On My Own, With No One Here Beside Me

I've been pretty independent as long as I can remember.  A little kid I'd sit and play by myself, or read, or pick at flowers and grass. I didn't need anyone to entertain me really. I had that DOWN.

As I got older this trend continued. My parents consider me very responsible, letting me go to our local playground without them before many of the other neighbourhood parents did the same.  Booya I have cool parents. 

I was babysitting by the time I was 10, and I had my first formal employment teaching kids gymnastics at age 13. Since then I've almost always had two part time jobs. I got my learners license the day I turned 16, I was EAGER to spend my birthday in the DMV if it meant more independence.

I moved out of my parents house when had just turned 18 to go into university residence and I never looked back. 

So what's the point? You may be asking yourself. Jack blogs about Crohn's, and chronic illness and some beauty related things. What is she rambling on about????

Is the fact that I have a lot of pride. Not like in that excessive way that religion says, more just like, I don't like to accept my own circumstances. When my Crohn's flares up, I lose a lot of my independence, and its one of the most frustrating things I have to deal with. 

Right now I'm pretty sick. So I've lost my ability to walk to work. So I either have to have my mom drive me, or take a cab. 

On weekends I come home to get my parents to help me with my laundry. 

My roommate and boyfriend help me cook and make sure I'm eating. 

I'm so lucky to have people in my life that care enough to support me through this, but damn I wish I could just do it myself. I feel like a burden and a constant pain to them, and if I could, I would be doing everything on my own. Believe me I would. I hate feeling like this. I feel like a little girl that can't take care of herself and that is so frustrating. 

I swear when I'm well again I'm going to be so independent. It'll be fantastic. 

 

Bums and Booze

"Are you allowed to drink on your medication?" "Um, not really, but whateverrrrr"

Crohnies are people. That's something that should seem like a total no brainer, but people forget that we like to have fun and mess around and feel normal. Sometimes, this involves alcohol. 

Before anyone gets their panties in a knot, I'm of legal drinking age in my country. Glad we got that sorted.

As normal as we like to feel, those of us who are dealing with a chronic illness do get affected by the sauce a little differently than others. 

I distinctly remember my sister making a comment to me the morning after I had been at a party: "Your poop smells like rum" I guess there was no hiding what I drank the night before. 

I'm not saying that drinking isn't dangerous. It totally is in large and frequent quantities. But just because you have a chronic illness, doesn't mean you can't enjoy the occasional cocktail. You totally can. We just have to be a little more careful about it. 

Pretty much me the next day. 

As someone with Crohn's disease, the hangover can be brutal. Throw the dehydration, weakness, headaches, and upset tummy out the window. We get the frisky whiskies, the rum runs and tequila bum a lot worse than the average person. They send us running to the cocktail cockpit to relieve ourselves. 

Some of our meds, conditions, and bodies can interfere with our processing of alcohol. Sometimes due to a lack of nutrition, rapid changes in weight or mood, can change our experience getting boozed up.    

 

I think the biggest thing for us to remember that our bodies go through a lot on a daily basis. The poor thing gets enough stress. Alcohol is difficult for ANYONE to process let alone someone who is being bombarded with heavy medications and treatments. It's just going to take an extra toll on our bodies than other people's. 

This has rarely stopped me from having a good time chugging away with my friends. Just because I have Crohn's doesn't mean I can't have a social life! I just have to be sensible and unafraid to have a social life without drinking when I need to.

Where Will You Be When Diarrhea Strikes

"You ok?" "Yeah, I just heard some unfriendly, very ominous sounding gurgles" 

You could be here...

Or here...

Or here....

Or God forbid here...

It could be here...

I think it happened to him here...

Those girls are in ignorant bliss....

It happened to Man's best friend here...





. . .

That's the same face I make.






Hope this brought some humour to our symptoms. Have a great day!

A Picture for Fun

"I love a good pun"

My Sanctuary and My Prison

"Where did Jack go?" "Bathroom" "Of course"

I've decided to dedicate this post to my relationship with bathrooms. We have a special bond, me and the water closet. It's difficult for me to go nearly anywhere new and not become acquainted with their facilities. 

For me, the bathroom is a sanctuary, somewhere where I go to relieve myself of horrible pain. I almost always feel better walking out than I do walking in. It's a place where it's just me, and my Crohn's. It's like our together time. A time where I can just be mad at it, mad at my body, mad at my life. Where I can pray to God to smite me or at least knock me out until the pain passes. I spend more time in the bathroom than anyone else I know. I go up to 12 times a day and can stay in there for up to 20 minutes at a time. THAT'S A LOT OF TIME TO SPEND IN THE LOO! 

OH BAYBEH

Without fail, if I disappear, I have gone to the bathroom. Hey, at least I'm easy to find!

My favourite bathrooms are in fancy restaurants and hotels. They're just the nicest and cleanest, sometimes having special soaps, lotions and perfumes or real towels to dry your hands with.

I'll take it!

But in a pinch, a dirty, grimy, hasn't-been-cleaned-or-maintained-in-8-years toilet can look like a gold encrusted throne to me. 

The relief I feel when I get into a bathroom is indescribable.

I made it! I think to myself. It's like a victory every time. 

So I've painted a pretty picture of what a bathroom is to me, and all of it is true, it's just not the whole truth. 

