Hopefully everyone likes this. It's my first time writing something. Forgive me if the timeline is off a bit. I tried to make it as true to the time period as I could. Read with caution, as there are many triggers for eating disorder themes in all chapters.
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Chapter 1
July 1967. 15 months after events in The Outsiders finished and Ponyboy's theme was written.
—
He fell and broke his arm. He wasn't pushed or pulled, he wasn't punched, kicked, or hit. He wasn't climbing up anything or running. He didn't slip or trip. He was walking, and fell. His third time that week.
"How do you just fall, Ponyboy? And break an arm? At your age," Darry cried.
Dr. Morgan entered with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He took it out briefly to remark, "you are mighty thin. You feeding this boy, Darry?"
"Trying to, doctor," Darry answered as he stood up from his chair. "He, uh, said he hasn't been hungry lately."
"Hmm. We clocked you in at 94, Ponyboy."
Darry went cold. He knew Ponyboy was skinny, but he hadn't realized he was down that many pounds. He looked over at his brother who immediately turned his head away from him.
"I haven't been hungry," the youngest Curtis notified as he gnawed on his thumbnail.
"Haven't been hungry? You are quite underweight for your height and age," the doctor stubbed out his cigarette.
"Haven't been able to keep anything down… just been nauseous. Think I'm sick," Ponyboy mumbled.
Dr. Morgan gave a concerning glance to his patient. "Can I see you in the hall, Darry?"
The doc lit up another cigarette and offered one to Darry who declined. "Darry, typically a child in Ponyboy's condition warrants a call to state authorities, but I know you haven't done anything wrong, so I'm going to avoid that. But see to it that the next time I see that boy, he looks a little healthier."
Darry felt his heart race and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I really appreciate your understanding, doctor. But.. what do you mean "a boy in his condition?""
"His weight, Darry," the doctor replied in a tone that made him sound a bit confused, as if it should be obvious "The nature of his injury. He doesn't have the bone integrity a young man his age should have. His blood pressure and heart rate are concerning. His blood work is yet to come back but I'm guessing it will reveal some issues. We'll need to keep your brother in the hospital to see if we can improve those numbers and in the meantime, I'd like to put him on a nasogastric tube to see if we can put some weight on him."
"A what?" Darry asked as he put a hand behind his neck, feeling overwhelmed and almost a bit dizzy.
"It's a type of feeding tube. It will provide him with nutrition and calories through a tube in his nose, and then down into his stomach. The insertion might be a little uncomfortable, but otherwise it shouldn't cause him pain."
"No… no, do we really have to do that?" A shocked Darry stumbled through his words. He glanced back into the hospital room at his baby brother who, over the course of the last twenty four hours, has suddenly begun to appear horrifyingly frail, and not just because of the new arm sling he donned. How could he have been so blind to this? He frowned and, reluctantly, nodded. "If you think it's for the best."
—-
Ponyboy pleaded briefly with Darry to not let them insert the feeding tube, assured him that he was fine now and that he would eat. "It'll be okay, Ponyboy," is all Darry could manage to get out before patting his baby brother's head and walking to the other side of the room as two nurses began the procedure. He heard one whimper from the teenager, but otherwise Ponyboy was passive during the event. Darry felt sick to his stomach over the guilt he felt allowing this to occur. He considered telling the doctor and nurses to hold off on the tube, but each time he caught a glimpse again at his brother, he had a visceral reaction and understanding that it needed to be done.
—
"Baby!" Soda exclaimed as he hurried to his little brother's bedside. "Are you okay?!"
He took in the dark circle under the boy's eyes, the unnaturally pale complexion, his stick thin arms, concave chest, gaunt face. He knew Ponyboy had been under a lot of stress, hadn't been in peak form, that his appetite was poor. But here in the hospital bed he looked very sick, heartbreakingly so. "I'm fine, Soda. I just hurt my arm." Soda's eyes ran from the tube that was inserted in his baby brother's nose, to the sling that was covering his right arm.
