Janet and I are good friends. We live near each other; as a matter of fact, we used to live in the same apartment building before I moved up the street. She is also a cancer survivor. Janet had a radical mastectomy two years ago, and has recovered wonderfully. We share a lot in common, not the least of which is our love of cats. Whenever my husband and I are away overnight, Janet takes care of Little. He's spoiled rotten and doesn't go outdoors, and simply loves his "Aunt Janet." Since I stopped working in special education and crisis counseling, she and I have often worked together on clerical and computer projects. We're both the kind of people who enjoy the simple things, have an unwavering spirituality, and like to get things done as quickly and professionally as possible.
One thing Janet and I love is playing Scrabble. Whenever my husband is away on a business trip, we get together at my house and it becomes the proverbial, "While the cat's away, the mice will play." I love to cook and bake, so I fix supper for us, and we then play three games of Scrabble. Although we play "for fun," we actually play "for blood" too. Our goal is to get a score of a thousand for three combined games. Neither of us usually reaches it. We look up words in the dictionary, often finding rare, archaic words that nobody has ever heard of. Hey, when you're playing with us, anything goes! As long as it is in the dictionary, of course. If you ever need a strange little word, the only word I can think of quickly that doesn't need a "u" following a "q," there really is a tree called a qat!
During all the time I was losing weight, I never talked much about it. I guess I'm just a very private person and keep my personal miseries locked in my own heart. Anyway, there are few people who really enjoy listening to a blow-by-blow monologue of bodily functions and disease. Our time together was either work time or fun time, not time to bare my soul. Of course everyone noticed that I had become thin, but I rarely mentioned it. I never realized I had left those who were closest to me wondering and conjuring up possibilities.
One evening Janet said, "I've seen you eating so many times. I thought you were anorexic, but I guess you're not."
"No," I replied, "I'm not anorexic." I explained, in the short version, what had been happening. Everything in a nutshell.
"Oh!" she responded, "You're not bulemic! I was afraid you were."
Although I had become an expert in the fine art of throwing up, I wasn't bulemic. Maybe I should have told her. I'll never know. It's now something we can giggle about. Believe me, I had enough problems without being bulemic too!