A bright light flashes above me. I slowly open my eyes to realize that I’m lying in a cold, metal-framed bed with crisp white sheets.
I can’t speak because my throat is swelled shut.
People buzz around me and poke me with syringes/charts/pills.
“She was found in the bathroom of the school… yes, she passed out. Blood sugar is low, and her salivary glands are swelled.” Someone explains.
“Oh dear…” A quiet voice replies. My mom.
“Does she have any pre-existing medical conditions that we should be aware of?”
“No.” Mom says.
I open my mouth. “Mom…?” I croak.
“Oh sweetie… you’re in the hospital.” She informs me.
The doctor talks slowly. “Jenna, do you know why you’re in the hospital?”
“I passed out… at school… in the bathroom…” I remember slowly.
:Toilet/lunch/darkness:
“What happened?”
“I was throwing up into the toilet and blacked out.” I say.
“Why were you throwing up, Hannah?”
“Because I ate some strawberries…” I whisper.
“Hannah, how would strawberries make you sick?”
“I didn’t want to eat them… but I was hungry, so I had to.” I respond.
“Okay…” The doctor examines a chart. “Mrs. Peters… I think that Jenna has bulimia nervosa.”
“What’s that?” Mom asks.
“It’s a type of eating disorder. The sufferer intentionally consumes thousands of calories in one sitting and then forces themselves to purge to rid themselves of the food.”
“What can we do about it?” Mom asks.
“We have very good treatment plans for eating disorders… We can develop a plan for Hannah to help her.” The doctor says.
Bulimia nervosa… bulimia nervosa… bulimianervosa.
The word replays in my head. I have an eating disorder… And I’m a cutter… and I’m in a mental facility…
Wow. Unbelievable.
