Cancelled the appointments

I was meant to have an appointment with the inpatient psych registrar on Thursday and dietitian on Friday. I cancelled both and didn’t attend either. I talked briefly to one of the nurses on the ward yesterday when I was visiting a friend, and she reckons something will happen if you don’t go to appointments. I disagree. I’ve done it before and cancelled the follow up appointment with a psychiatrist after being discharged from hospital and it was fine. Besides, I am only one of many clients who attend the mental health service, I’m sure they all have better things to do than bother with someone who’s stated she doesn’t want help, when there are people who do.

It’s been over a week now that I’ve been out of hospital, and I’ve pretty much gone back to doing what I was doing before being admitted. Although, whereas before I wasn’t purging regularly any more, this week I’ve already done so four times. A few years ago when I was regularly purging I only managed to gain weight instead of losing, and I’m afraid of doing so again. I have lost a bit of weight since coming home, and weighed in at 37.2 kg this morning. It doesn’t feel like even nearly enough though.

I don’t feel sick enough to want to recover yet. Looking back, I wasn’t even that thin at my lowest weight. I know I can’t go on like this forever. But maybe if I got down to say, 30 kg, then I’ll stop.

Home 7 weeks later, 5kg heavier

It’s been seven long weeks, and I’ve finally been discharged from hospital. I came in weighing 34.6 kg, and left at 39.4 kg this morning. Which would be 5 kg had it not been for my methods of artificially increasing my weight before weigh ins. Weighed myself without clothes on once I arrived home- my scales told me 38.3 kg.

Had a family meeting before discharge in the morning, with those present being my mum, the consultant psychiatrist, intern doctor, dietitian, nurse, and of course myself. What came out if it is they want me to maintain and not lose weight obviously, and for me to remain in contact with mental health services. I have an outpatient appointment with the psych registrar on the team next week, however, I don’t intend to go. I may be more inclined if the appointment was with someone I liked or at least feel neutral towards, but I don’t and see no value in going to see someone I can’t and won’t talk to. With having an appointment to see a dietitian I also feel it would be pointless, as I could have the most elaborate meal plan in the world, but it won’t do much good if I can’t and won’t follow it.

I’ve never been one to fast though- at least I do eat. I’ve never gone more than a day without eating anything. Just that what I do eat tends to be small amounts of fruit, vegetables, and a few things in between. Found myself falling straight back into old habits as soon as I got home. Chewing and spitting a whole lot of food. Not being able to allow myself to eat certain foods and feeling guilty at what I do eat, telling myself I didn’t need it.

It’s such a push-pull internal tug-of-war. When I think about being able to eat what I want without guilt and ruminating over it afterwards, without always thinking about food and worrying about what the numbers on the same tell me, it sounds so nice. But getting there feels so out of reach, something that belongs in the “too hard” basket. The alternative is to keep on doing what I’ve been doing- restricting what I eat and pushing myself to drive the numbers on the scale lower and lower with each passing day. In some ways it’s easier than recovery, in other ways it’s just as hard.

Banned from blogging (but doing it anyway)

Well thank you to whoever reported me/my blog to the staff at this hospital. Not happy.

On Saturday night the registrar came to see me, and it was brought to my attention that they were concerned about what I post on the internet. I asked them to clarify for me what exactly it is I’m not supposed to be posting, as I have many accounts on social media and couldn’t be sure what they were referring to. I was told I’m not allowed to post about myself because “You’re under the Mental Health Act” and “We have a duty if care to protect your reputation.” I call bullshit. Protect my reputation? More like protect their reputation. It’s not like I even use my full name in association with this blog.

Sunday night nurses and security guards came into my room to search it again and that’s when I got angry and tried to take off. Unfortunately they caught up to me in the car park, I was again restrained, put in the seclusion room and sedated. Fun times. My hands are now all bruised from when I punched and hit the wall, and I was knocked out the whole of yesterday from the two shots of midazolam and 100mg of chlorpromazine I was given that night.

The consultant on my team is back from leave. Apparently I’m not meant to be blogging as my reports of being restrained and secluded can “give people the wrong impression of what happens here” and can perpetuate the stigma of mental health. “I don’t write anything that’s not true,” I shrugged.

