Mary, I too have followed your pieces about Meg since you started writing them. You write so evocatively that I can see the room as you all sit around the table, I can feel the tension as you huddle in her apartment, I can almost hear the whisper in Meg's ear from her darker voice. This is just so very sad.
She was loved so much, and yet she couldn't trust that love. It shows how hauntingly strong an eating disorder can be.
I am stunned at reading your thoughts about how the privacy laws prevented Meg's doctors from helping her further. I understand it, from a legal point of view, but I'm with you -- it seems like the "First, do no harm" part of the Hippocratic Oath would have inspired someone to find a way.
Thank you for revisiting your family's pain and loss so that you can share it with us readers. I know that from reading this, a parent of an anorexic girl will feel supported and understood and, maybe, like they have been handed some new tools. I surely hope so.
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Mary, I too have followed your pieces about Meg since you started writing them. You write so evocatively that I can see the room as you all sit around the table, I can feel the tension as you huddle in her apartment, I can almost hear the whisper in Meg's ear from her darker voice. This is just so very sad.
She was loved so much, and yet she couldn't trust that love. It shows how hauntingly strong an eating disorder can be.
I am stunned at reading your thoughts about how the privacy laws prevented Meg's doctors from helping her further. I understand it, from a legal point of view, but I'm with you -- it seems like the "First, do no harm" part of the Hippocratic Oath would have inspired someone to find a way.
Thank you for revisiting your family's pain and loss so that you can share it with us readers. I know that from reading this, a parent of an anorexic girl will feel supported and understood and, maybe, like they have been handed some new tools. I surely hope so.
The best to you, Mary.
November 5, 2009 - 9:13amThis Comment
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