I’m writing this from the car on the way to my gastrointerologist’s office. I woke up this morning in a good mood. I laughed with my best friend about the way that she talked in her sleep last night. I told her about the latest show I’ve been binge watching through my insomnia.
I felt nauseated enough first thing to take Zofran with the rest of my morning meds. My abdominal pain has been at a higher level than usual the past few days. I haven’t had a real appetite in weeks. In the past 24 hours, I have had six bloody stools. It was while I was joking with my best friend that the nausea turned into a certainty that I was going to throw up, so I rushed to the bathroom. I got very sick. I came out of the bathroom disoriented, clammy, in excrutiating pain. For the first time since my Crohn’s diagnosis in 2014, I asked my mom to take me to the Emergency Room. Instead we’re going to see my doctor.
I’m writing this from the hospital. My doctor sent me to the Emergency Room after all. They are doing a CT with contrast and labs. The saline drip is cold. The contrast set me on fire. All I want is to sleep. I can’t talk through the nausea.
I’m writing this from my couch at home. Cabbage is curled up on top of me. I’ve had a long day. I’ve had a hard day. The doctor’s at Grandview ran their tests, determining that I have severe inflammation throughout my intestines with specific proctitis. This has caused my bloody stools, which has led to anemia. It’s one hell of a Crohn’s flare.
As I’m writing this, I’m thinking about all of the things the past year has thrown at me. I’m thinking about the adventures I had last August and September in D.C. with my friends. I’m thinking about how much I have grown with each new challenge. I’m thinking about the inner peace I have had to come to as my life plans just keep changing. I’m thinking about what I want to come next. I’m thinking about all the things that could possibly be next—whether I want them to be or not. I’m thinking about how I’m still breathing, so ANYTHING could be next.
dum spiro spero