Today I went from being extraordinarily happy, to crying so hard I’m gasping for breath and can’t stop my nose from running. The trigger? A stupid movie about colon cancer. At the same time as feeling sorry for myself and proud of myself, I KNOW it could be so much worse. And I kind of hate it. I don’t want to put it into perspective, I want to mope and feel sorry for myself. I don’t want to be okay with being sick just because it could be worse.
But it’s bad enough. So this, is my sob story. Crohns disease might not be cancer, it’s not as cruel as Mndisease and I’m not going to die. But its my disease and it defines me and I hate it. What I find hardest, harder even than actually being sick is that crohns disease is about poo. There is an inescapable stigma attached with telling someone that you shit out a hole in your stomach, that you discovered you were sick because you shat blood until you were so tired you could barely walk. Instead, it becomes an ‘immune disorder’ that I discovered because I ‘lost weight’. I lost weight because I had dihoerrea for 2 years. Because I had to sit on a toilet and vomit into my lap, unable to make it between the toilet and the sink. I don’t show you my stomach because “I have a scar”. Actually, I walk around with a bag of faeces stickytaped to me. Wanna see it?
Sometimes I forget I hate it. Or it doesn’t seem that bad. Then I crack. Sorry for cracking.