For quite some time, I’ve been aware that I probably need counseling, or therapy, or whatever you want to call it. As much as I have unhealthy intestines, I also have a brain that doesn’t cooperate at times, and it’s only been in the past year or so that I’ve acknowledged that this is probably a sign of depression or some other issue with my mental health.
I count my lucky stars that I have a partner who is there for me on the approximately fortnightly (but it can vary) occasions that I completely break down. Sometimes I can get it under control reasonably quickly, and generally prescribe myself an early night (after the boyfriend himself has prescribed many cuddles and reassurances), but other times I just can’t shut it down. Such an occasion occurred early this past week, with the added inconvenience of the boyfriend not being in the country currently. I sobbed, I explained to an invisible therapist in my ceiling just why everything was so awful and everything that I had done wrong and why I probably deserved it, too. I lay on the floor and couldn’t bring myself to do anything else. I was broken.
Maybe in this instance colitis actually has benefits (ha), because it was only when I had to go to the bathroom that I managed to pick myself up from the floor, and attempt a little normalcy. But by the same token, whilst I can’t know for sure whether or not I would have ever developed such issues if I didn’t have UC, I can say for absolute certain that it has exacerbated the problems an unfathomable amount. Consider, after all, that one of the on-going stresses of my life is, not only worrying about the limitations of UC symptoms, but the extremely controlling nature of the medications that I’m currently on. When both the boyfriend and I are constantly plagued by wanderlust and a desire to get out there, I’m being plugged into an IV every eight weeks, for drugs that no other government but my own would provide for me. And I’m not even totally healthy yet. Even typing this out now, I’m getting a little anxious tight-chest action.
It’s terrifying to me, both the idea of ending up alone because my disease limits me in such ways, and the idea that I may never be able to do the things and see the places that I want to, whether I’m alone or not. Or the idea that I’ll go to these places whilst healthy, even if it’s only between infusions, and then suddenly I’ll flare up in the middle of god-knows where, and be financially and/or physically ruined. Because UC is hardly affordable to tack on as a covered pre-existing condition when you’re paying for travel insurance.
And the anxiety – if you understand the delightful specifics of severe UC, I’m sure you can see how constant anxiety is inevitable. And all of these bundled together with an already imperfect mental state + physical disease including brain-sucking anaemia… is it any wonder that my BA really did turn out to be bugger-all?
And now, prednisone, which was really what inspired this post. So far, it’s the worst/best drug I’ve ever taken. I’m pretty sure that I can attribute my current kind-of-remission almost exclusively to the prednisone – I’ve only had two infliximab infusions so far, and that stuff typically takes a while to kick in. My symptoms are certainly better than they were a few months ago – for one thing, I don’t have to take Tramodol just to get to work without my insides screaming at me constantly – the pain associated with the colitis is pretty much gone, for now. The blood is gone. Frequency and urgency are still up compared with a ‘normal’ person, but that’s probably partly psychosomatic, since my brain and insides are so used to ‘gotta do this NOW, buddy’.
But. Even though I’m on a low-ish dosage, I’ve encountered some side-effects none-the-less – though I’ll admit, since it is a low dose, again, it may be partly psychosomatic. And the added mental stress of the boyfriend being away hasn’t been great timing, either. But I’ve been decidedly more… down more often since starting the pred. I’ve had insomnia, at times, I’ve definitely had the increased appetite and weight gain (especially perfect timing, thanks Christmas!) – which in turn has made me feel more self-conscious aaaand depressed!
So it’s a great cycle. But I start tapering the prednisone on Tuesday, so we’ll see if the symptoms stay on the down-low or not… I’m sure I’ll be keeping you informed.
In the meantime, as a combination venture – both making the most of minimal symptoms, and trying to keep myself cheerful, it’s time to wash the night’s worries off, and go on a bit of a road trip with people I don’t see nearly enough these days.