Hope In Vacations

I can’t say I’m entirely thrilled to be back home in -23 degree mornings (yes, that is a negative 23 temperature), but man, I missed the privacy of my own bathroom and only having to share it with one other person. Little blessings.

Vacation was different this year. This was my first non-sick/IBD related day off from work in over a year and a half. You could say I was looking forward to it. I wasn’t even realizing that this was my first vacation with my IBD. The thought did not even cross my mind at all. I was thinking of sun, and sand and not having to think about anything else but just relaxing and doing whatever I wanted. I still had the mentality that vacation was going to be about lounging and laughing and eating and drinking and just letting go.

At my infusion before we left for vacation.
At my infusion before we left for vacation.

My infusion was the Friday before we left, and we were driving to avoid the chance of me getting sick with my immunities being so low right after the remicade (we both came back home with colds anyway) and my fiance drove the whole trip. I was nauseated a couple of times and had some cold sweats but mostly got through okay. Absolutely no urgency. We stayed overnight in Georgia so I could get a goods night sleep and be in full vacation mode when we arrived on Sunday. I think part of me was thinking that not only do I have time away from work and obligations, but part of me kind of thought I was going to be on vacation from this disease as well.I was so ready for Sunday and to be feeling better. As we were driving in to FL and a few miles away from the house, we had the windows down and the sunshine filtering in and it all felt wonderful. I closed my eyes and felt the wind come through the window onto my face and just smiled, feeling so grateful that I was well enough to be there.

The first couple of days were great. We went fishing and relaxed, went out to the everglades and just did whatever we wanted. I was still seeing some blood, but I wasn’t in any pain or too concerned, just waiting for the remicade to do what it needed to and watching what I ate to try to avoid anything I knew triggered a flareup before. I smuggled my own Ketchup in my purse. I don’t drink anymore because it triggers inflammation for me, but I was able to find some iced coffee everywhere and was a happy girl.

Every time my fiance and I have previously been to Florida on vacation, we usually spend a night at an oyster bar filling up on ketchup and horseradish and crackers and beer. It’s one of my favorite memories on our first vacation together, sitting on the patio with a corona and oysters, laughing and carrying on without a care in the world.
We went out to one oyster bar on our 4th or 5th night there, and I ended up breaking down. Reading over the menu, there was a large warning specific to “persons with autoimmune diseases” that eating the raw oysters may cause severe illness or even death.
Oh.
I never thought I would cry over oysters. Or in public. At a restaurant of all places. It was like a scene from a stupid cheesy movie when the waitress comes over to ask for your order an you’re trying to pretend like somethings in your eye. Sometimes I just get so tired of this disease surprising me. And on vacation?! Vacation is where you’re supposed to leave all your problems behind, right?
As I sat quietly through dinner of french fries and my smuggled Ketchup I tried really hard not to let the tears drop down my face. I just wanted a vacation. A vacation like I remembered. Like I used to have.
When we left the restaurant, I cried for a little while though I really didn’t want to. And then I asked my fiance to help me redefine vacation. If vacation wasn’t going to be what it used to be, I needed to change the way I thought about it.
I can’t take a vacation from my disease. It’s part of me, and I can’t neglect to take precautions, take medications, and take care of myself. Even for just a little while. I can, however, go to the beach. I can take walks to wherever. I can put my toes in the water. I can walk on the pier. I can drink coffee. All kinds of coffee. And smoothies. I can do yoga. On the beach. I can go visit old trees, and get close to alligators. I can eat strawberries fresh off the farm. I can watch the sunset. I can make the most of what I’ve been given, and not focus on what I’m unable to do.

This vacation helped me realize that many things are still going to need to be redefined in my life in the future. I’m still mournful there are things I used to be able to do but choose not to do now because they make my quality of life lower due to the disease I have. It’s not easy to give up some of my favorite things. The letting go allows something else to be discovered, however, and I know that there’s more out there for me to find. I’m grateful that I was given the opportunity to try some of these things once before, and that I have memories of those moments to call on and relive when I want to. This vacation reminded me of what a gift my life is, and what a gift each moment is. I really never know if there will be a next time. Neither do you. Hopefully, I can remember that more often.

