“Oh, the fickle nature of my life..”

Today was meant to be – it was – a great day.

I finally had my MRI scan at Heartlands this morning. After 5 more weeks of waiting, I’m done with this run of tests for my Crohn’s. I never want it done again, I despise Klean Prep with all my being. In all honest, it was a pleasantly weird experience; not as much fun as the CT scan (alot more uncomfortable, but that was mostly down to the breathing in and holding my breath I had to do) but interesting. A closed scanner, alot like a tunnel is not something in the normal realms for many people, so at least its another thing I can say I’ve had done.

This afternoon I met with my consultant for my 6 week clinic check up. I got my blood results back – CRP of 2 and Haemoglobin of 10.3 – and was weighted – back down to 8st 9 (HELL YES!) We discussed my return to work (a yes, as long as I don’t work my usual 40 hours week and take my fatigue seriously now) and other contributing factors to my treatment. I will be staying on Humira for the foreseeable future – to at least this December, if not into 2013 (which is a scary thing to say!) and if my symptom-less days grow into weeks, he will declare me in remission in 6 weeks time. Hopefully I can make it that far without any problems.

So, why am I not ecstatic as I was?

Mostly, it’s down to the aftermath of my MRI. ‘Mild’ laxative, my arse.

Some of it is to do with finally being done with tests and finally knowing my fate. Everything is so good, I had a little weep in the privacy of the bathroom earlier (thank goodness I removed my make up, panda eyes!) and since then, its been coming and going. Music on, messages of support coming through my phone, my lack of sleep, my aching muscles and bones.. all make me teary. It feels pathetic to be so weak and full of emotion, but I know most of it is just hormonal and natural; and to an extent, natural to feel something other than ‘strong’ too, but its all such an overwhelming feeling.

It makes me despise and hate my stupid body and its stupid knack of being wrong. I hate my disease, the bastard. I hate that I hate it. Crohns is my life and if I didn’t have Crohns I wouldn’t have my life. And I want my life. I want it bad. I fight every day to keep it here. It just so happens my body is more fickle than most. And acceptance of that, I feel, is going to take many many years…

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