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I'm back

I've lost so many months. I know that sounds odd. How can someone lose months? Easily, time flies when you are chronically ill. I know that sounds odd.
Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, on and on until one day you realize it's March and you have been hospital sick since October. What the actual flying fuck? I missed winter again. That's twice in 3 years. I lost summer before that...5 years ago.
5 years ago I had to give up my dreams, quit my job, and start contemplating Plan B. I didn't know what the hell Plan B was (my plan, not the pill...phew, what a lifesaver in college). Now, I'm sitting here trying to figure out what Plan F could possibly entail and I can't believe how many seasons I've lost.
I've been sick since I was 10. For years I was wrapped in a blanket in the basement watching Charmed and Sabrina (I thought I was a witch for awhile, not Wiccan, a real magical witch who could control waves. It was a rough time.) At 16 came the bleeding and shitting my pants phase. Really wish I was a magic witch, would've cured my Crohn's and grown my colon back. After my hospitalization three years ago, after I was cut open for the umpteenth, after I was put on IV nutrition again I lost my humor in this disease. I moved in with my parents and tried to rebuild my life in Delaware. Found a job path I hoped would work better with this shit. Built a house with a first floor master suite with a soaking tube and private water closet, and an ungodly expensive adjustable bed built with the feathers of a million angel wings...that vibrates. It's perfect for me, Max, and Jesse, my boyfriend and one of the greatest dudes to walk on this Earth. After another exploding ass cyst, my health kept going down the gutter and I finally had to stop lying to myself (and everyone else because when it comes to talking about my disease, I'm Fox News, an alternative fact machine). I had to quit my job and focus all my strength and energy on trying to get better...and ended up in the hospital for weeks, put back on IV nutrition through February.
Some of my plans may have gone off course, but I did gain a working knowledge of all the sitcoms since the 70s and a Joss Whedon obsession. I now love Jessica Fletcher, more than her fan club; her wisdom and extreme bad luck make my days. Yet, I do always wonder what it would be like, instead of spooning my little baby dog under a heated blanket with a remote surgically glued to my hand, to spend those hours going out to dinner or working out or insanely even working outside my home. What it would be like if I wasn't a shut in, if I could enjoy having people over and being social?
Enjoying having a casual night with friends means I would be anxious all day no matter how many Prozacs I took. I would have to prepare my show; put on my makeup, do my hair, get my smile lacquered on. Pretend that talking and thinking and standing didn't make me exhausted. Be so upbeat, you'd think I took one too many Prozac, then act as if everything is great now. Never show weakness that's my motto.
 "This PICC in my arm, pssh no big deal." "This limp, no I'm not in pain from it, I just ran myself over with my walker." "That surgery? I've had 15 who even remembers them all? Bahaha"
People need to see me looking better, it helps them with their grief and confusion. I never let them see my frail, vomiting, sweating being beneath all my giant clothes. Bath robes and XXL men's apparel is what I live in. Always wearing huge comfy socks or slippers, looking like an  NFL player's ex-wife wrought with emotional issues. That's my armor during the months I miss. My defense against seeing my body wither around in constant agony, blankets cover my life spent in the fetal position.
I long for the months I miss, but I know that there are so many more to explore. To resist, to fight, to conquer, some to succumb, some to recharge, and most spent laughing, like a T-Rex going silent and then snorting.I may have lost many seasons and some of my hilarious wit and humor, even my huge ass took a hit after this last bout of starvation. But I gained some perspective, realization of the things in my life that are fucking amazing and worthwhile, and a desire to help others suffering from chronic illnesses, even my ass is ample again. Spring is coming and I feel like a young hen with a sleep disorder. I am tired as fuck, but I am plump and fresh and ready to take on the world...with a little shit still in my pants.

Comments

  1. I love you and your wit ����������

    ReplyDelete
  2. You are truly an inspiration and healer to others. I LOVE your writing and humor!!
    —Susan

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  3. Just found this from the crohn's subreddit and glad I did. Your comedy and outlook are right up my ally. Cracked up a few times. Especially at "looking like an NFL player's ex-wife wrought with emotional issues". I've been through some similar ups and downs finding and losing the humor around Crohn's. Gotta laugh to keep from crying. Looking forward to following your future posts.

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