starts racing. I haven’t weighed myself since high school, and I’m pretty sure nothing has changed. I step on and she starts moving the two levers, one indicating pounds by the hundred, and the other per single pound. I watch intently as she plays with the two. Then I decide I don’t want to know, so I look up at the ceiling. But she must not see my hesitation because she calls out the number like it’s nothing.
“167.”
I look down and then over to the nurse. Surely that can’t be right. “Are you sure?”
“Yup. The Doctor will be in to talk with you in a few minutes.” She records the number in my file and leaves the room. 167? Theres no way. Last time I weighed myself I was 205. My mom always told me it’s because I have a lot of muscle but I never thought so. Before I have a chance to think anymore about it, there’s a knock at the door and the doctor comes in.
“Hello Elli, I’m Dr. Swartz. How are we doing today?
“Okay.”
“So it says we’re here for anxiety, is that correct?” He takes a seat in the chair next to the exam table I’m sitting on and instead of looking down at my file, he puts it to the side and looks straight at me. There’s something about him that I like. He looks like he’s in his late forties, possibly early fifties, has gray hair that’s combed over and he’s wearing black rimmed glasses.
“Yes. I get anxiety attacks a lot. I also get a lot of dizzy spells where I black out for a few seconds.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself Elli. Do you go to school?”
“I go to Winter Park University. I’m studying Digital Art and Design in the accelerated program.”
“I heard about that program. You get your Bachelor’s in two years, right? That’s got to be stressful.”
“It’s not bad. There are moments when I don’t remember the last time I slept, but that’s college, right?” That was meant as a joke, but realizing how true it is makes my smile falter a bit.
“So what do you do besides school?”
“Um, well I’m usually always in school since I work there when I don’t have class. I don’t drink or party. I’m kind of boring. I go to my…” Is Dylan my boyfriend? We haven’t put a label on it and he hasn’t called me his girlfriend. “I go to my friends hockey games sometimes.”
“Well it sounds to me like you don’t have a lot of free time. I see here in your file you’ve lost some weight. Was that intentional or is it from stress?”
“Both I guess.”
Suddenly, my fingers feel wet, and I look down to see my thumb bleeding. The doctor follows my gaze and looks back up at me. Without saying anything, he gets up, grabs a wipe and band aid and starts cleaning my hands.
“Elli, is there something else going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Considering how much skin you’re missing from your fingers, I’d say there’s something else on your mind.”
Finally a doctor has noticed something is wrong. Even if I lie right now, I’m pretty sure he’ll see right through me.
“Just so you know Elli, anything you say to me is completely confidential.”
“I make myself sick sometimes. It’s not as often as it used to be, but I have the urge to do it a lot.”
He nods his head like he knew what I was going to say. “Tell you what Elli. I’m going to put you on something called Lexapro. It’s anti-anxiety and depression. We’re going to start with that. I want to see you back here in three weeks. By then, it should take effect and you should start to feel a little bit better. They’re not magic happy pills. What they do is take your anxiety level down a few notches so it’s controllable. Now, if you have the urge to make yourself sick, I want you to call me. I don’t believe you need to be put into a treatment center, because you’re here, asking for help. But if things get bad, we’ll look into it. We’re going to beat this, okay? You’re a strong girl and I believe in you.
“167.”
I look down and then over to the nurse. Surely that can’t be right. “Are you sure?”
“Yup. The Doctor will be in to talk with you in a few minutes.” She records the number in my file and leaves the room. 167? Theres no way. Last time I weighed myself I was 205. My mom always told me it’s because I have a lot of muscle but I never thought so. Before I have a chance to think anymore about it, there’s a knock at the door and the doctor comes in.
“Hello Elli, I’m Dr. Swartz. How are we doing today?
“Okay.”
“So it says we’re here for anxiety, is that correct?” He takes a seat in the chair next to the exam table I’m sitting on and instead of looking down at my file, he puts it to the side and looks straight at me. There’s something about him that I like. He looks like he’s in his late forties, possibly early fifties, has gray hair that’s combed over and he’s wearing black rimmed glasses.
“Yes. I get anxiety attacks a lot. I also get a lot of dizzy spells where I black out for a few seconds.
“Tell me a little bit about yourself Elli. Do you go to school?”
“I go to Winter Park University. I’m studying Digital Art and Design in the accelerated program.”
“I heard about that program. You get your Bachelor’s in two years, right? That’s got to be stressful.”
“It’s not bad. There are moments when I don’t remember the last time I slept, but that’s college, right?” That was meant as a joke, but realizing how true it is makes my smile falter a bit.
“So what do you do besides school?”
“Um, well I’m usually always in school since I work there when I don’t have class. I don’t drink or party. I’m kind of boring. I go to my…” Is Dylan my boyfriend? We haven’t put a label on it and he hasn’t called me his girlfriend. “I go to my friends hockey games sometimes.”
“Well it sounds to me like you don’t have a lot of free time. I see here in your file you’ve lost some weight. Was that intentional or is it from stress?”
“Both I guess.”
Suddenly, my fingers feel wet, and I look down to see my thumb bleeding. The doctor follows my gaze and looks back up at me. Without saying anything, he gets up, grabs a wipe and band aid and starts cleaning my hands.
“Elli, is there something else going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Considering how much skin you’re missing from your fingers, I’d say there’s something else on your mind.”
Finally a doctor has noticed something is wrong. Even if I lie right now, I’m pretty sure he’ll see right through me.
“Just so you know Elli, anything you say to me is completely confidential.”
“I make myself sick sometimes. It’s not as often as it used to be, but I have the urge to do it a lot.”
He nods his head like he knew what I was going to say. “Tell you what Elli. I’m going to put you on something called Lexapro. It’s anti-anxiety and depression. We’re going to start with that. I want to see you back here in three weeks. By then, it should take effect and you should start to feel a little bit better. They’re not magic happy pills. What they do is take your anxiety level down a few notches so it’s controllable. Now, if you have the urge to make yourself sick, I want you to call me. I don’t believe you need to be put into a treatment center, because you’re here, asking for help. But if things get bad, we’ll look into it. We’re going to beat this, okay? You’re a strong girl and I believe in you.
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