Tears started to well up in Soda's eyes. "Darry," he called as he turned around to face his older brother and gestured toward the hallway. "Be right back, baby," Soda reassured Ponyboy as he exited the room with Darry.
"What's happened to him!?' Sodapop cried. "Darry, what the hell is going on?!"
"He broke his arm, Soda," " Darry sighed. "Just calm down, alright?".
"Calm down!?" Soda gestured toward the hospital room. "Why does he look like this, Darry? That… thing in his nose?!" Soda cried, a hitch in his voice.
"He doesn't eat, Soda. If you were around more, you'd know that."
"He has not looked like this, Darry," Soda breathed as he started to sob.. He glanced back into the room and at his brother. It occurred to him that it has been months since he'd seen Ponyboy with a hoodie on."I saw him Tuesday and he was fine."
Soda stormed back into Pony's hospital room and held his younger brother's hand as he sobbed. "It's okay, baby. It's okay. If you eat, they'll take it out. You can eat, can't you? You should try."
"Soda.. my… my stomach hurts. I feel like I'm going to throw up when I eat," he frowned and his lip quivered, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "I'll try."
—-
Later that day, Ponyboy was given a bowl of chicken noodle soup to eat on his lunch tray. He tried it reluctantly with a shaking hand - 4 spoonfuls. "I can't," he said, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the bowl. "I can't eat anymore." His brothers glanced at each other with alarm.
"You need to, sweetheart," Soda cooed as he brushed a thumb above his brother's eyebrow in an attempt to comfort the boy.
Ponyboy looked at his stomach and crossed his good arm around it before glancing at the feeding tube line. "I'm gaining weight," he stated in a quiet voice, feeling vulnerable and helpless.
"Honey…" Soda whispered, shaking his head. He frowned and shared a worried glance with Darry who stood on the other side of the room, arms crossed and leaning against a wall.
"You need to gain weight, Ponyboy. You heard what the doctor said. 94 pounds. Is that okay with you?!" Darry's voice boomed, sounding far more tense than he'd meant to.
"I don't weigh 94 pounds," Ponyboy mumbled, looking down at his blanket.
"Really!?" Darry said as he approached the bed. "I'll go ask them to weigh you right now then!"
"Darry, please," Ponyboy said, still not making eye contact. He pushed his tray away. "I'll eat. I promise I will. I just can't eat this."
—-
In the meantime, his blood work revealed the beginning stages of liver failure and significant electrolyte imbalances. His hormone levels were inappropriate for a child his age which likely contributed to the bone injury.
"To put it simply," Dr. Morgan explained, "he's suffering from severe malnutrition. He'll have to stay here on the feeding tube until he will eat on his own and his vitals improve. After that, you can take him home."
"I don't understand why this is happening," Soda cried.
Dr. Morgan sighed. "He isn't eating."
"But why?!" Soda demanded.
"That's a great question," the doctor replied with his arms folded in front of him. "Ask him."
—
"I'm Dr. Anders," an attractive young strawberry blonde with a bob cut and a pencil skirt approached with a smile. She sounded like she was from the north - maybe east coast, Darry guessed. "I am a child psychologist here at the hospital. Dr. Morgan thought that it would be a good idea if I came here to see you all." She offered her hand to Darry and he shook it, surprised that this shrink was so young, attractive, and, well, female.
"Darry Curtis," he replied. "Brother and legal guardian of Ponyboy Curtis."
"Nice to meet you, Darry. Do you mind if we speak privately?" she smiled at the two younger Curtises as they offered questioning glances to their eldest brother.
"Sure thing," Darry replied before the two slipped into the hallway, Darry a bit nervous. It was usually never a great thing when a professional wanted to speak with him about one of his brothers.
Dr. Anders led Darry into a small conference room where they each took a chair. "First, tell me about your living situation, if you don't mind. Is it just you and Ponyboy living together?"
