Barbara walked down the corridor towards the door and peeped through the small spy hole. No-one. The tapping started again; this time it was accompanied by a noise like fingernails being scraped down an old blackboard. Another look through the spy hole revealed nothing. She shivered. Her curiosity now getting the better of her, Barbara slowly opened the door and peered up and down the corridor; not a soul in sight.
“Kids, I guess,” she muttered. She closed the door and walked back to her chair. “Now, Zoe, I want you to fast-forward to the trigger point.” No sooner had she spoken than Barbara felt a heavy poke in her back, which made her jump out of the chair and look behind. “What the heck? What was that?” Barbara had been having a few muscle spasms since she had had a car accident the previous year. “I really do need to go back to my GP,” she muttered as she sat down again.
If only she had looked closely at the back of the armchair she would have seen the imprint of a small hand.
30: The lasting effects of childhood memories
1
Zoe was in the girls’ changing room getting ready for the afternoon’s games session. She didn’t mind netball; it wasn’t her favourite sport, that belonged to tennis, but, because her reactions were quick, she played as a goal shooter. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror which was next to the lockers; she was of average build, nicely rounded – maybe just a slight pot belly, but nothing to be concerned about. As she turned away, Helen and two of her cronies walked in and surrounded her. “What?” asked Zoe, “what’s the matter with you lot?”
Helen smirked. “Nothing, Little Miss Piggy,” she said, sarcastically, as she poked Zoe’s waistline. The three girls closed in and jostled her, pointing and laughing, before starting to chant Little Miss Piggy, Little Miss Piggy. Just then Vana came in, saw what was going on, and roughly pulled the girls away from her friend. “Shouldn’t you girls be practising your tongue and groove?” she glared at Helen, who pushed her backwards.
“Screw you, bitch! We’re not lesbos!” Vana squared up to Helen. “Well, you deffo modelled like one in that magazine.”
“Hmph, just shows what you know,” retorted Helen, “it’s called modelling and acting – not that you’d understand.”
“You’ve got the rep, not me.”
“Screw you!”
“And I bet you’d like that.”
Fortunately, before things could get really out of hand, Mrs Jones, the games teacher, came into the room. “Stop that at once. You three – outside,” she said, pointing at Helen and her little gang of bullies. “You two, finish getting changed and follow me on to the court.” Zoe sat down, and Vana put a protective arm around her friend.
“You OK, hun?”
“Yeah, I guess. They’re just being their normal, bitchy selves. I seem to be their pin-cushion of late.”
“Come on; don’t worry. I’ll rough them up a bit while we’re playing,” smiled Vana. Zoe was grateful to her best friend who was a tough cookie and took no shit from anyone.
2
Barbara was still taking notes. “OK, now we have established the origin, I want you to flash forward in time to the point that started your illness.” None of this was new to Barbara as Zoe had opened up to her when she was being counselled, but she was hopeful that something new would emerge whilst Zoe was under hypnosis. Zoe was breathing deeply. To all intents and purposes the girl was asleep, with just her eyelids and fingers restlessly twitching.
3
The netball game went as predicted by Vana, who got one of her other friends to distract Mrs Jones by faking an ankle injury. Once the teacher’s back was turned, she viciously elbowed Helen in the stomach. “Oh, sorry,” she half-heartedly apologised, “didn’t see you there.” Helen glared at her. “You’d better watch your back, Cuban.”
“Why, do you like the back door as well? Cuba, Havana, I like that – funny.” Mrs Jones turned to see the girls shouting and pushing. “You two again! Any more of this and you’ll be off to the Headmaster. Troublemakers are dealt with severely here. Do you want Saturday morning detentions and lack of privileges? Get on with the game.”
“Sorry, madam,” replied both girls, as they ran to their respective places on the court.
4
School finished for the day, and Vana and Zoe walked down the school’s drive towards the large ornamental gates. Normally they went back to Zoe’s house after school, but today was Vana’s grandmother’s birthday so she was getting a lift home as the family were going out for dinner.
