A Game Of Crohn's

One of my favorite games to play with several immune diseases is “what the fuck is wrong with me today?” Every single day of my life. I haven’t been able to drag my ass around for three days, and when I actually attempted to do something today, I immediately vomited after climbing the stairs. This might shock some people, but for me it’s somewhat in the realm of commonality. It’s so “normal” for me that I take a medication that people take for heartburn (strangely, it really does help with cutting back on the upchucks, even though I don’t really have an issue with heartburn or indigestion), and I have *another* “rescue” medication that I’m sure a lot of people are familiar with if you’ve pushed out a child or if you’ve been given some heavy pain meds at the hospital - Zofran . Normal patients get it a handful of times in their lives - I have a regular prescription for it, and the bottle is literally sitting about six inches away. I even have multiple forms of the pill (so

Every time I go to Rochester it costs me a significant chunk of change, no matter how I cut it. If I stay in a hotel, if I make multiple trips in several days - however I do it it - inevitably costs money. Money I don't have because I have my check budgeted to the penny every single month. My bills are paid, I have my few luxuries (not really many though - I can't help but think of how many cups of coffee that I could be spending it on instead). But, I digress. The point is is that Rochester is expensive. It's a three hour drive there, and if I stay in a hotel, it's three hours back. And if there's an appointment the next day - which there usually is - I get to make that six hour trip again. Dolla dolla billa y'all. To put in my gas tank.  Within minutes of me posting my second stem cell research update on Friday, a family member had taken care of a hotel room for me on surgery night so I didn't have to drive nine hours on a freshly cut upon bum. In

Back in December when they told me that I was on my way to Eau Claire to have an emergency surgery on a new abscess, I knew this day would eventually come. I’m beyond *thankful* that this day would come. When I did my first stem cell transplant - from stem cells grown from my own belly fat! - I was one of 28 subjects that signed up to put themselves through a serious, 2-year commitment (possibly lifetime, if you’re down with it) to be humiliated in ways that you haven’t even imagined. I’ve had my behind taken pictures of like it was Lady Gaga - I’m not kidding. HUGE paparazzi type cameras, that have the added bonus of popping up *immediately* on the computer screen which I can see clearly. SMILE! You haven't learned to smile with that muscle yet?! C'mon!! I’m not sure many humans are quite so aware of what that part of their anatomy looks like - in multiple forms of healing, mind you - as much as I do. And if they do, I don’t really think I want to hear abou