November 11 2017


Sometimes I can foresee a flare before it happens. Little warnings fall and rise with each passing breath. I think of it as an internal airline flight; my body projects turbulence, flashes the seat-belt sign, warns me with nervous-looking flight attendants scurrying to their empty seats, yet…it isn’t until the eleventh hour, when the oxygen masks are dropping from the ceiling that I ever take notice.
Err, notice is hardly the word. I know the flare is happening–I feel it with every fiber in my being–I just choose not to acknowledge it.
The idea that you should help yourself before helping others never crosses my mind. It is my pride that keeps me burdened. I have an overwhelming sense of self-sufficiency, a trait that is shaping up to be both a blessing and a curse.
I wish I knew how to tamp down my feelings of inadequacy. I wish I didn’t feel like I have to take on the world by myself. I wish I wasn’t ashamed of being viewed as weak. Asking for help is an over-looked strength, and I know the last thing in the world anyone can call me is weak, but knowing and feeling are very different.
Of that I am sure.
You might remember from my last post that I was told to pray for both viral and bacterial infections. Well, I can’t say much regarding the bacterial (belly button) situation; it appears that the easy fix was neither easy nor a fix.
As for viral, I have a lot to talk about! (In great detail actually, but I won’t.) I will suffice to say that I got a viral infection. I was bedridden. I hated my body. I have a lingering cough, but I am on the mend thankfully. Going purely off of how bad I felt (with no insight into what the alternative issues could have been) I might not have hoped so hard for the infection; it kicked my ass.
Following the infection came a sleepless week of frustrated hell. My body demanded sleep, but my mind refused to allow it. Worse, my mind actually functioned better without it. I think in a 55-hour period I had managed a full 6, maybe 7, hours of sleep. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t shut off my mind, it was like I was living out a movie. It was as if I had developed the ability to astral project myself. I hated every second. I counted sheep, took baths with lavender, defused oils, and even spent hours staring at the wall–to no avail.  
Unrelated, I started receiving calls from medical imaging places again. I guess it is finally time to schedule that bone density test. I have no idea why of all the tests/scans I’m forced to do, this is the one I am avoiding. I could say it is the unnecessary burden and an undue hardship of having to figure out how to schedule ALL of these appointments while maintaining a job, commute, children, blah, blah, blah…but that just makes me sound selfish.
I am incredibly lucky to have a job that has sick leave, even if I burn it as quickly as I earn it. In fact, I am incredibly lucky even to be working. I know there will come a day when I have to quit. I could also say that of all the tests, this is the one that matters the least. Okay, maybe not the least, but the results of this test won’t bring about life-or-death decisions. They might bring about diet, medicine, or even lifestyle changes, but nothing detrimental.  
Is it the change that scares me? I would think I would be used to that by now. Is it the frustration of having yet another thing thrust upon me that is outside of my control? Is it the agitation of jumping through hoop after hoop, only to be left in the dark? Probably all of the above, and then some.

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Posted November 11, 2017 by in category "Crohn's Disease


  1. By Sheryl Chan (Post author) on

    While my life situations are different from yours, I totally get what you mean in terms of feeling. It’s kind of a jaded numbness, and for me, resulted in clinical depression that’s partly due to medications, but I also think partly from all the years spent dealing with pain on a daily basis. Not much to say in way of encourage except, you are in my thoughts, and sending lots of hugs. xx


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