Wherever you go, there you are.

What a turbulent year it has been.  Attempting to come to terms with a diagnosis of Crohn’s disease made me discover how good of a friend denial is to me. I denied it all the way down to 84 pounds, and then a miracle happened.  Just as my team of asshole medical professionals were getting ready to ship me off to an eating disorder treatment center, I subjected myself to one last slew of bowel preps and colonoscopies. They found absolutely nothing.  Everything was normal. The combination of starvation and a round of steroids were enough to put the disease into remission. However, what lingered was my inability to eat without experiencing the same set of symptoms that caused the weight loss to begin with. In the event that I was able to keep food down, my sleep was disrupted by severe muscle spasms.  Tetany.  From December onward, abnormal lab results started to trickle in.  Severe hypoglycemia, toxic levels of fat soluble vitamins, and consistently elevated serum protein levels.  All nonspecific, and all leaving the doctors scratching their heads. It wasn’t until March, when I had a routine metabolic panel drawn, that 2+2=4.  My creatinine clearance was 31, placing me solidly at the very end of stage 3 kidney disease.  Part two of my medical mystery had been solved, and I found myself faced with not one, but two chronic diseases which require conflicting treatments.  Through lots of dietary diligence I was able to get myself up to a healthy minimum weight, which is where I stand today.  Unfortunately, within the past few weeks, I feel like I’m being stabbed in the guts with a hot poker, and the daily blowouts are bad omens.  I moved, and am in the process of selling our house while my husband is halfway around the world for the next year.  The stress sent my immune system into a maelstrom of shitfuck, and I fear my good friend IBD is once again firing up the moshpit in my guts.  I’m currently without doctors, and am completely lost.

Talk to me, Goose!

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