Laura's Soap Box: Why is saying anything about parents and eating di...

Laura's Soap Box: Why is saying anything about parents and eating di...: I keep hearing people say "I feel like I can't say ANYTHING bad about parents without being attacked." Let me reassure you. For example,...

2012 ICED Thoughts, Part One - ED Bites

2012 ICED Thoughts, Part One - ED Bites

Laura's Soap Box: Good will hunting

Laura's Soap Box: Good will hunting: How much control do we have over our actions? People with addictions and mental illness used to strike me as people who just weren't tryin...

The Importance of a Blood Test

Blood Results from 16/4/12:

Potassium: 2.9 (normal range: 3.5 - 5.0)
Ah potassium. Yes, it's taken a bit of a dive since Thursday when it was 3.8. This is one of the main reasons I get my bloods checked twice a week. Low potassium (hypokalaemia) can be FATAL. Also, to my knowledge,  big swings in the potassium level (as I've graciously demonstrated here for you) can be more dangerous than smaller changes. And, just to round it off, a high level of potassium in the blood (above 5.0) is just as dangerous as a low level. Phew. It's one to watch.
I always feel that I have to touch a shed-load of wood whenever I mention potassium, because I'm very aware that I walk the finest of lines when it comes to my own. Though I rarely (if ever) go beyond the range, I'm most often found some way below the range.
For some, a potassium level of 2.9 may be fatal. It's different for everyone. It is common though to see changes to an ECG (e.g. heart arrythmias) when k+ falls below 2.5...but like I said, everyone's different and this is not an electrolyte to get complacent about (says she..).
I have a contract with my Care-Coordinator that when my k+ falls below 2.5 I must be immediately admitted to hospital for I.V. replacement as the risk is then far too great to manage at home. In reality, we both know that I could drop dead with a potassium higher than this. Over the years we have come to a bit of a compromise. Prior to this I would be admitted to hospital when my potassium fell below 3.0.  The unfortunate thing was that I was in and out of the DGH like a yo-yo at times and instead of keeping me safe it actually started to become detrimental. The reason? Well, when your dehydrated body is hooked up to an I.V. and has bags of saline (the liquid used as a carrier for the potassium) pumped into it, well it -naturally- very thirstily slurps it all up. The salty solution ensures that the fluid gets retained in your body tissues.
The rather alarming end result can be (and in my case is) severe oedema, i.e. bloated to fuck thanks to retained fluid. So, I'd go into hospital; get my potassium up; be discharged...
And come out with an uncontrollable urge to:
GET. THIS. FLUID. OUT.OF. ME!!!!
I was blinded to the danger I was in and compelled to binge (terror/anxiety/need to dissociate) and then of course vomit and vomit and vomit and vomit....and  oh..there it is: my potassium has fallen below 2.5 again and I'm back in hospital with the I.V.....and on and on ad infinitum...An incredibly un-merry-go-round. 
I have not got enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times I have been a reluctant guest at the DGH.
Or indeed, discharged myself prematurely against medical advice....
 Here's the problem:
 My anxiety sky rockets merely from being away from the sanctuary of my flat ; the fluid really compounds that and, frankly, at that point, with everything heightened to unbearable levels I'd rather be dead anyway (in that moment of head-feckered-crisis, at least). At this point I am not rational.  The constant in-out-in-out just leaves my head spinning and at new depths of irrationality..and physically in a very precarious position (which of course exacerbates the psychological difficulties).
The doctor's placating "the fluid will ease if you give your body a chance...just stop the vomiting" slid off my consciousness like water off a duck's back. And...I discharge myself after the first bag of life-saving fluid with the rationale that if I get anymore bloated it'll worsen my need to binge and vomit. Not clever. Not rational (well, maybe a little?). Just desperate.
Hmm..I have blathered on rather more than I really wanted to..apologies if it's all a bit repetitive.

