Pieces of My Heart (50 page)

‘The most important thing is that Alison feels secure. She mustn’t feel rushed or pressurized. Take everything nice and slowly and involve her in preparing the meal so she sees exactly what her dinner consists of.’

I took her advice and followed it exactly. The difference was miraculous. Ali was much more relaxed and so was I. This time it wasn’t a big celebration, it was just my daughter coming home for a casual meal.

I brought Ali straight into the kitchen where I had laid out her food and I asked her to reweigh it to make sure I had got it all exactly right. She did so, and I could see her visibly relax when she realized that the amounts were exactly the same as the ones on her meal plan in the clinic. I had spent ages making sure there was not an ounce more.

Ali ate with just me so there was minimum focus and pressure. I chatted away as she slowly ate the meal. Although it took her forty minutes to get through a small piece of fish with some steamed vegetables and two baby potatoes, she ate it all. Inside I was jumping for joy, but I remained calm on the outside, not making any fuss.

When she had finished I used the line I’d practised with Denise: ‘I’m glad you enjoyed that. Would you like a break now, or will you have your Müller rice straight away?’

‘I’ll have it now, thanks,’ she said, and ate almost all of it.

When the meal was finished, Paul, Sarah and Charlie came in and we all had coffee together. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I had done it. I had managed to get my daughter to eat a proper meal.

Paul whispered to me at the sink, ‘Did she eat it all?’

‘Yes, she was wonderful.’ I fought back tears.

‘Thank God,’ he said. He had tears in his eyes too.

I drove Ali back to the clinic. As I was leaving her I said, ‘I had a great day.’

‘Me too,’ she said, and we gave each other a watery smile.

55

A week after the successful home visit, Ali had put on another pound and a half and had reached her target weight for being discharged. If she could maintain this weight – or put on more weight – she would soon be coming home for good.

She would still attend the clinic once a week for counselling and dietary advice, but she’d be able to go back to school and a normal life.

However, we were warned that if her weight fell back to six and a half stone, she’d have to go back in. We all held our breath.

In the meantime, Ali came home for two more afternoons and we continued with the same routine, just me and her eating alone with her weighing her food and everyone else coming in for coffee when the meal was over.

Her weight stabilized. She only put on another half a pound, but Denise and Mary felt that her progress was sufficient that she could come home on a trial basis. Before that could happen, Paul and I were called in for a long session with Mary where she gave us some basic rules for coping.

‘I’d love to tell you that it will be smooth sailing from now on, but I think you both know at this stage that it won’t be. Alison will have good days and bad days. It is very important that you as parents are singing off the same hymn sheet. You need to co-operate with each other and make sure that you are united in your decisions on how to deal with Alison’s eating disorder. Remember to support each other and spend time together. You have a long road ahead and you need to be able to lean on one another in times of stress.

‘It is important that you respect Alison and encourage her to become more independent. She must learn to look after herself, feed herself, take all her snacks and watch that her weight doesn’t fall. The tendency with parents is to want to control and supervise all their children’s meals to make sure their weight doesn’t drop, but Alison must learn to take control of her own body and be responsible for her weight gain. Obviously you need to keep an eye on her and watch out for warning signs that she’s not eating.’

‘Should I keep having dinner with her on my own? Or should we start having family meals again?’ I asked.

‘I would say stick with just the two of you while she’s first home, and then as she grows in confidence you can think about introducing her to full family meals again. But go slowly and take your cue from her. If you feel that eating alone with her every night is getting too much for you, maybe Paul could do it every second night, so you both have a break. You don’t want to get worn out. As I’ve said to you before, anorexia nervosa can be a very frustrating illness and recovery is slow. You must avoid criticism and try to express positive sentiments as often as possible. But you must also set limits, and if Alison is behaving badly and refusing to eat, you must tackle it head on. Choose your words very carefully.’

‘Can you give us an example?’ Paul asked. ‘I’m worried about saying the wrong thing.’

‘If Alison is refusing to eat or talk to you, sit her down, look her in the eye and tell her why you’re upset: “Alison, I’m upset because you’re refusing to talk to me and eat your dinner. Can we please sit down and discuss it so that we can help each other understand what’s going on?” ’ Mary suggested.

