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“I need to go to the nurses’ station,” I told her.
As the nurse bandaged my palm, Dr. Larsen appeared by the door. “When you finish here, please come to my office,” she said.
“You won’t be able to use this hand for at least a week,” the nurse instructed me.
Good,I thought.That means I won’t have to do Dr. Larsen’s stupid journal writing assignments.
When I was done being bandaged up, I dutifully walked to Dr. Larsen’s office next door, where she was seated at her desk.
“Please take a seat,” she told me. “And close the door behind you.”
I did as she asked and sat on a chair across from her.
“Emily is supposed to return tonight,” she said.
“I told you she’d be fine,” I muttered.
“We’re thinking of moving you to another room and having you share one with a staff member instead,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“You just engaged in an act of self-harm. That requires a higher level of care.”
“But that’s not fair! I only did it because I didn’t want to stir the meat. ItoldIris I didn’t want to. The smell was making me nauseous. But she didn’t listen to me and made me do it anyway,” I said.
“I think you were worried it would make you gain weight,” Dr. Larsen said.
I didn’t say anything for a long while. “I don’t like being here,” I finally said. “I want to go home.”
“You may not believe me, but I want that for you too, Beatrice,” she said.
It was bad enough having someone guarding the door while I slept, and it’s not that I even liked Emily, who was always in my grill about being more committed to ED than I was, but the idea of sharing a room with a staffer soundedawful. My every move would be scrutinized even more than it already was.
“Will you give me another chance to room with Emily?” I asked Dr. Larsen.
“You’ll need to sign a no-harm contract,” she said.
“Fine.”
“But if you engage in another act of self-harm, you won’t get another chance, and you’ll be placed with a staffer.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Yes, you’re also going to have to eat one meal of food a day, no liquid supplementation, starting today,” she said.
Fuck. How was I going to get out of this?
Kick the can down the road, ED told me.
“It’s been a rough day. How about tomorrow?” I asked.
“Today,” she said.
Bitch,I thought. But I was cornered and had no other choice.
“Fine,” I said.
That night at dinner, Emily returned from the hospital. A kitchen staffer brought out my dinner—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a chocolate chip cookie for dessert. I stared at the food, ED screaming at me not to eat it, but I had to if I wanted to avoid rooming with a staffer.