Here I am, focusing on what I can do:  a bridge in front of a tree that is over 150 years old.
Here I am, focusing on what I can do: a bridge in front of a tree that is over 150 years old.
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Hope Warrior-Headbands of Hope

You guys. This charity is awesome. Not only do you get a pretty awesome flower headband for yourself, you get to send a flower headband to a little girl that is battling cancer, and the site donates a dollar for every headband purchased to a child cancer research charity!
I found Headbands of Hope on Instagram @headbandsofhope and was immediately inspired, and the youtube video in their about section talks about how everything starts with a spark! Exactly how I feel about the power of hope. Just a little spark can have so much power.
You can find out a little bit more about the founder on her blog here:

 

Go buy a headband! Or two! http://www.headbandsofhope.com

I bought these:

Flower Crowns

The Paleo Partridge- Hope Warrior

Thanks for tuning in this Wednesday folks!

Have you met the Paleo Partridge? AKA Martine? She is an amazing lady who creates some delicious AIP recipes to help ease her IBD, and makes many other tastebuds happy as well! Martine battles Crohn’s Disease, another inflammatory bowel disease that can cause some nasty pain and symptoms. But she’s a warrior and fights it with a positive attitude and is super relatable in her posts. She’s also been very encouraging to me personally as I battled my last flare, and her support was/is so appreciated still.  Check out her website www.thepaleopartidge.com . You can also find her on instagram posting mouth watering dishes and gorgeous shots of her travels @the_paleo_partridge. Get to know the Paleo Partridge below! Thanks for answering some questions for me, Martine. You’re the best!

martine

What is the number one thing you’ve learned about since your diagnosis?

I’m stubborn, doggedly so. This can be a weakness as much as it can be a strength, and I realize that while being obstinate about certain things-like your health-can bring great outcomes, it can also become a negative force. So it’s very much a process. (haha! Just ask my near and dear). I will say, though, I’m so proud of the determination I’ve exercised when it comes to my physical, mental and emotional wellbeing-I’ve made leaps and bounds progress and feel healthier than I ever have since my diagnosis of Crohn’s Disease.

When were you diagnosed?

I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease at 15. Goodness! It’s hard to believe it’s been a couple decades since that diagnosis.

What are you current medications/what lifestyle changes have you made to treat your IBD?

I currently take Humira 40 mg every two weeks as well as on-and-off Cipro and Cortifoam (a rectal steroid) for stubborn perianal Crohn’s. I started following a paleo lifestyle about eight months ago and implemented the autoimmune paleo (AIP) protocol four months ago with some unsuccessful attempts at reintroductions of eggs and nuts. So now I follow AIP for the long haul, and that is A-OK by me because I’m feeling fantastic.

For some people, medication is enough, but I’m not one of those people. On conventional treatments but without paleo and AIP, I struggle with abdominal pain and cramping, painful abscesses that drain causing fistulas, chronic anemia, zero energy, joint pain and horribly high inflammatory markers.

I’m so grateful to have found out about AIP because it eliminates all of those horrible symptoms. I don’t experience the constant problems with abscesses, and my blookwork has improved so much. I’m especially excited about consistently keeping my C-Reactie Protein (a sensitive inflammatory marker) in the normal range. I’m also ecstatic that my iron levels recently came back up on their own without the need of an infusion.

(THIS IS SO AWESOME TO HEAR!!)

How do you keep your mental health intact while dealing with the symptoms/changes of the disease?

Looking after my emotional and mental wellbeing has been the most challenging aspect of having a chronic illness. And even though I’ve been battling autoimmunity for so long I’ve only recently made progress in maturing my heart and mind.

About a year ago I found a Certified Hakomi Therapist (CHT) and worked very hard with her for several months in order to learn to love all of me, cranky colon included! I spent years loathing the part of my body affected by Crohn’s which means I spent those years actually hating a good part of me because I viewed the diseased part of my body as an invader, a betrayer and a monster. My therapist helped me learn to nurture and love my large intestine, which led to an incredible inner peace and calm as well as a feeling of wholeness, which had been missing since my diagnosis as a teenager.

What do you struggle with most? What are you doing to overcome it?

I still struggle with keeping my emotions in check, specifically I fight against negative thought patterns and anxiety related to the daunting permanency of an autoimmune diagnosis and the trauma of bad (and sad) memories related to suffering with this disease.

In order to keep all of that in check and not slip back into my old habits of self-loathing, I maintain a regular practice of yoga and meditation. The movement of body and mind augmented by breath is tremendously therapeutic and calming; it helps me regain focus and not allow that antagonism between body and mind emerge again. I’m so grateful for my practice of yoga and meditation; the practice has changed my life and I don’t know where I’d be without it.