 These days I have a repeat prescription for potassium supplements, and that bit of leeway to have a go at getting my potassium up myself before I'm subjected to the I.V.
Touch wood it's been nearly a year since my last trip up there. Given the chance, I like to think I can pull things back from the brink. I know one day I'm probably going to be wrong about this. It is easy to get complacent. Even writing this I feel so far removed from reality that the danger often fades into the background too. However, I have taken my potassium supplements this morning and will take more at lunchtime and I will try to minimise b/p this evening while upping my fluids during the day and...*sigh*..yes, it's one big balancing act. Any "normal" person would be appalled at my "management" of my eating disorder, I'm sure. But I do the best I can (I think).

Phosphate: 0.93 (normal range: 1.7 - 2.6)
Electrolytes like potassium and phosphate don't live in a vacuum (so to speak!)....More on this in a later post because I can't be bothered to get into protein metabolism, re-feeding syndrome and such right now.

Creatinine: 97 (normal range for a person of average BMI: 45 - 105. My normal range should be at the lower end of this or, even, lower)
Due to decreased muscle mass (thankyou anorexia - bmi: 12) my creatinine should also be decreased, because it comes from the muscles. They have a proportional relationship:
Muscle mass goes down = reduction in creatinine.
Simply, if your bmi is low so should your creatinine be.
The fact that it is not reduced, indicates impaired renal function i.e. struggling/damaged kidneys; the creatinine is "spilling" over into the blood instead of being processed by the kidneys as it should.
Kidneys: "Oh buggery, we can't keep up!"
It can soar quite quickly upwards in acute renal failure as the kidneys struggle to filter waste products - such as creatinine and urea - and this waste starts to build up in the blood. Ergo, the levels of creatinine and urea are used as early indicators of kidney failure. Essentially, you're being poisoned by your own waste products. Nice.
I've experienced acute kidney failure twice due to dehydration compounded by the use of Ibuprofen (damn toothache). Luckily I was stabilised by I.V. rehydration.  However I'm left with sluggish kidneys that are damaged and don't filter as effectively as they should.
PLEASE NOTE: At the time I did NOT experience a lot of "kidney" pain (it is not uncommon for kidneys to be reduced by up to 80% efficiency before colicky pain kicks in) but I was very confused, and generally felt unwell. My blood pressure was lower than even my "normal" low (as is the case in dehydration. Plus low blood pressure can wreak havoc on the kidneys (particularly if dehydrated i.e blood volume is depleted) because they just don't get enough "oomph" to do their filtering job).
Bear in mind too that if your kidneys are knackered you're most likely going to retain a whole heap of fluid.
The lesson is: Love your kidneys and keep hydrated! Yes, I do feel like the ultimate hypocrite. Sadly knowledge does not always equal (enough) power (again, thankyou irrational might of anorexia).

Urea: 6.6
This is on the rise so I must be careful to stay hydrated. Urea increases with dehydration as, like with creatinine, it is a waste product that will back up in the blood if the kidneys don't have that "oomph" (pressure) to deal with it. The higher the urea the more dehydrated you are.

Glucose: 6.7
This is a little high, for me....

It would seem though that I have run out of that little bit of oomph to carry on with this blood results analysis - for the moment (I started this yesterday!). I'll perhaps go into further detail in future posts where in this one I have lacked.

Suffice to say it is important to ensure your bloods are checked frequently if you have an eating disorder. There are not always obvious symptoms even when there are potentially catastrophic changes going on inside your body.

I also want to add I am not a medic myself and what I know is purely through living with my eating disorder. Everyone is different even if there is usually a common theme. The body is very complex. If you're worried about anything get it checked out by a professional.
I thank you.

