Spare Me!

Today we bowl! Our group of  10 that included both recreation directors, Talia and Carly, all piled into the van with the non-existent shocks and headed out to Queens. The alley was small and more crowded than I would have expected for 11 am on a Tuesday but we got 2 lanes and settled right in. Amongst the sorting out of shoes and registering of names we all found ourselves in a horseshoe around the facilities only snack machine. A seemingly strange place for a bunch of eating-disordered patients to convene, but yet there we were ogling the goodies. We were actually owning up to our true likes and dislikes while letting the caged sweets run away with our imaginations to new horizons. A passer-by would have thought that none of us had ever seen a contraption such as this before.

Back at the lanes we divided into two teams of five and begin the mass shop-swap. Each in turn, with constant support and cheerleading with each roll of the ball, we played for about 20 minutes before breaking for lunch. We took plastic seats around a few of the small tables that littered the main floor area and let loose a torrent of white paper bag meals. We unpack like kids in a school cafeteria to inspect the loot.

General consensus amongst the group was that the 900 calorie lunch guideline had definitely failed to be met. Each of us had about 2 ounces of turkey on wheat bread with no cheese or condiments. Other than that there was 4 ounces of juice, a small apple, and a bag of sunchips. Mostly we just shrugged, ate, and went back to bowling after disposing of the remains. It was common knowledge that if any of us wanted more we could drop some money at the alley’s little cafe. Some opted for snacks, some for drinks, but it wasn’t until Elise came back with a cup of coffee that we all knew what we wanted.

The single cup was worth the $1.75 price on such a damp and chilly day right up until Talia and Carly realized that artificial sweeteners were in use. By the time they got over to the counter most of us had dressed our drinks and returned to the lanes. only myself and Molly remained at the prep station. That was when we remembered what we were in reality – essentially a bunch of psych patients on a field trip from the hospital. Its a little disheartening to be having a great time out with friends just to later be reminded that we are actually being baby-sat.

With all the ‘tsk’ of an elder to an out-of-line child Carly informed me that sweeteners were not permitted. I tried to explain that we were not only off the unit and spending our own money but that others had already done it without getting scolded. She told me that, while she hadn’t gotten to them in time, Molly and I were not allowed to follow in their footsteps. When I am treated like a child, instead of the adult that I am, first instinct is to act like one and rebel. I promptly told her that if that were the case then I just didn’t want coffee and dropped the entire cup in the garbage.

I understand how this looks and, in the past, a situation like this would have let in a cloud of grumpiness that would likely last the remainder of the day. This time it didn’t though. I didn’t realize the difference until we were headed back to headquarters in the old rickety van. Thats the point of all this though – The amazement at my subconscious dropping of a grudge. After the incident we went back to enjoying the game and generally having a good time. It may take baby steps but its just more proof of how things are changing.

 

Venturing Adventure

The stars stretch northward from my gaze as I lay on my back beneath them. Consumed by their expanse on this straggling last day of summer the green metal bench is only slightly chilled under my back. To the south are the frilly borders of the slowly burning treetops that build the natural wall between the fresh air park and the highway. East of me is the Inst Center, home sweet home at the moment, and wast is the top of the tall wire fence surrounding the yard. The others are still strolling slowly, pacing the perimeter, but I feel like I have walked enough today. Its finally a time that I can kick off from all the bustle and open up to reflection. I am here, now, and this is what I see. With so much going on its rare to get a clear view in the city.

Its been a long day but a good one. Abound with adventure things didn’t entirely pan out as I had expected but the time had was no less exciting and new. To start there was the very first makeshift art therapy group. If you go by the true bare bones definitive it was actually more of a themed art collective since I had to leave before any therapy really came into play. The project I had come up with involved glue, large heavy paper, scissors, and the immense amount of old magazines we have piling up everywhere. Because of the scissors we had to request the watchful eye of a staff member but Victoria was happy to do it. The instructions were self-interpretive and basically called for the creation of words and pictures to create a self-portrait.