Zoe walked along the street, stopping off at the newsagents to pick up a copy of her favourite magazine. The shop was crowded with schoolchildren, all wanting to spend what they had kept back from their lunch money. “Hey, mister, what can I get for 20p?” shouted one young boy.
“The same as I told you the other day when you asked – 20 penny sweets or two Freddos,” replied the newsagent, as he tried to keep his eyes on the other boys who were all milling around. Zoe picked up her magazine, stretched over the heads of the young boys in order to pay the, by now, flustered shopkeeper, smiled, and left the shop.
5
Zoe unlocked the front door, and was greeted by the aroma of beef lasagne which Mary and James had prepared for dinner. “That you, Zoe?” shouted Mary.
“Yes, mum.”
“Tea won’t be long. I’ll shout when it’s ready.”
“OK,” she replied, running up the stairs. Zoe walked up to her bedroom, pushed back the door, and noticed it had been tidied, polished, and vacuumed. “Thanks mum,” she said, as she placed her rucksack on the floor. She couldn’t wait to change out of her school uniform, preferring jeans and her favourite pink hoodie, and then lay on the bed, reading her magazine. All the usual stuff was there – plenty of gossip, puzzles, Your week ahead in the Stars, make-up tips, as well as Auntie Maggie’s problem page.
She continued to turn the pages until an article caught her eye. It was about the dangers of Anorexia and teenage girls. She read on, intrigued. The article followed the lives of four girls, and explained what they had been doing in order to shed the pounds. Zoe rubbed her stomach, thoughtfully. These girls apparently all ate normally, but then went off to the bathroom to make themselves sick. The article was very well written and highlighted the dangers of eating disorders. Zoe thought...
6
Zoe was at her desk finishing off her homework. She put down her pen, picked up the magazine again, and looked at the picture of the girls in the article. The girls were undeniably skinny, not too thin, but they looked ill. She pondered for a while, but when she remembered Helen and the other bullies cat-calling her, and shouting Little Miss Piggy, her decision was made.
31: The reality of the problem
1
Zoe had been continuing with her new, drastic regime for a few weeks, but now she was also using laxatives, and over-exercising, to burn off the calories. As she changed for netball, Vana came into the locker room.
“Hey, hun; are you on a diet?”
“No, not really,” smiled Zoe, pleased that her friend had noticed her new figure. “I’ve been out running most evenings for a couple of hours, that’s all.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with what Helen was bitching about, does it?”
“Well, yes and no I guess. I just looked in the mirror and decided to tone up a bit.”
“Well, all I’ll say is – you look hot!”
A few minutes into the game and Zoe felt great – she was playing really well and getting many good shots. Mrs Jones was certainly impressed with Zoe’s new-found enthusiasm for the game, until, without warning, Zoe collapsed to the floor.
2
Barbara continued to watch as Zoe relived painful memories of that day. The girl’s hands were shaking and she started to moan quietly. “It’s alright, Zoe, relax. You’re in a safe environment. Remember your breathing – in and out, in and out, slowly does it. Take your time. Now, when you’re ready, tell me what happened next.”
3
Mrs Jones sent one of the girls to the school office to call for an ambulance whilst she tried to help Zoe. She checked her pulse – very faint – and put her into the recovery position. Vana was in tears at the sight of her friend lying motionless on the floor.
The paramedics quickly arrived, did preliminary checks and put her into the ambulance. With blue lights flashing, the vehicle rushed its way through the busy city traffic to the local hospital, where Zoe was taken through A and E into a side ward. She was quickly assessed, had all kinds of monitors and drips put in place, and was sleeping.
Dr Smith, a silver-haired man in his 50s, and Dr Webster, a blonde lady in her 30s, had carried out the initial examination. “So, Dr Webster, what do you think?” Dr Smith was checking Zoe’s blood pressure, which was dangerously low. “Well, dry skin, brittle nails, pasty-looking skin, red hands and feet, fine hair on the face, coupled with low blood pressure and palpitations, all points to Anorexia Nervosa.”
