Post by Lana on Jul 8, 2007 17:36:54 GMT
"Good morning", - a nurse entered the ward, giving Beatrice a calm smile. These smiles almost never were real, they were more of a 'uniform', something they had to wear whenever they talked to patients. These smiles were neither sincere nor necessary, since Beatrice never felt any warmth in these smiles: nurses and doctors were just doing their job, they had no reasons for smiling at madmen, at those, who lost their minds and sanity... The line separating them was too thick. Or too thin, almost inexistent?..
"Good?" - Beatrice raised an eyebrow, wiping the tears off her face. - "I personally see nothing good in this morning. And in the mornings to come, either", - she shrugged, trying to make her voice sound steady, even though she'd been crying till the nurse came in.
"You've been crying again", - it sounded more like a statement than like a question, and Beata snorted at the nurse:
"I don't see why I would laugh instead", - she said darkly and rolled her eyes.
Who were they - nurses and doctors?.. Intruders. They intruded into her life, trying to change it, trying to change her own soul, making everything they could in order to alter her personality. We're here to help you, dear, - she remembered their usual phrase that everyone heard on admission. Maybe there were people who could be helped, maybe there were cases that could be treated. But Beata knew enough about psychiatry and medicine on the whole, she had studied at Medical University before she was hospitalized and she knew perfectly well that there could be remissions, short- or long-term, but relapses were almost in 100%, especially in difficult cases, such as schizophrenia, paranoia, possessions... and many other disorders. Their symptoms could be eased, patients could be calmed, but never treated. Never. At least that was what she believed.
"You need to eat", - the nurse said with the same fake smile. The smile of a person who didn't really care, but had to fulfill the duties.
"I don't want to".
"Beatrice..." - the warning could be heard in her voice.
"I know my own name, thank you".
"You'll have breakfast".
"Don't want to".
"You have to".
"Get off me", - Beata narrowed her eyes stubbornly.
"I'll call the doctor then", - the nurse turned around swiftly and left the ward.
Forced feeding... their daily routine. Beata's main problem and main disorder. Accompanied by many more, anorexia was the main reason she ended up in the asylum. People didn't consider 39 to be a healthy weight for a girl with 167 cm. But she saw anything higher than 45 as fat, and higher than 50 as obese.
"I don't want to", - she muttered, even though no one was listening. She had no choice, no way-out anymore... at home she could lie and pretend she'd eaten in cafes with her friends, but here she was strictly controlled and every piece of food she had to eat, she would eat. Otherwise she would be numbed with sedatives and fed parenterally.
I don't wanna be fat...
"Good?" - Beatrice raised an eyebrow, wiping the tears off her face. - "I personally see nothing good in this morning. And in the mornings to come, either", - she shrugged, trying to make her voice sound steady, even though she'd been crying till the nurse came in.
"You've been crying again", - it sounded more like a statement than like a question, and Beata snorted at the nurse:
"I don't see why I would laugh instead", - she said darkly and rolled her eyes.
Who were they - nurses and doctors?.. Intruders. They intruded into her life, trying to change it, trying to change her own soul, making everything they could in order to alter her personality. We're here to help you, dear, - she remembered their usual phrase that everyone heard on admission. Maybe there were people who could be helped, maybe there were cases that could be treated. But Beata knew enough about psychiatry and medicine on the whole, she had studied at Medical University before she was hospitalized and she knew perfectly well that there could be remissions, short- or long-term, but relapses were almost in 100%, especially in difficult cases, such as schizophrenia, paranoia, possessions... and many other disorders. Their symptoms could be eased, patients could be calmed, but never treated. Never. At least that was what she believed.
"You need to eat", - the nurse said with the same fake smile. The smile of a person who didn't really care, but had to fulfill the duties.
"I don't want to".
"Beatrice..." - the warning could be heard in her voice.
"I know my own name, thank you".
"You'll have breakfast".
"Don't want to".
"You have to".
"Get off me", - Beata narrowed her eyes stubbornly.
"I'll call the doctor then", - the nurse turned around swiftly and left the ward.
Forced feeding... their daily routine. Beata's main problem and main disorder. Accompanied by many more, anorexia was the main reason she ended up in the asylum. People didn't consider 39 to be a healthy weight for a girl with 167 cm. But she saw anything higher than 45 as fat, and higher than 50 as obese.
"I don't want to", - she muttered, even though no one was listening. She had no choice, no way-out anymore... at home she could lie and pretend she'd eaten in cafes with her friends, but here she was strictly controlled and every piece of food she had to eat, she would eat. Otherwise she would be numbed with sedatives and fed parenterally.
I don't wanna be fat...
