The previous week I wasn’t feeling well, oddly enough I simply cast this tired feeling aside due to the fact I had been running around with the kids and doing what most stay at Homebodies do.
But as many know with Crohns Disease and Mental illness this is a warning sign not to be so casually cast aside.
I did it anyways…
I knew somewhere secretly deep inside, I was going to pay and by Saturday I did.
Saturday evening I returned home after a baby shower, and a visit at my cousins house and…
LOW grade fever, body aches, chills and well let’s just say Fred Stoma was busy and misery had moved in and began to snuggle under covers.
(Fred Stoma is the name given to the stoma I was left with after the doctors cut out the bad parts of my guts that were diseased and looked pre-cancerous…(June 2014). When I came home from the hospital to help my four year old understand why Mommy couldn’t pick him up and why Mommy couldn’t play like she used to…well he name the stoma Fred…and now I have Fred Stoma…my life saver, my nemesis, and life saver. I said life saver twice because of the love hate relationship I feel towards my gut my body and Fred’s very existence.)
So back to the overall feeling of miserable…
Sunday I tried simply resting and doing as little as possible laying in bed reading a book and minimally taking care of my kids, but I kept finding myself tired and the fever was getting on my last nerve because cold chills are like another non-favorite because my whole body shivers and shudders with debilitating and uncontrollable spasms. Most people would simply call these shivers…but for me they are excruciating. In a painful kind of way.
Monday was no better.
I pushed through the morning, it was the first day of preschool for my youngest and I was not gonna let a little bout of misery stop me. I wrangled my youngest into clothing and tried to appear as presentable as I could manage for myself…
Breakfast, car ride, and drop off…home, an hour nap…alarm, get up pick up, car ride, pick up was apologizing and smiling at the same time, ( it’s a my little ones first day of preschool who wants to see a sick Mommy) so briefly chat with his teacher…and then off to lunch with him and then back home.
I crawled in bed and thank goodness my 16 year old was out of school this day and he unfortunately/fortunately knows the routine of Misery.
(He didn’t have to help, he doesn’t have to help, but he does, he entertained his littlest brother with video’s and computer games and helped with lunch)
This is what I hate about Crohns…IT IS ROBBING MY LIFE…but most of all…IT IS ROBBING THE LIVES OF MY CHILDREN!
My anxiety is set off because I worry that my kids are not getting what they need from me, that I am not being a good enough mom and I worry, worry worry they won’t understand or have NORMAAAAAL…what ever the hell that is?
By the evening I am laying in the Emergency Department with an IV and waiting for a room to open up so I can stay overnight for “Observation”.
The Hospitalist…(floor doctor) has determined after…
blood work, IV fluids, antibiotics, a CATscan and Dilaudid that it’s a flare that has been caught very early.
He also decides to add Prednisone to my drug list because well it’s the go to for my health due to the fact it seems nothing ever works quite properly and now I will gain back the 20 pounds I managed to lose before this mini-flare and my family will be on pins and needles the next few months while my body adjusts to the steroids, and my mind takes a break from it’s semi-rational thinking due to the crazy effects that steroids leaves me with.
(Prednisone is horrible for me…I become super irrational, and sometimes rage about missing socks…the dumbest shit, but if I have to take it…down the hatch)
I am angry…I am miserable…and I am optimistically hoping that someday…but who the hell am I kidding?
This is my hand and I have always managed, and will manage to keep ” plugging along”.