I pace endlessly around the house. From my bedroom, along the landing, down the stairs, through the hallway, round the kitchen, into the living room, back to the kitchen, the hallway, the stairs… up, down, back and forth…
I am supposed to be on complete bed rest. My BMI is dangerously low and my weight is still falling. But still I am hiding food and still I am exercising. The lies, the guilt, the pain, it is all intensifying.
I am playing the waiting game. My consultant is away at the moment, but after a concerning weigh-in on Wednesday I was sent to another doctor on the team. My blood pressure is low. I couldn’t complete the squat test. Things are getting worse.
“What do you think will happen to me?” I asked the doctor. She didn’t give much of an answer. There’s a team meeting on Tuesday. Someone will contact me after that.
So all I can do is wait. Wait, wait, wait…
And try to increase my calories. That isn’t happening. I just can’t do it.
I know I will regret it.
I know I will end up in hospital, longing to be back home.
If only I’d tried harder, eaten more, followed my meal plan…
But I just can’t do it.