‘Jesus, you’d need a degree in political negotiation for this,’ Paul said.

‘Patience will be your best friend. If you can try to remain calm, you’ll be OK. Just remember to separate Alison from her eating disorder. Your anger should not be directed at your daughter, but towards her illness. If things are getting on top of you and you feel yourself getting angry, leave the room and go for a short walk or something to cool down.’

‘I’d say I’ll be doing a lot of laps of the block,’ Paul admitted.

‘We’ll be OK,’ I said, holding his hand. ‘We can do this.’

‘So far you’ve done a great job,’ Mary told us. ‘I wish that all the parents of the girls in here were so committed and supportive. I have no doubt that Alison will thrive. There will be occasional hiccups along the way, but if you can weather these, she’ll continue to get better. Now, all I can say is the very best of luck and if you need to see me to talk anything else through, just make an appointment and I’ll help you in any way I can.’

I stood up and gave her a hug. Previously we had only ever shaken hands. ‘Thank you so much for helping us understand this cursed disease, for showing us how to put right the mistakes we made, but most of all for helping our daughter and saving her life. You’ve been wonderful.’

‘I second that,’ Paul said. ‘We owe you a deep debt of gratitude.’

‘Not at all. I’m just doing my job,’ Mary said, embarrassed. ‘It’s been a pleasure – you’re a lovely family. I wish you every success.’

After that we spent an hour with Denise going through Ali’s meal plan for the next two weeks. It would be controlled and changed every fortnight until she had put on another half-stone and she felt able to manage all her decisions about food herself.

‘We have no way of knowing how long it will take for Alison to reach independence. Some of the girls leave here and are managing their own meals within six weeks, but most take longer – some a lot longer. Alison is still very nervous about food, so we’ll keep a close eye on her for the moment. Any questions or problems, just call me.’

We thanked Denise profusely for all her help too. Then we went to get Ali and bring her home.

She was perched on the edge of her bed with her coat on, looking nervous.

‘Well, pet, it’s finally here, you’re coming home.’ I sat beside her and put my arm around her. ‘How do you feel?’

‘I’m really excited but a little scared.’

‘Of course you are, it’s a big day, but we’re going to be here for you every step of the way,’ Paul said.

‘Thanks.’

‘Now, come on, let’s get the hell out of here.’ Paul picked Ali’s suitcase up and held out his other hand. She stood up and took it. ‘Have a last look, Ali, because you’re never coming back here again.’

‘Let’s go,’ she said, and we walked out. None of us looked back.

56

Ali came home on 13 March. For the next two weeks she was going to stay at home and get used to being out of the clinic before she went back to school. I took two weeks off work to help her readjust. Sally was very understanding, as always. If Ali could manage at school, I’d be able to continue working. Otherwise, I’d have to give it up, which I really didn’t want to do because it was my sanctuary from the madness at home.

It was a game of wait and see. The first week went quite well. She ate all her meals with me, and although there were some days when she didn’t finish what she was supposed to, she generally stuck to her meal plan. Each meal took an hour and there were times when I wanted to shout at her to hurry up, but I remembered what Mary had said about remaining calm.

In the second week, Paul offered to sit with Ali at dinner. I could see he was really nervous, but when I heard laughter coming from the kitchen, I knew things were all right. When Charlie offered to have two dinners with her a week, we began to get a rhythm going and I felt less burdened. Even Sarah was being nice and offered to give Ali a spray tan so that she’d look good going back to school.

I drove Ali to the clinic every Friday for her weigh-in, her session with Mary and her meeting with the dietician. She put on no weight the first week and half a pound the second, which they seemed happy with. As long as she wasn’t losing weight it was OK.

The weekend before she was due back in school, I took the two girls shopping. I wanted to buy Ali something really nice for Stephen Green’s party. I could see it was a big deal for her to go and I wanted to make sure she looked her best.

All the dresses she tried on were too big. I tried not to get upset when size eight looked huge on her tiny frame. Eventually we found one that looked lovely on her – it was aquamarine with silver beading and it really brought out the colour of her eyes. The woman in the shop pinned it back so we could see what it would look like when it was taken in. She was still painfully thin. The shop assistant kindly promised to have it ready for Friday. Ali seemed really pleased. It was only when we left the shop that I realized how nervous I had been. I was terrified that we wouldn’t be able to find Ali something to wear and she’d have a melt-down and stop eating again. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and felt my shoulders relax.