"Yeah, that's right. Our parents died almost 2 years ago. It's pretty much just me and Ponyboy now. We have a brother, Sodapop, who's 19. He lives with his girlfriend now."
"I'm sorry about your loss," the doctor offered with a sympathetic smile. Darry nodded. "I understand Ponyboy is having difficulty eating?" Her eyebrows were creased and her eyes continued to offer sympathy. Darry's demeanor was a bit guarded, but she understood why.
"He never eats," Darry offered bluntly.
"Any idea why?" she frowned.
"He says he can't, or that he's going to throw up," the eldest Curtis answered before swallowing a lump in his throat. He'd been so stupid, so careless and neglectful for not forcing the issue more with Ponyboy. But he didn't know it had gotten this bad.
"I see. Any other concerning behaviors that you've noticed?"
With some reluctance, Darry continued. "He's always been into running, but lately it's become an obsession it seems. If it's raining or cold, or he's sick, it doesn't matter. I've tried telling him he shouldn't run if he hasn't eaten, but then he'll tell me that he did eat. But just by looking at him, you can tell that's a lie." Darry paused and shook his head, buried his face in his hands. "I know it sounds crazy, but I just never noticed how skinny he was until today."
Dr. Anders nodded with a tight smile. "Some people can hide it pretty well."
"I guess I don't know what's going on with him," Darry replied as his arms fell to his side.
"I'm sure it's a very confusing time for you all," the doctor comforted, placing a hand on Darry's shoulder. He looked at the hand and back at her face.
"He's thrown up after eating, and says because he wasn't feeling well. So maybe he really is sick? Some kind of gastrointestinal problem that's also making him not want to eat? He doesn't talk to anyone, and he sleeps more than I've ever seen anyone sleep in my whole life. He's just not himself." Darry paused, aware that words and confessions were spilling out of his mouth like water from a broken dam. But he couldn't be stopped. What more did he have to lose, anyway? "Our parents died a few years ago, then two really close friends passed away… really tragically and suddenly. He stopped eating for a while after that because he was so sick, and -," Darry stopped and paused. "I'm sorry," he said, a little embarrassed.
"No," the doctor said as she took a seat beside him. "Go ahead. The more I understand what he's been through, the better."
"Just.. the drama from that. He was in the hospital, he had to go to court. Being harassed by people at school," Darry paused and shook his head. "Some kids tried to drown him. He almost died. Now this. I'm supposed to be responsible for him and I feel like I'm fucking up so bad. I can't even do something as simple as making sure he eats."
"Well, it sounds like you are doing what you can. You can't force Ponyboy to do anything. You brought him here which was the right thing. You haven't done anything wrong," Dr. Anders offered pointendly. "It sounds like your brother has been through an awful lot of trauma in a short period of time," she remarked. "I'd like to speak to him privately so we can get a proper diagnosis and treatment plan, with your permission of course. And Darry, everything you and your brothers tell me will be confidential. I am here to make sure Ponyboy gets better, not get anyone in trouble."
With a little reluctance Darry nodded his head. "Sure."
—-
"I don't want to talk to anybody," a lethargic Ponyboy stated, staring ahead at nothing in particular. While Darry was gone, Soda and a nurse had set him up in a wheelchair. He looked so tiny in the chair, and was covered in a mountain of hospital blankets.
"Ponyboy, if you ever want to get out of here and off that tube, you need to talk to her," Darry said, arms crossed and voice booming from the doorway.
Pony looked at Darry suspiciously and then turned his gaze to the psychologist as Darry walked out with Soda.
"If at any time you don't feel comfortable, please tell me. But I want you to try your very best to answer these questions as honestly as you can. You will, under no circumstances, get yourself or your family in any trouble. Your answers will stay completely confidential. I can't tell a soul what you tell me here today" Dr. Anders paused, before offering a genuine smile.
"Shake on it?" She asked, offering her hand. Pony offered his cold, bony hand limply. "Mind if I sit down here?" She gestured toward a chair at Pony's beside.
