I ended up in a hospital, where they kept me for months after I arrived back in New York, staring at a wall, stunned silent, frozen rigid with anger and grief. My willingness to eat confused and annoyed the staff, confounded their efforts to understand what I was doing there. For months, an explanation for my presence escaped them completely. But I wasn't about to help them with that problem.
Eventually they were forced to release me, still unable to diagnose the obvious.
So here it is, finally, and I hope they're paying attention.
I was in the hospital because it was convenient. It was the only way to get me out of England. I was not interested in starving, killing, slashin, depriving, maiming or punishing myself.