Free The Hunger by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch Page A

have a good relationship.”
    “And how about with your father?”
    “Good too.”
    “Is there anything you’d like to tell me about your relationship with your father?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I don’t mean anything. I’m asking a simple question.”
    Paula rolled her eyes with impatience. “If you’re wondering if my father has ever touched me sexually, the answer is no. If you’re wondering whether my parents beat me, the answer is no.”
    “I didn’t ask that Paula. And there’s no need to be defensive,” the social worker answered. “I’m just trying to help you.”
    “Look,” replied Paula. “You’re on the wrong track. Why are you even asking me these questions?”

    Mrs. Doherty was silent for a moment, considering her answer. “Do you want me to be frank, dear?”
    Yes.
    “The vast majority of anorexic teens that I see come from dysfunctional families. Many have been physically or sexually abused. I’m trying to find out whether your family falls into the typical mould.”
    Paula could feel anger boiling up inside of her. While sometimes she felt that her parents had very high expectations of her, and that sometimes they were a bit too controlling, that was it. Sexual abuse? Beating? This was outrageous.
    “Is this what your clients tell you?” asked Paula.
    “Not always,” replied the woman.
    November 23, 111 pounds
    While still precariously low, Paula’s weight had remained the same for two full weeks. Paula put up with the almost daily sessions with Mrs. Doherty, in the belief that she might get out more quickly if she seemed co-operative.
    Today when Mrs. Doherty arrived, she brought a roll of paper, scotch tape, scissors, and a magic marker.
    “What’s that for?” asked Paula.
    “We’re going to do a visualization technique,” explained the social worker. “I will tape a sheet ofthis up to the wall and you will lean up against it and I will trace your silhouette.”
    Paula looked at the roll of paper and saw that it was just two feet wide. “There is no way that you’ll be able to trace me on a single roll,” she said. “You’ll have to tape two sheets together to fit all of me in.”
    Mrs. Doherty nodded in understanding. “We could fit two of you on this one sheet, Paula. One reason that we do this is because anorexics are not able to see how thin they have become. By tracing you on this paper, I will be able to show you with something concrete just how thin you are.”
    Paula was skeptical, but she got out of bed and helped the social worker tape a length of paper to the wall and then she stood against it. Mrs. Doherty traced her shape and then Paula stood back to look.
    “There’s no way that’s me!” cried Paula, looking at the emaciated form traced on the paper. “You made it smaller on purpose.”
    “You don’t have to take my word for it,” replied Mrs. Doherty, handing Paula the scissors. “Cut the form out.”
    Paula did as she was told.
    “Follow me,” said Mrs. Doherty. She had carefully rolled up the paper Paula form, and was carrying it in her hands. Together, they walked down the hospital corridor and into the children’splayroom. It was empty. In the corner was a full sized mirror. The social worker unrolled the image of Paula and taped it to the mirror.
    “Step in front of the mirror, Paula,” requested Mrs. Doherty in a quiet voice.
    Paula did as she was told, stepping barely a foot in front of the mirror. The paper image of Paula suddenly filled with her, with an inch to spare all round.
    “Step so close that you’re touching the mirror.”
    Paula did, and realized that the image fit her perfectly. She had become that skinny.
    Thursday, December 24, 111 pounds
    “I demand to see my daughter!” Emily Romaniuk was used to ordering people around. It alarmed her that the head nurse had refused her permission to see her own daughter. She was the pharmacy manager at this very same hospital, after all. With whom did they think they were