Ponyboy stared lifelessly and eventually offered a subtle nod.
"Can you tell me why you're here, Ponyboy?"
"I hurt my arm."
"And why do you think that is?"
"I fell."
"You've fallen multiple times."
"I guess. Not that many."
"Dr. Morgan tells me that you're not eating and that you don't want to gain weight. Is that true?"
There was a pause, and he turned red. "I don't know." He brought his blanket up closer to his chin, feeling guilty and like he was being scolded by this woman.
"You're dangerously underweight and malnourished. If that's true, why don't you want to eat or gain weight?"
Ponyboy pulled his blanket up even further, clearly becoming uncomfortable. "I don't know."
"Ponyboy," the doctor asked, with an even softer and calmer tone, so as not to frighten the boy, "can you tell me what you eat on an average day? At home, before you came to the hospital. Let's start with breakfast."
Ponyboy hesitated. "I don't really eat meals. I just eat whenever I'm hungry."
"That's fine," the psychologist said with a smile. "Tell me what you eat on an average day when you're at home."
"Maybe some oatmeal, an apple, some kind of vegetable. Bread or rice for dinner. I feel sick if I eat a lot." He looked away.
"I see," Dr. Anders remarked. "Anything else?"
Pony shook his head.
"Are there food groups or foods that you avoid eating?"
"I guess," he said.
"Which ones?"
"I don't know. I guess I just try to stay away from sugary food, like cake and candy and cola."
"Any particular reason why?"
"I read that it isn't healthy for people to eat much of that."
"Meat? Dairy?"
"I'm not really into that stuff anymore. Thinking about eating an animal freaks me out. And dairy kills my stomach."
"Have you been diagnosed with lactose intolerance?"
"No."
Dr. Anders paused for a second as she jotted something down in her notebook. "Ponyboy, how do you feel about yourself?"
"I don't know," he replied, still not meeting the doctor's gaze.
"There is no right or wrong answer."
There was a several second long pause. "I don't feel like answering this question."
"When you look in the mirror, what do you see?"
"Awkward. Flab." He paused. "Disgusting." He surprised himself by how easily the words flowed out with that question. Blushing, he felt vulnerable and wished for the situation to be over.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Anders said, intentionally making eye contact with Ponyboy who was intent on avoiding it. "It must be difficult to feel that way." Pony cast his eyes downward.
"Are you worried about your health? You've been fainting a lot lately, according to Dr. Morgan. You're also suffering from malnutrition and have not been eating. That's worrisome for us. I assume it's worrisome for you," she offered gently.
"I haven't been fainting that much," he retorted with a small, sarcastic laugh and a shake of his head. "I don't know what my brother has been telling people. I caught a bug. A virus or something," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I.. I haven't been feeling well."
Dr. Anders placed her hand upon Ponyboy's. "Ponyboy, I believe you are suffering from anorexia nervosa. You fit all the criteria."
Ponyboy pulled his hand away with a shocked and disgusted look plastered on his face. "What does that mean?"
"Anorexia nervosa. It means you are intentionally denying yourself nutrients and that you're severely underweight as a result."
"No. That's not me," he argued, shaking his head fervently.
Dr. Anders maintained eye contact and a calm tone. "You aren't in trouble, Ponyboy. Let me make that clear. Many people suffering from anorexia nervosa cannot admit to themselves they have a problem, and don't see that they are underweight."
"I am not underweight."
"According to what I see in your medical chart, you are 34 pounds under the minimum healthy weight for your age and height." She paused, looking at a visibly distraught Ponyboy. She squeezed his shoulder and looked at him with sympathetic eyes. Her tone softened moreso. "All this means is we know how to make you feel better now."
"It means you're going to make me get fat. I am fine. I just need everyone to give me a break." He looked over at the doctor's hand resting gently on his shoulder.
"We are going to have a discussion with your brothers. At that time, we can discuss treatment options."
