Trigger warning

This chapter and the one following contain details about eating disorders. Please if you suffer from one, seek help. Jump to part 3 if you're still struggling with an ED and don't want to be triggered.

This chapter also plants a few seeds into Audrey's battle with PTSD.

Recovery

Emma spent another month in the hospital after being taken off ECMO. As Audrey had promised, Andrews had decannulated her the afternoon after waking up. He had however left Audrey the honor of stitching her daughter, as Emma had been so adamant that she wouldn't cooperate unless her mother did the sutures. Emma first hated having a scar on her left thigh. She hated that everybody would ask her what the mark was or how she had gotten it. But after a few days, she realized the scar was more than a war would. It was a reminder. A reminder of the battle she was fighting right now and a reminder of her mother. She would have those stitch marks forever on her skin. Her body was sealed with her mother's skillful stiches (which she thought looked far better than Dr Andrews'). She would always be with her and for the first time, she smiled at the idea of Audrey being her mother. She would never be Linda, but she was trying her best. She understood that now.

During this month in the hospital, she had a lot of PT, lung exams which results she tried to ignore as best as she could, and mostly, had to face her worse nightmare: eating. For sure, she didn't like being that skinny. It was never her intention to bas as skinny as she had gotten after 6 weeks in a hospital, but the rate at which they were feeding her was too much to handle. At first, she hid behind her poor appetite and the antivirals making her sick. But it soon became obvious that something was off with her. She refused the NG tube, claiming it made her uncomfortable and asked for nutritional shakes instead. The mixture was disgusting and as soon as she could get out of bed on her own, she emptied the bottles in the bathroom sink. And she had lost so much weight during her time on life support that no one could really tell if her GI issues were to be blamed on COVID or if she was displaying the signs of an eating disorder.

She easily managed to hide her fear of eating and fool the staff for a couple of weeks, until the day she was caught red-handed by Nurse Villanueva.

"How long?" asked the nurse.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"How long have you been doing this Emma?"

"Just this once… Maybe another… I just get so nauseous sometimes. I really try to force myself but you know… with all the medication going through my body and getting my stomach used to eating again… I didn't want to alarm anyone."

"I'm not buying it. You've been off antivirals for a week now and it's just saline and vitamin supplements going through your drip." She was clearly pissed off and Emma felt she had to think quickly if she wanted to get out of this "misunderstanding" unscathed.

"Please, don't tell my mother", she pleaded, totally hating herself for not even trying to convince the nurse she was being mistaken. Then she remembered. She was an adult. She had turned 20 in this hospital and no one got a say in this entire thing. It was her body and her rules. So, unless a court order claimed she was unfit to make her own medical decisions, she wouldn't be bothered drinking anymore shakes or eating gross dietary supplement chocolate creams. It was about time she redeemed her control. Yet she kept on pleading with nurse Villanueva.

"Please nurse Villanueva, you know my mother. She'll be overly concerned if she hears about this. She already has a crisis to deal with. Let's lift some weight off of her shoulders, right? And as for me, I haven't lost an ounce since I've come off ECMO. I'm still feeding myself and struggle to finish all of my trays…

"…please Emma, I wouldn't call 'finish' what you leave on your trays when we pick them back…"

"… It was just one bottle" she snapped. "And you know what? I don't care if you don't believe me. The truth is, facts do not add up. I don't have an eating disorder!"

"I never said you had one" the nurse snapped back. Touché.

"No. But you've clearly been implying it."

"Fine. Let's say I was wrong. Prove me right. Here's another bottle" she said and handed Emma another apple flavored shake.

"Fine" she replied, grabbing the bottle and fighting back a panic attack. She hated the flavor. She had goosebumps at the idea of drinking the entire thing bottom's up. She tried not to think about the numbers. The shake was thick and disgusting. It made her sick to her stomach. But she forced herself, gulping the mixture as quickly as possible. She thought it would never end, her gag reflex being triggered each time she swallowed. Yet she managed to empty it, dried her mouth with her hand and handed back the empty bottle.

"Satisfied?" she asked insolently, hoping Villanueva would leave soon.

Nurse Villanueva didn't say a word and left. Minutes later, after making sure she wasn't coming back, Emma was hunched over the toilet, emptying her guts until all that came out was bile. She felt exhausted from her purging episode, yet managed to find the strength to flush and grab a piece of paper towel to pat her lips dry. She wanted to reach for the sink to rinse her mouth but couldn't gather enough strength to stand up. Her legs were giving up under her.

She was out of breath, out of strength and drained. Calling a nurse to help her back into bed was out of the question. Her pride wouldn't let her do so. She considered crawling but the problem would still be the same: climbing back into bed. The only remedy for the time being was sleep. The floor was cold, there was no bath mat to lie on but she could already feel herself losing consciousness. She managed to lie down before falling asleep, an acidic taste of bile and apple flavored saliva in her mouth. She'd have to find her way out of this tricky situation but right here, right now, all she needed was sleep.

