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Sequel: Relearning Laura ›
The "You're Not Fat" Campaign
EnsurePlus
I wake up in a room that is utterly unfamiliar. I do not like it. There is a woman in a sterile white lab coat sitting by the bed that I am laying on.
"Ah, Laura, you're awake. Good," she says.
"What happened?" I croak, my voice woozy, my throat dry.
"You lost consciousness. You are severely orthostatic and dehydrated. You need to eat the entire meal that is going to be brought to you momentarily. If you don't eat, we're going to give you an NG tube," the woman says. I shake my head.
"No tube," I whisper. "Please. I'll eat the meal."
The door opens and a nurse comes in, holding a tray. She sets it down in front of me and lifts the lid.
Pasta with a creamy sauce, steamed broccoli and carrots, roll with butter, mixed salad, croutons, an orange juice box, and a chocolate EnsurePlus.
When I see the Ensure, I squeeze my eyes shut. Cassie told me about Ensures.
350 calories per bottle. A chalky film remaining on your tongue long after you finish the shake. The thick liquid getting stuck in your throat and oozing down down down your esophagus into your shrunken stomach, making it ache.
"Eat, Laura," the woman says. I pick up the plastic fork and spear a slippery noodle, then guide it to my mouth.
It takes me almost two hours, but I eat all of the pasta, all of the vegetables, and the entire roll. My orange juice is gone. The croutons are gone. All that is left is the EnsurePlus. The cream sauce of the pasta is going through my veins like sludge and I want to cry.
I open the EnsurePlus and take a sip. It is just as bad as how Cassie described them. Chalky and thick and slithering down my throat like some sort of slug. I cough and grimace. The false chocolate taste is overpowering. I can feel the calories in my stomach and my arms and my thighs. I am watching my waist expand. My stomach is distended. It hurts.
I drink the EnsurePlus as fast as I can, then shove the bottle away from myself.
"Can I go now," I whisper. My voice is strangled and choked from the thick cream sauce and the salad dressing and the EnsurePlus. I want to throw up or cry or sleep or run or somethinganything to get rid of the heaviness that is dragging my whole self down.
"Yes. You have to leave your door open for an hour though." I roll my eyes. This is to prevent me from purging, I imagine. Not like I would purge here. The toilets are automatic. The one time I tried to purge, I ended up getting a face full of toilet water.
"Fine."
I shuffle through the halls behind a tall nurse named Maxine. She punches in a code and slides her ID card through a slot and the doors to the psych unit slide open with a soft woosh. I hurry to my room and throw my fatfat body onto my bed and close my eyes and try to make everything go away.
"Ah, Laura, you're awake. Good," she says.
"What happened?" I croak, my voice woozy, my throat dry.
"You lost consciousness. You are severely orthostatic and dehydrated. You need to eat the entire meal that is going to be brought to you momentarily. If you don't eat, we're going to give you an NG tube," the woman says. I shake my head.
"No tube," I whisper. "Please. I'll eat the meal."
The door opens and a nurse comes in, holding a tray. She sets it down in front of me and lifts the lid.
Pasta with a creamy sauce, steamed broccoli and carrots, roll with butter, mixed salad, croutons, an orange juice box, and a chocolate EnsurePlus.
When I see the Ensure, I squeeze my eyes shut. Cassie told me about Ensures.
350 calories per bottle. A chalky film remaining on your tongue long after you finish the shake. The thick liquid getting stuck in your throat and oozing down down down your esophagus into your shrunken stomach, making it ache.
"Eat, Laura," the woman says. I pick up the plastic fork and spear a slippery noodle, then guide it to my mouth.
It takes me almost two hours, but I eat all of the pasta, all of the vegetables, and the entire roll. My orange juice is gone. The croutons are gone. All that is left is the EnsurePlus. The cream sauce of the pasta is going through my veins like sludge and I want to cry.
I open the EnsurePlus and take a sip. It is just as bad as how Cassie described them. Chalky and thick and slithering down my throat like some sort of slug. I cough and grimace. The false chocolate taste is overpowering. I can feel the calories in my stomach and my arms and my thighs. I am watching my waist expand. My stomach is distended. It hurts.
I drink the EnsurePlus as fast as I can, then shove the bottle away from myself.
"Can I go now," I whisper. My voice is strangled and choked from the thick cream sauce and the salad dressing and the EnsurePlus. I want to throw up or cry or sleep or run or somethinganything to get rid of the heaviness that is dragging my whole self down.
"Yes. You have to leave your door open for an hour though." I roll my eyes. This is to prevent me from purging, I imagine. Not like I would purge here. The toilets are automatic. The one time I tried to purge, I ended up getting a face full of toilet water.
"Fine."
I shuffle through the halls behind a tall nurse named Maxine. She punches in a code and slides her ID card through a slot and the doors to the psych unit slide open with a soft woosh. I hurry to my room and throw my fatfat body onto my bed and close my eyes and try to make everything go away.