Not everyone on the unit participated but the six who did later reflected on how much they enjoyed it. I had to leave at 11:00 to begin the day’s pass outing but they were all still working diligently even as I stepped out the door. I would have liked to look at everyone’s creations in the end but it just didn’t happen this morning. Actually, that sort of brings up a wall for me. O one hand I would love to hear how people would interpret their self-portraits but, on the other, even though I was asked to lead this group, I don’t want anyone to feel like I am overstepping my bounds by acting like a teacher. I don’t want to be resented. All in all though I have been told by each who attended that it was an enjoyable success. I have been assigned to head up the same alloted time with a new project next week.

As the morning wore on our pre-lunch departure time gained bearing. First things first, upon leaving the building Benji, Amy, and I happily pardoned the Starbucks that had successfully positioned itself kitty corner to the subway entrance. As good as Starbucks coffee is though I am truly seeing its money-consuming potential. I will have to remember to ask Molly which sidewalk cart she frequents in the mornings. Apparently, whatever shes getting as her coffee fix is just as good, if not better, than Starbucks and its only costs the same $.75 as it does in our regular 6th floor cafe.

After we had armed ourselves with caffeine and ice water the three of us trek towards the underground. The subway station’s lower platform has the heat of a snake pit but we are lucky. The train that is meant to carry us to the Washington Square Park Soho area of Manhattan pulls within a minute of our descent into the dank. We board the A-train express and begin to 40 minute bullet shot to the day’s unfolding agenda.

Hunger Games

Today is the day! I just made it this morning with the scale balancing right at the 3/4 pound gain that has occupied my line of vision for the past 2 weeks. Not only am I not RTU for the weekend but I am finally at my 85%. The next step is to put in a privilege request form to move up to level 4b so I can roam the building at my leisure. I could, potentially, be annoyed that I have to wait through the Labor Day holiday weekend before they approve the request at the next staff team meeting on Tuesday…but I’m just not feelin’ it. I’m too happy that I got to where I wanted for so long to be at to let it frustrate me.

It was before lunch, only a few short hours since I had been weighed and realized my goal in the scale clicks, when Dr. G pulled me aside. With 85% comes the two major therapy studies that Columbia is doing right now: exposure and CRT. There are 4 weeks of each, 12 sessions apiece and each person eligible does both. Its a random draw as to which one you start with but I’ve got my fingers crossed for exposure.

First things first though. I won’t know which will be kicking me off until I’ve done whats known as research lunch for two days in a row. From what I’ve seen and the details I have been told by other patients who have already been through it I am curiously anxious to start. The breakfast and morning activities (or lack there of) prior to research lunch has me a little nervous towards my mixed emotions.

Its all very moderated so that each person doing the meal has the exact same thing for the breakfast leading up and the standard that they serve is much less than what our bodies are used to having. Every person I have seen with the diminished breakfast on their chosen research day ambles around the whole morning try their darndest to not gripe too much about the every persistent stomach pains growling audibly.

Aside from the miniscule meal, in order to keep everyone’s physical exertion and intake in check, there is no morning coffee allowed. So there goes the once daily caffeine boost we are each allowed and then we also omit the 10am morning Ensure as well. It may seem that being on so many calories each day would cause us to kneel and thank the ceiling at the cutback but thats just not so. All there will be is annoyance and hunger, hunger, hunger. We need all of those calories right now! Our bodies want them. They crave them! To top it off, on research lunch day, we are RTU till the afternoon meal is over. That means no fresh air, no trips to the store, no nuthin’.

Thankfully all of this only goes until 1:30 in the afternoon and, with my newly approved 4b status I already know where 2 pm will find me. I’ll be sitting in the upstairs cafe with my Boston Globe Sunday crossword book lounging in full relaxation mode. Oh, and one more thing, my nice caramel-colored steaming cup of coffee will be my teatime guest of honor.

Earning the goods

I elevator down with Clara in her stiff white lab coat for the next research study on the agenda. We floor-hop for a minute, letting others on and off, before deboarding to head to the same room that the sweetener study was held in. Mostly the room hadn’t changed still housing the same little bed, same cameras on the walls, same desk with the same laptop computer on it, except this time there was a large black treadmill in one corner. I had to stop myself from scanning the paneled ceiling for a water bottle drip within the confines of the human hamster cage.

