Hospital-free for a year

A year ago today, I left hospital for the last time (so far). A section had fallen flat on it's face, and I walked free. Since then, I've successfully dodged hospital and psychiatrists.

Since my first psychiatric inpatient admission at age 15, I haven't been 12 months without hospital (either inpatient at various units, or general hospital for ED-related issues). 2011 was completely hectic with six admissions in a year and two sections/Involuntary Treatment Orders. I've been counting down the days to my 'year without hospital'!

Last November and December, I had two admissions in a very short time. I'd had no more than one weak black coffee each day for two weeks, and on my presentation to Accident & Emergency I had blood sugar levels of 2.2 and very low blood pressure which were the cornerstones of my stay.

Room with a view
Looking out over Geelong, towards the bay

I was endlessly, constantly hooked to IVs - two lines at once in A&E. Dextrose, Potassium, Saline, Magnesium. They froze me from the inside out, the bags presumably stored next to the stephoscopes.

You've all heard of the horrible psychiatrist. I've written about what he said/did before, so I won't repeat it all here, but this was where he came in. He was always head-to-head with my endocrinology team, and they never agreed on a thing. My medical team were lovely, as were the nurses. They'd praise me for eating 1/4 of an English muffin for breakfast, instead of an 1/8th, while my psychiatrist would yell at me, getting angry and telling me I wasn't really trying.
"You're playing Brinkmanship"

My first admission was voluntary, for about a week and a half. The psychiatrist let me do my own thing mostly, and didn't really do much though I had to see him every day. One day, I told him that the endos wanted me to have more overnight dextrose drips. He protested, saying that he was putting it on record that he didn't agree with it, that it was like "giving a credit card to someone with a gambling problem". If I couldn't keep my blood sugars up myself, I don't deserve a drip. I discharged myself, my doctors warning me I'd be back within a week.

I was at the GP three times in five days before she sent me back to hospital, unable to walk more than 10 steps. I fought it the whole way, and the psychiatrist in A&E sectioned me. I cried, I wanted to go home. He told me I belonged in the psychiatric ward, and I cried more. The endo team fought him, saying I was too unstable (at this point, I had two IVs at once - I'd had to have them removed to go to psychiatric). The IVs stayed and I was put back on the medical ward under an Involuntary Treatment Order, en route to the EDU in Melbourne once a bed became available.

I cried a lot, and the psychiatrist yelled even more. The nurses were wonderful. They'd sit next to me and hug me while I cried about the horrible psychiatrist. Many of the nurses remembered me from the February admission, and it made me feel at home. I was wheelchair-bound of both admissions, and still had to have stable blood sugars to be wheeled downstairs for a cigarette. One nurse in particular, bribed me with going downstairs in my chair, if I ate a slice of toast so I wouldn't hypo off the wing.
"Do I have to eat the whole slice? Or just a quarter?"
"I think you should eat all of it."
On the second admission, the psychiatrist (wrongly) told me I couldn't leave the wing, whereas on my previous section I could if I was escorted. Sometimes the nice nurses would let me boyfriend wheel me downstairs on a 15 minute time limit, unbeknownst to the psych. I'd set a timer and hold on to the chair, and we would speed through the halls while I pre-rolled cigarettes.

 The story with the section? He had the weekend off, and was to organize someone to review me within 24 hours. Long story cut very short, he didn't. I was there for four days, sectioned. When he realized I hadn't been reviewed, it took a couple of days for him to figure out where I stood legally. Since I hadn't been reviewed, the section lapsed, and I walked free. Just like that.
"What's the plan?" I asked him, when he told me this
"No plan."
I discharged myself Against Medical Advice that evening, signing forms I'd never seen before.

It was a miracle, truly. I feel so lucky. It hadn't happened in the history of the hospital, to have a section 'lapse'. I was on my way to inpatient and force-feeding and 20kg+ weight gain, and I walked free. And I could keep starving. I'd never be so lucky for it to happen again, but I'm so grateful it did. It was the most amazing feeling, to magically be no longer sectioned.