Cowardly Bacteria Need Not Apply

An exciting schedule of blood tests and therapy today.
I'll be interested to see what my potassium is doing, as the weekend has not exactly been one of my, um, best.
Last week I just about averted a trip to the DGH (District General Hospital) when my k+ (potassium) dropped to 2.5 - the absolute lowest threshold I can talk my way out of before having to submit to the I.V. That was on Tuesday. Bloods re-tested on Thursday and by some miracle (er, yeah..called "shed-loads of potassium supplements" and a dogged determination not to end up in hospital) I'd managed to get it up to a "within-range" 3.7. Better. Much.
But knowing my blood chemistry like I do (and the effect I can have on it), it would not be beyond belief if my k+ had fallen, a tad..or so, since then. Simply put, it's been a bad weekend.
I managed to drag my sorry carcass to bed last night before 11pm, but, this morning I still feel like I've been trampled by my local herd of wild animals (damn beasts) and beaten around the head with a heavy club (living in the area that I do it's actually not the vague possibility you might think).
I feel sick. Not purgey-sick. Sick sick. Nauseous. Ugh. Bloaty-bellied.
Oh yeah, and I have a tooth-ache.
Still, as ever, I've managed my toast (buttered + honey) and my coffee (I'm sure the caffeine will really help my tender innards *eye-roll*), taken my trough of meds and will swill a bottle of Yakult down shortly for my dose of good bacteria (although, I'm not sure it was formulated to deal with the harsh environment of my stomach which I'm sure is akin to an SAS assault course for the poor little beggars - if not just certain death *sigh*..Oh well, it's the thought that counts..).
Hopefully I won't drown in the bath because I'm having a slight problem with keeping my head tgyfbvgtvfbvtfbgvtbffffffffffffffrb..um up...oops. Great, I'm sure the keyboard-indented-on-forehead is a "key" fashion statement this summer..ahahaha..ah..err..yeah.
Right, time to root out some kamikaze friendly bacteria...

Crushed Grapes

Oh how could I nearly forget the highlight of my week?! An experience in Asda (bear with me: it gets better).
Now, I hate the whole shopping experience: the startle-bright lights; Imposinging flashy boards screaming "Sale!" here and "3 for 2 on all cakes" there. Bright. Far too bright. Mostly, it makes my insides churn and threaten to dump themselves all over the poor lady with the "try before you buy" tray. Ack. Thankyou but, no no NO!
Skirting past her at speed as my senses are assailed again by the smells; the sounds; the clamour of folk whizzing by trying to bag their bargains. I try to maintain my tunnel-vision; list in shaking, sweaty hand; focus; focus. Oh good grief, my head! I knew I should've shopped online (but for the fact that the delivery man surely must think I am giving asylum to a whole host of refugees!). Sweaty pits; not good.
Supermarkets are where folk go to give their raw, primal urges a good workout. I swear. Elbows at dawn and all that. This is no environment for a nervous wallflower.
Oh and bugger, I forgot, the kids are off school! My palm smacks my sweaty brow. Doh! And, of course, the best place to entertain the kids is in the gloriously super-duper-fun fun fun aisles of Asda. But yes! Of course; so much to see; so much to do; so many anxious wallies like me to skid, skip and jump in front of.  Whoop-WOO!!
Kids: I love'em, I promise, just..couldn't eat a whole one.
I stretch the smile of (what I fear is) mania across my  face..
"Oh no, no that's fine" I make a piffling hand gesture to the little darlings' Mother "they're just having fun, bless 'em". And, to be fair, I imagine Asda's not a bad place for a bit of hide 'n' seek, it's just..well, not under my trolley!! 
Mini-meltdown averted as aforementioned child gets dragged by (to be fair-again) his rather harrassed looking Mother from under my wheels.
And, breeeeeeeathe. "Shoooooooooooooo..oooook".
Onwards!
So as to not dwell on the finer points of the hell that is shopping I arrived, somewhat flustered (and scrutinising my trolley with the vain hope, that during the ordeal, I'd had the wherewithall to scoop up a bottle of anti-perspirant -because, good Lord did I need it now!) at the checkout.
I dumped my items onto the belt (well, when I say "dumped" what I actually mean is methodically lay them out in such a way that the professional bag-packer (me) is able to perfectly place all items into bags without squashage or affront) and waited.
My turn: I just want to pack up and get out of this crazy place. So, let's go Mr cashier-bloke...
He's staring at me. He's staring at me? He's staring at me. Does he not see the sheer desperation on my face? I gotta go! Come on man(/boy): Chop chop!
Finally, he starts to ring through my shopping..
Beep.......beep........beep.....beep...........................He was pretty slow, which usually in Asda I'd be grateful for as I'm a tad anal about my packing being 'just so' (I know, the surprises keep coming!) and can fall into an all -out panic attack if my purchases are mounting up around me due to the cashier mistaking his/her job for an Olympic event. But the staring had not ceased. He looked a little as if he was in a trance. Very strange (says she!).
Then:
 "I've just got an hour to go".
Oh, O.K. Now, all I have to do is form a sentence in response. Whilst trying to pack. And my mind is going blank. And I'm freaking out because he. Is. Staring at me (???) Why is he staring at me? Why is he staring..aagghh!! Too much too much too much.
Can't. Quite. Cope.With Multi-tasking.....Response to question: Not forthcoming!! And....
Aha! There it is: the manic smile from earlier..and it's...ON *PING* :) Me: "Oh that's good, and you're busy too so the time should fly..should *PING* ;)"
Yes, yes *flag-waving*:) I'd done it! I'd made a little small talk! Excellent. So what if the packing went a bit to pot? Meh *shrug* I responded like a 'normal' human-being! I'd cope with the semi-squished grapes when I got home. Phew. Nearly done now.
 Then, stammeringly, Mr Cashier-bloke utters these words:
"You  know, you're really pretty"
WTF?? It appears that whilst checking out my goods he had also been checking me out !? The staring; the trance; the go-slow; the "I've just got an hour to go"...Aaaah..oooooooh. Woah! I've heard nothing close to that for so long, I admit I felt a surge of 'feel-good'.
I just about managed an "ah..er..thanks", as I totally did for the grapes by dumping a carton of juice on them and fumbled my way through paying.
So, yeah. Such a small thing. Maybe it wasn't the best chat-up line in history, but I want to thank that guy for giving my self-esteem a much needed boost and, really, I should apologise to him for my lamest-of-lame response!
Now all I have to do is to not go down the 'turn every positive into a negative' route by questionning the guy's eyesight (I'm thirtysomething with a bmi of 12 and he a young lad!??...stress-stress-stress...maybe he was just taking the piss? I'm sure he probably says that to all the haggard looking women just because he's such a nice young man..blah blah blah...) or berating myself for allowing such naive and simple feelings to well up in me. Pleasure? Feel-good? NO!......... Oh, sod ya; YES! If there's one take-away from this it's that I have to get a grip on this over-analysis trap!

