─ “Get on the table.”
That was all you could hear, as your eyes strained to focus on the fascinating figure before you; Dr. Williams, a holistic practitioner of eating disorders, was a woman of just twenty-five years old. You had been assigned to her in the hope that you could escape from this endless spiral of self-destructive behavior. You had traveled across the country with your father to reach her and now, you found yourself in her office, out of breath from the immense effort of reaching the clinic and with shaking legs. Was it necessary to add all those stairs?
When you entered the clinic, you encountered the wonders typical of the Greek era. Immense statues that told the adventures of Greek gods in all their might that adorned the long corridors whose walls were lacquered in white with gold details. For a moment you thought that you were in a sort of garden of temptation, where you would find yourself in front of a tree full of forbidden fruits, which would fall at your feet to induce you to fall into temptation. But the Asklepios was none of this. Its structure included, yes, the presence of a garden of memory, where the presence of a well, allowed patients to write letters that they would then throw in there and that the doctor who took care of them, in this case Ellie, would read in a sort of intimate gesture between doctor and patient to establish a relationship of mutual trust, even if on the other side there was always a professional tone and little inclined to sentimental openness.
─
When you found yourself in front of her office, your fingers were shaking without giving you a break. You were afraid that Dr. Williams would break the confidentiality, confessing your medical situation to your father, once she learned about it. However, Dr. Cruiz, specialized in the psychological head of her work, had reassured you that Dr. Williams always respected her profession and the patients who came to follow her.
─
With your lips parted to catch your breath, you allowed yourself to obey her order, resting your buttocks on the soft bed, while she slowly approached your small figure. The blue latex gloves stood out in the dim light of the aseptic studio, as she inserted them and carefully observed the situation. You observed the details: some coppery locks fell on her eyes as she lowered herself to feel the area of your abdomen, holding a breath that would have caressed your belly like a white feather. The light freckles on her face caught your attention, while your eyes enjoyed the privilege of going down to her lips whenever they wanted, without being indecent. You would have watched her do her job for hours. You would have let her touch you for endless minutes. Ellie with her white coat, moved as if she owned that place. She touched you with a formal delicacy, typical of an aseptic relationship between a doctor who would have tried everything to get her out of that dark tunnel, and her patient. Then, she took off her gloves as she moved away from your figure to be able to reach the white cabinet next to her desk, to grab her diary and write something down with the black fountain pen. She seemed thoughtful, as she wrote down her patient's data: weight, height, age, sex, physical condition.
«The best option at the moment is to stay in the clinic indefinitely. You will be followed by a medical team that will monitor your weight daily, build a diet that is suitable for you and, in more extreme cases, prescribe medications. You will also be given the opportunity to have psychological support. Every week, you will have to come to my office to discuss your progress.»