Chapter Text
Since he was a child, Ben had always been rail thin, his small size often finding itself at the butt of many jokes or jabs. He acted offended, but secretly, he kind of liked it. And when asked, he wouldn’t technically be lying if he said he was naturally skinny, at least he was at one point in his life. He would, however, be lying if he said he didn’t know when he started to “manipulate” his eating habits.
Around three and a half months before the trip to Jurassic World, he had sat down to start on a new craft project when he noticed an unfamiliar sensation. Where there was skin that once stretched itself thin over ribs and hip bones, he now felt it fold over on itself, creating two small rolls. He saw his thighs were ever so slightly pudgier when he sat, and his fingers were no longer so spindly. He had gained weight. Anyone else in his position would have been overjoyed, but not Ben. He was flooded with memories of annual visits to the doctor’s office, each time they would weigh him and take his height, and each time it would be the same speech:
“He’s underweight, but he still has the chance for a growth spurt if you follow the meal plan we’re providing. Are you sure you’re giving him the Pediasure twice a day?”
Followed by: “Of course! We’re trying as hard as we can, but it’s like he’s resistant to gaining a single pound,”.
And finally: “Okay, let’s try a 300 calorie increase, see how that goes,”.
Ben did his best to look sad or uninterested, but as soon as they left, he would try to sneak a peek at the little slip of paper with his height, weight, and percentile . Ben didn’t necessarily care about the flat out number of pounds he weighed, but knowing how small he was compared to his peers was like a drug. Every year he liked to see the number get smaller, to know he would be the smallest kid anywhere he went.
20th
17th
11th
4th
He wasn’t doing it on purpose, he just didn’t enjoy eating, the weight thing was an added bonus. Afterall he was teased for being skinny, but…, it was worlds better than being fat, or even a healthy weight. The tense conversations at the doctor’s became his comfort; he looked forward to them every year. Unfortunately his meal plan must have caught up with him, because he was facing a major dilemma.
He had three months. Three months until his next appointment. Three months to fix this mistake.
He tried. “Hey Mom, is it okay if I ride my bike to the park and eat lunch there?” He could throw out whatever she packed once he got there.
“No Ben, you know the doctor said to limit physical activity, a bike ride is too much,”.
“But Mommmm, everyone else my age goes out by themselves! It’s unfair!”
“That’s great Ben, but not everyone else your age has a metabolism that works at light speed. You need more food. You’d burn all of that energy just going there and back,”.
But couldn’t she see he didn’t need it anymore? He was disgusting now. A failure.
“Ughh can I at least eat in my room today? I hate it when you’re breathing down my neck while I’m eating,”.
“Fine, but you better bring down an empty plate, and an empty Pediasure,”.
“Okayyyy,” Ben said nothing more as he snatched the plate and the bottle, and huffed his way up to his bedroom. He had a plan.
Slowly, in an attempt to not make too much noise, he pulled out a plastic bag from his dresser drawer, where he had created a stash in advance. He slid the contents of his plate into the bag, careful to not spill any on the carpet. He could avoid most of his calories this way. Ben decided the Pediasures could stay, partially because he couldn’t figure out how to dispose of them, and partially because the big 240 was hard to miss. Surviving off of two of them a day would have him back on track in no time.
Most people would be hungry only consuming 480 calories in a day. Ben forgot what hunger felt like a long time ago. When he was younger he was forced to choose: hunger or the disgusting feeling of food sitting in his stomach, the taste lingering in his mouth and throat, food that made him gag ferociously, Ben chose hunger easily. He honestly thought it would be worse, but after a few days of hunger pangs he found himself feeling better than ever. Eating lighter made him feel lighter, smaller, more worthy of love – he was excited to adapt back to the diet he had before all of the meal plans and supplement drinks.
Progress went well, just as Ben had planned. He had convinced his mother to let him eat in his room, because he was able to “complete” his meals faster without her scrutiny. She would do nearly anything if it meant he would finally enjoy eating. In reality his hour long meals morphed into 30 minutes of trying to choke down a singular Pediasure, but anything to make Mom feel better. He also started a bit of secretive exercise, nothing much, but a good few sets of crunches and push-ups at night made him feel better.