A tentative discharge date has been planned for this Thursday, as well as a discharge meeting with my mum. The sooner I’m out of here, the better, I say.

Still not discharged

It’s been over 6 weeks and I’m still in hospital. My 22nd birthday came and went, the second birthday stuck in a psychiatric ward. The Form 6 of the Mental Health Act which allows for a patient to be held involuntarily for up to 28 days expired, and I was put on a Form 9. I thought 28 days was long, but a Form 9 allows someone to be kept for up to 6 months. Not that I’m going to be here that long, but it’s scary how much power psychiatrists hold.

I was told a few weeks ago by the psych registrar that I’d need to get to 38kg before discharge. When I next saw the consultant psychiatrist however, he said he doesn’t know why I was told 38kg, and that I have to be at a BMI of 16 (40kg) or close before going home. I asked both the registrar and the consultant whether I have to maintain that weight for a certain period of time before being discharged- both told me I wouldn’t.

Come Monday I hit 40.1kg. Okay, so it may have taken a bit of water loading, wearing shorts under my pants and having a deodorant and mobile phone in my pocket. However, both doctors have gone on leave and I’m stuck with two completely different doctors until my doctors come back. Apparently it’s not documented by my doctors that I don’t have to maintain, and the only documentation that IS on my notes is by the dietitian, who’s written I DO have to maintain for a week.

It all just went downhill from there. I was fed up that they keep changing the target and angry that they didn’t keep their word about being discharged once I hit that 40kg. It seemed as though even if I comply, I still don’t get to go home, so may as well not comply. I started refusing to have the Ensure Plus.

Tuesday night was an absolute low point. As I’d previously self harmed and had just come back from leave, two nurses came in to my bedroom because they wanted to search it. I was told to get off my bed and stand by the door, which I refused to do. Security was called and it ended up being three of them big, burly men restraining me, holding me down on the floor with me screaming and yelling at them to “Get the fuck off me.” When they let me go, I lost it- I smashed my mug on the floor and started chucking stuff around my room. That’s when the security guards again entered, carried me to the seclusion room and restrained me. I was held down with my pants pulled down, and injected with midazolam. After that they let go of me, and I was locked in a room with nothing but bedding and a mattress on the floor.

Yesterday I absconded from the ward. I left at about 10:30am. I ended up being brought back by my parents as the police had contacted them. I wasn’t going to pick up the phone when my mum called, but after 6 missed calls I felt too guilty.

The weigh ins of the past two days I got found out about having stuff in my pocket. Unfortunately it means my weight has dropped- it was 39.2kg this morning.

I’ve repeatedly told everyone that I don’t want their help and I don’t want to recover from anorexia or stop self harming. I don’t see why they insist on keeping me here when I’ve made it clear I intend to lose weight all over again when I get home and I won’t attend outpatient appointments. A nurse has warned me they could put me on a Community Treatment Order. I replied that I don’t care, I still won’t come to appointments, and besides, I don’t think they would anyway.

So it looks like I’m here for yet another weekend. Well, at least I still have stuff to self harm with that the nurses haven’t found for now.

Forced ED treatment

In many ways, hospital admissions for depression are easier than hospital admissions for anorexia. With this admission it feels like there’s so many more rules and restrictions, and so much more to lose.

I’ve been getting my feeds through the nasogastric tube, as well as eating the majority of each of my meals so that I can get the NG tube out and ultimately leave hospital as soon as possible. With that, it feels as though I’m rapidly losing control. I’ve only very occasionally self harmed these past few months but over the past couple of days I’ve found those urges to cut returning. Of course, being in a psych ward I don’t have the means to do so and get increasingly desperate and distressed. I’ve tried to make do with punching the wall instead.

Over just the past two days I’ve gained 1.1kg. My stomach is so very bloated, and I look like I could be pregnant. On one hand that gets me out of here sooner. On the other hand, I’m disgusted at myself for eating. For gaining weight. For getting fatter and fatter, after months of hard work in losing that weight. I don’t want to see my body expanding before my eyes, feel the flab returning to my arms and legs, for my stomach to protrude, for my thigh gap to disappear.