Any advice for the newly diagnosed?

Hold your head up high. Don’t let IBD or any disease rob you of your self-worth. You are an amazing human being! Be proactive. Educate yourself. Work with the medical professionals to find a treatment-conventional, alternative, or both- that works best for you.

Rules to live by?

Never let the disease define you, you are so much more than the diagnosis. Oh, and prioritize sleep-get your eight hours, kids! 🙂

Quote you turn to when you need to be uplifted:

Hmmmm….this often changes, but I usually write down an affirmation for the month on a sticky note and put it on my computer. This month’s affirmation: “Your dream doesn’t have an expiration date. Take a deep breath and try again.” I love that! It keeps me focused and hopeful.

Music/Song:

Anything by Vampire Weekend- I totally dig every single track on every one of their albums (yep, I’m a fan-girl). Also, can I just say Stephen Paige (formerly of Barenaked Ladies) has the most awesome voice ever, and I crush on him regularly.

Go to Snack when flaring:

Roasted chicken and well-cooked mashed carrots with a big dollop of coconut oil, yummy cozy, soothing, low-residue comfort food.

Activity that lifts your spirits:

Yoga, yoga, and yoga. Meditation. Also dancing to a good beat! 🙂

Your philosophy/mantra that you’d like others to know about you:

I like to remain curious and thoughtful about the world because if you’re bored, you’re boring. And that’s just not cool.

Mangia Paleo-Hope Warrior

On Wednesdays we meet warriors. This idea of sparking a little more hope in the world isn’t just something I can always find from within myself. I’ve found that the spark grows more when there are others out there you can draw inspiration from, relate to, who provide a sense of humor, a little support and a whole lot of light when you’re reaching for the stars in the darkness.
Laura and I were diagnosed with ulcerative colitis close to the same time, and her Instagram (@mangiapaleo – follow her!) account displaying how she was using food as medicine to fight her disease into remission was so reassuring to me. Plus she displays the best sense of humor and doesn’t hide about the difficulties and frustrations the disease can cause. When we could laugh about poop together, even through cell phone screens and laptops hundreds of miles apart, I knew I had found an IBD (inflammatory bowel disease) family member. I wouldn’t have gotten through my hospital stay with a good attitude and faced recovery without having her cheers and healing vibes.
So meet Laura, a true IBD Warrior. She has some great recipes and info about ulcerative colitis on her blog as well!

@mangiapaleo

What’s the number one thing you’ve learned about yourself since your diagnosis?

I’ve learned that I am more resilient than I would have ever known. It also surprised me that I took a negative diagnosis and turned it into something that, hopefully, instills inspiration and strength in others.

I think you definitely do that with all of your efforts. When were you diagnosed?
March 2013

What are your current medications/what lifestyle changes have you made to treat your IBD?
Immediately after my diagnosis I began the paleo diet lifestyle. My diet excludes grain, gluten, dairy, legumes, sugar and anything processed. I am currently taking a maintenance drug but do not believe it contributes positively to my health-or at all. *shrug* My diagnosis was just last spring, so I’m still experimenting with what I can and can’t eat or do with my ulcerative colitis.

How do you keep your mental health intact while dealing with the symptoms/changes from the disease?

A huge part of why I stay strong is my accountability from my blog. I feel a sense of purpose when I post new recipes or health information. Upon being diagnosed I also believe I was given an obligation to raise awareness and help others in their journey. Being an advocate for IBD is a reminder that I am in control of my disease and that my diagnosis brought me to a healthier way of living.

What do you struggle with the most? What are you doing to overcome it?

My independence is something I really value, but I can get lonely occassionally. My friends and famiy have been an amazing support, but sometimes you just want someone to surprise-pack a healthy lunch for your or ask how your day was and give you a hug when you come home.
Having IBD is one of those diseases where it is easy to seclude yourself and believe that no one understands what you are going through. But I have overcome that by speaking out about it.
Since I have been very open, honest and candid about my disease I have met some amazing people through my journey. You’d be surprised how many people/acquaintances in your life have Crohn’s an colitis!

Any advice for the newly diagnosed?

I have 3 pieces of advice:
Even though you may not feel like it, you are in control. You own your body.
Do your research on health and nutrition.
Talk about it. Raise awareness and help the average person better understand our illness. It’s a great way to build a network of support, too.