Three months went by quickly, and though Ben didn’t actually weigh himself, he could tell there was a difference. His stomach was taut again, his legs didn’t squish when he sat, and his body seemed more toned overall. He even swore he might be able to see his cheekbones. None of that was as important, though, than what the doctor would say. On the day of his annual checkup he stepped into the car beaming with joy, excited to see what his percentiles were this year. His mother wore a somber expression, a buildup of months of stress plastered on her face. She didn’t say anything as they stepped into the office.
Like usual, a nurse took Ben’s height and weight, though this time she made him stand backwards so he couldn’t see anything. She frowned as she scribbled down the numbers, and sent him back to a room to wait for the doctor.
Typically the doctor would speak first to Ben’s mother, but this time he spoke directly to the boy. “Listen, Ben, you’re 14 years old, but you haven’t grown an inch since you turned 10. Not only that, you’ve somehow managed to lose 12 lbs in the last year,” he turned to Ben’s mother, “How is it possible with such a large meal plan that he’s still losing weight? I’m beginning to suspect you aren’t following it…,”.
“I promise we are!” she cried “I thought he was doing better finishing his food faster, I don’t understand why this is happening!”
“What do you mean he’s finishing it faster? Are you trying something new?”
“Well, we agreed he can enjoy his food more if I’m not constantly watching him eat, so I’m letting him eat in his room. He finishes all of it every time, and faster than before,”.
The doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This confirms what I’ve been suspecting for a while. Ben needs a higher level of care than what we can provide. I think it’s best if we start looking into treatment options – for anorexia. He isn’t eating the food you make for him, he’s throwing it away,”.
“What?! It can’t be! Only girls can have eating disorders, right?”
“No, Mrs. Pincus, it affects males just the same, and I fear Ben has a highly severe case. He’s 4 '11 " and weighs 64 lbs, that puts him at a body mass index of 12.9. Your son is extremely underweight, and he needs help,” he turned back to Ben, “Would you mind taking off your shirt so your mother can see what I’m talking about?”
Ben frowned, but slowly obeyed. This was not the regular, fun appointment he had been anticipating. As he lifted his shirt his mother gasped: an array of spider-like ribs and chest bones was on display. Ben’s stomach was sunk into the hollow pit between his ribcage and his hip bones. When he turned around, he revealed his stark spine that ran down his back, and he thought he might have heard his mom cry out.
He wasn’t that small. There was always room for improvement.
“There’s one more thing I think we can try before a long-term inpatient facility, Mrs. Pincus. Jurassic World is offering a summer camp on Isla Nublar. It’s a trial run currently, so it should only last about six weeks, it could be a sort of wilderness therapy for him. It is my hope that this could be a jumpstart to recovery,”.
“Please, yes, sir! Anything to keep my baby out of the hospital!”
“About that… there is one caveat. The program won’t start for another two weeks, and until then, I’d like to admit Ben to the ED ward. It’s simply not a good idea to send him off to camp without at least stabilizing him first,”. Ben wanted to run away, cry, scream, he didn’t actually know, though the doctor read his mind nevertheless. “I think it’s best if we admit him now. Then, Mrs. Pincus, you can go home and pack him some clothing and necessities for the two week stay. He can keep his phone on him for now, but his activity will be monitored,”.
So Ben sat in the car, being driven to the children’s hospital, while his mother sniffled softly next to him. He was admitted and shown his room, where he got himself situated in his bed.
“Goodbye baby, I’ll be right back with your stuff, I promise!” Ben’s mother was nearly sobbing at this point, he simply waved in response.
As soon as she left, a team of nurses entered. First, they hooked him up to a heart monitor, then took his blood pressure, connected an IV, and… no. Oh no. A feeding tube. Weren’t they supposed to ask if he wanted to drink it regularly first? He would have refused anyway – but he still wanted to feel like he had the choice. Ben began kicking and screaming.
“NO NO PLEASE NO! DON’T DO THIS PLEASE!” he cried out. Two nurses held him down while a third shoved the thin tube up into his nostril and down his throat, until it reached his stomach. Finally, she taped it to the side of his face so he could not easily mess with it.
“If you pull that out, you will be here for much longer than two weeks, do you understand?” Ben nodded. When the nurses left the room, he pulled out his phone and stared at himself. He felt the rough tape keeping the tube in place, his nose still stung from the sudden procedure. He found himself taking a selfie – he kind of liked how sick he looked.