My belly hates me.

April 20, 2012

I have not been kind to myself. Not that I really could have, unless I somehow happened to get really lucky and just fall into a job and an apartment. Schoolwork I can handle. Schoolwork plus grownup stuff, all at the same time with zero experience to back me up? Not so much.

This is crunch time for me, with graduation looming in slightly more than four weeks. I have finally finished the paper from a year ago that was stressing me out so hard, just in time to have to start my apartment search. I have won all these awards for school; I’m the “outstanding classics major” of this year’s graduating class, I’ll be graduating Magna Cum Laude, and I am about to be inducted into Phi Beta Kappa. I keep acing all my tests, even when I don’t study as much as one would hope. Basically, I win at being a student. (Year-long paper experience not withstanding.) But then throw job hunting and apartment hunting (neither of which is easy in this economy, especially not for someone who sucks at it) into the mix, and there goes my ability to function and treat myself well.

I had a second interview for a job on Monday that went really well.This was very lucky, because basically nobody else was calling me back, and those who did had already decided not to hire me, apparently. But I adored this job, and all the people I met at the company, and the fact that it came with a solid salary. Then I spent the rest of the week in a constant state of nausea because I was so nervous to hear back. I stopped eating properly, which just made it worse. Cue vicious cycle. Today I called back to check on progress, and found out I didn’t get the job. Which sent me further into digestive purgatory. I managed to get in a second cup of coffee before realizing (two minutes before I was supposed to leave to view apartments) that I hadn’t actually eaten any food at all. So I gulped down some yogurt before running out the door. Between apartments, we stopped at a Dunkin Donuts for (another) coffee and a donut.

And that’s all I’ve eaten today. Three cups of coffee, a donut, and a yogurt. But my belly doesn’t want me to eat anything else.

I don’t know what is going to happen now but this can’t continue. Something has got to give, so I can maybe focus on only one horrifyingly difficult life-changing task at a time. Then maybe I can start eating like I’m a person again and not feeling nauseous all the time.

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Good and Bad

November 6, 2010

I few days ago I had a couple of pretty bad Crohn’s days. But, I realized, they were only bad compared to how good it’s been. For at least this semester, I’ve been very consistently sleeping through the night, and on the maybe 3 nights I’ve had to wake up to go to the bathroom, it’s been once and only once. Time was I would be up several times a night, every night. I had a very predictable wake-up call 2 hours before I wanted to get up, courtesy of Crohn’s, and other less predictable ones throughout the rest of the night. So when I was awoken the other night, I was highly disgruntled. But only because I wasn’t used to it anymore, which I can only count as a blessing.

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Also, here’s something weird I’ve noticed: My Crohn’s is much, much more active while I’m at home than while I’m at school or at work. I haven’t tested it far enough to figure out if it’s actually home versus out, or if it’s morning (when I’m usually home) versus day (usually out) versus night (usually home). But it’s very noticeable. I don’t usually have to jump up in the middle of class, and I usually only leave my chair at the library once per 4 hour sitting. Sometimes I only have to use the bathroom once in a whole 7-12 hour day (not usually but sometimes). But then I get home, and it hits me over and over and over. Maybe I’m less careful about what I eat when I’m home? Maybe I have less of an incentive to hold it? Maybe I psych myself out fight-or-flight style so that the system slows down when I’m away from my own bathroom? I really couldn’t say.

Flashback

July 4, 2010

This morning was awful. It was like a horrible flashback to my unmedicated childhood. Way back in the day when parachute pants were apparently cool, my life seemed like one continuous loop of running to the bathroom, sitting there for 15 minutes with nothing to show for it, leaving in defeat, rushing back 5 minutes later, and so on. This morning was back to that, and of course I was an hour away from home and shopping, so bathrooms were less than predictable. The worst part, though, was not the fear of not making it in time, but the sick feeling of my gut in the interim. It’s one of the worst feelings I know; it always reminds me that I’m not just a person who has to poop all the time, I actually have a disease. And I seriously don’t like that. (For this same reason I hate having to cut out milk products.)

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If anything, though, this morning reminds me of how well my meds work. It’s been ages since I’ve had a morning like this, and it probably only lasted an hour (3 bathroom stops and 2 stores later). I know tons of people think it’s better not to take drugs and just let your body take care of itself, but I can only give these people a mildly tolerant laugh.  No need to put my body through that.