The other half of my relationships with bathrooms is that it's my imprisoned battleground. I always have to be near one. It's like a weird form of house arrest where moving between safe checkpoints is a nerve wracking and dangerous experience. Except instead of an ankle alarm sounding, my anxiety kicks up and nothing is enjoyable until I'm back in an acceptable radius of a restroom. 

A bit hyperbolic, but accurate metaphor

And then there is the experience of actually using the bathroom. For me, this means my worst pain. I always feel relieved when I get into a bathroom because it means I made it, but then I have to put my war face on and engage in open fire. (TMI?)

The pain is so bad that I almost throw up frequently, pray for mercy, and have a difficult time keeping from screaming in pain. Not to mention that in most public washrooms the loo paper is cheap, that the wiping is rough and unpleasant. 

When I feel the pain coming on, I also feel the dread No, please no. It's only been 45 minutes. I don't want to go back in there. No. It's going to hurt. No. Please no. 

And if I forget my iPhone? I don't even want to think about that! 

Pain Management

"You ok?" "Yeah, I'm just in a bit of pain"

I deal with a lot of pain. My worst pain comes right before I need to use the bathroom and while I'm in the bathroom. My worst pain is in my left lower quadrant. So essentially on the left side of my belly just under my belly button. Ouch.

I also get lower back pain, upper abdominal pain, lower right quadrant pain. 

Mmmmm comfy.

My pain lasts for hours.

So? How do I manage this?

Good question.

I find that heat is one of the best ways to sooth the burn. Ironically. 

Heating pads and hot showers are daily pain management techniques I use. which is good because well, I love to snuggle and I love to be clean.

When heat isn't enough we call in the pills.

Diss stuff. 

 Tylenol muscle and cramps or whatever it's called. It's my go to. I use it as needed. My GP told me to take as much tylenol as I need. SO... I do.

When that's not enough?

Well, I have a small prescription to a pretty strong pain killer that I take when the pain is completely unbearable. However, when I take it I'm not really supposed to drive, or operate heavy machinery (Do hair tools count?)

I never used a pain killer before I transitioned out of the children's hospital. No idea why, but that's just how it was.

I can't tell you how many times I've been told that I need to take up meditation to deal with my pain. I'm not hugely for this. 

The last thing I can do when I'm dry heaving my empty guts from the pain I'm feeling it try and clear my mind of all thoughts. Am I right?

Regardless, pain management is a daily thing that I do just to keep truckin.

Comment below with your pain management techniques if you have any!

Losing the Light

"No. I won't do it. Nope. You think you can get me on there. You can't"

In my last post, I casually mentioned that my low blood pressure caused me to faint a couple of times last summer.

Even though it was pretty dangerous and not at all good for me, one of the situations is kind of funny when I look back on it.

Thank god I have the ability to see humour in my life....

I totally am not this poised when I faint.

 So here is the story of me fainting in a hospital. 

Last summer as part of my over achieving lifestyle, I was volunteering at my local children's hospital as a research assistant in the pain research lab (ironic I know). 

On this particular day I hadn't been feeling well to begin with, but like the trooper I am I put on my dress and heels and went in anyway. 

I was with another member of the lab down in the I.T. department, trying to get my hospital email account set up when it started to hit me. At first I just felt a little weak, so I thought I would be ok as long as I got to sit down relatively soon. 

I didn't. The lady working in the I.T. department was quite the chatterbox and kept talking...

My head started to swim Oh god. I thought. This is it. This is it. This is the end!  

I felt sick to my stomach and crouched down on the floor, luckily my co-researcher saw that I was less than feeling well and got me a chair. 

After I sat down I deteriorated, I got really dizzy, I was sweaty, shaky, the typical symptoms of being about to faint.  

Then, they called a Code Blue. In our hospitals this means cardiac arrest. It's what they call when someone goes unconscious. I wasn't fully out, but I was about a hair away from it.

Doctors came barreling in with a crash cart and started bombarding me with questions. When you're about to pass out, it's hard to answer questions about your medical history. 

They asked me if I was diabetic, and I couldn't answer, all I could think about was how my ex-boyfriend was diabetic and how I hated him. Nice Jack. 

Finally, I managed to eek out that I had Crohn's, and I think things started to make sense to the crash cart team. They kept taking care of me, and finally brought me back to a full conscious state. Then they asked me how old I was. I was 18. Too old for the children's hospital!

It's not my fault. I'm kind of small, I'm only 5'2 (on a good day), I have a small frame (I'm a lady, I'm not sharing my weight) and I have a baby face. So they had assumed I was a child patient...WOOOOW.

So next they called me an ambulance to bring me to the adult hospital. I was unaware they did this until the paramedics showed up. Rather than being grateful and concerned for my health, I had a .... different reaction to this. 

Ambulances are expensive, my Oma has had to take a couple and it's been a lot to pay for.

My initial reaction was complete and utter refusal. I was borderline rude to them. "I'm not getting in. You can't make me. I'm fine. I'm not getting in there. I'm not going. I'll walk. No. I'm not getting on that ambulance" 

Truthfully, I was a little kooky from almost passing out, and wasn't thinking very clearly....

They ended up having to call my mother who forced me to get in the ambulance after I almost passed out again while arguing with the paramedics. 

I got to the ER of the adult hospital and dealt with it all, but when looking back, I must have seemed like a total nutcase to the paramedics. 

I hope I'm not the only one who has had crazy experiences like this. 

To the paramedics....I'm sorry.