I’m Fine

TW – Eating Disorders, hospitals, medical emergency

It’s a Tuesday, its the middle of the hottest heat wave the UK has ever had. My phone has switched itself off because its too hot so I can’t even check the temperature – but the news has been saying its reaching 40 degrees in many parts of the country. People are hiding at home, living in paddling pools, knocking back iced water and drinks, working from home, not travelling or exercising. 

I however, am different. I’m superhuman. It doesn’t matter what the news is saying, what the medical advice is in this heat. It doesn’t matter what my doctor, my CPN, my carers, my family say. Because I’m different. I don’t need to avoid exercising. I can’t avoid exercising, I have things to do, places to be, calories to burn. I don’t need to drink more water – I’ve been doing just fine without for a while now. I’m not sweating anymore anyway, even in this heatwave so I’m not losing any water so thats fine. And as for food…well thats definitely not needed. I’m getting by just fine on my one weetabix in the morning and some fruit at lunch. I mean, it does’t always stay down – but eating is something I shouldn’t be giving in to anyway. I’m fine.

The day before I cycled for over 4 hours in the heat, and I did the same today. I didn’t drink a drop of water until the evening of both of those days. I’m fine, I’m superhuman, I don’t have the same needs as other people. 

A week later. It’s Tuesday again. I’ve once again cycled for a number of hours, I’ve been skating quite a few times. I’ve not drank since the weekend and I’m not sure if I’ve eaten, I think I have, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still fine. I’m tired, I’m frantically cleaning my house, doing DIY, Gardening, running errands, sorting out my shelves. I’m crying because I’m tired and thats weak. But I’m fine. People have been saying how I look like I’m having a great time from my social media. I’m fine.

Two days later, it’s Thursday, I’m at work. I still haven’t had anything to drink since the weekend. I definitely haven’t eaten since I had some fruit yesterday. I’ve just been to the GP for my weekly vital signs, weight and blood tests. They said I’m fine – I look much happier than I did a week ago. I’m not crying. I don’t have any tears. Thats no sweat and no tears, I’m not losing any water so don’t need to take any more on. Someone at work says I look really well. Like I’ve put on weight. Dammit. I must really have let myself go. I leave work early because I need to cycle. I need to keep moving so people can’t see how lazy, selfish and disgusting I am. 

Friday morning 8:30am. I don’t remember going to bed – but my carer is saying I’ve been asleep since 6pm last night. I normally get up at 6am – what a lazy cow still in bed at this time. I need to get up but my body doesn’t feel like its working properly. I’ve got things I need to do.

My carer is ringing 111. Doesn’t she know I’m fine? There’s nothing wrong except a disgusting display of selfishness, greed and laziness. I need to get the fuck out of bed and do stuff. They’re making a mountain out of a molehill – saying I need to go to A&E, 111 always overreact. I’m fine. The GP said I was fine. People have said I look fine. I am fine. I’ll go to A&E just to shut everyone up – and at least I won’t have to eat and drink there, thats one thing off my plate.

We arrive at A&E at 10am. By 10:10am I am already lying in a bay having an ECG and blood tests. In all my hundreds of times in A&E the only times I’ve been seen quicker is when I’ve been in Resus or that one time I came when it was the junior doctor strike and there were literally 6 patients in the entire department. Maybe they’re just having a quiet day, because I’m definitely not an urgent case. I’m fine.

I lose track of time after that. I’m not really sure what’s happening, I haven’t looked at my phone properly but there’s a lot of messages on it. A lot of time keeps passing and I don’t know where it’s gone. I remember that my carers have a meeting to help them understand eating disorders a bit more with an OT that worked with me in the past – I’ve got to make sure she knows she can go and log into that. I’m fine so she doesn’t need to worry about me. I’ll be heading home soon anyway.

The medical staff must have got the wrong end of the stick. Maybe they’ve mixed up my notes with someone who is actually ill. I’m kinda tired. But I’m fine. People are just making a big deal. They’re wanting to give me IV fluids. I don’t need them. I don’t want them. Heck the idea of being pumped full of heavy fluid fills me with dread. I have a panic attack. A healthcare assistant tells me to tell me 5 things I can see, hear, smell. I come back into the room. But I really don’t want to be back in this room. It’s for sick people. I’m not sick, I’m fine. There’s still fluids going into me, I freak out sporadically when I watch the drips going into the vial…imagining how it will make me balloon out of control. A greedy, fat mess. They stop the infusion to give me a rest, but not for long. “You need this to save your life” says the nurse “its my duty of care, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you not have it”. But this doesn’t make sense to me, I’m not dying, I won’t die. I’m superhuman. I don’t even do basic human things like pee anymore. They’ve definitely mixed the notes up. There’s probably some poor old lady in the next cubicle actually dying whilst they’re giving me her treatment. I’m fine.

The day drifts on, I’m confused about the passage of time. Hours slide by so fast but then minutes watching the drip take an eternity. I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep. I get moved to a ward. They take more blood. Good, at least thats getting some of that fluid out of me. I congratulate myself on having got through another day without food. Its easy here just to turn away when the food trolley comes (before long the staff stop asking me “C3 doesn’t eat” – my Anorexia is having a whale of a time.)

I convince someone to unhook the IV. Good. No food. No fluid. Ideal. I’m fine – fine people don’t need drips.

Sometime in the night I get out of bed. My vision turns into a dark tunnel. My legs won’t hold me up. How lazy of them – everyone must think I’m totally pathetic. I grab hold of a nearby sink to steady myself. 

Everything goes black.

I find out later that I nearly had a cardiac arrest. My heart rate had dropped to 25 which isn’t really compatible with functioning as a human. If I had been at home and not in hospital it could have been much worse. Coming round on my bed, with the crash team around me, de-fibrillator pads on my chest, a variety of people prodding me, hooked up to various machines, having been given drugs to increase my heart rate – apparently my first words were “I’m fine”. I didn’t understand why everyone around me was scared by this, I was bothered that my carer could have found me like that at home, and bothered that I’d taken up people’s time. But I couldn’t compute that even such an event could indicate that maybe I’m not fine.

Part 2 to follow.