Once in a lifetime.

⚠️38

September

My knees are swinging off the table. Back and forth. Like I'm a child at the doctor's office, waiting. I'm in the dinosaur room with pictures of dinosaur skeleton's lining the walls, each vertebra mapped out. I've been in this room a thousand times for checkups. I can tell you every book that is on the bookshelf, (Elmo, a picture find, barbies go to the beach, monsters inc, and there is a monster at the end of this book.) I can tell you where everything is underneath the cabinets and how old you have to be a sticker or a sucker.  This time it's different though. For example, I'm almost an adult now. I can come in on my own, and I do.

Instead of my parents bringing me, it's my brother. He waits outside in the green and white "Check-in slash waiting room" area. The TV was on when I left so he is probably listening to blues clues while scrolling through Instagram. And instead of being here for a yearly checkup, I'm here to tell the doctor I have an eating disorder. I'm here to tell my doctor I need help. So when he walks in and shakes my hand I don't return his smile. He doesn't move off of his face though, as he sits in his spinning chair.

"Good afternoon Juliet, what do I owe this pleasure."

My doctor has always been so proper. I use to think he did it to make us laugh, now I realize that's just how he talks.

"Umm...." And there goes my tongue. It stopped working. How do I even explain? He smiles at me, and I take a deep breath, I can do this. I have to do this. "How do you know if you have an eating disorder?" his smile falls and his eyes hit my paperwork.

He looks through a few pages and then slowly closes my enormous file, putting it on the counter behind him. He looks at me, and I have never seen the look on his face before.
"Do you think you have an eating disorder?"

I can't bounce my legs because they are swinging. What does he mean do I think I have an eating disorder? "What?"

"What makes you ask me about eating disorders?"

I breathe in slowly, trying not to jump off the metal bed and tell him never mind. "I um. Was curious."

His eyes never leave mine. I don't look at him, but I can feel it.

"Juliet. I want to let you know that you are very brave. I feel honored that it's me you've come to for help. It's a big step and I want to say that from a father of three girls I'm proud of you." I don't know what to say. Thank you? I guess that would work, but it doesn't feel right so instead, I don't say anything. I just swallow. "That being said, from a father I will give you all the names of doctors, nutritionists, and proper services that can help you. However, it pains me to say that as a doctor I can't write you a referral for any of them." What in the world is he talking about? "I'm so sorry. I wish that there was something else that I could say or do. I want you to know that I do support you."

"Why?" I manage to squeak out.

"I'm sorry but your BMI is normal," he grabs my file looking through it again.

"According to the national wide scale, you're healthy. Insurance won't pay for treatment because physically you don't seem sick." I can feel sweat forming on my hands. My hands start to get slippery as I try and squeeze onto the bed more, harder, grasping for anything to keep me upright. Little black dots started to appear in front of my eyes, I suddenly couldn't see anything but them.

"What?" I exhale. "What do you mean?"

He licks his lips and then they disappear into his mouth. "I can't do this as a doctor, it has to be as an unbias adult."

I shake my head and look at him. "What? Will, my insurance does not pay for it?" I keep saying the word what because I can't process anything else. He's supposed to be helping me.

"It's not that." he looks away, "I hate this." He mumbles and I wait. "Juliet you don't qualify for me to give you professional help as an option." I feel my mouth fall open. My heart drops into my stomach. Oh, God. I'm stuck. Oh, God. I'll never get better.

"W.....why not? I'm coming to you for help, why can't I qualify?" I am swallowing as much as I can to try and stop the tears.

"I don't want to answer that, it's not healthy for you to hear the answer to that. I do what to say that there is an amazing group counseling group that is relatively cheap and I think would help."

"Why don't I qualify for professional help?"

He looks at the corner of the room and then back at me, as if he was weighing his options. "You haven't lost enough weight to be considered as having an eating disorder."

I look at his eyes as they meet mine. He's ashamed, at least he looks like he is. "Excuse me?"

He shakes his head, "You fall within your height and weight standers so I can't diagnose you with an eating disorder, nor can I write you any referrals for help. It's not fair and I'm sorry. Legally I can't do anything but suggest you try and find someone to talk to. I cant put you in a home or even contact your insurance to see what they will pay for. You have to do that and most likely it will have to come out of pocket."

I hear a little laugh come out of me. Did he just say I'm not good enough to have an eating disorder? I think of Tori and of Aaron and Eleanor. Aaron missed a day of work to bring me here. They all support me and I'm not sick enough to be supported by my own doctor.

"Well thank you for nothing doctor." I grab my bag and leave the office.

I walk as calmly as I can through the hallways the opposite way I came, weaving back and forth. When I get to the waiting room I go straight over to my brother.
"Let's go," I say before he has a chance to process it.

He looks up, "How did it go?"

"Well, I'm not sick enough to get help so I'd really like to leave now." My brother stars at me. He then stands and starts walking through the door I just came through. "Where are you going?" I call after him but he doesn't stop. He keeps walking. He knows these halls just as well as I do. I follow because what else am I supposed to do? He weaves his way through until he gets to the nurse's desk in the center.

"Hello Aaron." the nurse says when he stops in front of her.

"Hi, where is doctor...."

"I'm here." Our doctor interrupts. "How are you doing Aaron?"

My brother's lips push together in a line. "Why can't you help her?" The doctor opens his mouth but doesn't get a chance. "She's sick! Do you see how much weight she has lost? Don't you see the way her bones pop out of her skin!? I know you have, why can't you help her?!"

Our doctor signs and responds back in an even tone. "I really want to Aaron, but legally,"

"Screw legality!  Did you see her bones?!" My brother's finger points at my ribs. I instinctively wrap my arms around myself. Maybe I shouldn't have followed. "I know that you don't care but I do! There are too many people in her life that DON'T care! I am telling you that as a doctor you need to care and I shouldn't have to tell you to do that!"
Our doctor put his clipboard on the nurse's desk and leans on it. "Aaron, as I've told your sister I'd really like to help her. I will write up names of amazing doctors and group clinching sessions that I believe will help. However, due to her weight, I can not legally do anything else."

"That doesn't make any sense! She's sick!"

Our doctor nods, "I know, but according to the board of health she isn't sick enough."
"Fuck you." My brother spits and then takes off for the door.

I look at my doctor, "Can you call me and leave the names and numbers on my voicemail?" I'm clearly feeling brave.

"Of course Juliet, I am sorry." But all I can do is nod because I don't know if I really believe that.