The doctor said today that I could be here another three or four weeks. Tomorrow marks two weeks already that I’ve spent in hospital, the thought of another three or four weeks in here just feels horrible. I miss my freedom, and I miss having control over my life. Not to mention this screws up uni for me, yet again. Right now I want nothing more than to discharge myself from all mental health services so that I’m never ever forced into treatment and imprisoned against my will again. Unless they put me under a Community Treatment Order I don’t see what’s stopping me from just going home and losing this weight all over again.

NG tube & put under Mental Health Act

I was reviewed by the doctors yesterday and as I was still not eating as much as they’d like, not drinking all of the Ensures and not gaining any weight, I was told I’d be made an involuntary patient under the Mental Health Act and they’d feed me through a nasogastric tube. Of course, upon hearing this news I was both upset and angry, and slammed my door on the way into my room.

When the nurse came to get me to get the tube put in, I refused. I remained sat on the bed crying. She tried convincing me to come to the treatment room to get it in, then after a while she went and said she’d have to consult with the team on what to do. A couple of people came in and tried to talk me into it, at that point I was sobbing heavily and feeling utterly powerless and terrified. It came to the point that after getting the okay from the doctors, they had to restrain me. I was moved from my bed into a chair, with a nurse on either side of me holding down my arms, a nurse at the back of me holding my head, while a fourth nurse inserted the NG tube up my nostril and down my throat. The sensation was awful, having a tube forcibly shoved inside you, while you scream yet you’re powerless to stop it. Having the tube in feels like you’re choking every time you swallow. I now also am being specialled on one to one nursing.

I was pretty out of it yesterday having twice been given 1mg lorazepam as well as my usual Seroquel. Unfortunately that resulted in the NG tube coming out sometime during the night, without my intending to do so. I don’t even know how it happened- whether it came out accidentally, whether I pulled it out in my state of semi consciousness… But it means I’m going to have to go through the pain of having the NG tube put in again, as if once wasn’t bad enough. This time without having to be restrained this time though hopefully.

Hospital Day 3

I was woken up at 6am this morning to be weighed. I was not impressed at being woken this early. They actually did it “properly” this time- first thing in the morning, with a light dressing gown and with scales on a hard surface. Thus, it was the lowest reading over the past few days- 34.6kg.

In the morning I snuck downstairs to the vending machine to buy myself a Diet Coke. Unfortunately I was spotted by the dietitian who told me I shouldn’t be having it as it’ll just fill me up with water and caffeine while providing no nutrition. I was also told I’m on fluid restriction as my ECG came back abnormal, which was news to me. Would’ve been nice to be told these things.

I was seen by the team, consisting of the consultant psychiatrist, registrar, medical doctor, two medical students plus a nurse also present. The consultant is the same one I had last time I was inpatient in May. I was again told the dangers of anorexia, the risk of refeeding syndrome, and warned that if I continue not eating and losing weight, they will feed me through a nasogastric tube.

The dietitian then came to see me again, asked me how much I’ve been eating in hospital, and increased the number of Ensures to two daily. She also mentioned getting an NG tube if I’m not getting adequate nourishment.

Before lunch, I was told by the nurse “If you don’t eat, you’ll be put on one to one specials.” I was not impressed at all that they’ll punish me in this way if I don’t eat. Being specialled when someone is at risk of harm to themselves or others I can understand, but this? This was a thinly veiled threat of punishment. I ate some of my meal, but when I stood up the nurse commented “You didn’t finish your meal.” “But I did eat,” I protested, and burst into tears. I was also told I have to remain in the dining room for 45mins after a meal, presumably so I don’t purge.

Before dinner I was stressing and crying about having to eat, and I had some of the soup.

I’m feeling pretty miserable today. I’m scared to eat and to gain weight, and I’m scared of getting tubed and being force fed. It’s a lose lose situation either way. I don’t need this much food, I don’t need to gain weight and I just want to be out of hospital. I was feeling fine before coming in, and now I’m feeling terrible :(