Day 5: Doctors
I can acknowledge that I’ve been lucky in my disorder. For the most part, I’ve escaped the turly awful physical side effects of my behaviors. I had iron so low when I was 19 that I craved ice constantly. I didn’t realize how close I came this summer. While I still have low blood pressure, I am no longer getting dizzy when I stand up or feeling constantly exhausted. My hair’s finer and a bit thinner than I was. I have less joint pain than I did and my body recovers faster from injuries. Actually in the recovery process, I've been in awe just how my body is adjusting. Even my hunger cues coming back.
When I first started any kind of recovery my mom hauled my butt to the family doctor when I finally got home. I was really hoping my doctor would validate my bullshit, my favorite justification for it being that I wasn't contributing to the obesity epidemic (ugh, shut up ED.) And he started to! He praised how much weight I had lost, having always been a kid toward the heavy side. He was about to go on when my mom cleared her throat. And then I said I had been eating a lot less and making myself throw up anything, even a salad, that I ate. He was dumbstruck and fumbled his way through the exam but never used the word eating disorder. When I was re-weighed at the end of the summer, after requesting to not know my weight, he told me and said “Congratulations on your weight gain.” which I then went home, skipped dinner and spent the weekend on a behavior bender in my room.
When I was weighted the first time I was 110. I had gained 5 pounds before coming home and by the end of the summer I was 120. Technically I was just on the low end of my body weight and therefore didn’t qualify for an Anorexia diagnosis but I didn’t binge so I didn’t qualify for a Bulimia or Binge-Eating DIsorder diagnosis. I wasn’t a walking skeleton even though I was a shell of the vibrant girl who had made up stories about far away lands and danced in her living room for imaginary adoring crowds. I didn’t identify as Anorexic until like...October/November? There’s a temptation in the medical field for us to let the scale determine who gets help, who has a disorder, who is worthy of care (because insurance). Diagnosis can legitimize our experience. I have a wonderful care team who encourage me to continue identifying as Anorexic because it helps me come to terms with my sickness and what that looks like. It helps me feel seen. I respect the need for criteria, but it shouldn’t be so restrictive that it mirrors my “diet”. It should be about getting help, not about denying help.
When I first started any kind of recovery my mom hauled my butt to the family doctor when I finally got home. I was really hoping my doctor would validate my bullshit, my favorite justification for it being that I wasn't contributing to the obesity epidemic (ugh, shut up ED.) And he started to! He praised how much weight I had lost, having always been a kid toward the heavy side. He was about to go on when my mom cleared her throat. And then I said I had been eating a lot less and making myself throw up anything, even a salad, that I ate. He was dumbstruck and fumbled his way through the exam but never used the word eating disorder. When I was re-weighed at the end of the summer, after requesting to not know my weight, he told me and said “Congratulations on your weight gain.” which I then went home, skipped dinner and spent the weekend on a behavior bender in my room.
When I was weighted the first time I was 110. I had gained 5 pounds before coming home and by the end of the summer I was 120. Technically I was just on the low end of my body weight and therefore didn’t qualify for an Anorexia diagnosis but I didn’t binge so I didn’t qualify for a Bulimia or Binge-Eating DIsorder diagnosis. I wasn’t a walking skeleton even though I was a shell of the vibrant girl who had made up stories about far away lands and danced in her living room for imaginary adoring crowds. I didn’t identify as Anorexic until like...October/November? There’s a temptation in the medical field for us to let the scale determine who gets help, who has a disorder, who is worthy of care (because insurance). Diagnosis can legitimize our experience. I have a wonderful care team who encourage me to continue identifying as Anorexic because it helps me come to terms with my sickness and what that looks like. It helps me feel seen. I respect the need for criteria, but it shouldn’t be so restrictive that it mirrors my “diet”. It should be about getting help, not about denying help.