So yesterday was the first day of my second semester of grad school. It's been tough, I can't say I've ever worked harder in my life, but the rewards are tremendous. I've learned and grown so much.
The workload, however, became more than I could handle during normal waking hours. I spent the last month of the fall semester staying up all night and sleeping for a few hours in the morning before starting all over again. It caught up to me. After Thanksgiving, my long, luxurious remission officially ended. I'm sick again. For real this time.
I met with my doctor the week school ended. I'm going to try Pentasa for a couple of weeks to see if it helps. With all of my holiday travels (and holiday tests of my stomach's maximum capacity), I'm not sure I've given it a fair shot yet. I think I will wait to the end of this week to determine whether or not it's working. I'm hoping I caught it early enough this time and I won't need anything more than a few pills.
Yesterday I held off on eating until 6:00pm, at which point I had a few rice cakes. My stomach is far more sensitive in the mornings so I decided a light snack at dinner time followed by stuffing my face when I get home at 11pm will probably work best. The problem is, the splitting headache I got in the middle of my late class. The school has a single restroom for the ladies and it is directly outside of our classroom. So you see my dilemma. Better to starve than to have to use that bathroom for an emergency. I'm hoping the Pentasa works. I'm not interested in the Humira vs The Insurance Company battle right now.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Day 186
I read a tweet this morning about Crohnies and extreme heat and it got me to thinking...
It's been hot here in New York. Really hot. For months (okay, more like a week). I "don't do well" in the heat. I haven't since I was young. I used to play softball in the summer and, while everyone else was doing just fine, my face would turn bright red and I would not be able to cool down. I remember jumping in the community pool after the games and feeling my face burn against the cool water. It would take me hours to return to normal.
Then there's now. We went to a photography school/gallery/cool, temporary space made from freight containers last weekend (http://photovillenyc.org/). The walk to the park wasn't so bad, but we ended up entering the wrong side of the park and walking in the sun for, I don't know, ten minutes? Now, I just want to say here, I am a walker. I live in New York. We walk and we walk fast. It's part of living here. On a normal day, a half hour walk wouldn't even phase me. But this day was hot. It was already in the 90s by 11:00am, and the humidity and sun were oppressive. By the time we got to the lecture I really thought for a few minutes that I was going to pass out. I got to the I'm-so-hot-I'm-cold point and thought that was it. I sat still and drank a bottle of water until I felt back to normal.
For the entirety of this heatwave, the news radio station I listen to has been constantly reminding listeners that the elderly and those who suffer from chronic illness should take extra care in this heat. It didn't occur to me that I belong in that category until today, until I read that tweet. I've been feeling so well for so long that I sometimes forget I have a chronic illness. It hadn't occurred to me that the headache I couldn't get rid of this week was heat related. Or that the heat is the reason I've been waking up in the morning feeling like I haven't slept a wink. Or that the heat is causing the joint inflammation that is causing the feeling that my shoulder bones are grinding together as I type this.
I have been staying indoors in the air conditioning and drinking gallons of water, but maybe it's not possible to totally avoid the effects of extreme heat. I walk around with a lot of pain a lot of the time, I think I'm just used to living with it. But sometimes we must surrender. The A/C is cranked up and I'm going to take a nap.
It's been hot here in New York. Really hot. For months (okay, more like a week). I "don't do well" in the heat. I haven't since I was young. I used to play softball in the summer and, while everyone else was doing just fine, my face would turn bright red and I would not be able to cool down. I remember jumping in the community pool after the games and feeling my face burn against the cool water. It would take me hours to return to normal.
Then there's now. We went to a photography school/gallery/cool, temporary space made from freight containers last weekend (http://photovillenyc.org/). The walk to the park wasn't so bad, but we ended up entering the wrong side of the park and walking in the sun for, I don't know, ten minutes? Now, I just want to say here, I am a walker. I live in New York. We walk and we walk fast. It's part of living here. On a normal day, a half hour walk wouldn't even phase me. But this day was hot. It was already in the 90s by 11:00am, and the humidity and sun were oppressive. By the time we got to the lecture I really thought for a few minutes that I was going to pass out. I got to the I'm-so-hot-I'm-cold point and thought that was it. I sat still and drank a bottle of water until I felt back to normal.
For the entirety of this heatwave, the news radio station I listen to has been constantly reminding listeners that the elderly and those who suffer from chronic illness should take extra care in this heat. It didn't occur to me that I belong in that category until today, until I read that tweet. I've been feeling so well for so long that I sometimes forget I have a chronic illness. It hadn't occurred to me that the headache I couldn't get rid of this week was heat related. Or that the heat is the reason I've been waking up in the morning feeling like I haven't slept a wink. Or that the heat is causing the joint inflammation that is causing the feeling that my shoulder bones are grinding together as I type this.
I have been staying indoors in the air conditioning and drinking gallons of water, but maybe it's not possible to totally avoid the effects of extreme heat. I walk around with a lot of pain a lot of the time, I think I'm just used to living with it. But sometimes we must surrender. The A/C is cranked up and I'm going to take a nap.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Day 169
Sometimes other peoples' pain overtakes me. The sadness eats my consciousness until I'm a bumbling half-a-brain fumbling through my day. Sadness replaces my appetite and my ambition. It's too much for me.
It can be a stranger on the street or a disaster half a world away. I have to stop myself from thinking about it or it will take over. There's so much everywhere. How does one avoid it?
A friend passed away yesterday. More of an acquaintance than a friend, I guess. Though I saw him five days a week for almost eight years, I can't say I knew him well. He was the quiet one of the group. Sometimes we talked about his fight against his own illness. I guess we had that in common, though his was potentially fatal and mine, not so much.
He died quietly in his sleep of a heart attack unrelated to the long battle he had fought which, by all accounts, he was winning. No one expected that he wouldn't wake up, too young, too healthy. It was a total shock to me when I found out this morning.
I can't say I understand why I can't get over it. Maybe I'm older now and I know what it means to lose someone. Maybe I know what his mother and siblings and nieces and nephews are feeling today. How hard it must have been for his closest co-workers who spent eight hours staring at an empty chair. Actually, I don't know. I know a fraction of their pain. I can't imagine what this feels like. Maybe that's why...
It can be a stranger on the street or a disaster half a world away. I have to stop myself from thinking about it or it will take over. There's so much everywhere. How does one avoid it?
A friend passed away yesterday. More of an acquaintance than a friend, I guess. Though I saw him five days a week for almost eight years, I can't say I knew him well. He was the quiet one of the group. Sometimes we talked about his fight against his own illness. I guess we had that in common, though his was potentially fatal and mine, not so much.
He died quietly in his sleep of a heart attack unrelated to the long battle he had fought which, by all accounts, he was winning. No one expected that he wouldn't wake up, too young, too healthy. It was a total shock to me when I found out this morning.
I can't say I understand why I can't get over it. Maybe I'm older now and I know what it means to lose someone. Maybe I know what his mother and siblings and nieces and nephews are feeling today. How hard it must have been for his closest co-workers who spent eight hours staring at an empty chair. Actually, I don't know. I know a fraction of their pain. I can't imagine what this feels like. Maybe that's why...
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