating in my life again – is that I will not have put on weight like I have been asked and am expected to. HOWEVER this is not the criteria that Dr Gordon felt I would fall down on – and I intend to very much assert and discuss about the ongoing process to ensure that the calorific consumption is such that I do put on weight. Yet if Dr Gordon felt that I was petrified of consuming food then this week of her absence will give her a shock and a half. I will have, by the time I see her on Tuesday, been consistently eating 3 meals and 3 snacks in a day – and hopefully by Tuesday will still be established on a solid platform of weight, if not increasing by then. I will also have recipes in the future (Turkey, Mushroom Creole, Chilli Chicken Curry/Chicken Korma/Asian Chicken (? – after my salsa experience yesterday, am I a spicy person?). Or even that fragrant Middle Eastern Chicken which was my first introduction to a response towards food again…I will bring bulkier meats in next week I can sense – my system has not been ready for it so far…anyway I waffle…
…THE MAIN POINT: it being something key to note. I have established that their first diagnosis was wrong by willingly having tube feed and constantly speaking and asking to put on weight. I proved their scepticism wrong by resolutely doing so in the first week of Resources. THEN I have proved their second hazardous guess (that I have a fear of food) wrong by not only reintroducing but wholeheartedly replacing Resources with food as my sole source of nutrition. Whilst it is tomorrow which will attest to my success and/or failure in that I will certainly be a surprise on Monday when it is made known to them all that I am not only eating, but enjoying it and talking of increasing it to ensure weight-gain. All that remains then is to prove them wrong once and for all and actually combine both refuted diagnoses and kick them all into touch when I eat AND I gain weight AND I get out of here.
A complete aside now:
I am currently in a fantasy space of having a holiday apartment. It is dark and shady inside the ramshackle ill-equipped kitchen, there is a loungey area with phenomenally uncomfortable sofas and cool tiled floors. The furniture and layout is stereotypical holiday apartment but the light internally comes from brilliant Mediterranean sunshine penetrating the windows of the open patio doors. A soft breeze blows the light organza curtains gently into the air inside the room. There is a ceiling fan, but it is not on and there is only that light breeze which is in itself incredibly humid. I am inside, though, in the kitchen. I am dressed in white – a short-sleeved loose, cotton, almost see-through shirt over a ribbed white vest top which is loosely tucked into tight-fitting white jean-like shorts with a thin brown scarf-belt. I am wearing flip-flops. I am merely opening the small fridge under the counter facing the window and leaning down casually to pull out a can of something fizzy – Schweppes Soda Water – and then I am going to take it out onto the patio to be in the breeze, under the greenery of a palm tree on my right hand side and looking towards the sandy beach and the sea – accessible just by stepping of the edge of the wooden-decked patio outside my apartment’s doors. The only sound is the swooshing of the seas’ waves and the joyous calls of natural sounds. So far removed from the artificial, electric noises I am surrounded by and impacted by on a day-to-day basis in here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)