How it is.
This week is Crohns and Colitis Awareness week, I wrote this as part of my contribution.
I read a post recently about how if you want to write passionately then write about things that mean something to you, about things that challenge you, about things you wouldn’t normally write about because they’re too close to you. I suppose it basically means write with your heart on your sleeve. Unfortunately, for me that means writing with my arse on my sleeve. I’ve not posted much recently because my whole mindset and everything has been taken up with feeling either in pain, worried sick or sleeping too much because I don’t want to be awake. Ulcerative Colitis is nasty and has kicked me quite hard recently. Anyway. I will do toy posts and happy posts and pictures of craft things and wierd recipes again soon, I just need to make sure my head is in the right place.
The kids are fine, Darlek performed carols with the choir today at a local church along with kids from a load of other schools. She smiled all the way through, knew all the words and looked so grown up amongst all the other children. Sausage sat next to me smelling like a sewer (he had an accident just before we got there) and tried to cover my mouth with his hands because he didn’t want me to sing. I know I don’t have a great singing voice, but I was a teeny bit put out. It was also a bit distracting when he mimed pulling my ears off mid ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful.’ That’s the nice bit.
This is the bit that makes me feel a bit wobbly. Stop here if you don’t want to hear about how I’m coping with things below the surface.
Do you ever feel like it’s all just a bit much? Today for example, my ulcerative colitis is acting up, as it has done for months now. Sat on the loo, blood drip, drip dripping like a tap just before it starts flowing properly. Sharp stabbing pain where the sun don’t shine. Nuzzling a nearby jumper because it eases the pain somehow. Spend ages waiting for the blood drips to slow down so I can run off and find a camera so I have actual proof of how bad this is so I can show it to my consultant. Bleed all down my legs, find a blood clot on the wall somehow which needs wiping off. Take a photo of a loo that looks like red paint has been poured down it. Listen to the kids downstairs and wonder how much blood you can lose before you become queasy or faint and hope that my 7 year old daughter knows how to dial 999 or what my parent’s phone number is at least. Flush the loo, and then flush it again because it’s still a nice shade of sunset and the kid’s will wonder why the loo is a funny colour. Stand up, make myself look presentable, wipe the blood off the loo seat. Go downstairs. Carry on as normal. Thank god this is only once a day.