"You're making a mistake. There is nothing like that happening with me," Pony finished with a whimper as he used the back of his hand to wipe tears that were starting to fall from his eyes.
"Would you like to tell them or should I?" the young woman asked with sympathetic eyes.
"There's nothin' to tell," Pony said with a hitch in his voice. "You said you wouldn't tell anybody about what I said."
"I can't tell them what you've told me, but I can tell you that I, as a doctor, have to diagnose you with anorexia nervosa, and treatment for the disease requires family involvement. We also need consent to treat from your guardian." She paused. "They aren't going to be mad at you, sweetheart. You have done nothing wrong."
"You don't know what Darry's like. What our friends are like, the people where we live." A tear rolled down the young man's cheek. "I can eat. I just get sick. I don't have a problem."
—-
Pony was brooding in the wheelchair when the psychologist walked back in a few minutes later with his brothers in tow. Soda walked over to Ponyboy and gave him a kiss upon his head before accepting a chair from the doctor. His eyebrows were furrowed and he wore a frown. Darry's face wore a stoic expression and he avoided any eye contact with his youngest brother, as he too took a seat.
"Ponyboy, would you like to tell them or should I?" Dr. Anders asked in a soft voice.
Ponyboy didn't say a word and instead fixed his gaze on the floor.
After a pause, Dr. Anders spoke. "Ponyboy is suffering from anorexia nervosa," she spoke carefully.
"What is that?!" a desperate Soda inquired. He looked horrified.
Dr. Andrers clarified. "Anorexia nervosa is a mental disorder wherein the sufferer intentionally denies themselves nourishment in order to lose weight because they see themselves as overweight despite being underweight. As a result of the malnourishment that their illness causes, the patient often becomes too ill to function in everyday life. Anorexia nervosa can cause heart or kidney problems, problems with bone and muscle development. The patient may become too weak to walk, or faint frequently," The doctor pauses for a few seconds to look at everyone in the room. "And that's where we're at now. And that's why I've brought you all here together - so that we can come up with a recovery plan as a team with Ponyboy."
An exhausted and defeated looking Darry closed his eyes and placed both of his hands onto his face when the doctor finished speaking. Soda looked on the verge of tears.
"I know that was a lot of information very quickly. I'm happy to answer any questions or concerns, or hear any thoughts."
After a pause, Soda spoke up. "Is it true baby? Are you really doing this on purpose?"
"Now I need to interject here a minute, Soda," the doctor rationalized and she glanced at Ponyboy with concern. "I really want to emphasize that your brother is not doing this intentionally. It is not something he is choosing to do. It is a mental illness that is causing this to happen. It's a difficult concept to grasp, I know, but Ponyboy needs a lot of help and intervention to recover, and a lot of love and understanding."
"Well of course I love my brother!" Soda said defensively. "I wish he would just eat." He turned to Ponyboy tearfully. "All you need to do is eat baby, and we can go home."
"Sodapop!" Darry finally made his presence known. "You heard the doctor. It ain't that simple."
"Soda, unfortunately, it's true. It's not as easy as just eating."
"Baby, is this all true, what the doctor is saying?" A distraught Soda questioned the sick boy.
Ponyboy didn't take his eyes off from the floor for a second. He shrugged. "I don't know," he said in a small voice.
"He doesn't even know what's going on! How do we know that he's not being told a bunch of lies by these people, Dar?! He's been sick. He has stomach problems."
"Christ Soda! Come on! He hasn't eaten in months and we all know it! There ain't no "stomach problems!" Give it up already!" The oldest Curtis stood up from his chair and started pacing back and forth in the room.
"Gentlemen, please," the young woman said, glancing with concern at Ponyboy who had started tearing up.
In an instant Sodapop was kneeling over at Pony's side. "Baby, no, there's no need to cry. Look at me, huh? You're okay." He played softly with the boy's matted hair and started tearing up a bit himself.
"Why is this happening to him?" Darry asked, frowning, and feeling a tinge of pain in his heart as he glanced at his two tearful brothers.
