Page 58 of Freeing Emily
“Yes.”
She studies my face for a moment, and I try to school my features so she can’t find the lie.
“I think I need something stronger to help with my sleeping,” I say.
“Okay, has it been getting worse?” she asks as she writes in my file.
“I don’t sleep anymore.” I nod.
“Not even with the anxiety medication we prescribed last time?”
I shake my head.
She sighs. “Okay, and you understand that we’ll likely need to start something that will likely sedate you?”
I swallow through the tightness forming in my throat before nodding.
“Okay, we’ll try a medication called Ambien. This is a sedative that will help with your sleep but it also has a higher risk of being addictive so we will need to monitor your usage closely.” She peers at me over her glasses with a pointed look and I nod.
She nods and then goes over the precautions of the medication and the schedule I’m to follow for using it.
“Let's check your weight before you go.”
I stand and nervously walk to the scale she keeps in the corner of her office. I stop just short of it and peer down at the black surface. I know I haven’t gained anything. I’ve likely lost some weight instead.
“Emily,” Dr. Morrison’s voice startles me, and I spin to face her. She looks from me to the scale and back.
“I …” my mouth opens and closes like a fish as I try to find the words to say.
“Get on the scale, Emily…” she says as though I’m a caged animal.
I turn back to the scale. Slowly I lift my foot and slip off my shoe, then the other. I let out a deep breath and then step on.
The digital screen counts down from five as it measures my weight. When the number appears on the screen, my shoulders sag, and I dip my chin to my chest.
Shit.
“Emily, if you continue to lose weight, I’m going to have to refer you to get a feeding tube placed.” Her voice is saturated in disappointment and worry.
My eyes remain on the number until the screen clears.
“How about we set a goal to have you gain three pounds by your next visit in 2 weeks?”
Three pounds. Three fucking pounds.
I can’t do it. I can’t. Food is nearly impossible to stomach. I eat and immediately feel the need to vomit so I avoid it as much as possible.
Dr. Morrison steps to my side and I turn to meet her eyes. She reaches out and strokes my back gently.
“You’re not alone, Emily. You have so many people who love you and want to see you improve. I know you can do this. Three pounds might seem like an impossible number, but I know you’re capable.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek for a beat and then nod. Stepping off the scale, I put on my shoes and make my way to my bag.
“Thank you, Dr. Morrison. I will try my best. See you next time.”
She smiles softly and I leave the room.
Liam sits in the waiting room, and I suck in a deep breath. He’s been nearly attached to my hip since I was discharged from the hospital. I love and hate it. We talk but for me, it’s forced. I don’t want to talk. I want nothing more than for him to stop looking at me like he can fix me.