Rules to live by?
Always bite your tongue when you hear someone without IBD tell you they have a stomach ache. Oh, and eat clean and get plenty of sleep!

Quote you turn to when you need to be uplifted:
“Every day may not be goo, but there is something good in every day.”

Love it! Musice/Song: “Three Little Birds”- Bob Marley
I also have a short Spotify playlist called “IBD Flare.”

Go to snack when flaring: Bone broth and roasted carrots with turmeric and ginger.

Activity that lifts your spirits: Cooking, CrossFit, and doing anything outside in beautiful weather.

Your philosophy/mantra that you’d like others to know about you:
I always keep my sense of humor.

WORLD IBD DAY- Hope in the Beatles

In honor of world IBD day and in honor of my 28th trip around the sun today, I’m reposting one of my favorite posts about my IBD story. I will never forget how this disease makes me feel. I will never stop being grateful, and letting others know they aren’t alone.

Been doing a lot of listening to the Beatles and anything on the Beatles Pandora station lately.

Here Comes the Sun always brings me to tears. Good tears. Something about the smiles returning to the faces, it seems like years since they’ve been here. I can feel that. And it’s such a good feeling.

Man, this last month has been…not describable in one word. Not really describable in one post either, which is why I haven’t been sitting and writing lately. Shame, shame, for I really wish I would have documented more. But I remember. I remember sleeping, or trying to sleep sitting propped up on my mom’s couch with a million blankets, only to throw them all off of me to sprint to the bathroom 6-7 times a night. Laying there with my hands hovering over my stomach, praying and pleading with God to make the cramping pain just stop so I could sleep. I remember feeling such loss and loneliness every time my boyfriend would go home after coming to visit me, just wanting so badly to feel better and be there with him, helping him with the purchase of our new home and packing and moving and just wanting my life back.

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

I remember the look of exasperation on my mom’s face when I wasn’t getting better, and the look of love as she made all of my meals to try and get some nutrition in me, and her talking to me about how important it is to have faith, and God would get me through this, He would answer our prayers. I remember her sitting in the car and praying with me for good news before we went in to my colonoscopy. Praying for answers, for results, for improvements. I remember her telling me that I will get better. That I’m an overcomer. And telling me it’s okay to cry. It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength. I remember her packing my hospital bag, buying random items from the gift shop to make me smile, taking care of my dog and bringing me water or pedialyte or blankets whenever I needed it.

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

I remember my dad sitting by my bedside in the atrociously uncomfortable hospital chairs. All day. Every day I was at the hospital that he could be there. Even when I was just sleeping. I remember how tired he looked. How he drove around aimlessly and prayed for answers, and pondered unanswerable questions with me. What causes this disease? Why do I have it? What are we going to do about it? When am I going to be better? How can we get other people to understand this? What’s the bigger meaning beyond this? I remember him going for walks with me down the hall, and joking with the nurses.

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here

I remember the nurses. The good ones mostly. But I also remember the one that blew up my vein when giving me a steroid infusion. And the one that said I was admitted for IBS. (IBS and IBD are two different ailments, one is a syndrome and one is a disease with no cure). I remember Jim, my favorite night nurse from  my first hospital stay at the beginning of the month, making jokes and giving advice on how to talk to the doctors to make sure I was heard. I remember on my second hospital stay, him coming to tell me hospital ghost stories and making jokes while I was getting emotional from the steroids and just not having any answers or improvement. I remember my favorite day nurse Jannell with her poufy hair and outspoken voice, telling me that I was one of the sickest patients she’s ever had, calling me Jack and telling me stories. I remember waking up to her Sunday morning telling me I needed blood asap and we were going to be doing a blood transfusion today. I remember being scared and sad and she told me everything was going to be okay, that she would be here the whole time and that I had choices. That it was going to be a good thing and she would be there the whole time.

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

I remember the changes in the medications. The discharges. The parasite. The antibiotics. The stomach acid burning. The we’re going to do remicade. The no we can’t do remicade until you’re stable. The phone calls from my doctors cell phone that I needed to make myself available to be admitted to the hospital. The colonoscopy that was useless because I was too inflamed. The TB test that was incomplete because I didn’t have a baseline to compare it to my immune system was so shot. The chest x ray. The blood draws. The IV team being called because I have terrible veins. Baby needles. Poke after poke after poke after poke. The waking up to check vitals. Low blood pressure, high heart rate, danger of organ failure. Blood loss. Cramping. Tears. Weight loss. Worry. Treatment plan change. New doctor. Infectious disease specialist. Lifelong medications. Steroid infusions. Steroid pills. Night sweats. Sharing a bathroom with other patients. Not making it to the bathroom on time. IV poles. Unable to stand in the shower on my own. Passing out while buying dog food. Collapsing on the stairs into the house when my legs gave out from under me. Shaking. Scared.

