It has been four days since L was admitted. There are equal measures of sadness and relief. I miss her, but if don’t miss Ed. Unfortunately he was admitted alongside her so he can sit on her shoulder at meals and whisper malevolent thoughts in her ear, telling her she is huge already, urging her to compare herself to all the other patients who are so much thinner than her. She has lost weight since admission as she has not completed meals. The unit’s regime is to time meals and remove food after the allotted time, placing patients on bed rest and refusing home leave until weight is gained and meals completed. As you may guess, I have some doubts about this approach.
But it is definitely the case that things could not continue as before. Freed from the need to wake and be on shift at meal times until bed time. I have realised how tired I am and all I seem capable of is sleep. Tomorrow I return to work and if L was at home, C would have the routine of breakfast by nine, ending forty minutes later followed by an hour supervision, by which time it is morning snack, then lunch with a further supervision and so on until we all fall into bed. We would have to search her room and refuse to allow her time to be alone to buy laxatives or blades – and as there is no policy of searching rooms or luggage at her unit, I wonder if others smuggle these in and hide them so easily in their private rooms. I imagine telling these fears to the staff and how they will respond by stating L needs to want to get better, conflicting with the advice of CAMHS that she is unable to make rational decisions at present. I would like to get both sets of professionals in a room and ask them to set aside their need to do things their way and to find a way through for L. But that is weeks away, at her next review, and for now, I am just too tired. Tomorrow a commute and a backlog of work awaits, coupled with more problems to solve. I long to find L and to run away to a calm place where we can sleep forever.