My sicko sucks. Plain and simple, sucks! I'm tired of not knowing. I'm tired of waking up feeling okay and having the day turn into a small hell on earth. Although I personally believe any kind of illness really is its own sort of hell on earth. The worst part is that even when a person wakes up feeling okay the illness is still there. Last Saturday turned into one of those hell days for me. I woke up feeling my usual, okay. I sat with Richie goofing off as we usually do and all of the sudden I got really tired like I could have gone back to bed. Weird but I pushed through it because we were going to breakfast and the farmers market for fresh produce. You have to take advantage of this time of year in Michigan because it is such a short time. We made it to breakfast, ate, and headed to the market. As we were walking in the market, BAM, I thought to myself here it comes my IBS. I eat I pay that's just how it is for me but this seemed different. My colon was spasming out on me. I hardly made it through the market but I made it, forcing myself through and telling myself I could do it. I hate being the one who wrecks things for everyone else like a bad party crasher. We got in the truck and I told myself we will be home soon which in reality was probably a twenty minute drive but when you are in misery and away from home self talk is critical. When I get sick like that it is hard to talk or process what other people are saying. I kept my eyes home and continued the self talk. Closer, closer, ahhh we are home. There's no place like home takes on a whole new meaning when you are a sicko. I made it! I can't tell you how many times I have said that to myself after suffering in misery. I was so wore out from the pain I had to go lay in bed. As I have said before that is never on my agenda no matter what. Bed is for night sleep and I will not give into using my bed other than for night but this time I had no choice. I slept a few hours and felt somewhat better. Today is Wednesday, four days later, and I am still not feeling like my normal sick but better than I was. I am thankful for that!
Then comes the after effects and I'm not talking the physical ones but the mental ones. The questions of why this happened. You see, when you are a sicko you are always trying to figure out why new or reacurring suffering happens. What caused this? I have been going over this in my head since. Was it because I ate out and there was a lot of grease in my omelette? Maybe. Was it because I'm not use to getting up and getting out of the house so fast? I doubt that one but it could be. Was it because I refilled my arthritis medication and it was a different manufacturer this time? This is the main cause in my mind. I am extremely sensitive to medications and something as simple as the same pill made by a different manufacturer can set me off. That's another thing with us sickos we are nothing like the real world when it comes to almost anything. I always present differently than the healthy world when it comes to illnesses. Sickos are often called zebra's in the medical field where the rest of the patient population are considered horses. We are different. Believe me we feel like zebra's too and we hate it but it is what it is. I'm still not certain as to what happened Saturday and I fear this is a new issue I may have to deal with. I hope not and I pray this was a one time thing. If I have to add this to my list of physical problems I'm not sure how I will deal with it. It's hard being a sicko and the worst part is days like last Saturday scare you. Wondering if it will happen again and where you might be can eat you alive. It makes it so hard to live a normal life. Most of the time I am able to choose where I want to go if I have to leave the house but other times there are events a sicko cannot avoid. What happens when a sicko becomes ill at one of those events? I try not to do that to myself but this is real. Real for me anyways. It makes life hard to live. My anxiety starts to kick in and I have to bring myself back down to reality. The acceptance. I have to use that self talk that if it happens I will deal with it when it does. The main reason I don't go to many places without Rich. He saves me at times like those. The other day riding home from the market I could hear him say, "We are almost home," a few times. I can't imagine how I would have driven home in that state of suffering but I'm thankful I didn't have to.
Today I have to take this chapter, close the book, and put it on the shelf. It's over and life goes on. This sicko goes on and this will only make me stronger! I have to believe that.
God Bless!
Dianne
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