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

I remember the night my boyfriend came to visit me at my mom’s house in the evening. I remember when he looked me in the eye and told me “I need you to get better. Now. I miss you.” I remember his text messages telling me that he was always going to be here, that even though I am sick now, and not to undermine my illness, but this is part of life and we will get through it together. That he’s going to be there for me in the good times and the bad. That we’re a good team and when one of us needs the other one to be strong we balance each other out. I remember getting strength just from holding his hand. I remember just being held in his arms when I was able to move into our new home. Just being so grateful to have time together, to be able to have our new home, to relax and to heal and to make memories and be together. I remember sitting outside and crying just tears of joy at how lucky and blessed I am to be here and able to experience these moments of love and to just feel happiness.

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear

I remember the prayers. I remember my grandma coming to visit me at my mom’s house and crying on the couch with me. I remember her telling me that she does her walks in the basement and says her prayers. That she won’t stop, ever. I remember my aunts sending prayers and prayer chains and being on church lists. My grandma’s brother even did a whole sermon on me. I remember the novelas, my grandma praying every hour on the hour for my healing. Saying she won’t give up. I remember the prayers and visits and emails and texts from wonderful friends that I now consider family, bringing laughter and cheer and Golden Girls cards and books and magazines, and just checking in daily to see how I’m doing, sending pictures and memories past to bring smiles. I remember the encouragement from social networks, people I have never met before praying and sending kind thoughts and positive vibes. The power of prayers. And they were answered.

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
It’s all right, it’s all right

I remember getting discharged and my mom wheeling me out to the car to my waiting dog, and how he put his head right on my shoulder and just hugged me. I remember being weak and unable to walk through the grocery store, riding an amigo to get food. I remember sleeping and sleeping. I remember the first infusion. And the naps afterwards. And the feeling better the next day. Feeling stronger every single day. Doing a little more each day. I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to lose sight of the beauty of this life. Because it is so beautiful. There is so much to be thankful for. I know that sick days can come again. I don’t have control over when this can happen. It’s not my plan, it’s His. But I do know that what I can do right now, is shine like the sun. And share love. And light. and hope with the rest of the world. Because it’s there. You just have to believe it.

Here comes the sun. It’s all right. 20140531_210240

 

Hope in Being a Warrior

“I am not the victim of the world I see.” 

-A Course In Miracles

 

I haven’t posted much in the last week because I was scared I’d start delving into the negative instead of staying above the water. I refuse to become a victim of this disease. I would rather be a survivor. But it’s been challenging this last week. So I’m going to acknowledge these negatives as what they are, and move on. Ignoring them is not good, and dwelling on them doesn’t do anything either. So bear with me as I exhale and let out what’s been going on this last week. I promise it will end on a light note.

 I had one full day of work on Wednesday but was unable to attend any of the other days since last Thursday when I left because I almost had an accident. I work in a call center and if I have a sense of urgency, it’s not simply so easy to run to the bathroom when someone is on the other line and you can’t place them on hold. In that instance, I made it but I went home immediately after. I’m scared for Monday. I’m starting to feel a little better and the bathroom trips are lower, but it still scares me. It felt like failure. I’m a good worker. I can do my job well, and I know I have opportunities for advancement. But I have to take time away for myself to heal, and because I am incapable to doing my job fully while I’m flaring. It felt like weakness. Aside from the embarrassment of letting it all go with a coworker in the stall next to you. But I’m pretty much over that. Judge me, please. At this point, grossing someone out from the symptoms of my disease is barely a blip on my radar. Yeah, I’ll blush and be embarrassed, but I would never wish this on them. So let them think whatever they so chose.  

