I was hospitalised a few times, due to being too skinny, and blacking out. That was the only time my foster dad (I just call him my dad) didn't have to force-feed me. A tube was inserted through my throat and vitamins and food was shoved down there. The thoughts never stopped though, even though i didn't have to taste any of it.
The image of food in my stomach still disgusts me to this day. But I know that I am healthy, and that's all that counts, isn't it? I hated it, but what could I do? I was usually hospitalised for 2 weeks at a time, sometimes more, but never less. And during all of that time, my dad, and a nurse, stayed with me 24/7. Even when I slept.
My dad took time off work and teaching to help me get better and stay alive. That was the time we bonded the most. In the worst possible situation, we bonded. I grew to appreciate his help, and I loved him so much in there.
When we got back home and to school, I still had to be force-fed. This was mainly during my purging period, so it was expected. Teachers comforted me when my teacher wasn't there for any reason. Yes, I also bonded with the teachers in that staff-room too.
I hated the hospital. It was so perfect, too perfect. The disinfectant smell, the white tiles, and the quietness. The doctors, nurses and receptionists everywhere. However, what I loved about the hospital was that all of the staff there actually cared about people. Even though it was a job, they still cared.
That was what made me feel at home there as well. I grew to know some of the nurses. Not doctors, of course, they're too busy, but the nurses were really kind as well. They gave me free things to take home as a reminder to continue to eat, and a reminder that people care about your health (I won't tell, it's too personal for me).
I loved the staff there, at the hospital.