The next day started really early. I woke up at around six, I swear to God my whole body was messed up. I have never woken so early in my life. Maybe it was just being in a hospital.
The doctor came in with a tray of food. On it he had a bagel, orange juice, toast and some eggs. He wanted me to try and drink most of my juice or most of the toast. He left me alone for a while and I looked at the food. I couldn’t. I looked at the food and all I could see was the fat that dwelled inside of it. But I had promise Jeremy I would try. I took a bite of the toast, because it looked least fatty. It was good, I hadn’t tasted food in so long. I took a sip of the juice and decided I was done for the day. I pushed the table away from my bed and wished Jeremy was here.
As if he heard my thoughts, he was at the hospital about an hour later.
“How’s it going? I see you nibbled some toast.” He said, in a half laugh, half smile kind of voice.
“I tried.” I said. I wasn’t at all upset with myself, it was probably the most food I had eaten in weeks.
“How long until they let you leave?” he asked me.
“I get to leave in a day or two, if I’m up and moving around. I’m mobile.” I said, laughing.
“That’s great to hear. Do they allow visitors at the rehabilitation center?” he asked. “I was planning on visiting like everyday, you know.” He said. He smiled at me.
“I don’t even know how long I will be there.” I said, doubtfully. I would most likely be there until I decided to eat right again, which could be a long time. It was a hard road ahead of me. I didn’t know if I could do it.