Canada: No Help At Home
My Eating Disorder (ED) began at the ripe age of 6, and slowly inscribed
its way into my everyday life, and by the time I was a teenager it seemed like
it was innate behaviours. My family never paid much attention to the way I
would manipulate my food because it had been a part of my life for so long--they
always just assumed I was a “picky eater.”
I finished high school and moved away for University. My
first year of University was the benchmark for freedom to do what I wanted and
essentially become engulfed with my ED. My eating disorder was never about
wanting to lose weight, or wanting to be skinny, that was only a side effect of
a much bigger struggle with anxiety and obsessive-compulsive perfectionism.
Life with my eating disorder raged on and regretfully I had
to drop out of school; I attempted to recover once but was kicked out of the
residential program before I had a chance to really make the progress that necessary
for full recovery.
I moved back home following my discharge and the next year I
started my Bachelors of Science in Registered Nursing program. This was the
catalyst to the worse years of my life. School is very anxiety provoking and
stress is something I had never learned how to cope with.
By the second year of the program I was totally lost in my
eating disorder, but somehow managed to maintain high grades and show up to
class. The coordinator of my program was the first person to sit down with me and
tell me that she thought I had a problem, as she had watched me deteriorate
over the prior year and a half. I finally confided in her my deepest struggle.
At the same time, I was seeing the best doctor in the city
for Eating Disorders. Dr. S would see me once a week, and this continued on for
a months. She encouraged me to seek residential treatment again, as I was in
the hospital 2-3 times a week receiving fluids and potassium (note: many with eating disorders die of
cardiac arrest). My body was slowly failing, it would take 5-7 hours for my
body to handle the liter of fluids because my heart rate would sky rocket due
to the change in my fluid status.
Finally, I decided it was time for treatment because Dr. S
told me that I didn’t have much longer before my heart would give out. When I
called Credit Valley to find out admission criteria I was told I needed to have
a BMI of less than 15 (note: this is like
requiring people to have Stage IV cancer before being treated) to be
considered.
So I decided to lose more weight in order to get admitted,
just to have to turn around and put it back on. However, Dr. S wanted me to get
in to treatment as soon as possible. And we decided to see if I could get out
of country coverage. The process was extensive, and our first denial came quickly.
We were told that because Dr. S is not a psychiatrist that specializes in
eating disorder I wouldn’t be considered. We appealed it, and she informed them
she is the only physician from my city who manages ED patients.
They denied us again. We appealed it, and with that sent in
a letter from the coordinator of my program explaining my deterioration over
the year and how desperately I needed this care.
During this time I had multiple visits to the ER, a serious
physical decline and my weight was dropping. When I finally was under a BMI of
15, I was told the waitlist for a bed at Credit Valley or TGH would be 10-12
months. I would not survive that long.
We waited to hear from OHIP and were denied again. They told
me that I would need to travel to Toronto once a week for three months to build
a rapport with Dr. W and that he can fill out the paper work after the three
months. Infuriated, Dr. S knew I could not physically make the hour-hour drive
there and back and what an unreasonable expectation that was.
With our final appeal, seven psychiatrists across my city
wrote on Dr. S’ behalf explaining that when they have patients with eating
disorders they send them to her because she is the only doctor who knows what
to do.
OHIP finally approved my request.
I left for Rogers Memorial Hospital in May of 2012. Three
days after my admission to the residential home, I suffered a heart attack. Thankfully,
I was where I was when it happened and received timely adequate help and support.
I stayed in residential treatment until November 2012.
I was the first person from Ontario to be covered for a
five-week step down day program to ensure that my transition out of residential
would not result in a relapse, and had I come home after my discharge there
would be no adequate care.
I am now two-and-a-half years into full recovery, 26 years
old and in my last semester of my nursing degree. Every time I revisit my
experience with Canadian resources I am left feeling disappointed and
heartbroken.
I should not have had to leave my own country to get what I
needed. I should not have had to wait
until I was days from a heart attack to get what I needed. I should not have
had to fight so hard to get the coverage for the treatment.
This system needs to change and the change needs to start
now.
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