Mealtimes and Milestones Read Online Free

just coming up in buckets and buckets of tears. I was totally helpless, I couldn’t help
myself, and I couldn’t accept help – anorexia wouldn’t let me. They gave me the last option which was to drink my snack in Enlive, 7 but I
just couldn’t . . .
    They basically had to drag me out of the dining room. I had to sit down on the treatment room bed. This was it. I was having the thing I least wanted, but also what my anorexia most wished
for.
    One member of staff took the tube and measured it against my body to see roughly where my stomach was. While my key worker held my hand, she told me that she would push it up my nose, and then
it would go down the back of my throat and then into my stomach. She moved the tube nearer and nearer my nose. I moved away, so she had to support my head. I was crying and groaning, but through my
tears I begged her not to do it. ‘Let me die, I’m worthless.’ This wasn’t my anorexia saying this, though . . . this was me now.
    I thought about what my friends would be doing at that moment. Having fun at school, laughing with friends, enjoying life – and here I was, having a tube inserted into my stomach.
    To make it smoother going down they suggest that you take a gulp of water, so when it goes down the water opens up the passages. I didn’t want to have it, but I had it anyway just to try
and make it more comfortable. She pushed the tube up my nose and then said the word ‘gulp’. I swallowed the water and the stiff tube went down with it. It was awful. For one thing, I
didn’t want to live, and two, it was like I could actually feel the tube going down inside me and moving. She then taped the rest to the side of my face and round the back of my ear.
    It was then time for my first feed via an NG tube. They syringed up the Enlive, attached it to my tube and then pushed it down. I could actually feel my stomach filling up but nothing was
entering my mouth. I felt really light-headed and I vomited. They got me to do breathing exercises to try to calm me down. It helped a bit but I still hated the sensation, and I wondered how long I
would have to go through this for.
    I ate some lunch, but it was really uncomfortable with the tube in my throat. It feels like when you don’t chew a large piece of food enough, and you can feel it go down your throat. You
keep swallowing and eventually it moves down and you can’t feel it any more, but the tube doesn’t move, and it stays there.
    In Friday Group 8 one of the things talked about was the low mood, which was partly because of people not eating. I feel like all the young people are really
mad with me, and that I have caused the entire low mood. One of the young people actually directed a question at me.
    ‘I wonder how it feels for Constance hearing this?’
    There was a long silence where I wondered whether to respond.
    ‘Yeah, it is quite hard, because when people talk about the non-eating, that is basically me, so I just feel like I take all of the responsibility, and I’m so sorry that I have
affected you all so much.’
    There was another long silence, then another young person responded.
    ‘It’s just hard when other people don’t eat, because none of us want to, but sometimes you just have to.’
    The conversation then moved on. I just feel so guilty though. I don’t want to affect other people, but I also don’t want to eat.
    For the rest of the day I just had to keep thinking that the more I ate normally the less I had to have through my tube. It was such a struggle, with every snack and every meal. One of the staff
members was lovely and offered loads of support as she could see that I was finding it really hard. She asked me why, but I just kept crying and saying that I didn’t see why people were being
so supportive, when all I wanted to do was end my life. She kept reiterating that I DID deserve to live, and I DID deserve food, and I DID mean something to many people. I tried to believe this but
I