The lump

Oh, one of these days, I’ll shower and find one in my breast.  It’s what every woman dreams of, right?  To find a lump?  A nice cancerous one that’s inoperable?

Not that I know anything about cancer.  I don’t.  But I do know that lots of women actually do want to find lumps.

Cuz a lump probably means you will be loved.

See, then, if I found a lump, all sorts of women would flock to me and be my instant buddy.  “Call me anytime.”  Wow, I’d actually hear those words if only I were to find that golden lump.  I haven’t heard those words in a long, long time, baby, a long time.

So I need a lump.  Fast.  Can I borrow one or something?

She keeps trying to call

I told CBFS a million times that I no longer need their services and they no longer have my permission to contact any of my providers, period.

Now, about every other day even since I made that call, my CBFS worker has been calling me.  I don’t pick up.  Finally, I’ve got that line she calls from at her agency going straight into voicemail so it won’t ring at all.  She also calls from her cell phone, an “anonymous” number, of course.  This is tricky cuz a lot of folks call me from unlisted numbers without a caller ID.  I really, really, really don’t want to speak with or see this woman again or anyone from CBFS.

I told them over and over I have no use for them, and to bug off.  They agreed.   They finally agreed to stop “services,” not that they ever did anything for me.    But this worker keeps phoning me.  It feels like harassment and I am going to complain to the state if she keeps this up.

I’m not sure what’s going on here.  Is she trying to strike some deal with me?  Trying to get me to shut up because of someone’s reputation or whatever?  Aw, c’mon, she should know, she should know I don’t shut up when someone fucks me over.

Um, no, some wrongdoing happened here.  I came home to a mess, my stuff rifled through, and I’m trying to piece it all together.

Apparently she left with Puzzle when they took me away by ambulance.  My little Puzzle.  Just took off with Puzzle, and then came back the next day and left Puzzle here.  I heard this from a reliable source.

Sometimes, you just wish your dog could talk.

I remember thinking to myself, “Is this going to be Puzzle’s new home?  With G?  G doesn’t even like dogs!”  It was about the last thing I recall.  Worrying about what will become of Puzzle.  But then, I knew Puzzle was going to be okay and everything would be okay.

Then, of course, it all got rather quiet.

It makes no sense….

Well, it does make sense but it doesn’t.

You end up in the hospital.  You almost die.  Now, you’d think you would end up with a bunch of get well cards, or flowers, or, maybe visitors flocking to your bedside daily?

Forget it.  Not if what you almost die of is anorexia nervosa.

You get hardly any visitors and no cards and of course no flowers and no one even wants to talk to you, anyway.  You are alone in that freaking place.

I blurted out when I got there that I starved myself because nobody gave a shit about me anymore.  If they really did give a shit, they sure had a weird way of showing it.

The nurses sort of didn’t believe at first because I seemed kinda sweet to them, why someone like me would end up so alone.  They couldn’t believe that my phone would go a month without ringing.

Guess they forgot along the way.  They never really noticed the fact that I got no cards or anything.  Guess they figured I was too “crazy” for cards, that I had no real feelings anyway, so maybe that’s why people just didn’t care.  Maybe I didn’t matter as much once they decided I was nuts.

The last day I was there, the nurses were getting all pals with each other, telling each other they were glad I was leaving.  Glad to be rid of me.

Not that I ever did anything.  I stayed in my room.  Every time I went out to ask a question, they’d yell at me to get back in.  They told me to press the “call” button instead, and they’d take forever to answer it.  Sometimes, I’d press the “call” button, and they’d turn it off and not answer at all.  I’d wait and wait.  Finally, I’d press the button again, and for that, they yelled at me, lectured me and told me I was selfish and that my concerns were petty.  Of course, whenever they asked me a question, I’d be halfway through answering it and they were already out the door before I even finished my sentence.

You couldn’t win with these jerks.  You just couldn’t.  You are at their mercy because you are too weak to move or sit or stand or walk.  You can’t even go to the bathroom on your own because you are too weak.   All I got was yelled at, told I was crazy.  If I wanted to tell them something, they’d ignore what I said, telling me over and over how nuts I am and how petty my concerns were.

And so, like I said, before I came into the hospital I starved myself because nobody gave a shit about me.  Those nurses sure didn’t give a shit, either.  All they wanted was to get rid of me.  Now that made me feel unwanted and unloved if nothing else did.

See ya later.

Oh, by the way, yes, I’m in a bad space.  And yes, I’ll get over it.  I’m just not sure how to get past all this just yet, but I will.

I should really blast them away

Yeah, I could do that.  Blast away Mount Auburn Hospital and tell about all the lousy stuff they did to me.  Okay, so I’ve named the hospital already.  Never did that before, but now, you know.

And you guys know the stuff they did to me was not right.

One day, I wrote some letters to MindFreedom because the doc, let’s call him Dr. R, told me,

“I will not allow you to leave this hospital until you are on an antipsychotic drug”

which, as far as I’m concerned, is forced drugging.

I should just blast them away until they, like Mass General did in the past, have me blacklisted.  Then, I will never have to go back.  I won’t be allowed back due to

liability.

