25 Things That A Summer Spent in Hospital Taught Me

How was your summer Molly?
Well, it was crazy! I was living it large on loads of drugs, being catered for hand and foot, not having to do anything aaaaall day. Jealous? Yeah my summer of 2015 was spent in hospital helping me in recovery from this arsehole-bitchface-pileofpoo illness called Anorexia Nervosa. 

So...  *gulp*

1. My love of  Noel Gallagher has gotten obsessive.

Spending 4 months in hospital meant that I had to cancel my holiday to Benicassim which ulitimately meant missing out on seeing Noel Gallagher perform there. Out of all the things that happened over the summer, this was probably the toughest. One day when Noel and I say our vows we will Look Back In Anger at what anorexia made me miss out on.. 

2. Breaking Bad really isn't all that great.

Which takes me to number 3...

3. When I start something, I HAVE to finish it.

A few examples being:

• The entirety of Breaking Bad (so overrated)
• The entirety of Dexter
• Season 3 of OITNB (not exactly hard to finish)
• 21 different books. - Praise the Lord for kindle unlimited. 
• Sudoku puzzles
• Colouring books. (Skeptical about these at first as I am such a perfectionist, but have now come to the conclusion that they're the  best things since Etch A Sketches.) 
• Oh and food. Not that I had a choice on the matter..

4. I really wasted my first year of university.
And the past few years.

What fresher spends 99% of their time sat in their room on their laptop, obsessing over whether to eat or what to eat, when to eat, WHO to eat? (Kidding). I'm surprised my brain isn't sprouting potatoes yet. What a waste of thyme...

5. Mum's the word

Okay, I am such a female dog to my mum, especially when it comes to food/weight/anything conversation. But she has been absolutely marv to me and I really do rely on her a heck of a lot. She's definitely had a belly full of my moaning (again, excuse the pun) about hating being in ye olde hospital. And I do love her lots, even if I don't ever show it. (Cringe)

Shout out to the rest of my family for being unbelievably fantastic and not strangling me. 

6. NHS BEDDING IS THE WORST.

'Boil in the bag' bedding us patients referred to it as. Imagine waking up in the night feeling like an over boiled fillet of cod dripping with sweat. Why why why they must insist on having to have vile plastic quilts is beyond me. - It's so that they can be washed but still. Not cool. Literally.

7. Don't drink green water.

Even hospitals have plumbing issues... 

8. I hate cheddar.

9. I like pineapples.
I can't think of any pun-apples for this one.

10. There is some filter in my head missing.
For some annoying reason, my brain won't let me differentiate 'well' with 'fat'.

*Note: Something to avoid saying to somebody in recovery from eating disorder is how they look 'better' or 'well' or 'good' or in fact any nice, positive comment. It sounds strange but as physical changes are obvious, something those in recovery are well aware of, any comment that draws attention to that can be really triggering and difficult to rationalise. I KNOW that it's meant as a general compliment but as I still have a way to go, my head can take it badly.
Instead, maybe ask how I am or how I feel things have been going :)


11. Getting shingles whilst in hospital is really fun and hilarious and exciting and uplifting and joyous. 
Sarcasm.

12. Nothing tastes as good as...


coffee made by myself.
(You were worried I was going to say 'as skinny feels' weren't you? Totally inappropriate and totally incorrect). Charging £3.10 for a cuppa coffee doesn't make it nicer than your standard homemade cup of coffee. Especially Douwe Egberts hazelnut flavour coffee.

13. You don't need a holiday to get a tan.
Moan moan moan, missing out on my booked holiday to Benicassim, moan moan moan. But sun bathing in the minuscule, overgrown, caterpillar infested hospital garden actually served me rather well, achieving a moderately impressive tan on a roast chicken resemblance. (Again, inappropriate reference, especially made by a vegetarian).

14. F.R.I.E.N.D.S will be there for me...
In sitcom form and in real-life human form. 
Birthdays in  hospital aren't that bad when your best friends drive two hours to visit you. 

15. Mental recovery doesn't improve at the same speed as the physical recovery.
"Healthy body, healthy mind." Yes, to an extent, and yes, physical recovery does improve cognitive function but recovering from the actual illness itself is not dependent on just gaining weight.
Basically, what I am trying to emphasise is that just because weight has been gained, does not mean I am better or cured. There is A LOT more to it and require a heck load of mind-numblingly tough effort - which of course will be worth it. 

16. The system isn't always fair.

17. There are not enough hospital beds.
I had to spend 2 months in a general psychiatric ward, a place that really had no idea how to look after me, simply because there was not a single available bed at an eating disorder unit. There are SIX beds available for the entirety of Welsh sufferers. SIX. And these beds aren't even in Wales! 

However...

18. We are bloody fortunate to have the NHS.
Whilst I could moan all day about faults in the NHS, the actual treatment and support and care received as an inpatient was second to none. (My bedroom was like a 5 star hotel, especially in comparison to my box-of-a university room.)

And this also goes to those who work for the NHS, to the support workers, the therapists, the nurses and doctors who go the extra mile to ensure that we're receiving the best care possible.


