The Lies We Told On Thursday Nights

42.Saturday: Out of Her Life (Sue, Emery's Mom)

Hey everyone!

I hope this chapter is okay, I wrote it all in about an hour so it is short. MAJOR eating disorder warning, not necessarily triggering, but talking about the major gruesome consequences of eating disorder. Let me know if my account of eating disorder emergency hospital is inaccurate, I tried to do research....but it was pretty triggering for me.

Sue (Emery's Mom)

Saturday - 1:03 am

I was used to hospitals. I knew the layout of the physical therapy floor and the neurology floor, I knew all the gift shops and food places in the cafeteria. But I didn't know where I was now.

It was floor 10; the nurse slid her id card in the bolted door. I'd never been behind that door, I never thought much of it.

But here I was.

I was trembling, tripping over my feet, my vision blurred. I get really scared when NAME is in the hospital, I panic..but I stay present and know what to do. But this time, I had no control over anything. I couldn't take out a laminated small paper with her medications and folded diagnoses sheet. I couldn't help the doctors heal her.

Because none of that existed, I knew nothing about Emery Nates, I didn't think she entered organ failure, nor did I know that this wasn't her first cardiac episode.

I didn't know she made herself throw up, nor did I know the diet pills she was taking were destroying her brain.

Within the past hour, doctors have been muttering things to me. Everything was too slow and too fast. They would ask me questions, "Is she bulimic? When was the last time you saw her eat? Has she lost her period? Does she have anemia? "

All I said was, "I don't know." And then in less than a minute they'd answer there own questions.

"Yes, she is bulimic. There are scratches and erosions on her throat."

"Due to her teeth and the lack of food-related plaque...definitely haven't eaten over 24 hours."

"Based on the feeling of her cervix area and her flattened ovaries, she has lost her period."

"Based on the cold fingers and intense bruises, yes she has anemia."

They were gesturing to parts of her limp body, but I couldn't look. Seeing her naked and laying on the floor was scarring.

I spent a minute staring at my daughter, laying on the floor.

I couldn't face it again.

As the doctors approached with an ng tube and to an enclosed room, Emery began to stir.

They told me she was too weak to be sedated, so the NG feeding tube needed to be inserted while she was awake. I asked if they could do it later, I didn't want to see her scream. They responded bleakly and said she needs something or her blood pressure will reach lethal levels.

I swallowed hard, my body aching as she began to yell, she was thrashing her arms around as she eyed the tube.

I turned away. Suddenly the doctor was beside me. Her name tag said Psychiatrist in the Eating Disorder ward.

"Where was your daughter tonight? she said, gingerly reading a report.

"At a party," I muttered distastefully, recalling the blood on her dress and that life-destroying jacket.

"Oh," a nurse who was holding down my helpless daughter said casually: "was that the party where the boy killed himself?"

I didn't respond. I didn't need to. Emery did for me.