August 2017

Boy oh boy, August, you have been hellish.

I had planned on having some annual leave and spending some time back home in the Midlands, but my body had other ideas.

It started in Mid-July as just some uncomfortable abdominal pan after eating so I didn’t think it was too serious; I altered my diet and drank more fluids, took it easier. But it did not let up, not at all. I had to seek some medical attention: which was hard when youre in the middle of transferring your IBD care from one hospital to another.

I had several admissions, got some help and saught some answers. I left me with more questions, left feeling more confused and lost. I came home and saught more help from my original IBD medical team but things were slow there too. I was loosing my fight and my will to want to get better. I spent all of the month off sick from work; worrying I was being a bad employee. Spent a lot of time feeling guilty for being the sick daughter / girlfriend / friend yet again, let alone my own guilt for getting sick again. I worried I had done this to myself and I was a bad patient and ostomate.

 

August’s for me are always fraught with medical battles, every single year. This year’s has been challenging but nothing compared to the hell of last year leading up to my ostomy surgery.

 

September, it’ll be better, I’m sure of it.

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