My Life in the Psych Ward

On my fourth day in the Hospital I was transfered to the psychiatric ward of the hospital, where I would would be dealt with by a team of experts including a nutricionist, 2 psychologits, 2 pychiatrists, nurses, my doctor, and occasionaly the staff from the eating disorders clinic.

It was not until I entered the psych ward that I found out how lucky I was to be alive. At the blood sugard levels I was functioning on, I was lucky not to have slipped into a coma and suffered permanent brain damage, or death. On the amount and types of laxatives I was taking, I was lucky not to have bled to death internally, destroyed my organs, or put myself into shock. Not to mention the dyhdration. Its very likley that if I had been left another few hours, I would have died.

It was also mentioned that a feeding tube may need to be used. My body was eating itself, and they were not sure I could last much longer (they still arn’t sure how much longer I can last on my current intake). What was not explained right away was that I was too high a risk for refeeding syndrom to do it right away, and that nutrition needed to be introduced slowley, or my body would go into shock.

By this point in time I was absolutly terrified that I would die…and even more terrified that I was going to get fat.

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