I went to the gastro doctor yesterday for a follow-up on my colonoscopy. The secretary didn’t even recognize me — that’s how much better I was looking. Last week, a girl in my class mentioned that I looked nice. I thought maybe it was because I decided to wear eyeliner (and boy, must that have been magic eyeliner if strangers were complimenting me), but then my mom pointed out that I’ve been putting on weight and I’m not so pale any more. In fact, I was in the triple digits at the beginning of the month. I’ve seen I think 106 pounds once? Pretty awesome.
From what I read and heard, the day before the test — the prep day — is the worst part, and the actual procedure is not a big deal. I was instructed to take four litres of Klean-Prep mixed with water, a lemon-lime drink, or some other clear (ie. non red or purple) liquid. I was to start at 2:00 pm on Tuesday, but they said if you have trouble drinking large amounts of liquid (and four litres is about the size of two large party-sized pop bottles), you could start earlier. I planned to start at 12:00 pm, and I was supposed to drink a cup (1/4 litre) every ten minutes.
Last Monday meant exams were over and vacation could begin. Well, after a little doctor’s appointment. The university’s doctor got my blood work back and suggested I see my family doctor to get an appointment with a gastroenterologist for a colonoscopy. I’ve been having stomach problems since I started taking medicine in the summer, and lately, there seemed to be a constant dull pain in my stomach. As much as a colonoscopy is gross, I was all for it, because I wanted to get better, darnit! We went to see the family doctor and he said he would see about getting me a referral to a gastro doctor, and in the meantime, prescribed me Prevacid to help soothe my stomach and hopefully repair any damage from an ulcer or something.
All my losing weight, throwing up, and general unhealthiness has not been an eating disorder. It was (and still is) just plain depression.
I think it was previously suggested to me that it might be, but I was in denial. I mean, depression? Depression is for high school kids who cut themselves and dye their hair black. I’m not depressed. I don’t want to be depressed. That’s so useless.
When I’m throwing up, I think, “Why is this happening? This is so dumb.” I guess this all goes back to me not really liking to show my emotions. I don’t want people to fret over me or help me. I don’t want to take up people’s time with childish emotions.