Oh, their precious reputation will be hurt.

I do love being a writer.  Of course, they paid no attention to that little fact.

It isn’t so much because I have an eating disorder

It’s the disrespect.  The sheer disrespect for a human being.  The disrespect I got at Mount Auburn Hospital by those nurses…it’s just unthinkable.

It’s because I was told I am a liar when I wasn’t even lying.  It is because every word I said was discredited by a bunch of idiots who refused to listen in the first place.

How do I undo that?

Carry on

It’s not like I didn’t try.  They say you get one chance at life and that’s it.  There’s not much hope left for me but I can pray for others and pray that someday there’s a cure for eating disorders.  Pray for love, understanding, and compassion.

At times like these, I feel I should pass the torch along.  I get annoyed at myself for stubbornly holding onto it.

Should it slip from my hands, carry on.

Assumptions and kit gloves

Has anyone else had this problem?  Let me explain.

So something bad happens to you.  Then, after that, everyone around you always jumps the gun and assumes you are “upset” when you aren’t.  Everyone assumes you are totally falling apart, when in fact you are not, you are fine.  You get treated with kit gloves because everyone assumes you’re gonna go berserk on them.

Guess what?  Here are some points I’d like to make:

If a person is crying, does it mean they are about to do something self-destructive?  No, of course it doesn’t.  Please quit assuming.  Just quit it.

I cry when I am moved by something.  When I see beautiful artwork, I cry.  No, I don’t sob, I just cry cuz I am deeply moved.

Being deeply moved is the reason for 90% of the tears I shed.  No, I repeat a thousand times no, my tears do not mean I am “falling apart” and I don’t need a doctor or hospital or pill for my tears.  I like crying and am perfectly fine and comfortable with it.

If something goes wrong, such as the laundry machine not working, does this mean I am totally off the wall and need a hospital?  Absolutely not.  Just bug off, guys, bug off.

This kit gloves thing is getting way out of proportion.

Now, let me go get my laundry out of the dryer.

Thanks.

I am human, not perfect

Hey, folks, I’m overdue.  I don’t like it when I leave you hanging or am unable to give you the whole picture.  What happens then is that you get only part of the picture and not really what’s going on.  It’s the nature of this medium to be this way, annoying as it is.  On the other hand, I’m not going to bare all and tell you how much belly button lint I have.  That would surely be a turn-off, don’t you think?   I suppose it would be different if I were the “popular” type and posted a photo of belly button lint on Facebook.  I’d get more “likes than anyone.  But I’m not popular so chances are, most wouldn’t even bother reading what I said.  Who cares about belly button lint, anyway?  Would someone want Elvis’ belly button lint?  Uh, no, not me, cuz he’s dead now.

But back to me.  In two days I have a nephrology appointment and it’s very important to me.   This guy will set forth the precise dietary guidelines for me, and also he’ll have a determination as to whether i can go back on topamax.

The docs at the hospital took me off of it cold turkey as well as taking me off Neurontin cold turkey.  How did this happen? Well, when I told them what meds I was on, I was told, literally, “You are a liar!”  Yes, by a shrink.  He even pointed his finger at me whiile saying this. So they didn’t believe I ever took these meds.

I couldn’t believe it.  I’ve never encountered such atrocity before.  As i said, they’d never bothered to access my medic alert bracelet as they should have.  Someone rifled through my stuff here at home and found old prescription bottles (I am still wondering who rifled though my stuff) and these were given to me instead.  I was given 100 of Synthroid, which is an old dose, and 6oo of Lamictal, which I had not taken in years.  I refused the Lamictal and was branded “uncooperate” and “suicidal.”

I think if I were truly suicidal like they claimed, I would have swallowed that 600 mgs Lamictal and gotten myself sick if not dead, given my medical situation.

It took days to get this all straightened out.

So I found out much later, a bunch of days after getting out and reading my discharge summary, that the recommendation to take me off Topamax came from the shrink, not from the kidney doc.

I want to make something perfectly clear: Topamax does cause weight loss, but only in the beginning.  After that it doesn’t, even if you stop it and restart it. So that’s one reason it’s not an effective weight loss drug.

I take Topamax for one reason: to prevent binge eating.    It doesn’t make me lose my appetite or make me lose weight, but it does stop the binge eating.

I’m tired of folks telling me I shouldn’t be on Topamax because I have anorexia.  No two people are alike.  In my case, the binge eating is so severe that I need this drug.

And I really feel like telling everyone to buzz off.  Kindly quit the talk that I am “not recovered.”  It’s bullshit.  I don’t think in terms of “recovery”‘ and it’s a word I refuse to use.  It’s a stupid, overused, dramatic word that is meaningless to me.

Please allow me to go at my own pace and take care of myself.  Today I slept all day.  Now, to most folks, this means “depressed,” right?  I don’t even suffer from depression.  To me, sleeping all day is giving my body the rest it deserves.  Finally.

If indeed you insist on thinking in terms of “recovery,” then please, realize that occasionally I will have my “moments.”  Everyone has “moments.”  So if I myself have one, it’s totally normal.

I am human, not perfect.

Again, buzz off.