I woke up in a hospital.
The faint beeping had awoken me. I tried to get up and stretch, but I found that my right arm had a tube in it. I tried moving it, but it hurt so bad. I dropped it back down and just lifted up my head to look around. My mom was laying in a chair, sleeping. Her eyes were red and swollen and her nose and cheeks were flushed. There were a lot of wadded up tissues around her and two empty boxes of Kleenex in the trash.
She had been crying.
I was genuinly surprised that she was even here. I set back down my head and then I heard my mom stir. I looked over at her and watched her collect herself. She looked at me with sad eyes and shook her head slowly before busting up in tears once more. She was sobbing loudly and sniffling every now and then.
After a while, she finally calmed down. She wiped her nose and eyes before whispering,
"Why?"
I thought I didn't hear her correctly, so I asked her,
"What did you say?"
"Why? Why did you do that to yourself?" she answered back quietly.
"I didn't do anything," I snapped. "I had just eaten a bad apple or something at lunch. That's why I puked."
"That's not what I asked. When I got the call from school saying that you had passed out and you were being rushed to the ER, I was worried sick. I immediatly rushed over to here and found you unconscious. I cried and cried and cried for heaven knows how long. The doctor's have diagnosed you with bulimia and anorexia. Why did you do that to yourself?"
"I was fat. Overweight. I wore a medium and now I wear an extra small. I'm still fat though." I told her.
She shook her head once more and got up. I watched her exit the room. She was probably getting food. Gosh. That woman was fat.
I moved over and settled my bare feet upon the frozen ground. Why were hospitals so cold? Whenever I'm in one, it feels like a meat-locker.
I must have pressed a button, or it was just that time because as soon as my feet hit the ground, a doctor came in. He was tall and lean with dark brown hair. His eyes sparkled and he smiled at me when he was I was awake. He walked up to me with his hand out.
"Hello there, Melanie. My name is Dr. Robinson. Do you know that you are very sick?"
I accepted his hand and shook it. I nodded my head and released his hand. I looked down at the beige linoleum floor. I felt oddly guilty for some reason.
"And may I ask why you would even think about doing that to yourself and your body? Anorexia nervosa can cause you major problems along with bulimia nervosa." he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders and continued to stare down.
"Your esophagus has been eroded by the acidic acid from your stomach. Your teeth have been affected by the acid as well. They are very prone to cavities and have discolored."
I stopped paying attention by then. I had already read up on it online. I didn't need to hear it from him.
I knew he continued talking, but I didn't pay attention to what he was saying. Until he told me this,
"You have been admitted into a clinic to help you with your anorexia."
I freaked out.
"A rehab center?! Are you serious?! There's nothing wrong with me! I'm just fine! If anything, I'm overweight!" I screamed at the poor doctor. By then, I had jumped up off the bed.
"Now Melanie, calm down. You are being admitted because you are very, very sick. You are actually about 30 pounds underweight for your height and age. You weigh only 100 pounds while the healthy weight for you should be around 130."
I was terrified. Gaining weight was my one fear. I shook my head and muttered,
"No. You can't make me. If I go, I'll have to go by force."
"Well, your mother has already signed the papers and allowed you to be admitted into a clinic. So basically, you are going to have to go whether you like it or not. Now, the time you will be there, which is 2 months, you will learn how to handle gaining weight and eating full portions."
I know he said more, but by then, I had passed out from shock.
