A torture session

On Tuesday morning, i had an appointment with a new psychiatrist at the ED unit. I arrived there a little bit late but i had called to tell them that this was going to be the case and that seemed fine. I was wearing my stupendously large 'OMG that's the biggest jumper i have ever seen' jumper with black 'suck it all in' tights, black pumps and my big furry vagina coat. I had a scarf on too because it makes me feel better if people are distracted from my thighs with a nice, long scarf.

I arrived there and i was waiting until about 11:45 (the appointment was due to start at 11). I got up and went to the reception desk:

'Does the Dr. know that i am here?'

'Sorry, she was on the phone'

So, then the receptionist called back up to the shrink's office and she was not on the phone anymore. She told her i was here and then she came down, along with my ED worker i have been seeing for a few months. I didn't know that she (Andrea) was going to be in the appointment too and it came as a bit of a shock. I also didn't know that i was about to be put through one of those beloved fucking torture sessions.

'Do you mind if we do a physical first?'

'What? I'd rather not.'

'Well, we're either going to have to do the physical now or at the end. Shall we just do it now?'

So, we start walking towards the clinic room. I hadn't noticed that Andrea was there until this point. I glanced around and it pissed me off that i had not been informed and they they had automatically assumed that i would be fine with being put through a physical and with being watched.

'So, i have an audience?'

Andrea: 'Okay. I understand. I can go and wait in the meeting room until you have both finished'

So, we (me and the Dr.) went in to the clinic room and my first question was, 'am i going to have to be weighed?'

'Well, it IS a physical'

She was a right fucking moody bitch. I didn't like how threatened...no, INTIMIDATED i felt by her.

She asked me to take off my coat, jumper and scarf, as well as my shoes. I said i didn't want to but she pushed it to the point where i was shaking, nearly crying. I was trying to be covered. She weighed me.

'Ah. I see. Is that what you expected?'

'Well. yes'

'Ok. Underweight'

I made an 'ugh' noise under my breath. I hate such big, important things being treat like a piece of lemon, sour to even say. I don't understand why they feel they need to state these things to me anyways. I think i know my own fucking weight and i am aware of my B-M-fucking-I. Fuck sake.

So then she wrote that down and asked me to go over to the bed where she would check my chest. Haha. Gutted, she couldn't find the stethoscope. Fuck her life.

So, i thought i had got out of it. No such chance. I was told to lay back on the bed and lift up my top.

'I have done everything else you have asked but there is not a chance i am lifting up my top for anybody.'

'Ok.'

She had to feel my stomach, which was a noticeably painful experience for me. She took my BP whilst i was lieing down, got my to stand up, took it again and asked about how i go dizzy and shit. Yeah. Great. Eurgh

She then locked up the clinic room and went to hand the key in, when she FOUND the fucking stethascope. Oh joy! So back into the clinic room we went. She checked my back and chest and said it was okay.

We went back out of the clinic room and walked into the room where Andrea was waiting.

I can't remember much of the appointment. Well, i can. I just can't be bothered to type it all out. Basically, she said there are no major physical signs (thanks, ill try harder) on the outside from the laxatives but that these things don't have to manifest for them to be a problem. The probs are mainly internal and i could end up having a case of low potassium, cardiac arrest, rectal prolapse etc. She then mentioned the possibility of sudden death.

This had not actually been allowed to enter my mind and although people have been saying that they are scared, i had not allowed myself to even think about this as being a possibility. It shocked me but not as much as the next bit.

The words 'Anorexia' and 'Anorexic' were mentioned. I was like 'huh?' but i didn't say anything because i didn't want them to realise they had made a mistake and for me to make them feel like twats or for me to be made to feel stupid. I decided i would wait and see if i get a write-up of the session in the post and, if i do, i will know. If i don't, i will just make sure that i ask Andrea in the next session.

She mentioned the horrible words loads of times in the last session too.

Confused the crap out of me.

So, here i am.

Scared, confused and stuck

I felt threatened in that horrible meeting and just felt like i was drowning. It was horrible.

I kept trying to cover myself up in the clinic room. Not to protect myself but to protect her from how much of a joke it is that i was at that damn place. She said, 'Its not that cold' and i snapped and said, 'I'M NOT COLD. I JUST. I DONT LIKE IT. I DONT LIKE IT' and i was saying it in my pathetic whiney voice that i get right as i am about to burst in to tears. I was shaking. My eyes were darting. I wasn't listening to what she was saying because i was panicking too much

Now i just feel like a whale considering i have had two days in a row of a lot of food compared to normal, not good foods and just sad times.

I feel stupid. I feel like a failure. Like an idiot

I have to go to get a blood test really really soon. I am meant to be going up to the hospital for one tomorrow but i can't. I have to...i don't know. I just can't go. I am too scared. I can't let people see skin. No. not real people, real skin. No

I am going fucking mad.