‘I couldn’t take the dietician seriously, I really needed a therapist’

Some nights 23-year-old Hattie Plant would be too scared to go to sleep. Her already feeble pulse was dangerously low. Going to sleep would only slow it further. What if she didn’t wake up? Plant had struggled with bulimia since she was 12. She recovered, only to be diagnosed with anorexia nervosa last year. By then she was already seriously ill, eating almost nothing, and walking long distances to try to lose weight.

Collectively, eating disorders have the highest death rates among all mental illnesses. Of those, anorexia is the deadliest. Research has shown that those with the condition are five times more likely to die than their peers.

Research has shown the suicide rate for women with an eating disorder is 58 times greater than for those without. Attendant medical issues include heart problems, impaired kidney function and decreased lung capacity due to muscle wasting.

Despite Plant’s dire condition, it took her an entire year to get into treatment. In that time, she teetered on the edge: eating so little that it quelled the anorexia monster in her mind, but just enough to avoid hospitalisation – especially when her GP warned this was imminent.

‘‘When my blood pressure dropped or my heart rate slowed down to a dangerous level, I would make sure I picked up just enough weight to get out of the ‘hospital zone’,’’ Plant says.

She recalls one appointment when her GP recorded her blood pressure as 70/28 (a healthy blood pressure is about 120/80) and her heart rate as 42 (normal is 60 to 100). ‘‘My GP said it was the lowest blood pressure he had ever seen on a person who was still walking around.’’

Through it all, Plant had almost no energy. It was like ‘‘walking through treacle’’, she says. She fainted frequently. Once, when she was a bridesmaid at a friend’s wedding, a chair had to be put behind her at the altar in case she got light-headed.

It was not Plant’s first brush with death. In 2019, while suffering from bulimia and severe depression, she attempted suicide. She called an eating disorder service. The only option was months away and for group therapy. Hattie didn’t want group therapy. ‘‘I knew that would make me worse as I would be comparing myself with everyone there.’’

After moving from Auckland back to Wellington and being diagnosed with anorexia, her GP referred her to the Central Region Eating Disorder Services (CREDS). Three months later she had an hour-long appointment with a psychologist who confirmed her anxiety and anorexia diagnosis. Plant was officially on the waiting list.

She was told the wait would be six to nine months, longer than usual because she needed a specialist service for eating disorders. While she waited, Plant was referred to a dietician to improve her eating habits, but her health continued to deteriorate. ‘‘[Anorexia] takes over your brain

‘‘How about we don’t wait until people are at risk of literally dying before we help them.’’

Hattie Plant

so much, you can’t really respond to anything,’’ she says ‘‘I couldn’t take the dietician seriously, I really desperately needed a therapist to help me.

‘‘I don’t blame the dietician, she is not supposed to be a therapist. But because she sees patients while they are waiting for treatment, she ends up having to be their therapist even though that is not her job.’’

After 12 months, Plant finally started seeing a psychologist in October this year. She says she finds the mental health system ‘‘super hard to navigate’’ and has to constantly advocate for herself to get the help she needs. ‘‘There’s all this public messaging saying ‘it is OK not to be OK, reach out and talk to someone’, but when you do and you get told you can only get help in a year, that doesn’t feel like very accurate messaging.’’

Plant fits the stereotype of ‘‘the type of person’’ who develops eating disorders – young, white, female and slim. She believes those who aren’t – men, older people, non-Pa¯keha¯, bigger people – face even more barriers than she did. Some have even approached her to share their struggles.

More frontline services are needed to help people before they end up in hospital or need prolonged treatment, she says. ‘‘How about we don’t wait until people are at risk of literally dying before we help them.’’

Capital & Coast and Hutt Valley DHBs were asked for comment on the wait times at the CREDS, but said a request would need to be filed under the Official Information Act. The wait time is at least 20 working days.