Meanwhile, as soon as she left the room, Nurse Villanueva rushed to Dr Lim's office. She was however in surgery and wouldn't be back before a couple of hours. Finally, three hours had passed before she managed to report the incident to Audrey. She was furious and left her office to go and confront her daughter about her reckless and disrespectful behavior.

Emma had been sleeping for almost four hours when her mother came in her room. Audrey first gently knocked on the door but no one replied. As she walked in the room, it was empty. A canula was laid on the bed, O2 still flowing through it.

"Emma?" she called but there was still no answer. She couldn't be that far. She kept on calling while checking every corner of the room. She was about to call security when she saw the bathroom door was opened and a piece of hospital gown was sticking out. She entered the room and saw her daughter, sound asleep. She looked so thin, fragile, innocent, with her frail body and blue-tinged lips and fingers. It almost seemed like she was drowning in her gown.

"Isn't anybody checking on patients here?" she asked, pissed off.

Believing for a moment that Emma was dead, she bended over her and checked her pulse. Panic rose as she couldn't feel any. She began yelling "Code…" when she realized she had just misplaced her fingers. The young lady was just asleep but her pulse wasn't very strong. Her lips and fingers were tinged in blue, probably from the lack of oxygen and the cold. The noise Audrey made and the feel of her warm fingers on her cold skin were enough to wake Emma out of her slumber. She felt like she was in a brain fog – probably another side effect of covid – and everything around her seemed blurry.

"Mom?" she called. The memories of the scene with nurse Villanueva all came back at once, hitting her like a wall of brick. She felt overwhelmed and became suddenly agitated, convinced that she was in deep troubles. Her body was shaking and tears were falling without her being able to control any of it.

Audrey felt pain for Emma and almost began weeping too. But she couldn't give in her pain or emotions. Not now. Not in front of Emma or any hospital staff. Swallowing hard, she left the bathroom and reached for a syringe of Ativan in the drawer of a crash cart. She then came back, syringe in her pocket, and sat down on the floor and held Emma's shoulders firmly. This quickly helped her getting her panic attack under control and Audrey felt relieved she wouldn't have to dose her daughter. When the shaking and breathing were under control, she helped Emma sitting up against the wall.

"I'm right here honey. It's going to be alright." She kept repeating over and over while Emma couldn't stop crying and apologizing between two sobs.

Audrey didn't try figuring out what exactly was going on. She just sat and waited for her daughter to calm down. A quick glance at her watch reminded her that she was supposed to be headed for a meeting. But she made the choice to remain where she was, Emma's well-being being her priority at the moment. She kissed her hair through her surgical mask and as Emma was finally calming down, almost falling asleep again, she called a nurse to help her carrying Emma's frail body back into bed.

"I'm cold Mom" she complained.

"We'll get you an extra blanket" she replied calmly, all the while feeling her forehead with the back of her hand. It was burning up. The fever was spiking again. What on Earth had Emma been thinking, sleeping on the bathroom floor? And why hadn't there been anyone checking on her for four hours? She would have to wait for answers.

"You need to rest Emma, okay? And if the shakes make you feel sick, we can give you an NG tube you know. You desperately need this food honey if you want to recover and go home" she said, using the most mothering and reassuring tone she could. Yet, however sugar-coated it was, mentioning an NG tube triggered another panic attack.

"No. I don't want a tube! Please! No!" and again she was agitated, struggling to get away from the staff's grip on her. Not knowing exactly what was going on, if it was the fever making her delirious or an underlying eating disorder, she pulled the syringe out of her pocket and administered it through Emma's IV. She also ordered the nurse to administer sleeping medication and decided to postpone the tube for the moment.

Within seconds, the medications worked their magic and Emma was relaxed again, wrapped in the warmth of the extra blanket and brain-fogged by the Ativan and zaleplon that were running through her system. Audrey ordered the nurse to boost Emma's drip with more nutrients and vitamins and dismissed her. She remained alone in the room for a little while, watching Emma sleeping peacefully before heading to her meeting, or at least the end of it. She tried hard not to melt down and made a note to herself to schedule a psych consult and inquire further about the incident.

Then, as soon as the meeting was over and she was alone, she went to the locker room to get showered and changed. She let the warm water run all over her body, curled in the glass cubicles and let the tears she had fought so hard to hold back all day long, burst out. She had no idea how long she remained in that cubicle, sat with her head buried in her knees while her whole body was shaking hard, the bothering sound of a monitor's flatline on repeat in her mind and the noise of the water covering her sobs. When her meltdown was over, she realized how exhausted she was and called a cab home. She reached straight for her bed, not even taking the time to eat despite her last meal being hours ago. But as her head hit the pillow, no sleep would come. She lied there, staring at the ceiling, hoping for the sand man to come for her but the sun rose and she was still awake.