The Difficulty of Having a Conversation over Breakfast in an Inpatient Eating Disorder Ward

No More Kiwifruit

‘There are no kiwifruit today’

Belinda the nurse informs me

handing me my breakfast tray,

‘You have an apple instead, okay?’

I nod, mentally noting how much bigger

The apple is than my usual kiwifruit,

Then giving my head a little shake

To disrupt my thoughts

Before I begin calculating calories.

I remember an orange in the kitchen

And deciding this would be better than an apple

I quickly go to fetch it.

Settling down at the table with the other girls

I advise the nurse having breakfast with us

(just my luck, it’s ‘Nazi nurse’)

About my swap.

Of course,

It’s an issue.

‘Would you like to ring the bell

to discuss this with Belinda’

It’s a statement,

Not a question.

I hesitate, then look her in the eye.

‘No. Not really.  I’d just like to eat the orange’.

‘Ring the call bell’

‘I’d rather not.  It’s not an issue’

Nazi nurse is about to blow her top,

So having made my point at least,

I gracefully give in

And ring the bell.

Belinda appears shortly.

I explain the swap, she nods,

I sit down at the table

And take a deep breath.

Let it go

 I tell myself firmly.

‘Is your friend still coming to visit today?’

Mel asks me, with a sympathetic smile. 

Gratefully, I start talking about my friend Jo,

“I think so, she seems to have recovered

From her vomiting bug”

At this, Nazi nurse splutters into her cornflakes,

‘That completely inappropriate for the table!’

She scolds me like a two year old.

‘We often discuss these sorts of things’

I shoot back, not missing a beat.

 ‘Well you need to bear in mind that not everyone

Has such a strong stomach as you’

She glares at me long and hard

Before returning to her cereal.

‘Of course, the last I heard

She did have severe diarrhoea’

I say innocently, watching her face

Out of the corner of my eye.

Her reaction is well worth the next telling-off,

Following which,

The table settles into an awkward silence.

As I dice my orange into pieces

To go on my cereal

I decide a change of topic is needed

And wonder aloud,

‘What season is kiwifruit season?’

Opps, wrong thing to say.

A lively discussion ensues

About the seasons

Of various types of fruit;

I seem to be the only one who notices

Nazi nurse quietly seething

At the head of the table.

Unsurprisingly, once she gains composure

She sharply brings our conversation

To an abrupt end;

‘I’ll remind you girls of the rule –

no food-talk at the table’.

We eat the rest of our breakfast

In complete silence

And I bite my lip,

Resisting the urge

To utter another word.