Just because you have objective truths fuelling your fatigue doesn’t make it any easier to accept. I am in remission, in essence. But that doesn’t mean that I’m healthy. It means that my CRP levels are acceptable. My ferritin isn’t too bad. I don’t have urgency that inhibits my movements day-to-day. I go to … Continue reading Fatigue
I was going through my old Tumblr to find my go-to chocolate cake recipe, and stumbled upon this… my first ever IBD-related blog post, I suspect. 25 May 2011. I thought I’d post it here for posterity. Those were the days… incredible pain on the daily, uncontrollable urgency, no painkillers, incapable of properly attending lectures. … Continue reading The first time
I remembered that I am very nearly due for my next jab, and realised that I’m all out of meds. I’m not very good at maintaining a healthy array of fridgular options, but I can usually be depended upon to have a syringe or two of expensive medication tucked in between a Lush face mask … Continue reading magic juice – adalimumab adventures
It’s two years and a day since I had surgery. Unexpected, life-saving, emergency surgery. I was in incredible pain before it, and different kinds of incredible pain after it. Before the operation, I was doubled over. Stabbing sensations, rolling walls of abdominal agony that would come and crest and fall just because I moved a fraction of … Continue reading marking time / health misadventures
When I talk to people, I speak freely. I open my mouth, and words come – thoroughly rehearsed, to a point. Every time I tell my mirror about my life, it’s a slightly different rendition of the same song. This is how it goes.
In high school, I was a swot. I went to a posh school, I was a high achiever, I was a musician. I didn’t even think to be rebellious until my last year, and my rebellion was not of the extreme variety. Most of my free periods were taken up with scholarship classes, but swot that I was (am, at heart) I had far too many, and three sessions overlapped.
So on occasion, I would tell art history I was going to French, French I was going to Spanish, and Spanish I was going to art history, and spend the fifty minutes feeling guilty while scribbling rambling poems in my binder instead. I got a second piercing in one lobe. That was my acting out. Continue reading “The Crohn’s Saga (to date)”
Pain. Drowning crinkle-cut curled-up flesh in whitest milk. Obligation lifts the cup, pours it in. No foil-wrapped magic tricks want to have anything to do with it; the capsule sinks below the surface before it can ignite. Flickers as a match might, but with the untiring power of the glowing ember. No end in sight. The worst … Continue reading curled-up flesh
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 … Continue reading this whereabouts