“It’s certainly looking that way, but we need the results of the bloods and urine tests to definitely confirm it. Keep her monitored. Are her parents here yet?”
“No, but they’re on their way.”
“Good. Have me paged as soon as they arrive.”
4
Mary dashed up to the Reception desk, introduced herself, and asked if she could please see her daughter. Unfortunately Jim was stuck in a meeting and Mary couldn’t contact him, so had to leave a message, asking him to get to the Hospital as soon as possible, with one of his colleagues. Luckily James was going to a friend’s house for tea straight from school.
After contacting Dr Smith, the receptionist smiled at Mary. “Dr Smith is on his way. Would you like to take a seat whilst you are waiting?”
“Thank you,” replied Mary, and wandered over to a large waiting area. She sat there alone, head in hands; she couldn’t stop crying. Mary was a nervous wreck; she’d almost crashed her car twice on the way to the hospital. She tried Jim again – straight to voicemail. Mary had never felt so lonely in all her life. She knew Zoe had collapsed; she knew something was wrong; she wanted answers. This was turning out to be the longest five minutes of her life.
Dr Smith approached her. “Mrs Johnson? Hello. I’m Dr Smith and I’m one of the doctors looking after your daughter. Would you like to come with me?”
By now Mary couldn’t string a sentence together – she just nodded. Her faced trembled. Where was Jim? She needed him. They walked, in silence, into Zoe’s room. Mary looked in horror at the sight of her beautiful young daughter, lying sedated in the bed, with wires attached to bleeping monitors. Her eyes filled up as she gently took hold of Zoe’s hand. “What’s the matter with her?” she said, “is she going to be alright?”
“The blood and urine tests have just come back and they show electrolyte imbalances,” said Dr Smith, gently.
“I don’t follow.”
“Low potassium, sodium and magnesium. Couple that with the physical signs and it confirms our diagnosis of Anorexia Nervosa.”
“Anorexia? How? You sure?” She broke down in a flood of tears again. “I, I would have noticed,” said Mary, placing her hand on Zoe’s cold forehead. “Oh, Zoe, what have you been doing to yourself? And why?” She looked anxiously at Dr Smith. “Will she pull through?”
“Yes. We have to admit her so that we can monitor her hydration levels and food consumption. Once we’re satisfied that her body is reacting well, we will need to sit down with a care team and discuss a treatment plan. This will involve medical progress, implementing dietary changes, and psychological therapy.”
“Will she be OK? Can she be cured?” Dr Smith sat on the edge of the bed. “There is no drug treatment available to cure it, but we can give her something to help with the depression, which is usually one of the causes of Anorexia.”
“You think she is depressed? She is such a bubbly, fun-loving teenager. Depressed? How can that be?”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Mrs Johnson,” said Dr Smith kindly. “Anorexic sufferers are very clever at hiding what they are doing. We can give her a course of Fluoxetine – Prozac – but, the rest is down to Zoe. However, she will have a good care team to support her at this end.”
“Thank you, but will there be any long-term effects? And Prozac sounds so awful!”
“Let’s not worry about that just now; we need to get her vitals back to a normal level first.”
“Please, Doctor,” said Mary, wiping back her tears, “I need to know what we are facing.”
“OK. Long-term effects centre around the bones, cardiovascular problems, and possible kidney failure and nerve damage. Mrs Johnson, left untreated there are serious health complications.”
“I’m shocked to the core,” cried Mary, “I had no idea how serious this could be! And you’re sure she’ll be OK?”
“She is in the best place, and we will all do everything we can to help.” With that, Dr Smith got up and walked towards the door. “I will be on my rounds for the next hour or so, but I will call back later. Do try not to worry.”
5
“Mum?” croaked Zoe, “why am I here? What happened?” she asked, nervously, as her eyes glanced around the room.
“Oh, Zoe. Thank God you’ve woken up. You collapsed earlier at school, and were brought here in the ambulance. What have you been doing to yourself, my lovely princess?”
“I’m so sorry mum.”