And here I am a year later. Still running, avoiding doctors and hospitals and psychiatrists. Mum's said to me countless times, that I should be in hospital. But I never want to see a psychiatrist again, as long as I can help it. Fingers crossed I can keep having such a good run.

xxBella

Do, or do not do. There is no try.

I'm not going to sit here and cry about my weight not dropping. Why? Because there's no one to blame but me. So I'm gonna fix it.

I'm not feeling much better today, but I made myself half useful this morning and made a batch of soup. Tomato & basil, with carrot and celery and things. Very, very yummy. So that's lunch sorted for 50 calories a cup, with a side of crispbread and maybe an apple.
I will never not love soup and salads.

I'm going to cut it fine with my carbs today, but I think I'll be alright as long as I don't have breakfast late tomorrow. I'll come in a little under 600 today, which is just wonderful considering 500 is my minimum. I doubt I'll be doing much else today, but I'm going to try to get some cleaning done tomorrow. It's just one of those days where all I want to do is lie in bed (okay, so that's most days).

I will have my weight drop next week. No room for tears or complaining, just improvement. If I don't lose weight at my next weigh-in, all hell will break loose. There are no excuses.

Oh, and I'm going to try to get to the GP for a walk-in appointment on Sunday morning. I've been trying to get there for a couple of weeks, but I'm really hoping this week will be the week I can get there. I'll leave in tears, I always do, but I still need to get my OBs taken at least for my dietician's sake.


Love to you all, sorry I'm bouncing all over the place with my moods lately.
xxBella

Unhappy people do reckless things...

My spark fizzled out over the weekend, and depression came flooding in. So I floated away and ignored the world for a little, only to come crashing back for today's appointment.

My weight was exactly the same this week. I don't want to talk about it. I just need to work harder. Eat less. Much less. It's embarrassing.

I'm hoping I'll have my weight headed in the right direction before the year's out. There's no need to over-complicate it: I just need to eat less. And so eat less I shall.

Sorry for such a short post. I'm just so very tired, and so very sad.

xxBella

...

I'm yearning to get this weight off.
I need people to stop telling me that I look healthy.
"Really healthy", even.

I always find that rings are a good indicator of weight loss. I was given a black diamond ring a couple of years ago, and when I put it on, it was a snug fit. I broke down, swearing that one day it would fit on my thumb. It did eventually, until it fell off and I lost it.

At the moment I only have one ring, and I haven't been able to take it off in nearly a year. Until today.
After so long of punching walls and the like, the knuckles on my right hand (several fingers and one on my  hand) are kinda deformed and mis-shaped. And one day early this year, the finger that my ring was on got injured (at the same weight I'd maintained most of the year). Ever since, I could pull and twist at my ring, but it wouldn't come over my permanently-swollen knuckles for love nor money.
Today, though, it just came off. And I put it on my left hand instead - it looks much nicer.

I'm not 100% sure that it's an indicator of weight loss, or just a coincidence. My knuckles still feel 'locked' and look strange, so I doubt that the problem's mysteriously fixed itself.
My weight had dropped for three weeks in a row, until last week when it stayed the same. However, I'm hoping that was just food/water weight, and it'll drop again this week. I'm having a slightly lower intake next week anyway, just for a 'boost'. I need my weight to go down now, and I need it to go down a lot. I just want to tear off my skin. I'm far too big, and much too much. Until no one can tell me I look 'healthy'. I won't stop until they do.
It's needs to go. I need to go.

No being productive today. Right now I'm sat in bed, procrastinating the massive amounts of lettuce I need to wash and dry.

Currently drinking anywhere between 4-5 liters (16-20 cups) a day, sometimes more. At least 3-4 liters (12-16 cups) of that is from black coffee. It's insane.

Beat the heat

It's 37 degrees today. Only a few days ago, it was 18. Sigh. Hypothermia to risking heatstroke all in a matter of days! Ah, Australia.

xxBella

I feel so light and floaty lately. It's lovely.

Yesterday after I skipped lunch, I spent the following few hours in bed smoking (I had an anxiety attack making my sandwich and ran into hiding). The light-headed, dizzy, empty feeling from skipping a meal changed. It effects me more when I haven't eaten enough. Hunger feels like power, and sickness feels like freedom. The world doesn't exist.

