Saturday, June 26, 2010

tipping the balance

I had a doctor's appointment this past week. Just a follow-up visit concerning blood pressure and a cyst, shouldn't have been anything earth-shattering. And guess who was assigned to take me back? A community college student studying to be a nurse's aid. Now, I know everyone has to train, bless their hearts, but who wants to be the guinea pig??? Nothing against her, she was nice enough, but she mis-weighed me. I stepped on the scale, and for someone with a background in anorexia, this simple act can dredge up a vast array of feelings. Someone once told me that he hasn't weighed fifty times in his life. At the height of my low weight, I weighed at least fifty time a day. We have a love/hate relationship, the scale and I. Even though I only weigh at doctors' offices, I can guess my weight pretty accurately - wouldn't it be cool if we could win prizes for that? So, let's call her, Danielle, weighed me in far, far too low. Achieving that weight takes work - an active disorder. And Chris notices and makes remarks. And my clothes are much looser. I'm sure that number has a piece in  my book. I know it well. I was absolutely positive, standing there on the scale beside Danielle, that I was at a healthier weight. I stepped off and asked for a do over. Same thing. And she said something like, "That's all I can give you," as if weights are something doled out to us and she'd met her quota for the day. I was at once aggravated and scared. What if it was true????? I saw a lot of chocolate milk, sweet tea and ice cream in my future. More than any sane person could ever want. And I could already picture those flinty eyes my husband can get when this disorder threatens us again. I resigned myself to the examining room where Danielle told me to have a seat in the wooden chair. They were all wooden. I had my worst attitude - my sixth grade one - worked up by the time Dr. Joe came in, and he took the brunt of my frustration. I vented. Always so patient. He listened and then simply arranged for an experienced nurse to weigh me one more time. Ahhhhh. My healthy weight. The one I guessed. Now where is my carnival prize?

So what? Some young whipper snapper can't work the scale yet and it's a blog entry? Here's what's blog-worthy about the experience. Not one fiber of my being wanted that low weight. NO PART of me was happy about it. Even when I've felt healthy, looked healthy, had a healthy weight, there has been a part of me set aside that desires the low weight - that feels accomplished when the reading is down. I was so, so relieved to see the higher number that day - and not just because I would be free from reproach, but because I wanted to be okay. So, Danielle, thanks. For messing up. And directing me to the wooden chair. Because I might not have known.

5 comments:

  1. Awe, Congrats on being happy with a healthy number :]

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  2. Amazing how a moment that could have potentially messed you up, instead showed how strong you have become - congratulations girl!!

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  3. I am SO very glad this story had a happy ending. I was holding my breath the entire way through. My cousin battled anorexia for years, so I know a little bit, at least vicariously, the struggle with the scale. You have clearly made A LOT of progress!!

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  4. Isn't it amazing how the biggest and greatest work in us is done silently, without us even realizing it?! God is amazing. Thanks for sharing this insightful little story of how God is working mightily in your life...

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  5. Amazing how a moment that could have potentially messed you up, instead showed how strong you have become - congratulations girl!!

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