Morning; Wondering

It is the am, my usual bedtime. I tried to go to sleep sometime after 4, because I was extremely tired. I lay there, tossing and turning, before realizing I simply wasn't asleep. I lay there, blinking in the incipient light, thinking of ballet. A pain in my gut makes me wonder if I've damaged my uterus permanently, after the miscarriage. I am surprised for a moment that the idea pleases me, because it means I would be unable ever to have children. I realize it pleases me because the difficult choice, the choice of whether or not to have children, would be out of my hands. I am terrified at making wrong choices; I like when I have no choice. It's why I'm indecisive. Maybe I should get up and exercise. Maybe not. I'm not sure if I slept at all.

I get up. I have been dizzy every morning this week. I count my heart rate after leaning down to pick up the scale, because it has gone wild, slamming rapidly to make up for lost pressure. It reads 111.1 - Lucky! I think - which isn't an accurate weight because my intestines hold food in some form, plus I am bloated from gallons of coffee and post-purge reaction. I think I have actually lost weight this week, or at least lost fat, not because I look less fat (I never do) but because my ribs seem to be showing more. They show now, just slightly, without need to lift my arms. Raising them produces the bones in their entirety, the loop downward from my sternum, each steel bar. I compare the photos from two weeks ago, because to me, what is "more"? Has it always been like this? I honestly do not remember. I think it's more, which means I am less, which means I am more. I think.

I wobble downstairs, cold. I drink some diet soda to clear my head, which has been pounding with caffeine withdrawls for hours now. Then I exercise, because really, what else is there to do? 500 stiff leg lifts, 500 crunches which make my head throb, 500 aching jumping jacks. I stretch. I think of how I'd like to do ballet again. I think of how one of my feet is shorter than the other now, noticibly shorter, which wasn't true a year or two ago, which I blame aloud on my arthritis, but secretly know I've probably developed osteopenia, low bone mineral density. I wonder if I am shorter now. I wonder if this means I've gotten shorter in height, and if I need to recalculate my BMI, or if it doesn't count.

I make a pot of coffee, 8 cups. I drank two pots yesterday, starting halfway through the day. Does this mean today I'll drink four pots? I wonder what tests they do at the eating disorder evaluation. I know there are medical tests, but how extensive? What is the cost? And with insurance? I wonder when I'll get off my ass and get my marriage papers, and how long after it will take my husband to remember to fill out the insurance paperwork, and how long it will take before it kicks in. I wonder if I shoudl even bother.

I wonder a lot of things.

But I don't wonder if I'm dying.

Because I already know.