12.02.18, 21:56

where do i begin.

i honestly don't know.

basically.... i got sick. really sick. really really really sick. i'm not sure if i know when it started, the doctor says i was likely a teen. those vomiting bugs i occasionally seemed to catch--at regularly-occurring intervals--SHOULD have been a huge fucking red flag. did i ever tell my GP? no. they were "rare" enough that i never really thought the need to mention it, despite my always-promptly-scheduled annual checkups.

i knew something was wrong around the time of my last entry, but i didn't want to dwell on it, so i just said meh! and then i felt worse. and worse. and worse.

and then, one warm night in july, i flipped. i had the worst panic attack of my life. i was in bed, checking my temperature of 104, thinking this is it. i'm going to die hot. with cramps. and i can't even feel my extremities because i'm hyperventilating and they're complete pins and needles. what a way to go.

911 was called, the fake paramedics tried to tell me that if i would just breathe, this would all calm down.

no shit sherlock.

after multiple failed attempts to tell them this was not just a little wifey attack of the nerves, i gave up. i tuned them all out and thought eventually i'd be drugged. so we rode to the hospital and eventually, yes, i got drugged. and then a smug little lab rat of a doctor came over--at 3 focking 30 in the morning--and asked if i was feeling better now.

"no, doc mcstuffins, i am not feeling better now. my STOMACH and FEVER caused me to panic. i'm in AGONY."

"your stomach hurts?"

me: =|

fast forward a day. i've made friends with my now GI who somehow magically appeared, going on and on about my labs and my situation.

"wait, what is my situation."

"well first off you have e coli, it's bad, we need to get that under control. and then we need to run more tests because...well... i think you have crohn's disease."

da fuk? i need more drugs.

fast forward a few months. i do, in fact, have crohn's disease. and i am, in fact, losing weight at a pace that could only rival a contestant on the biggest loser. as i watch the scale dip lower and lower and lower, i laugh. i finally get my dream twins, post a son with a head the size of manhattan, and post breastfeeding 3 hungry infants. aka, but skinny. saggy skinny is the new sexy?

i'm puking all this time too. my occasional vomiting has stepped up its game to weekly, then daily, then multiple times a day, then, before i know it, i can't stomach water. i have e coli again too. just to add insult to injury.

so i go and live in urgent care and/or the hospital again. the ER doctor and the GI's PA are now my friends. this is not the 2017 i had imagined.

and then i get to leave, and i get to have a "team meeting" with the surgeon and my husband and my GI, and we get a "plan."

and then i go live at the hospital again and the plan goes to shit because i am still unable to stomach anything entering my mouth. when the nice dietician comes in to discuss feeding me via a tube for a month, i call my surgeon and say i am done, take out this mess.

so he does.

now i'm just here, skinny, with more scars, yea! but i'm alive. and while i never actually feared for my life, it feels pretty darn good to be here. i'm hardly better, but i am not puking, and that is a feat i never thought i'd truly be excited to celebrate. my future is scary and i panic at the thought of what i experienced the last several months happening i focus on right now. here, at home, happy.

'Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.'