I got a much nicer picture of my hair today. The wind was also being super convenient. It's such a nice deep burgundy.

I posted it on Facebook to try and interact with people more, and got some good feedback. One creepy guy (who I used to hang out with) sent me seedy messages, and one bitch said I look "really healthy". I deleted that comment so no one would get any ideas. I'm sorry that my face doesn't look as underweight as the rest of me, and that I carefully chose a picture that doesn't accentuate my weight issues. I want my fucking cheekbones back.
Apart from that, all the feedback was good.

So I'm feeling semi-confident about myself today. I don't know, I just feel good. I've actually been slightly productive (i.e, not in bed all day) the past couple of days, and I feel good in myself. Fingers crossed I can get a few more good days before I crash into a heap.

xxBella

"I''ve been thinking about changing the proportions of salad in my sandwiches." I announce, as if a life changing decision

"Really?" replies mum, lending the topic equal importance

Bless her for humouring my pathetic life.

This is the perfect example of my days, why I have nothing to post about. Mum listens with great patience, but I don't fool myself into thinking that anyone actually wants to know why my 28g of carrot and 25g of lettuce should be changed. Though these are the great problems of the world to me currently.

I'm trying to be half-way useful this week, and actually do things. Yesterday I actually made three proper meals for the first time in weeks, and even managed to stay out of bed for most of the day whilst slowly attacking my to-do list. This morning I kept myself busy for a few hours, dying my hair. I used to do it every month, but I've only bothered twice in the past year. Hell, it's lucky to get brushed most days.

December 2011

December 2012 (today)

It's not looking great. It's gradually become flatter and thinner over the past year. Mum & I had both noticed in the past few months that my hair is thinning out, but looking at the comparison pictures really drove it home today. It's barely grown in the past year (I haven't cut it), and it has no volume to it any more. The other big realisation, was when I needed only one pack of hair dye - not two like normal.

For now, I'm off to float away on my pillow after a long day. I just want to float.

xxBella

Slipping Away

Everything's too much. I'm not coping. I haven't done anything all week because I'm too overwhelmed by life. My grand plans of being productive have been abandoned daily, sulking back to bed after breakfast. Every day I've tried to write a post, but there's just nothing to say. My words are pointless. At least on Tuesdays I have an appointment to talk about.

My weight stayed the same this week. I was the only one not completely overjoyed. I spent most of the appointment in tears and left mid-panic attack, as has become the norm again. After I left, she asked mum to tell me to think about having a chat before getting weighed next week. So that might be worth a try, but I never have anything to say until I know what's happened with my weight. Sigh.

I'm having trouble resisting the urge to do something drastic to guarantee a loss next week. But my stomach's been in knots all morning and I feel a bit bloated, so hopefully that'll resolve itself by next week and the number will drop. When I was putting my intake up, I always waited two weeks to get consistent results before changing much. So I'm trying to apply the same logic, and wait for two weeks of no loss before I lower my intake. I can't lower it much more without only eating fruits and vege, and even then I can't go below 500 calories. I feel bad, because I want less food, but at the same time I don't want it to be just fruit & vege. I'd be more than happy to live on nonfat yoghurt, but if I did that I'd either need to eat over 900 calories, or be hypoglycemic the next morning. Carbs are the only essential in my mind, and I feel so goddamn bad every time I eat something with significant protein or fats. Sorry I'm rambling.

Still no OBs/GP this week. Purely due to the fact that I'm not really functioning. I'm blocking everything out and spending my days in bed. My to-do list got too long and I panicked and shut down. My days are speeding by in a blur of tears and sleep and panic attacks. I'm still not cooking proper dinners, most nights I've had toast with Vegemite. I don't have the energy to deal with anything, mentally or physically. I think depression is seeping back into the limelight. I just want to be invisible. I'm so embarrassed to be me.

All my love to you wonderful girls. Sorry I'm being so horrible with not posting or commenting. I'm really going to try to make at least one post between now and next Tuesday, even if I have nothing to say. I'm going to catch up on comments later today or tomorrow. A thousand and one hugs to all of you who are struggling.

xxBella

(I don't own this pic, but it's definitely relevant)