This is the first time I have ever been this sick. There has been blood in the toilet for the last year, but the bleeding and cramping and weight loss and sever flare has never occurred until these last 3 weeks. So the reality of it all has hit.  I have an autoimmune disease. My body attacks itself, in my case my large intestine which causes it to inflame and creates bleeding ulcers. I have a leaky gut and my body is having a hard time absorbing nutrients. I’m on hospital watch until this Thursday, if I show any declining further in health I am to go straight to the emergency room. Talk about scary stuff. And the steroids that I tried so hard to avoid are part of my hope in healing. My back and hips ache like I have the flu and I look like a ghost. However, the emotions are not as bad as I thought they would be, so far at least. I cry at commercials, or songs, but I haven’t over-reacted or had any rage attacks. I cried for a good thirty minutes the other day, but I would call those legitimate tears at the frustration of this disease, not steroid induced. 

I haven’t been able to get out and do anything much beyond going to the grocery store for toilet paper and soup bones or going to my moms. I’m scared to go out further in public because my auto immune system is shot. My roommate has been sneezing and I’ve been spraying lycsol on every surface I can find. I’m terrified that a cold will send me to the ER. I had to cancel tea with friends for the same reasons, also due to the fact that I need to be near a bathroom at all times. Or at least near enough to run to it. Like I could run. My weight hasn’t been this low since middle school. My boyfriend says you can’t see it, but he can feel it when he hugs me. Just a little more bones. 

So, what do you do when you look in the mirror and just see a sick person looking back at you?

You see something else. 

Yes. I have an autoimmune disease. But I am more than my disease. 

I am strong. This disease will not keep me down because I am a fighter and I will keep getting back up. 

How am I fighting? 

I’m resting. I’m reflecting. I’m researching. I’m accepting. I’m changing. 

I took the time I needed from work to allow my body to heal and to avoid as much stress as possible. This is not weakness like I wanted to think originally. This is empowerment. I acknowledged that my body was not capable in that moment, and took the time away to allow it to heal as much as possible. This will allow me to come back and continue to do my job well instead of making myself worse. This is okay. 

When I was told that I am on hospital watch, it was shocking. I knew I was sick, but hadn’t really accepted it until that point. After being sent straight to the lab for testing, I went home and did a little reflecting on myself. This is real. I’ve made some adjustments over the last year to deal with this disease, but at this point, I need to say goodbye to my old lifestyle and start opening my heart to a new one. I spent that evening praying. Perhaps this is my second chance to do whatever it is that I’m supposed to do while I’m here. Perhaps this is my reminder that I’m here to share love with the world. It’s my second chance to do what I was made for. To fulfill a purpose. Perhaps the path I’m taking is the wrong one and I need to hop off of it for a while. Perhaps there are many better things waiting for me to discover. 

So, I’m making some small changes and doing a lot of reflecting. i’m saying goodbye to the things that don’t serve me any more. To taking days for granted.  And I’m saying hello to good health, to love, laughter and happiness. I’m saying goodbye to being a victim, and I’m saying hello to being a warrior. I know this won’t be easy. It will take constant effort to remind myself that I am more than this disease. I am not just an ulcerative colitis patient. I am a young woman who enjoys being with friends and family, practicing yoga, helping others, playing and snuggling her dog, reading, writing, exploring, learning and so many more things she doesn’t know about yet. And yes, I happen to also be battling an autoimmune disease. . 

How do you keep your disease from defining you?

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Hope in My Body

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For the May Cause Miracles that I am reading, day 18’s affirmation is I am thankful for my body. This was a challenge for me today.

Today marks one year since I have been diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. April 17th, 2013. And I’m worse than I have ever been. I’ve lost 7 pounds in the past few days. The pain is incredible. Eating is ridiculous. The steroid enemas are not working. I’m going to the bathroom 10-20 times a day. I had to leave work today after almost having an accident.

I spoke with my gastro doctor this morning. She said it’s time. We’ve tried everything to avoid the oral steroids. We tried the lialda, the canasa, the uceris, the steroid enemas and we tried it all again. I went gluten free, soy free, and tried to stay as stress free as possible. But is it hasn’t been enough. Something inside my body just isn’t connecting with the healthy me I want to be. So today, I started Prednisone. And I’m hoping that it works. This was not an easy decision. When I got the phone call this morning that the prescription was being filled, this needs to get under control and this is the next step, I was very upset. I immediately started crying, outside in the driveway while letting my dog out. I felt so defeated. And scared. I’ve worked so hard to get my hormones under control, and I’m in a good spot emotionally, and this could totally screw it up. I tried so hard to see some light, and I just couldn’t.

