Thursday, 28 March 2013

Unreasonable Condron.

You might not get this from reading my crap over the last few years (I can't believe I missed my 3 year blog birthday. Blogaversary?), but I'm actually pretty damn chirpy, a lot of the time. I actually sometimes do my own head in, 'cause oftentimes the inside of my head is like watching Cbeebies. My wardrobe is definitely about half pre-school tele presenter, a quarter old lady and even a secret quarter of pure slut... a sex crazed old lady with an annoyingly sunny disposition; that's me. I'm lost during my dark days and moments, because it's like after 7pm when you just really need to watch happy crap and Cbeebies is finished for the day and you're dead lost. I've found though, as my BMI is dropping, I'm becoming Unreasonable Condron, a creature pretty much the same as the beast Teenage Condron- who everyone hoped had been lost to time, like I always hope the fact that Teenage Condron went by 'Bekkii' has been lost to time- but without the acne (praise be Baby Jesus) and with a lower threshold for girl drama (which is unfortunate, given I'm living with a shit tonne of women).

They said that I couldn't come to a unit like this one, which is a long-term personality disorder nightmare, at a low BMI because at a low BMI your cognitive skills are, um, something (that was my low cognition attempt at funny; I can tell it fell flat, don't worry). Christ on a bike, am I feeling that now. It's dead bizarre, I've never noticed this happen in the past, which seems ridic because it's so bloody obvious now. I've gone from hardly ever getting angry or owt, to having strops over anything that's not just so. I kicked off yesterday and ended up being restrained for over half an hour, which is a bloody long time to have blokes sat on you in a sex free sort of a way, because of staff trying to enforce a rule that I objected to as it wasn't in my care plan. Today I lost it a few times, basically over technicalities. I can see, as if my life is spread before me like a magazine spread or film, when I'm becoming Unreasonable Condron, but there's shit all I can do about it, apart from inwardly cringe after my blood has gone from boiling back down to simmering.

I'm nervous about what's to come. In my last ward round, moving me back to an eating disorder unit was mentioned. I really, really don't want that to happen, 'cause I've got a bloody long stretch ahead of me in here, and the thought of shoving another admission in now, then returning here in months to come to start all over, is bloody grim and I'll fight them all the way on that one. Saying that, the number one top joy of being sectioned is you really have absolutely no say in what happens to you, so saying I'll fight means shite all. Unreasonable Condron wants to run away and hide, but luckily that's one bit of UC (I've got bored of typing out the name) that I can keep a lid on. I feel like I'm losing control though- which is ironic given that eating disorders are always oversimplified down into being about control- and like I'm just a passenger, rather than the pilot, of this plane.

Sunday, 17 March 2013

ED care on a non specialist unit (and more updates!)

I haven't written about the Big Move (that capitalisation is completely necessary), mostly 'cause I struggled a lot with going from my last hospital to this one. There are a shit-tonne of reasons; I left one of my best friends, who I'd lived with for months, and came to a unit where I didn't even have phone or internet access for the first few weeks, never mind having Alex with me; I came from a unit of 5 beds to a unit of 20; the whole feel of this ward is kind of, I don't know, much more formal and structured than my last one. I'm finally settling in, almost 4 weeks since I came here. It's just an entirely different set up and it's weird to try and get my head around the fact that, chances are, I'm going to be here over a year. That's a really difficult concept to grasp, it sort of feels like when you try to visualise the vastness of the universe.

I'm alright though, although my weight is falling and I'm not that far off the weight I was when I first went onto the eating disorder unit. That pisses me off. At myself, at the ignorance of the staff here when it comes to Anorexia, at the fact that, God, I don't know. I'm mostly just angry at myself. I have had some absolute to-dos with the staff though, over it. When a SECOND member of staff told me she wished that she had Anorexia, as I was crying over a salad, I chucked my cutlery at her (I missed completely, if I want to increase my chances of hitting summat I have to aim a good 45 degrees off what I want to hit. And get really close, I throw like the proverbial girl) and told her to fuck off. When a nurse the other night scoffed at my eating efforts we ended up in this ridiculous, screaming, argument that involved us each threatening to complain about the other, and ended with me shouting, 'yeah, you fucking walk away, you fucking pussy.' I think that last bit was the Scunthorpe in me coming out, what can I say. I actually never get angry so it's dead impressive they managed to make me lose it. So kudos (I don't really know what that means, I'm just hoping I'm using it right. Totally not down with the kids), really.

The weight thing is really bothering me though, not least because they have no contingency plan for what'll happen if/when it drops to a dangerous level. It's more a case of when, to be honest, they're giving me about 400 calories a day. They haven't even decided at what point it's dangerous, I'm already very underweight. I know I'll get a bollocking in my ward round on Tuesday, but they just don't understand that I can't ask for food. I don't know, I'll guess we'll see. There is just no ED care and it's quite scary.

Wednesday, 13 March 2013

The words won't come.

I've sort of been avoiding SBIWYB since I moved to my new unit. I suppose I didn't really know what to say... that and I didn't have internet access for a few weeks; I'd forgotten about that, blocking out trauma, like. I still don't really know what to say. I don't know what I think. The other patients are mostly lovely; the staff are, um, not horrific; the unit is pretty damn hospital-ish. It's all so different from my last unit, not least because I'm the only Anorexic and they really have no idea about eating disorders. Let me have a bit of a think about what I think and what I want to write, then I really will write summat proper. I just wanted to post that I'm alive, I'm ok, I'm just still reeling really about the complete change of habitat.