Found some old writings today....written after I had been released from the hospital. I almost died from compulsive overeating. Yo-yo dieting, binging, vomiting, bad food....led to gallbladder disease. That led to pancreatitis and liver problems. It was hell. Here are some excerpts...I had forgotten how bad it was.

It was orange, bright orange, and stained the toilet. But that was not the worst part. It was the stench. The fluid that kept me alive was a sticky, sweet syrup that permeated every pore of my body. I smelled like yeasty blood. But the urine, God! The odor lifted itself to my nostrils before I could move my weak body out of the way. If I had anything resembling food in my stomach I surely would have vomited. But it had been weeks since I had anything to drink let alone eat. Doctors orders, I must starve like those Ethopians mother always told me about. In the land of plenty I was too have none. As I slid my robot companion (I lovingly dubbed him R2D2) past the bathroom door I glimpsed trays upon trays stacked against the far wall. FOOD TRAYS!!!!! Vegetarian that I was, I would kill for some jell-o. Flavored ground bones mixed with water, sloppy cold on a pale gray tray. How wonderful it would be! To roll the coldness against my tongue and teeth. To feel something, anything in my mouth other than the protruding thermometer that sabered itself against the delicate underside of my tongue. Perhaps there could be a dollop of cool whip? Sugared milk whipped to perfection. Creamy white snow atop a glistening green gelatin mountain. Who was to stop me? The nurses busied themselves cackling over some poor wards misery no doubt. They paid no attention to the desperate, dying girl, who would literally die for some jell-o.

I woke up.....alone. i heard the machines working. Beep..............beep.....................beep. Would it never end? Pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh............shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............pshhhhhhhhhhh.....shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

It was 2 AM and the clatter ceased to abate outside of my room. The nurses station never slept and the noise grated against my nerves that so needed rest and sleep. The fat nurse with the big painted lips (the only one who could find a vein for my IV now) had said they needed me to be close to the nurses station. I liked her. She told me funny stories and tried to make me laugh as she trolled my arms for sinkholes. I couldn't laugh, but appreciated the effort and intention. I would need her soon. My arm was throbbing with pain. The fluids that kept me alive were hard on my veins. I felt no pain other than the agony in my arm. It was screaming....always screaming. But I had to weigh the consequences of the pain I was feeling now, against the pain of another fishing expedition. My right arm was used up. So was the left now. The thought of walking to the bathroom with those cords hanging between my legs inspired me to keep my finger of the nurse call button. Instead I would sing with the pain, and ride it's waves. Over and over and over, until the morning comes.

Damn them. The TV wasn't working. Didn't they realize there was nothing to do? This was my only salvation until my family got off work to keep me company and take my mind off the agony. Damn them. No cable, no color, a screen 2x2. And that was not torture enough? Damn them all. I would not make it easy for them today. I would fight them with passivity. I would make them give me a sponge bath. I will forget I am here. Beep........beep.........beep.

"You may take two umbrella steps."

"Mother, may I?"

"Yes, you may."

As gracefully as I could I moved my left arm in a swan-like arch towards the sky letting my left hand gently come to rest on the top of my head like a brownie beanie. I moved my right arm away from me until it hovered above the floor as if suspended by invisible strings. I was my mothers play puppet; my every move dictated by her whim. I smiled dutifully, and took one step forward, swinging my body round in a dainty circle twice fulfilling my mother command.

"Andy, you may take three toad hops."

His hair was rough & unruly and ran about his heat like a rambunctious two year old. His eyes were nearly invisible as he beamed his response back to mother."

"Mother may I!?"

"Yes, you may."

Andrew squatted with his arms between his legs and leapt forward thrice with all the might his chubby little body could muster....

I was awake now. The painful organ no longer troubled me while I slept under a haze of morphine. I felt....nothing. Somehow, this seemed more dangerous than the pain.

Mother stood above me. She was smiling but she could not hide her anxiety from me. Damn her! Don't hide it. Be worried. Be AFRAID! I need to feel. Someone needs to feel. Fear, fear keeps him away.