November 3, 2014
Blurb
For some people, the psychiatrist’s couch is a metal examining table.
On such a table, in a hospital 20 years ago, a young woman waited for me. She weighed 65 pounds and was covered with fine hair. Her face was little more than a frame of bones. I was a new psychiatry resident, and I had been told by a nurse that the patient had refused to drink her nutritional supplement. “You’ll need to put in a tube to feed her,” the nurse said.
Read more: http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/11/03/her-anorexia-my-fear/?ma...
On such a table, in a hospital 20 years ago, a young woman waited for me. She weighed 65 pounds and was covered with fine hair. Her face was little more than a frame of bones. I was a new psychiatry resident, and I had been told by a nurse that the patient had refused to drink her nutritional supplement. “You’ll need to put in a tube to feed her,” the nurse said.
Read more: http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/11/03/her-anorexia-my-fear/?ma...