19. My recovery is different from another patients recovery.
Focussing on your own treatment and not getting deterred by other patients treatment is (freaking hard) but vital in getting through inpatient treatment. 

But 

20. I met some girls who changed my life.
I befriended a couple of girls in hospital (you know who you are) that are SOUPER (sorry, pun) inspiring and so motivating to kick anorexia where it hurts, (everywhere).  

21. There is not enough understanding about anorexia.
The first month spent in the general ward was a real eye opener to me about how people, even those in the psychiatric profession, really have an obscured understanding of anorexia. They saw me eating at meal times and constantly congratulated me on eating. Some even questioned what I was in there for because as they put it; "I've seen you eating quite often!" Not so helpful when I was meant to be eating more than what I was.


22. Anorexia has made me boring.
This is a sorry to all my pals for being the death and drain of the party. But also a thank you for those sticking by me and realising it was just the illness making me like that, and not me. 

23. I'm a drama queen.
All hail Queen Molly the 83rd for realising that I miss acting. Okay so anorexia can make me lie, be secretive and be a flipping great actress in terms of putting on a front but that's lame and nobody cares about that. I miss actual acting, on a stage, in front of an audience, needing a wee with nerves and getting a sweaty forehead from the lighting.


24. Recovery is an on-going, 24 hour a day battle. 
If I could have an alarm clock reminder built into my brain that has to go off every 10 minutes, that would be fabulous.

25. Recovery will be worth it.
And I am so eggcited to start my life. - That was my final (iced) pun. 

Anorexia is a pizza shit. 
You doughnut know how long it made me to think of these food puns.

A Swarm of Metaphorical Ignorance

Firstly, let me address those who are causing the blood of many to boil:

To those who have ever used disparaging words and comments (David Cameron, Katie Hopkins, writers of most tabloids, trolls on twitter, Nigel Farage etc etc):
 I thought you'd already be aware but if you are not, but the dehumanizing language you have used when talking about this crisis has acted as a catalyst for this anti-refugee and anti-migrant sentiment. 
Furthermore, this has led to false understanding of WHY people are trying to make their way to Europe. Creating blockades, labelling people as nothing more than numbers? Is this really 2015?

I don't hold any authorative power, I don't have loads of money, I am not famous in any sort of way, in fact nobody may read this. (Thank you to the moon and back if you are). But I do have a voice, and like many others, speaking out about how change needs to happen sure is better than sitting back and scrolling past a photo of a young boy, son, brother, friend, child - washed up on the beach. 

As we are continually being reminded, Great Britain is  experiencing a "#migrantcrisis", (thank you social media for branding this global issue). Even David Cameron is contributing to this unprecedented issue by emphasising that we are being 'swarmed' by migrants, as if to say that soon these human beings are going to  be destroying our crops or eating holes in our curtains. 

• If your child was being badly bullied at school and nothing was getting done about it, you would do your best to send them to a new school that would take better care of them.
• If you got a place to study the most awesome degree of your dreams at University in Washington, you would do all you could do to take that opportunity of being an international student.
• If you had been made redundant from your job and  no other jobs in your area were open, you would look for career opportunities further afield, and perhaps move to a new city.
  
• If there had been a life shattering natural disaster or there was severe crime, ongoing devastating war or threats of persecution occurring where you live, I doubt you would continue to live there.
  Especially if nothing was being done about it.

But you see, there are many 'legal' migrants within out communities, most of whom you wouldn't even consider referring to as 'migrants'. How have we allowed this universal hierarchy to evolve? We, or at least I, sure do take it for granted living in a hospitable, free, prosperous country. It is a privilege that British citizens and legal migrants have a roof over our heads, that we have 24 hour access to free healthcare, that we can just walk to a shop to buy some bread. So what makes it acceptable for us to be allowed such assumed benefits yet those travelling land and sea at their own risk are denoted and condemned for. 


Yet increasingly more so, we are being bombarded by the fact that each of these four million refugees (who by the way, are suffering the effects of a war that they hold no part in), are going to be a burden to us. 

Blame is fired in their direction, they are shamed and treated like criminals for something they hold no responsibility for. They are risking everything to achieve, if not the best possible quality life for themselves, then the chance to escape the hell ridden conflict that they have been made innocent victims of. 

It's been reported that over the past two months around 44,000 people tried to cross from Greece in Macedonia. This 'clash' has resulted in RAZOR WIRE being put up around the border to stop them crossing, as though they are animals being farmed?! At border crossings and train stations the helpless are being treated like rioters. What happened to compassion? What happened to 'treat those as you would be treated'? 

We can sit around and argue the pro's and con's of accepting refugees and migrants into our country, but then what? They can't go back to where they came from. Do you really think a mother would risk her own child's life just because she fancied hopping across the border for a cup of tea or a filling in her molar?

Yes housing is an issue. Yes jobs are being cut. But we are living on the same bloody planet and these people need our help. 


Apologies if this has just been a mindless rant but this planet needs a kick up the bum. 


P.S Big up to the thousands of European citizens supplying food and shelter to many of the refugees, and opening their arms to our neighbours. 
(Everybody needs good neighbours).