I’m in denial. I’ve spent a lot of the last year and a half, since my diagnosis with UC(ulcerative colitis), in denial.
At least now, there is a part of my brain that sees it more clearly. I don’t have to spend nights on the bathroom floor, in constant pain, lose 12kg in six weeks, to know that something is really wrong and I need to do something about it.
But there is still this part of me that tells me that it’s okay. It’s only a little bit of blood. It’s not really pain, you’re just imagining it. Toughen up, hang in there, you are strong and you’ll get past it.
I don’t know why it’s so hard to ignore that voice. Maybe it’s that I still don’t want to admit that I’m really sick. That I’m going to be dealing with this for the rest of my life.
Maybe it’s that I am strong. I’ve willed myself to associate nausea with eating, instead of my natural inclination not to eat. I can ignore the pain until it’s so bad I can barely uncurl myself from the fetal position. Maybe if I wasn’t so strong willed, I’d be able to admit something was wrong, ask for help.
But I can’t. That stupid little voice. I know it’s wrong. I’m not okay. I know I should just call my GI, get an appointment, go back on the prednisone, or infliximab, or whatever he thinks I should try now. But I can’t.
So I’ve issued it with an ultimatum. 1 week. 1 week of chicken stock and overcooked carrot and eggs. And at the end of that, if there is still bleeding, I’m going to call.
And I’m writing this so I can’t cheat, can’t go back on my promise to myself.
