Sick Enough

My biggest fear entering Ridgeview was whether I was sick enough.  My appearance was relatively normal; the bags under my eyes due to my loaded class schedule, my fatigue a result of working over 40 hours per week, my appetite and food behaviors related to working at a restaurant and vegetarianism.  I've never exposed this secret to you.  It's vile and animalistic, so please read with caution.  We met in April, and I was admitted to the hospital in May.  The first few months of that year I lived alone in my apartment.  It was relatively new, meaning all of the appliances were well-functioning and not requiring any repairs.  My purging was so excessive that I blocked up the toilet (which I fixed on my own - too embarrassed to call maintenance), stopped up the garbage disposal, and proceeded to vomit in mixing bowls I lined with garbage bags.  I would wait until the middle of the night to dispose of my hurt in the dumpster.  I had lived there less than 3 months for all of this to occur.  All the while I was scared I was going to be considered too overweight to be treated for my illness.

Monday I spent countless hours tracking down a doctor who accepted our insurance who would treat ED patients.  I condemn the insurance companies who fail to recognize eating disorders as valid illnesses.  I finally reached a psychiatrist who was willing to see me even though he was not yet registered for Aetna.  (First red flag.)  Over the phone, he asked me the run-of-the-mill questions I am no longer embarrassed to answer, one of them being, "How often do you binge and purge?"  My response was honest - anywhere from 1 to 30 times a day.  He stuttered and mumbled, and finally spat out I needed to be admitted immediately, fearing I may suffer from a seizure or brain aneurism.  I almost laughed, thinking to myself I've lasted the last 10 years of my life purging daily this many times.  Like today is going to be the day?  He then went on to say his initial visit costs were $250 per session, and he would give me a receipt voucher for my insurance, which may or may not cover 50 percent.  It took every ounce of humility I had (haha, don't laugh) not to hang up right then.  The same doctor called me this afternoon.  Apparently he had forgotten we had spoken on the phone four days ago.  When I mentioned this to him he said, "Oh, you're the bulimic.  Good luck to you."  Guess not so dire after all.