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 the bathroom more than average but that’s partly because I have less intestine than average. Four or five trips a day is fine for me. There’s no blood, no mucous, infrequent cramps, relatively infrequent full-blown diarrhoea. But my bones ache. Arthritis can be a secondary … 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. But also, relatively simple meds with less impact on my total system. No surgery, no steroids, no biologics. Not even my full-blown diagnosis yet. Anyway, without further ado, here’s 20-year-old Briar’s words about IBD: Last December, after various fun filled tests, I was diagnosed … 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 and a block of Gouda on the edge of turning. *** Last time I picked up my Humira, I had the sudden thought that it’s the most expensive thing I ever put in my backpack these days. Two syringes technically cost more than my MacBook Air. … 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 an inch too far. I didn’t know what was wrong. I mean, on a grand scale, I did, because when you’ve got Crohn’s, it’s a fair bet that what’s ailing you somewhere in the digestive tract is Crohn’s related. But it was a different kind … 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 days were better, because hope was still cradled that the broken parts could be cut away and mended, dead branches and grafts. But the poison is in the tree and eventually there will be nothing left but dried parts broken on the forest floor. All … 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 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 … Continue reading this whereabouts
It is May 19th – at least in New Zealand, it is. On this day, the following things have happened throughout history Anne Boleyn was beheaded (1536) Nellie Melba, the soprano and namesake of a delicious dessert, was born (1861) Oscar Wilde was released from prison (1897) Pol Pot, leader of the Khmer Rouge and totalitarian dictator of Cambodia, was born (1925) André René Roussimoff, AKA André the Giant, was born (1946) Marilyn Monroe sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to JFK (1962) Tu’i Malila , the world’s oldest known tortoise died at 188 years old (1965) Jodi Picoult, Queen of Depressive Chick Lit, … Continue reading world IBD day
on books, capital exploits, and loneliness Continue reading une année sans lumière?
So, I decided to have a play around with VIDEO. In here, there is much medication related rambling, self-introduction, diagnosis palaver… all of the things that you have quite possibly come to know and love from me and Wamblecropt already. Plus, it’s all in my oh-so-charming kiwi accent, which obviously doesn’t come across in my written posts. So, enjoy, and let me know if you’d like more video type posts! Continue reading an adventure in the wonderful world of IBD vlogging!