The Emergency Room

Today I spent 3 hours in the ER.

I got dizzy while standing up in group and I fell backwards into my seat.

The group leader called a nurse, who called the doctor, who said I would have to be cleared by the ER to come back to program.

They pushed me around in a wheelchair, even though I said I could’ve walked just fine.

They pushed me to the door where my grandma helped me into the car, just like she helped me into the ER three minutes later.

I don’t like being treated like a fragile doll. Yes I was dizzy, but I’m dizzy most days. I know how to work with it.

They drew my blood and made me pee in a cup and took my blood pressure about 30 times.

They made me wear a gown and hospital socks and locked all my possessions in a cabinet. They left me hooked up to a machine for hours while I waited for someone to tell me what was wrong and that I could go home.

It took hours of freezing, phoneless, bookless waiting, but my grandma waiting by my side helped more than the warm blankets did.

Finally a doctor came and delivered the most useless, waste of money diagnosis I have ever received.

Apparently I need to eat more, and drink a little more too! It was as if he didn’t read the part about being in a partial program for an eating disorder. That was his insightful drop of wisdom.

And then I was free to go.

I will never be free from the guilt of allowing people to worry about me to the point that my parents will have to pay thousands for an idiotic conclusion.

I will never be free from that.


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