Last week I wrote about the beginning of my four weeks with Erika, about helping a sixteen-year- old with a rare genetic condition change her life for the better. That first week was a huge challenge, to say the least, but we made it through. For one thing I had to create a definitive grocery list. Allowing more time to research and study ingredients on the back of every package. Then I had to come up with a workout routine that would help Erika and be careful not telling her to do something that would hurt her. I narrowed this down to walking, swimming and leg bends on the gym machine. At least until I could learn of other physical activities she could participate in. The food list was not going as easy, in fact I was about ready to pull my hair out when I decided to stop, breath and start by adding one positive item to the list at a time. Items I knew without a doubt were OK for her. Following this route made it clear to both Erika and not so overwhelming for me.
This week a shift occurred. Erika had done so well, getting up early, being ready to walk out the door for our two-mile excursion and back for a healthy breakfast. On Friday I let Erika call her mom. After they had talked, I got on the phone with my sister Patti. She said, “Erika is begging to come home. She asked me to please tell you to bring her back.”
I asked, “What’s the reason?”
“Basically,” Patti said, “She said she misses her stuff!”
“Don’t worry, Patti. I will take care of this right now.”
I swung open Erika’s bedroom door. She looked up as if I had caught her in the act of eating a piece of beef jerky.
“Hey!” I said, “You’ve got two choices. You can go back home and live the life you have been used to or you can toughen up and get through this. If you keep trying you’ll come out on the other end of this time in better shape and finer condition.”
“But Aunt Debbie, I—”
“There is no room here for excuses of any kind. This isn’t easy for me either, but I happen to care about your life whether you do or not. And if you stay…yeah it is going to be dang hard, but I warned you of that before I brought you here. Your entire family is aware of what is going on here and they are all rooting for you. More importantly I want you to see the need for why we are going through this ordeal.”
I knew I sounded stern and unbending, but I also knew if we could accomplish the dropping of a few pounds in a short amount of time that Erika would begin to have some faith in herself.
I had to feed her where it mattered the most—emotionally, but not by jumping in and criticizing her eating too much or being lazy. Erika’s situation was no different than trying to help a starving street person. Preaching to that person about why and how he or she got there doesn’t work. The fact remains that that person is hungry and needs shelter and food. I had supplied Erika with shelter and healthy food, but now I needed to address her emotional hunger and teenage need for acceptance and approval.
“Erika, do you care about you life?”
“Yes,” she said as if she wasn’t sure.
“Do you want to feel better?”
“Yes.” This time she responded with more certainty.
“Do you want to shed this weight and battle this disease?”
“Yes.” This ‘yes’ carried the strength of budding confidence.
“My final question is this: Do you want to go back home?”
“No, Aunt Debbie.”
“If all that is true, then it is going to take some real effort and true discipline! It took you sixteen years to get to this point. Your condition will not change overnight but we have gotten a good start.”
“Really?”
“Here is the end of the first week report: You have lost five pounds. I think that is incredible.”
“Wow! Really?”
“And even more incredible is that I only lost two pounds, which means that I am going to drive harder this next week with the walking, swimming and workout machine. Are you ready for that?”
She was more than ready, but we still had to address the food challenge. What could Erika eat that did not include the protein components that debilitated her system? My sister was under the impression that not giving her any meat at home was all there was to it. But, in fact, Erika confessed that she had been eating meat. From where? None other than at school.
Why? Because of peer pressure. All the other kids ate burgers and chicken nuggets, they ate tacos and beef enchiladas. Erika wanted to fit in. She didn’t want to be different. She told me she felt that she carried a stamp on her forehead that spelled out “I do not fit in.” Plus she was relegated to the group that carried the other sad label: mentally disabled. Kids are mean and teenagers are cruel, especially to those who are different or unusual. A girl like Erika would do anything to be part of the “in crowd,” even if it meant jeopardizing her own life.
I began my research to find out what things Erika could not have in her diet. I was soon overwhelmed. There had to be an easier way. There was. I could start at the easiest point by listing the foods I absolutely knew she could eat, which turned out to be a very short list. Then I received the monthly shipment of her medication, which included a warning list of detrimental foods. My list of beneficial foods for Erika shrunk even smaller.
To be continued… [Part IV]