So I called my dad. I tried to keep it together but as soon as I told him I needed a pep talk I just started crying again. And we talked for a while. I calmed down, and he reminded me how strong I am and how I’ll be able to get through it. I’ve tried everything. And yet I’m still determined. Maybe I won’t get the side effects. If I do, I’ll be aware of it. I’ll know that I’m being crazy because the drugs are making me that way. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. I really don’t care about the moonface or the weight gain or any of the temporary stuff. It’s the emotional theatrics that I’m scared of. So after I left work, I went and picked up the prescription. I cried again. All the way home. And then I got home and went to the bathroom and keeled over in pain. And the decision was made.

This is supposed to be such a happy time. My boyfriend and I are buying a house. I’m doing really well at my job. I have a great life. Except for this damn disease. And I’m not going to have that be a reason not to keep enjoying my life. I want to be out there.

And that’s the problem. I haven’t been able to enjoy myself the last few weeks. And I told myself that once the disease starts controlling my life and I can’t control it, I’ll go to the oral steroids. It’s time. I want to be able to hang out with my friends, happily. To go on road trips. To enjoy my summer. To work on our new house. To take my dog for walks. To do yoga. To be a good girlfriend, daughter, friend, person to myself. And I can’t do this when I’m stuck in the bathroom. Or laying on the couch. Or sleeping. I need to heal. And if this is what I have to do to get there, then I’m going to do it.

So, today I am thankful for my body. My body is a monster But it’s not an evil monster. It’s so strong, it kicks it’s own ass. It’s a ball of light that is meant to be shared with the world. It’s a vessel for healing, for sharing hope. For inspiring others. For living and loving and laughing and feeling the joys of life from the tips of my toes to the roots of my ever changing hair. It’s not for hiding away inside. It’s not for dwelling in pain. It’s not made to feel sorry for, not to deprive of joy. It’s made to nourish. To provide. To excel.  My body provides a haven for my soul. It allows me to love, to feel, to cherish. It gives me opportunities for change. It challenges me. It is beautiful. And it deserves to be loved.

And love is what it’s going to get. So, today, one year after diagnosis. I begin the drug that I tried for the entire year to avoid. I talked to my boyfriend about it when he came home. I get concerned some days that maybe this is too much for him. That maybe this is going to be the straw that breaks the camels back. And then he says “Anytime I start to get bothered by it, I think about how its 100,000 times worse for you, and that’s enough for me to deal with it. You’re so strong. You need to take care of you. Don’t worry about anything else.”

And then I realize that these are the thoughts of my ego. It tries to convince me that I’m not worthy of love, that I’m too sick, too many problems, to much to handle. That I’m a hot mess. Well, ego. I’ve got news for you. Your time for making me feel unworthy and sick is over. This year, this year I’m going into remission. The steroids are going to work. And the Paleo diet is going to keep me there (I’ll touch on this later). I have the ability to heal. This isn’t saying it’s going to be easy. It might not be. But it’s time

I’m not going to stop fighting for my health and happiness. I have hope in my body and my ability to heal.

The Journey: Big Ten Basketball 2014 – Adreian and Lacey

“She has taught me to fight through everything…to always continue to have a smile on my face even when things go wrong.”

When I first saw a news feature on Adreian Payne and Lacey’s connection, my heart instantly warmed. I found this video and wanted to share it (not just because I’m a Spartan Fan and its March Madness, Go Green!). There are so many things that AP says in the video that I wanted to quote, but I really liked that he shared what she taught him. Not how it makes him feel, but what she contributed to his life. Not only does he give her some light and happiness while she’s battling a terrible, unforgiving disease, but she teaches him the power of a smile. Of kindness.
And they get to share that with us. Hope sparks hope. Who are you sharing your light with today?

I have good days and bad days, and my bad days are in now way comparable to Lacey’s good days I’m sure. It makes me think, when I’m feeling so terrible and pained, how do I act? Do I smile? Can I smile more? What are others taking away from this? Do people feel better when part ways, or worse?
I don’t want sympathy. I want understanding. I don’t want sadness. I want laughter and joy. I don’t want to be inhibited. I want to be inspired. I’m trying to make a more conscious effort to put this forth. Thank you, Lacey, for your story. You’re an inspiration to us all. I hope you continue to heal and battle and kick cancer to the curb.

Want to support Lacey? Follow her on twitter: @adorablelacey
email her: supportlacey@aol.com
Want to make a donation?:
Lacey Holsworth
P.O. Box 101
St. John’s, MI, 48879