Steel Skeleton

Reluctance

 He didn't want to go, no, not really, but it wasn't really his decision anymore.  It had gotten to the point where he couldn't fight it. The company had finally brought upon the decision.  If he wouldn't go; he couldn't perform until he did.  It meant he couldn't get paid, or even go in and train.

So he went. He reluctantly had decided he probably should after almost finding himself passed out in a toilet bowl of his own puke.  He knew how sick he was; he had just refused to acknowledge it until he noticed how it affect his training.  He found it almost odd, how folks seemed to be oblivious, and somehow even after he started to almost uncontrollably binge and purge, it kept going.

He had a goal weight of 110 pounds, and as of this morning he was at 102.  He never meant for it get to this point.  It had just happened, and so now here he was, in the waiting room.  He was awaiting his intake assessment, and the decision he had so reluctantly made.

At least the artistic director had vouched for him to be able to train just a bit; it was a bit of hope in such a trying moment.  He wasn't sure whether he'd spend a month there, or half a year.  He's heard stories of both, and to be out of training for so long, it was another terrifying aspect of it. He was not wanting to spend so long there, and he feared that he would.  He could lose his job; both jobs. He loved performing and coaching.  He had no intention of losing them.

"Gavin," He heard a voice speak his name.  His heart rate began to pick up.  He picked up his backpack and followed the nurse into the long hallway.  "Hi, I'm Jane. You're here for an intake, correct?" She asked.  He nodded, confused as to why it wasn't already on the sheet.

"Yeah." He said, his voice seemed to resonate so awkwardly between them. He cursed himself internally.

They stopped beside the scale.   A common sight at this point.  He stepped on after slipping his shoes off. 102.4.  Exactly as the morning with the added water weight from existing.  He hadn't eaten yet; even though it was already 5 pm.  He found such a comfort in the feeling

They kept walking into a room.   It looked like an examination room; with the exception of the posters.   They all seemed to be about eating disorders, healthy eating, and some for parents.  Truly a sight no one with an eating disorder would want to see.  It seemed every corner had something.  It made him want to do the opposite of what they said.

 He ignored the posters and let the nurse take his blood pressure, heart rate, and everything else she needed.  Then came the barrage of questions.  They seemed 

"Yes."

"No."

"Five times a week."

"Yes."

"No."

"Can't remember."

"Few years."

It was all the same. They asked about behaviors. He answered the same.  Was he starving himself? Did he know why?  How many times did he binge and purge?  Did he fear gaining weight? Did he do this because of that?   First time he binged and purged?  How long has this been going on?

Privacy was his thing, and it's how he could hide it for so long.  No one asked.

He found this so invasive, but he had to do it.  He knew he did need help.  He was just terrified of it.

"Alright, Greene should be here in a few moments." The nurse explained.  Gavin knew that usually meant a long wait; up to 30 minutes of pure waiting.  He went to find ways to entertain himself, and they all lasted a solid five minutes before he got bored.  He even got up and marked through the dance of his act.  He was far too nervous to keep focused.