this whereabouts

I am drowning in implications and connections. I had my first specialist appointment in months.

He didn’t suggest prednisone, so thank gods for that.

But I am back on potent-as-hell medication. New stuff (for me, not for the pharmaceutical world) so perhaps it will work better. And a scope on the cards next week, after which I will almost certainly be going on Humira, as long as I fulfil all of the necessary criteria. Humira, by the by, is the brand name for adalimumab, a TNF (tumour necrosis factor – mmm, tasty)  inhibiting drug that is used in the treatment of rheumatoid arthritis, psoriatic arthritis, ankylosing spondylitis, Crohn’s disease, ulcerative colitis, chronic psoriasis and juvenile idiopathic arthritis.

Thanks Wikipedia.

TNF inhibiters are more commonly known in IBD circles as ‘biologics’, for some reason. Also, I’ve already been on two of them (infliximab and etrolizumab) before. So, you can maybe understand that I’m not exactly jumping for joy at the idea of this magical solution. And for extra added fun, Humira is self-injected, and by most accounts, is rather painful.

I nearly cried when I was in the supermarket walking through the fruit section, because I really, really wanted to grab some delicious healthy stuff and eat it. But I can’t. I just can’t. I am yet to find a fruit that does not make everything much worse. Fructose is the devil. Acid is the devil. Food in goddamn general is the devil. I forced myself to buy ‘acceptable’ foods in terms of ‘things that my gut can handle’ – and I left with plain white pita bread, chicken, and chocolate biscuits.

My exciting diet, ladies and gentlemen.

The other super great thing (not actually super great) was being reminded, more explicitly this time, about how my intestinal and surgical situation has means that I need to think about ‘family plans’ sooner rather than later. ‘You don’t want to leave until you’re in your thirties,’ sayeth the doc. I don’t want to get all Rachel-on-Friends (per this video), but what kind of a timeframe does that really leave a misery guts of a mid-20s gal?

Combine this with the fact that I no longer have a de facto niece and nephew around to fill my baby-interacting needs, and it’s all rather a lot to deal with.

Fun.

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