Old Habits Die Hard
Wake up at 6 or 7 a.m. depending on the day. If I’m lucky I’ve gotten 3-4 hours of fitful sleep. Today was no different.
Upon waking, grab something to drink if there’s nothing next to me and start the regime for the day: Synthroid wait 2 hours and move on to the next, now swallow the giant antihistamine pill (I’ve been choking on again lately) and keep drinking. Well, I’m supposed to drink, but drinking means issues later.
8:00 a.m. the Good Morning America crew is talking about newsworthy events, and the weather… meanwhile I’m thinking about making breakfast or even a smoothie. But that’s all I’ll do; think about it. I might as well have a boa constrictor wrapped in barbedwire having its way with my insides. I’m just waiting for the magic of Loperamide to ware off and for my body to do what it seems to do best, expel anything it sees as unnatural.
9:30 a.m. Argue with a Crunchy Bearded Hippie that diet does not cause IBD (Crohn’s disease and ulcerative colitis) affliction in humans. He also inferred that blame should fall on parents of infants and toddlers getting diagnosed with IBD because of what they are feeding their babies. When I questioned if he was in fact placing blame on those parents, my heart sank and ire toward this stranger (Crunchy Bearded Hippie) set in. Seriously, it was awful.
I’m now starving. I can feel my stomach contracting. Intestinal spasms are sure to follow.
10:00 a.m. Right This Minute rolls around. It’s a mindless 30 minute show going over viral videos that have made an impact in Internetland. I enjoy watching it, it would be a job I would enjoy participating in. Still arguing with Crunchy Bearded Hippy guy… intestinal spasms are now in full effect. I hurt, yet I’m hungry. I think about possibly making breakfast again, or even drinking water. But thinking about it is all I do.
[Photo credit: Susan K. W.]
At 11:00 a rerun of The View comes on, I’ve tuned out and am tapping away on my keyboard completing my tasks for the day. Still hungry. Still in pain. Still thirsty. Did not drink another drop since choking on my last pill a few hours prior.
This was my morning today, and has been for about the past 6 weeks since regressing after I was removed from Remicade treatment, save for a few special days where I slept for nearly 15 hours each. Those come with their own sets of issues courtesy of thyroid disease.
It is now 4:00, I still haven’t eaten. I have had one additional sip of my green tea and nothing else. I am cranky. I am hungry. I sure as hell am thirsty. And might I add, I’ve spent a total of three out of my 10 waking hours within the confines of my secondary office. There are only so many Buzzfeed videos a girl can watch before she gets bored. Very, very bored.
I’m being punished by my body for partaking in my basic human instinct of eating lunch and dinner yesterday - how dare I partake!
Since failing Remicade and getting placed on Humira, my old very bad eating habits are coming back in full effect. I walk around drifting almost, light headed, in pain; discontent with life and people. I’m not on my game and am second guessing everything lately — from my doctors to myself. I’m second guessing my ability to read people; I’m usually pretty damn intuitive. I feel broken.
When I first fell ill at 15, my diet if I ate consisted of the following: turkey hot dogs without byproducts, turkey burgers from Jennie-O only, tuna subs from Miami Subs (they were my splurge). For the Bearded Crunchy Hippie from earlier, I’d like to give a giant “FUCK YOU MAN!” yell with a swift junk punch to follow. I wasn’t allowed much dairy growing up, or junk food, and where did that get me exactly? With pretty rotten guts, thank you very much.