I can't type much right now, but I figure I need to. My finger has 
been killing me (feels like arthritis), but screw it.

I guess what I was meant to come here to write was that yes, I am struggling. I am struggling with the very fact that I am going to have to say "enough is enough" and suddenly become someone who I have never known. Yes, I still struggle.

On Wednesday, I got up the strength and courage to see my doctor. I asked him, after stammering out some information about what has been going on/him questioning my weight loss, for an NG tube. Yeah, weird request. I'm obviously not on my death bed like before. But here is the difference: I am not hiding my eating disorder. Everyone knows about it, and yes, I do want some sort of life. Someday! So I want to maintain my weight, at least, instead of continuing to lose because I feel helpless, you know? Well, he listens, nods, is silent for minutes, and then says he's going to talk to the main doctor of the clinic. He seems to be behind the plan, saying that he could see if he could arrange for a nurse to place it at home in privacy.

He came back quickly. His response: Dr Kothary doesn't want to place a tube. I look at him and said, "Dr Kothary saw the number on the sheet and says I'm not emaciated enough, eh?" So my doctor grimaced and whispered a "yeah." It was as though he was genuinely sorry that he couldn't help more. I couldn't believe this- just another doctor telling another person that, because I was not completely dead on the floor like before, I couldn't help prevent that right now. I was floored, and defiant, and just wanted to get outta there in order to do behaviours to "show" that idiot.

Well, MY doctor did end up apologising, saying that he wishes he could do something (but of course I can't get treatment again- you know that study? Yeah, they wanted me to PAY for the programme at Harvard!). He turned to me and said: "Hey you know, there is a GI internist downstairs. I think you should go talk to him."

A glimmer of hope. Okay, so I'm going to go and talk to him now. I ask to make an appointment, but to my disappointment, he is booked until 6 October. I decided to make the appointment anyway. I could always cancel. Let's pray I can!!! (I decided to also email him about my predicament as he is one of the doctors whose email is listed on the website.)

What required huge bullocks was finally discussing this with my mother-in-law Kathy, who has been one of the saving graces in my life. She introduced me to God, love, family unit, and dietetics (she's the chief clinical dietitian at the hospital I was last at). She (and the rest of the Mershon family) has introduced me to what real life looks like- ups and downs, but generally all there. :) She seemed quiet at first, but despite all we have been through with the treatment centres and sorrow and hospitalisations and anger and judgment, she just said that she is so ready to help me because I'm being honest and open despite my huge embarrassment/guilt/shame. 

After about talking to her for 30 minutes on the phone, she said she had gotten home from work, and would call me back on the house line. We continued the conversation after a few moments, and then she said: "What are you having for dinner?" I stuttered out, honestly, that I probably would have some fruit.

Well, long story a little shorter...I ended up over at her house, where she had made me dinner (nothing too huge as she understands the re-feeding process) and a protein supplement (bad news). We prayed over dinner, something I hadn't done in too long, and we began processing the meal. It took me almost three hours to finish all but 25% of the supplement, and it ended up making me really really really sick to my stomach (doubling over). We spent the rest of the night chatting, and that night, I had had my first real meal in X amount of time. I went home so much less stress than I had been before. I had a friend, a mother-in-law, and a professional RD on my team now.

Yesterday (Sunday), I woke up, got dressed, washed my face, and went to Westside Church with Kathy. I had given up on going to church, because I hated going alone to Riverlakes, and the services never touched me like they did back at Remuda/Cornerstone Church. Well, Kathy usually goes to Westside alone, so she insisted that I come. I was so scared to go back to God, in the end, but I knew I had someone to go with, and I got up the strength to go back to Him.

I cried so hard during service and praise. It was as though the speakers were talking to me. Nearly every person I ran into that Kathy introduced me to knew who I was already, as they have had me on their prayer list since last February, and they actually had hand-crafted and tied knots in a prayer quilt for me. It was as though everyone had known me for a long time, understood my journey, and didn't judge me. The feeling of fear had dissipated, and I stood in a circle of friends (much older friends, but friends all the same).

(As for the tube feeding stuff, I'm still not sure. I still working really hard with Kathy to figure out the meal plan nonsense, and get through the physical/emotional/mental pain of nourishment. I'm still hoping for the option of the NG tube and that the GI internist will listen to my story without judgment. Sometimes it is overwhelming and too horridly painful to keep all I need to in. If anyone can give me a small bit of advice on how to get a doctor to take you seriously when it comes to medical procedures such as this...please, I would appreciate anything you can give me. Oh and, spiritually-related, I've decided to go to church every Sunday with Kathy.)

Basically, this is me saying that yes, I am struggling. No, it's not easy. But yes, I'm still fighting, and no, I will not give up. I am NOT alone, and neither are you. You just have to keep looking for that one person, those people, the things that will somehow touch your life, ya know?