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As you all can tell... I haven't been on any of my accounts much. Frankly, I haven't even had the idea to get out of bed and try and deal with this stuff. Is it apathy? Slothy-laziness? No... I'm sick. Again.

For around two weeks, I've slowly been going down hill. At first it started out as a harmless little cold. PAH! I could deal with that. Take those pills, get plenty of rest, and make sure I guzzle down those fluids like I'm some H2O drunkard fish. Well... that's how it started.

That cold turned into flu symptoms.

Once again, I could deal with that. No biggie. I was just suffering a bit more. I was going to get better, I knew I would!

...That was a total lie I told myself (in my hopeful mantra), over and over. I was, quite literally, in hell. The pain was getting too bad and, within a few days I knew what my pains were really from. They were from Chrons. Once again, my body was failing on me and it was hitching in an uncomfortable sense of the word. I was basically having my insides go crazy on me.

I thought I was slightly paranoid. I mean, heck, every time I get a little stomach ache I always gasp, frantically thinking, "is this Chrons again"? So, yes, to an extent I'm really a frazzled mess. Me jumping to the conclusion "oh God, this is Chrons again", seemed a bit rash and quick (at least, in the minds of my coworkers and family). But, as far as I knew, I could tell when my body is in trouble.

I've been in and out of work. I had to call off almost a whole week. My stomach is in fits, and today (being Monday), is the first real day I've kept any food down (anything else just came up in a vomiting mess, or didn't want to go down in the first place). Feverish headaches, shaky body, and an unfathomable fatigue. I don't really think a lot of people knew what was going on (even the ones who had a twinge of an idea thanks to me notifying them). For days I was basically curled up in the chair (in our living room), dozing most of my days away. The few times I got on the internet I managed to sneak on MSN just to alert others what was up (before, well, promptly getting sick again).

So what's happening now?

Well, I went to the doctor today. He took one look at me, read the chart of symptoms I had listed, and said plainly, "you're not good. Your Chrons is coming back."

Well, thank you, cap'n obvious! I digress, and I shouldn't be too hard on him. It's just, well, I knew it was coming on. I dreaded it. I had had images of that dang tube being threaded down my nose again- straight into my stomach- just to suck out any of the offensive juices that were plighting my downfall. I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I've had the past two weeks, just constructing the horrid ordeals I might have to endure.

"We need to stop this now," he said, continuing. "It sounds like a blockage is about to start again."

...s**t.

I watched as my doctor rifled through his notes, then stared at me hard. "We need to get you in for a endoscopic procedure at the end of this very week".

Endoscopic, huh? I've done four of them (NOT LYING, EITHER) in my entire lifetime. That's simple. Stick me with IVs, shuffle me off to a operation room, knock me out and do your job. I just really don't like it for one thing, and that's during the final few seconds before the drugs take effect. To me, well, let's just say I now know what it's like to die. Your body slowly goes numb, and you can feel yourself get sucked away. It's a godawful feeling, and I fear the sedatives to the highest degree. I...will... NEVER get used to that feeling.

For those who want to know what it is, read the next paragraphs. For those who are queasy, skip the next paragraphs (in red, so you can tell it's a YUCK! factor and skip like the plague) and read on.


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For me, endoscopic procedures are very...well... there is no privacy, really. Let's just say you're totally helpless as to what'll go on during the whole thing. As the intended patient lies there, peacefully asleep from the sedatives they give you, they prep you. Taking a long, thin wire with a microscopic camera on the end, the pry open your mouth. Yup, you guessed it. The thread that damnable thing straight down your throat. Yummy. As much as I shudder, thinking about that, I'm happy that I feel no pain (during, and after I wake up). THANK...GOD.

For me, that isn't the end of the procedure. As they're threading that thing down, taking pictures all the way down into my stomach, they... take another wire with a camera on the end. Well, one opening is used up. Guess where they put the other one?

...I told you it was gross. *sigh* I'm amazed I haven't gone insane. For more imformation on Endoscopy, here's a link.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Endoscopy

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...God, just typing that was...Bleghhh! Anyway... So, that's this Thursday. He summoned it, and I let it happen. I can't have much say in it. As the doctor sat back, telling me what'll happen, I had to daydream up every situational bad thing that could happen. Yay for paranoia!

"You know what we need to do," he said, staring at me.

I broke out of my daydreams. Blinking, my eyes widened. Please not the sucking tube, please not the sucking tube! Merciful God, anything but that!

"What?" I asked, worried.

"We need to get you on Remicade."

I felt tears spring to my eyes. I'm ashamed... I cried. Remicade- what's scary about it? Nothing, really... save for every eight weeks, of the rest of my LIFE, I need to go for a three or four hour IV drip. The side effects and warnings are wicked, too. Alas, it has been dubbed the wonder drug for Diabetes and Chrons, so I have to tip my hat to it in thanks.

No... what I'm depressed about is the cost. It's an easily 3k, or more, each time, down the drain. Note: that's 3k, EACH TIME. That racks up! For a twenty year old female (on the cusp of being legal), who aspires to go to college and get a better job... this is my warrant to end my dreams. In my own oily blood I'll sign it, sobbing, wondering if I'll ever get past the medical debts I have been racking up and paying off ever since I was young.

The doctor said he'll work with me to get medical aid and help. "You know," he said, "we need to knock this off. We treat you first, worry about the money later. We can't afford to wait. If this is continuing to happen, then we need to put an end to it."

"I know," I said, the tears brimming my eyes. I wistfully sighed, saying, "and... being on Remicade, I felt so good."

It's true. Three years ago, during the great scare way back when, when I was dying and they had to literally drag me into the hospital, they had given me a treatment of that. For a few months following that (once I was out), I hardly felt any pain. It was like a mircale descending from the medical heavens. I felt like a normal kid again- something I hadn't felt, even from birth. (As a note, from the first day I was born I've had medical issues. That's a whole 'nother story, though)

I agreed with my doctor. Shaking his hand, I signed my warrant gladly. Sure, this is going to shred me apart. I may not have much of a furture now, education or work wise, but I don't care at this point. My health, I've finally realized, is what I need to focus on. Most kids my age only need to worry about passing exams, crashing parties or hanging out with their friends. For me, I have to focus on my life, my health, and my destiny.

Root me on, guys. Thursday is going to still be scary for me. It's a half-and-half thing. If they find a blockage, I'm seriously screwed. That means I'll be admitted for days, racking up the bills even more. If they don't find much of anything (that's too serious), then I'll be safe to get my Remicade... and I'll be on the road.

What road? Well, to the road all Chrons patients dream of. The road that lasts about twenty years for us...

...the road to REMISSION.



heart Peace out, ya'll! heart

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crohn's_disease (all about my disease)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Infliximab (all about Remicade)