"We'll," started the psychologist, "every patient is different. We may never know for sure why Ponyboy is suffering from anorexia nervosa. However, after hearing Ponyboy's history of loss and trauma: multiple deaths including both of his parents at a young age, hospitalizations, abuse from peers, nearly being killed; I am not surprised that he has this illness. We find that many anorexics undergo trauma prior to their behaviors. They feel they have no control over their lives, but weight loss and eating is something they can control. Food and weight is easier to obsess over than unspeakable tragedies."
"So, it's a coping mechanism?" Darry clarified. "I just don't get it. He never cared about dieting or weight loss before this. We never criticized him for being fat, nothing. He's never even been close to overweight! " Darry lamented as he paced a bit.
Dr. Anders took a deep breath. "Your brother had an initial loss of weight and appetite after his friends' deaths and his hospitalization. It is not uncommon for people who have recently lost weight accidentally to become obsessive over food, or for it to trigger a desire to lose more weight. There have been studies done on this. More significantly though, your brother is a runner which I believe gave him permission, so to speak, and incentive to lose more weight. Athletes, especially runners, are at risk for anorexia as it feeds into their obsession to make their body look a certain way. Unfortunately, there's a belief that thinner is faster, for example."
Darry sighed and took a seat on a nearby chair. "Track, Ponyboy? Is that gonna be a problem?"
Ponyboy nervously bit his nails. "I am not starving myself, Darry," he replied without looking up, voice raspy and raw.
"Ponyboy, I hope you don't conflate thinner with faster, because the truth is that if you're not healthy, it won't help you with running," Dr. Anders addressed with a concerned look on her face.
"I don't think that way," the youngest Curtis replied as he wiped away a tear with the back of his hand, looking very fatigued.
The doctor lowered her voice and addressed Darry. "Some individuals drink excessively as a way to cope with their problems, or participate in other unhealthy behaviors. Ponyboy, I believe, is using starvation to cope. It may have started with a decrease in appetite due to depression, or wanting to lose weight to be a better runner. But this is where we're at now."
Darry, who was still pacing back and forth in the room, ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, what is the treatment for this?"
"We find that psychotherapy, group therapy, medication, and electric shock therapy can be quite beneficial to those with anorexia nervosa."
"No way in hell are you going electric shock my little brother, lady," Soda shouted, arms folded as he stood up from his position beside his brother.
"Soda, stay out of it," Darry demanded as he continued to pace the room.
Soda threw his hands up in the air. "Jesus Darry! Electric shock therapy?! He's my God damned brother too! It's bad enough you allowed the feeding tube!"
"Soda, I'm afraid I may have to ask you to leave if you don't calm down. These outbursts aren't good for your brother. We all need to be supportive and positive right now."
The middle Curtis groaned and took a seat, eyes glancing at his older brother in a way that said we'll talk later.
"Electric shock therapy is just one thing proven to help some patients like your brother. It doesn't mean he has to go through with it, and it doesn't mean it's the right therapy for him," Dr. Anders explained before pausing. "The other thing we need to decide is where Ponyboy will go for recovery once he is stable enough to be discharged from the hospital."
"What are the options?" Darry asked, finally taking a seat. He still seemed to be on edge.
"Generally, he'd either enroll in an inpatient adolescent psychiatric unit where he spends 24 hours a day at the facility having someone monitor him during meals and oversee all his care. Unfortunately, there are only a few eating disorder specialty clinics in the country, and none in this area at all.
"No.. no, no, no, no," Ponyboy cried, shaking his head. "Please, Darry. Don't make me go to any of those places," he pleaded.
Dr. Anders continued after giving Ponyboy a sympathetic glance. "The other option is outpatient treatment which means he'd get to be at home, and would have psychotherapy and other recovery related appointments outside of the home. Outpatient recovery requires heavy family involvement and possibly constant supervision, depending on the patient." The doctor looked over at Ponyboy. "In Ponyboy's case I'd highly recommend strict 24 hour supervision."