Ed's Ocean

Warning:
To follow: Ramblings of a philistine attempting to philosophise.
Those with a low cringe-threshold may wish to look away now (or scroll down for a link to a barn-storming post by an amazing woman).
Ok, you've been warned ;)

The Dread.
That weight in the pit of my stomach.
As much as I try to avoid it; not think about it; press it down and down and down...
Nope.
No good;
It's there.

And now I know what it is:

A vast ocean of screaming, tumultuous feelings; emotions; pain; reality.
And I can't hide from it, or make it go away. It will not go away. It is there. It will be there until I stop pushing it down and down and down....
It will be there until I face it; walk into it's giant thundering waves
and start
to turn
the tide.

See, it's so obvious really.
It's clear that every,
single
second
of the twenty years of this; my eating disorder has
drip,
drip,
drip-fed this now frenzied ocean, heaving within me. 

And it doesn't matter how many times I vomit; or with how much ferocity.
It doesn't matter how much I stuff in.
It won't absorb this ocean of raw,
festering
emotional
sewage.
It will never be enough.

You can only run away so far and for so long.
Before you meet the water's edge.

Some day I have to face the ocean.
And the longer I leave it the harder and longer the journey to the other side will be.

Reality sure does bite hard:

Each day,
Each hour,
Each minute,
Each second...

Drip.
Drip.
Drip...

Ok, enough of this ruminant tripe. I do hate it when I get all poetic and bolloxy, so I do apologise for the God-awfulness of my musings. Really just a stream of ..ugh...*cringe*...consciousness,  I suppose. Gah!
What I won't apologise for though, is posting the link to the bloody awesome blog post that galvanized my wannabe-philosopher into, er, oh dear, action.
The link:

http://mylifewithanorexia.wordpress.com/2012/04/10/numb-null-void-disconnected/

This lady is one of the finest examples of a Mum doing it so very right.
Just magnificent.