I thought I’d never come out with this publicly, but I feel okay about doing this now, as I no longer live anywhere near Watertown, Massachusetts.
I would have to go back into my journal to find the exact date, or check my old credit card statement. It was around the 24th of April, 2013. Of course, I have my own unique marathon story that no one has even cared about. I recall I shared part of it, but this is a part of the same story that I never before shared. I guess I was rather afraid of retaliation on the part of whoever stole my credit card number that night.
I lived in Watertown from 1987 until 2014. Gerry’s was not too far from where I lived on 100 Warren Street. Many of the residents ordered delivery or takeout from there and they were known to have good food. I recall ordering from there when I had friends over. I had no clue any wrongdoings were happening there nor did I have any reason to believe this was the case. I guess the place was known to be typical of many local businesses. Family-run, good cooking. Gerry’s was there a long time, too. I recall Joe and I ordered from Gerry’s a few times. Joe loved pizza. I believe he ordered subs from there, too.
You guys know there’s more to to the “pizza” bit. Regular readers of this blog know I have had an eating disorder for a long time. In 2008 I relocated to another Watertown location. I have always had the same phone number…and this is crucial because my phone there was connected to my address.
Gerry’s Italian Kitchen always had this annoying habit of looking on their caller ID, and somehow, they’d already know who the heck I was and where I lived. I knew perhaps this was for their convenience, so they’d know where to deliver, but to me, I felt like I sure didn’t want to call a place and have them know automatically where I lived and what my name was. I figure if I call an ambulance, such knowledge would sure be useful, but for a pizza place to have all this info seemed like an invasion of my privacy.
These were the events around the time of the Marathon: First of all, the date of the Marathon was April 15, which in Massachusetts is called Patriots’ Day. This marks the beginning of the American Revolution in 1775. It was April 19, but the holiday got switched to a Monday just like many other holidays. So in 2013, the day of the Boston Marathon was April 15, a Monday. And you all’s know what happened!
I recall I went running the next day at the gym. It was a good run and I did a piece of writing on my run. Needless to say, not too many people seemed much in a mood for running that day.
You guys know I have an eating disorder. For whatever reason, I decided to stop eating later that week. I was recording what I ate in my journal. I can see, looking back, just how pissed off I was about my situation. I kept telling myself that I would “show them” by starving myself till I was ridiculously thin. I kept telling myself that not eating and becoming thin was a “fuck you to the world.” I was so pissed at my own shrink, too. She’s recently threatened me. The appointment was on April 3rd, only a few weeks ago, at 1:20, according to my calendar.
This is what else had occurred: All that year, I’d been trying very hard to find new providers. I heard from someone on Facebook, a complete stranger, that maybe I should try Boston Medical Center, which serves the inner city and isn’t connected to Mass General, where my psychiatrist practiced. If I could find a primary care doctor there, I could rather quietly quit Dr. P, and move my care to Boston Medical. My first appointment with this male doctor was late March. He turned out to be a real jerk, so I ended up deciding not to go with these providers. I sure felt stuck and was going to try somewhere else. I recall I had an appointment with the guy at BMC which I canceled. I phoned the secretary and gave her my usual line, “I need to cancel but right now, I’m out and my calendar is at home. I’ll be sure to call later and reschedule.” Yeah, sure. I had no intention of rescheduling, but secretaries always bought into that one. Meanwhile, I had Dr. P to contend with and I wondered if she had caught wind of my attempt to switch providers. I had already tried to switch in 2012 to Somerville Hospital and that didn’t work, either. At any rate, my appointment with Dr. P on the 3rd of April was one appointment that I sure wish I’d tape recorded. She yelled and screamed at me in her office. There were two occasions that she did this that spring. She was certainly out of control. Right in front of me. I knew somehow I needed to leave her. This shrink was becoming a madwoman!
The 31st of March was our church talent show. Either that or the 30th. A Sunday, anyway. Yes, I performed, didn’t do too badly at it, actually. Just as I was leaving, a church member (actually, it was Rachel) came up to me and insulted me terribly. It was rude of her to say what she said. I reacted badly. Truth was, she had a bad habit of insulting me and insulted a lot of people without even realizing it. She’d said ridiculous things to me in the past and I should have taken it all with a grain of salt. I didn’t, though. My eating went haywire as a result. Either I ate nothing, or everything in sight.
I remember the Marathon and my run the day after. At some point, I had a horrible binge. I decided I’d fast for a long time and take off all the weight. I believe Thursday I ate nothing and Friday as well. Of course, the 19-year-old bombing suspect came to Watertown on Friday, making our town famous. It was so creepy being in a starved state and having those helicopters fly overhead all day long. I hoped we’d be in lockdown forever so I would have a good excuse not to eat. This wasn’t the case, though. I recall 11:30 at night going out. On a binge.
