Sorry for the lack of blogging. Words aren’t coming easily to me at the moment. Dreams are short when they come and soon forgotten. Yesterday my dream was that I was flirting with someone. I don’t know who. I don’t remember how. That’s all.
I am still absolutely loving the job. It is a complete joy, requires concentration, the kind that takes your mind off other things. And I have a huge respect for the dentist I’m working with. He’s like an artist. Fillings? What fillings? They’re teeth surely… wow.
It is all too easy to hide away from the sadness. So that is what I have been doing.
I need to take responsibility for my health though, I hate having to ask for time off work. I have even fallen behind with simple things such as my prescriptions, so am only taking the drugs that are essential. Not that they are doing anything. I ran out of antidepressants. And antisickness tablets. So I should get that sorted by next week. Somehow.
It is with a heavy heart that I say this, but my bleeding is getting worse. My white blood cell count fell so they have insisted I reduce my immunosuppressants, or I would risk ‘catching things’ supposedly. So I’ve done that begrudgingly, but sneakily take my full dose every few days when the bleeding just seems absurd and overwhelming.
The crazy thing is, I’m managing just fine in work. It’s not so much mucus, and urgency (which are the disruptive combo when it comes to ‘carrying on’), it’s just blood. I’m just shitting blood.
And it kind of just takes the joy out of everything. It’s this big cloud hanging over me. I try and ignore it. But it’s abnormal, there is no denying. And makes me think of horrible things like… things I am just done with thinking about. I’ve had enough. But the more you suppress the thoughts, the more they loom.
It is so hard to explain.
It’s the fitting in with normality that is the problem. Mentally.
If it were a normal person it was happening to, they’d come out of the loo and say something along the lines of “Holy crap, I just filled the toilet bowl with blood.”
But it happens every time. The difficult thing to explain is the weird mixture of becoming accustomed to it, and yet still feeling shocked every time. I don’t know if that makes sense.
And the silence that surrounds it all.
People talk about invisible illnesses. Mentally, they wreck you. They make you feel like a fraud. They make you feel like you have to pretend to be normal, because you appear outwardly normal. They make you, yourself, wonder if you are imagining it. They make you forget what normal is. They destroy you, mentally, I mean.
Sympathy and understanding, when it comes, is both good and bad at the same time. Good because I feel acknowledged / less fraudulent. And bad because it breaks the spell of ignorance being bliss.
But I’m not the only one. Said John Lennon. No. There is a community of colitis-friends I have, though feel increasingly disconnected from. They are the ones who truly understand, they go through it themselves, all of the issues. And I shouldn’t take that for granted… but still, it doesn’t feel enough.
It’s never enough, when nobody else understands. Parents. Colleagues. Friends.
So I am closing off. Withdrawing into myself.
No attempt at relaxation can take this weight off my mind or this constant feeling of tightness across my chest. This holding of my breath, that sits above the ache and discomfort around what I know to be my colon.
That’s right. My colon. Most people have a colon… no big deal. But I can feel my colon. Right now. It hurts. Not all the time. But for at least an hour after a bowel movement. It really fucking hurts.
And it makes me want to fucking cry.
But I daren’t for fear of crying tears of blood.
But if I did, can you imagine… Oh well. Let’s just carry on.
Where was I?
N.B. Tears of blood sounds awfully romantic. Yes, very vampiric, attractive. Shits of blood…. not so much.