I put off writing this post yesterday because of everything that has been going on, and I was still trying to recover from the events that took place on Friday night. Something both terrible and miraculous happened to me that night, and I'm going to try to describe it from what T had told me what happened...
I was in the middle of cooking dinner for T, his dad, and I when I started to feel extremely nauseous. I went to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and sat there and gagged. Nothing was coming up, but I felt so sick. Then I sat down, curled up in a ball with my arms around my legs and called for T. When he came in, I told him I felt really sick, but I couldn't throw up. I told him something didn't feel right. That something was wrong. He was rubbing my back when I leaned to the side and rested my head on the shower door. This is the last thing I remember.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital, hooked up to an IV, the heart monitor stickers all over my body, and my nurse closely watching me from outside my door. She came in and sat down. Started asking me simple questions like where I was, what month it was, just things like that.
Apparently, this is what happened. After I leaned onto the shower door, T asked me if I felt like I needed to go to the hospital. He didn't get any response from me. Again, he asked a minute later if I needed to go. When he didn't get a response out of me the second time, he went and took dinner out of the oven, told his dad he had to take me, and came back in to take me out to the car. He said when he picked me up, that my body wasn't dead weight like normally it would be, but it was completely stiff. I was stuck in that curled up, almost fetal position. He put me in the car and hauled ass to the hospital. He said that while he was driving, my breathing was really fast, as if I was almost crying.
When we got to the hospital, he told them about my late stages of anorexia. He was highly irritated with the charge nurse because she wasn't taking it as any big thing. He said she was taking her time getting me admitted into the ER. Apparently while I was in the wheelchair, he said that I was still stuck in that fetal position and my legs were just dangling off the front. I was shaking, non responsive and breathing too fast.
Finally they got me back to a room and a male nurse had to lift me out of my chair and put me on the bed. They got me hooked up to the vitals. This is when T's dad took a short video of what was happening. It showed the screen of my vitals. My heart rate was 128, and my oxygen was at 90. Then the video shows me in the bed for a couple seconds, in the almost fetal position, shaking terribly.
One of the things that really scared the doctors was that when a nurse was lifting up my arm to do something, he let go of it, and instead of it falling back down, my arm just stayed put. Stiff up in the air.
The next few hours were spent trying to wake me up. They told T that they were trying everything to get me up. My doctor told him that I was in the very late stages of Anorexia and my mind had shut my body down. I was in a catatonic shock. Pretty much comatose. That medically, my labs and everything they did looked fine, but that I was non responsive.
Right before I woke up, something happened to me. I was standing below this extremely tall mountain looking up for the sun. Slowly, it started to rise. The most magnificent, biggest sun I had ever seen. And as it was rising, I realized that I could stare at this sun and it wouldn't hurt my eyes at all. And then it happened. He spoke to me. I had my push, my sign, the one I've been so desperately looking for. My miracle. It was God. And he told me that I have so many people that love me. So many people that want to see me live from this. This isn't how I'm meant to go. That I have so much more to live for. I promised him that I would change. Then I woke up.
I know this sounds crazy. And every time I describe what happened, I feel like I've gone nuts. But this was it. And when I finally came around and was talking coherently, I told T that I was excited. That I was ready. I'm going to do this.
And yesterday, I did very well. I ate all 3 of my meals, and even some cherry crisp. I did weigh myself yesterday, but I'm not even going to consider it a real number because I'm sure they put fluids in me while I was in the hospital. I have to admit, this was the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. I AM convinced that Friday was supposed to be my night. That was Ana's final game. She was going to kill me. I was going to die Friday night. But I didn't. I was saved, and I woke up this morning feeling extremely grateful for another chance. Much love.