I thought FOR SURE I would be in remission by now. My doc gave me steroids on Friday, and the 'roids have always calmed down my gut and kicked me into remission. Not this time. I am extremely frustrated but also pretty nervous. The 'roids aren't working and I feel like something is wrong.
I already told you about Friday and Saturday's escapades. Well, unfortunately, Sunday was no better. I had about 15-20 episodes on Sunday. I was very nauseous, weak, and definitely didn't want to eat anything! I forced myself to drink an 8 oz can of "unflavored" Peptamen. Let me tell you, Peptamen is disgusting. I have found that if I put it in a water bottle with a "squirt" top it is a little easier to handle. I still can't help the uncontrollable contortion my face makes after I take a sip. It's just that gross. I'm not sure how to describe the taste, but can tell you that it tastes kinda like metal (whatever metal tastes like). And I thought evaporated milk was bad! Please!
Well today I've managed to have thirteen episodes so far. I'm weak, tired, dizzy, the list could go on and on. Maybe I had a small glimpse of hope that with my lack of eating I would get better. Well, I haven't, and that's why I'm concerned. I'm just losing straight blood. It looks like crushed up bloody oatmeal (I'm just trying to keep it real and tell y'all how it is). But I shouldn't have any substance coming out, that's the problem! I haven't eaten anything! You know, it's days like this I feel like like giving up. I feel like throwing my hands up in the air or burying my face into my hands and just completely breaking down. I was doing everything right before this relapse. I was so careful about everything. I was eating healthier than anybody I've ever known, was exercising regularly, getting plenty of sleep, wasn't stressing out (too much)...and I still relapsed! I mean seriously, what gives?
I'm not going to give up, though at times it does seem quite tempting. I can't tell you how many times I've just wanted a piece of pizza these past few weeks. I'm not going to give up because I constantly remind myself of the sacrifice my father made for me on December 29th, 2007. My father walked nineteen miles in eleven degree weather in the mountains of New Mexico. Let me tell you something about my dad. He is 270 lbs and six feet tall. He's also from Arizona. Walking nineteen miles in the mountains in eleven degree weather wasn't exactly a walk in the park for him. But he did it for me. He made a sacrifice for me so that I will eventually be healed or stabilized. He pledged a "Manda" for me at the Chimayo Sanctuary. I had no clue what a Manda was or even what the meaning of true faith really was until December 29th.
Manda [Mahn'-dah], f. 1. Offer, proposal. 2. Legacy or donation left by virtue of the last will.
~Velazquez Spanish and English Dictionary
My dad went forth with a personal sacrifice in hopes that God would heal me. And He will. Just not yet. None of us really know what God has in store for our lives. I don't understand why He has chosen this path in life for me, but I have now learned to welcome it and just give up total control and trust that things will get better. I have no control over the war in my gut. I've done what I could and the rest is up to God. And I know I will get better. That's it. It's taken nearly two years for me to get to this point, but I'm here now. That's what matters.
"Learned quick, knew what to say
Then three Angels walked my way
In Spanish tongue they knelt to pray
And said, "God keep him safe
From screaming voices"
They became my family
Outstretched their hands are on my head
You know, I can feel them breathing
They actually knelt down and prayed for me
They actually knelt down and prayed for me"
~HRSA by Blue October