"I want to go home," Ponyboy declared firmly.
The doctor looked at Ponyboy, and then back at his brothers. "You don't have to decide now. You can think it over, and we will see how your brother progresses while in the hospital and come up with a plan closer to discharge." She paused before adding, "I'd be happy to answer any questions."
Darry made no hesitation to ask a series of questions related to his youngest brother's diagnosis and treatment options, with Soda interjected periodically. Meanwhile, Ponyboy wrapped a blanket up tightly around himself and stared blankly at the wall.
—-
Two days after the soup and Pony still hadn't eaten more than a few bites of food. "I don't need this," he said, handing his brother back a styrofoam container of vanilla ice cream that was put on his bedside table. "You go ahead."
"You do need it, Ponyboy! You haven't shown us you can eat at all." Darry slammed the container along with a spoon back on the table and sighed.
"I can eat, Darry, but the food here…," he gulped the lump in his throat. "The food here is so disgusting."
"Come on, Pone. Eat up," Soda replied with a smile, sliding the ice cream closer to his baby brother.
"But Soda, I have this stupid thing in me," he said gesturing toward his feeding tube. "I'm already gaining a lot of weight from it."
"You still need to eat, baby. Do you think the doctor will take it out if you don't eat," he ran a hand through his brother's hair while giving him a worried smile.
"I can feel myself getting huge," he whimpered to Soda, voice low so Darry wouldn't hear.
Soda looked at Ponyboy for several seconds, shocked at what he had just heard. "You're not huge, Pony," he replied in a similarly low voice, eyes wide and serious. "And you never will be. And even if you were, we would still love you."
—
"You haven't eaten at all since you've been here" Dr. Morgan confronted, eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes, I have eaten, actually," Ponyboy replied, avoiding eye contact with the doctor.
"You've had, what? Six bites of food in 4 days?" the doctor shook his head at his young patient.
"I haven't been hungry," the emaciated boy replied, picking at the loose threads of his blanket.
The doctor stared at his patient for several seconds. "Would you like to go home with a permanent feeding tube?"
"No," his patient answered without hesitation, finally looking up at the doctor.
"You would only have to wear it at night. No one outside of your brothers would ever know."
"No. I'll take it out. I won't use it."
Dr. Morgan sighed. He pulled a chair next to Ponyboy's bed and sat on it. He leaned toward Ponyboy and looked at him with wide eyes. "Ponyboy, if you don't start eating and gaining weight, you're going to have to go to a psychiatric hospital. Is that what you want?"
Embarrassed, Ponyboy tilted his head downward, looking at his blanket. He shook his head.
The doctor leaned in closer. Pony smelled smoke on the man, which made him uncomfortable. One day, months after Johnny died, he just couldn't stand the smell of smoke anymore. It reminded him of the burning church. Of death. Of decay. Needless to say, he quit smoking cold turkey. "If you go to a psychiatric hospital, Ponyboy, you'll still be on the feeding tube, and you won't get to leave until you eat and gain a sufficient amount of weight. So either way, you are gaining weight. Do you want it to be on your terms, or on someone else's?"
Ponyboy looked uncomfortable as he continued to stare down at his blanket. "Look, if you start eating normal sized meals, I'll take that feeding tube out and let you get out of here. You don't have to gain a lot of weight. You can finish that part at home. I know you want to get home. School is starting back up soon. I wouldn't want you to miss that." Dr. Morgan sighed and paused. "What do you say? Eat right here, right now so I know you are capable of it, or head to the psychiatric hospital to eat and gain at least 30 pounds?"
Without moving or changing his gaze, Ponyboy replied, "I can eat here."
"Good choice," the doctor remarked with a grin before gently squeezing the boy's shoulder and standing up to leave the room.
He lit a cigarette and headed over to where Pony's nurse was standing. "Boy's stubborn as hell. I'm putting him on 50mg Imipramine. That'll help with the eating and depression some."
