1.3 kg weight loss this week. These are the words of the kind young psychologist at our weekly appointment. L bites her lip. She didn’t expect this. I did. Even though L has made enormous progress, in our world, the only thing that counts is the figure on the scales. The psychologist informs me that she will let her colleague, the psychiatrist know. I understand what she means. The news will be seen as further evidence that while I am clearly doing my best, anorexia has L in its grip and we are not going to be able to help her. I leave L with the psychologist for their session, first letting L know that I think she has really done well this week. Even though there is a loss, she has still tried so hard. Is this wrong? Does it give L a false impression of what is needed? I don’t know.
I go to the waiting room. I brought a home catalogue with me to read with L. We are planning a new bedroom for her. Naively I thought that if her planning and project skills were diverted into this, it would take her away from the project of losing more and more weight. I know, it seems pathetic. Now I flick through the pages. I imagine doing up her room when she is in hospital, as a surprise for when she comes home. I am so tired, partly due to the throat infection. We are only at the beginning of this journey and all we can do is think of today, possibly this week. We are both trying so hard. But it isn’t working and I am not sure either of us has more to give.