My mother came to visit, I believe on the 24th. No, she didn’t come on her own. I hadn’t seen her since December 2010. My brothers insisted. I think this was part of their plot to get her out of her home and into a nursing home. But that wasn’t what I was concerned about right then. I was scared to see her, knowing that whatever occurred wouldn’t be good, and this would make my eating disorder worse. So after that, I went on a gigantic, four-day binge. In those mere four days, I gained 28-1/2 pounds.
I ordered three pizzas at that time, delivered. One from Pizza Ring at like 2am, one from BHOP, which isn’t far from where I lived, and one from Gerry’s Italian Kitchen. Gerry’s has a website but it wasn’t working properly that night. So I had to call.
The guy annoyed me by saying my name. Okay, dude, so you know already where I live. I was scared. I never wanted to get caught at this. I have no clue how it was that I managed to receive the pizza out front and carry it down the hall without anyone noticing. I was lucky and no one was ever in that hall. I doubt anyone saw me meeting the pizza guy up front. I remember i used to wear a lot of coverup clothing, hiding my body, for whatever reason, whenever I had to get a pizza from a delivery guy. I would get a book to read and sit in the lobby waiting. All this time, I’d tell myself over and over that I truly hated myself.
A couple of weeks later, I happened to be looking at my credit card statement and suddenly noticed a gigantic charge on it. WTF? THAT large? What was this? I checked out what the statement said. Some agency I’d never heard of. I phoned my bank right away. I told them I certainly hadn’t made that charge and that this was fraudulent.
In fact, I suspected Gerry’s right away. It was either that or BHOP, but it was Gerry’s that had my info right on their caller ID. Interesting, though, I never used my home address as billing address. My billing zip code wasn’t the Watertown zip code where I had my apartment. Still, they’d managed to get this charge through. The bank was very good about it and they said they’d be sending me a new card right away. In the course of all this, I told the bank about Gerry’s. The person with whom I spoke said that her guess was that my suspicions were correct.
I had another appointment with Dr. P May 8. She was again putting me down. I hated every minute of it. I didn’t clue her in about BMC. The weird thing was that that very morning, I’d gone out walking with Puzzle as usual and come home to see an ambulance out in the front of the building. I told myself I really didn’t want those dudes seeing me, simply because I hated them all so much. I went in via the back door. If I recall correctly, I snuck through the dining hall, or Community Room, as they called it. Dogs weren’t allowed in there, so out of courtesy, I picked Puzzle up and carried her through so her paws wouldn’t touch the floor. I could only get away with this when no one was around. Then, I went up the back stairs and slipped into my apartment. The cops had left by then. But what I found horrified me.
The cops had been into my apartment and had left the door wide open. It was a good thing I came back when I did. I couldn’t figure out what had happened. Had Dr. P tried to have me sectioned? Why had they barged in like that? They owed me the courtesy of at least closing my door and locking it instead of leaving it open like that. I was scared after that. Had someone called the cops on me, or had the cops come looking just to see if I was the one who pulled the emergency cord? What would I say to Dr. P when I got to my appointment?
Dr. P said nothing about sending cops, so I finally concluded it was nothing to worry about. I didn’t say a word to her. Of course not.
I arrived home and guess what was at my door? An envelope from Fedex. I told myself I sure wasn’t expecting anything. I was scared, too, not having any clue what the heck it was. I looked at the envelope. Then, I knew.
It was addressed to me. The return address was the agency my credit card charge was to. A ticketing agency I’d never heard of. The guys from Gerry’s Italian Kitchen had goofed and had had their tickets sent to me instead of to them. Oh well, they lost out, did they not?
I phoned the ticketing agency and told them. I had to be on hold for a while. I was laughing my fool head off inside. I opened the envelope after those guys said the tickets were voided since my credit card charge was false. Inside were tickets to the New Jersey Devils. Box seats. The game was in September in New York. The value of these two seats was over $1,000. I noted that the cell phone used to charge my card was from out of state. I cannot recall, was it Texas? Oh well, Gerry’s, I was on to them. I recall laughing inside and calling my bank just to let them know of Gerry’s boo-boo.
I think the ticketing agency wanted to know info that was on the tickets. I told them. Then, I suppose, this ordeal was over. I did receive the new credit card. I figured this was a random hit and had nothing to do with me. I was some idiot caught in the middle.
I knew I’d tell you this story eventually.
Devils? Yeah, devils all right.