“Don’t be, sweetheart. It’s my fault. I should have noticed the signs and acted on them. Would you like some water?”
“Yes, mum,” said Zoe, through her tears.
“Don’t cry, Zoe. I’ll just pop out to the Nurses’ Station – be back in a minute.”
6
On her way back to Zoe’s room, Mary was relieved to bump into Jim hurrying along the corridor. “Oh Jim!” she mumbled, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I got here as quickly as I could,” he replied. “Come here.” They hugged.
32: Time for reflection
1
As Zoe slowly awoke in her hospital room, the sun was shining brightly and, despite it only being just after 8 am, there was the promise of a hot day ahead. Nurse Madison popped her head around the door. “Good morning,” she smiled. She bustled around Zoe’s bed, and walked over to the window, where she watched a man getting out of his car – carrying flowers and a big, blue balloon. “How are you feeling today? Did you sleep well?” she asked; she started to take Zoe’s temperature and blood pressure. “Yes, thanks, but can I just nip to the bathroom before you start that?”
“Not a problem, and when you come back, you can decide what you want for breakfast.”
After a few days on a drip, Zoe was allowed to start on small amounts of solid food. She had started off the week by being terribly dehydrated and in a poor condition, but, by Thursday, there was an improvement. Nurse Madison popped a menu card on Zoe’s bedside table, and was just straightening up the bed-clothes when Zoe returned. “Wow,” she said, “I can’t believe I actually have a choice? I’d quite like some bacon, on buttered toast, loaded with brown sauce. The girl in the next room had it yesterday and I’ve been craving it ever since! The smell was mouth-watering, and it reminded me of how I used to be, before...”
“Well, that’s good progress,” smiled Nurse Madison, “but don’t get too excited. This is your choice...”
As Zoe looked at the menu, she could see that many of the choices had been crossed out with a thick, black marker pen – leaving toast and jam, or porridge. “That’s just typical! And, to give me the card with the one thing I crave crossed out, just takes the...”
“I understand,” said the nurse, “but we have to start you on digestible foods. I’ll have a word with Dr Smith, and see if he agrees to one slice of bacon tomorrow. Now, what’s it to be?”
“OK, it’s a deal. Toast, please, and tea. Can I have a shower, please? I feel as if I need to refresh.”
“No problem. I’ll get someone to take you d
own after you have eaten.”
2
Nurse Madison was soon back with Zoe’s breakfast, and her morning medication – 20 mg of Fluoxetine – which Zoe reluctantly took with a glass of water. “Right. I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast in peace, and will be back shortly.”
Zoe was fortunate to have had Nurse Madison assigned to her. She was a pleasant, cheerful lady, probably about 40, who always knew exactly what to say to cheer up a patient. Her bubbly, but also sympathetic, nature made her a firm favourite with staff and patients alike.
3
Once Zoe had breakfasted and had had her shower, she was back in her room drying her hair. Nurse Madison had promised to bring in the young girl from the next room; her name was Karen and she was 11 years old. The nurse told Zoe that the poor lass had been admitted a few days previously as she had been climbing a huge, old, oak-tree at the bottom of her garden in order to rescue her kitten when she overstretched and found herself on the ground. To add insult to injury, as she lay screaming in pain, with her mother running towards her, the black and white kitten just jumped down, unaided. She, however, had broken both legs and was plastered up to her knees.
Karen duly arrived, pushed in a wheelchair by a probationary nurse, and Zoe was pleased to have some company. Her mum and Vana had both been visiting her daily, but normally not until later in the day so mornings dragged somewhat. When Vana came in the previous day, she had made Zoe laugh so much as she played with some cardboard bedpans that the nurses rushed into the room when Zoe’s heart monitors went off.
Vana, as well as Mary, had felt really guilty about Zoe’s illness. She could not believe that she had not noticed the signs. Dr Smith tried to put her mind at ease by explaining that, despite everyone knowing the term Anorexia, not many people recognised the signs; he also re-iterated that sufferers become very adept at hiding their actions.
The Rattler (Rattler Trilogy Book 1) Page 13