‘Can we get my jeans now?’ Sarah begged.

‘I need a cup of coffee first,’ I said, feeling weary.

‘Typical,’ Sarah fumed. ‘We’ve been to ten shops with Ali and tried on a zillion dresses but now you’re too tired to get my jeans.’

‘Is it too much to ask that you give me ten minutes?’

‘Forget it – just give me the money and I’ll get them myself. I know exactly which ones I want. I’m not a freaking beanpole, so they’ll fit me and I won’t need to get them taken in.’

‘Sarah!’ I hissed. ‘I said I’d get you the jeans and I will. What difference does ten minutes make?’

‘I always have to play second to Ali and I’m sick of it. She’s home now, she seems to be normal, so why do we still have to tiptoe around to make sure that she’s happy before anyone else gets a look-in?’ she ranted.

Before I had a chance to tell her off, Ali jumped in. ‘OK, enough fighting. Mum, go and sit down and have a coffee. I’ll go with Sarah to get her jeans.’ Then, to Sarah, she said firmly, ‘Sarah, if you make any more comments about my weight or whether I seem “normal” or not, I’ll wallop you.’

Sarah looked shocked. I silently cheered for my elder daughter. She was taking control and expressing her emotions – fantastic!

Sarah found her voice. ‘Jesus, Ali, relax. I was only joking.’

‘Sometimes your jokes are hurtful and someone needs to tell you.’

‘Did they teach you to be all bossy in the loony bin?’

‘The clinic taught me to stand up for myself and express how I feel,’ Ali snapped.

‘Keep your hair on – there’s no need to get huffy about little things.’

‘Describing the clinic as a loony bin is not a little thing. It’s insulting and degrading to me and the other patients in there,’ Ali stated.

Sarah stared at her. ‘I didn’t mean to insult you, Ali. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK – come on, let’s get those jeans. I’m dying to see them.’

I sat back and watched my two daughters walking down the street to the next shop, and grinned. I was thrilled to see Ali standing up for herself. She had never done that before. She really was a different person, but in a good way – in a way that would make her stronger, more confident and improve her life. It was going to take Sarah a while to adjust to this new assertive sister, I thought, smiling to myself.

I sat down and sipped my coffee. Something felt different. What was it? I suddenly realized that this was the first time I could remember in so long that I didn’t have a knot in my stomach. I didn’t feel sick. I felt calm, hopeful. Even – dare I say it? – happy. I sank back in my chair and savoured the moment.

A few days later there was another milestone. Charlie’s apartment was ready and he was moving in. His furniture had been taken out of storage and delivered the day before. We all drove over with him, helped him unpack his clothes and hang up pictures and photos. When we were finished and the place looked more homely, I opened a bottle of champagne to toast him.

‘To Charlie, wishing you all the happiness in the world in your new home, and if you ever get lonely, come back and stay. We’ll really miss you. You’ve been brilliant – I don’t know what I would have done without you.’ I began to get emotional.

‘Good luck, Charlie, and thanks for everything over the last few months. You’ve been a huge help to all of us,’ Paul said.

‘I hope you’ll be really happy here, Charlie,’ Ali said. ‘You deserve it. Thanks for being so great to me while I was in the clinic.’

‘Charlie,’ Sarah said, raising her glass, ‘it’s not going to be the same without you. You’ve been my granddad and my surrogate sibling while Ali was in the clinic and my fill-in parent at the school play and my best friend. It’s going to be really boring without you around. You totally rock.’

‘Stop now or you’ll start me off,’ Charlie said. ‘It’s all of you I want to thank. Paul, for welcoming me into his home and not minding the chaos I caused. Ali, for making me realize how precious life is and how we need to look out for each other and mind each other. Sarah, for always making me laugh, for being my partner in crime, my right-hand girl, and for saving me from myself – and Nadia. But most of all you, Ava, my baby girl, for inviting me to live with you, for looking after me, looking out for me, worrying about me, feeding me, clothing me, putting up with my antics and house-guests and for being so good to me while your own life was being turned upside-down. You’re one in a million.’