I sat down at the desk and was given a two page questionnaire to help pinpoint different levels of emotion I might be feeling at the moment. Before shutting the door behind her as she exited the room Clara placed the same little call button as last time to my right so I could notify her when I was finished. Not being particularly angry, depressed, excited or overly emotional in any other way I flew through the paperwork and started my stint on the laptop. This study also involved the repeated pressing of buttons in order to earn rewards but the incentive was different this time. This one was called the “work for exercise” study.

I couldn’t help thinking in the back of my mind that it was silly for a person to be willing to sit and push a button for upwards of 40 minutes, switching hands until both wrists hurt, just for a maximum of 30 minutes of slow walking on a treadmill. I understand how this would be a totally fine reward for a person who has an exercise addiction, which many people with eating disorders do have. However, I couldn’t keep my mind from ruminating on the absurdity of that reward anyways. If we didn’t have fresh air time that we were able to walk around during, and had to remain sedentary on a constant basis like I did at Remuda, that tiny bit of movement may have been seen as much more desirable. Heck, who knows, I may have even worked the full 40 minutes for the half hour trade.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who saw the treadmill time as something not worth working for. They had added in a second reward of cash that I could press the button to earn. The maximum of that was $30 and it was received at the end of the session. As the exercise minutes accumulated 3 at a time, the money built $3 at a time as well and at the end of each earning I could decide which of those two things I wanted to work for during the next session.

I picked the cash. Of course I picked to work for the cash. If the treadmill had been the only reward the test to see how hard I would work for it’s company would have been over before I laid one finger on the button. I clicked away for about 12 minutes, switching hands, switching fingers, and eventually stopped when my wrists started getting sore. My need to do artwork pain-free outweighed my desire for more money. If I had kept it up, going for the whole $30, I doubt I would have been able to draw anything for the rest of the afternoon, or even write this entry now, without feeling the repercussions.

In the end I wound up with $15 which i figured would buy me about 3 weeks worth of morning coffee from the upstairs cafe. All in all it was a satisfying experience. I filled out one more short questionnaire about my moods and anxiety levels at that particular moment, rang my little buzzer, and sat back to wait for Clara’s escort to go upstairs again.

The sweetness (part II)

Flaw number 1 in my coffee sweetener test was that, ever since the caffeine detox I have been trying to keep the intake down to one small cup in the morning. Number 2 was that, not only had I already had the early cup but Fridays, because of Coffee Klatch, I wind up having a little bit more than usual. So, I didn’t really want coffee to begin with when they came to get me for the study at 4 pm. 3 was that they didn’t specify what cup size they would be presenting me with and I was surprised at the large drink placed in front of me when I had expected the smaller size I normally get. Coffee, for me at the small size, is complete with 3 Equals, so thats what I worked to earn even though I didn’t want the coffee to begin with.

Had i known the coffee would be a bigger size the outcome would have definitely been different since that size I will usually put 7 or 8 Equals in. I don’t know if it would have been different in that I wouldn’t have worked for any Equals because, to get 7, was a lot of button pushing for something I didn’t care for at the moment anyways. Or maybe the outcome would have been different in the way that I would have stuck it out and worked for all 7 knowing thats what I would normally put in a cup that size.

I told the lab techs about these contributing factors and sort of felt like I maybe hadn’t provided them with a good enough result template. I guess, though, that there is really no correct or incorrect way to provide our information. I suppose thats the reason behind it being an ongoing study. Well, I did what I could. Hopefully they’ll get some of those result-altering kinks worked out in the future. Who knows. I did my part, it way definitely interesting to say the least, and now thats that.

Well…duh…

I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before – the headaches, the extreme exhaustion, hello caffeine withdrawal! It didn’t occur to me in the least that the immediate cessation of coffee and soda would carry repercussions. It was like a lightbulb hitting me in the head when I realized that I had gone from 3 cups of coffee and 6-7 cans of soda a day to nothing. If my head wasn’t already sore from getting beaned with the lightbulb I would be smacking myself for not thinking of this sooner. Upon the onset of clarity I sighed, took a nap for an hour, and spent the rest of the day feeling a hell of a lot better about the whole situation.