A Game Of Crohn's

I should have known when I woke up at 2am and couldn’t get back to sleep that it wasn’t going to be a fun day. I’ve never driven myself to Rochester, although I’ve been there several times. I never would have made it there without GPS, because there is no real straight-shot from my house. Having said that, GPS was an absolute nightmare, because it takes me on the most twisty backwoods-hillbilly route that it can possibly come up with, in the interest of saving two minutes. And it’s foggy. And it’s very hilly (everyone from this area is saying DUHHHHH right now). And the deer are absolutely ridiculous in the throes of the yearly rut. They’re running about, willy-nilly, having a fabulous time (jerks), while I attempt to keep up with my not-running-well -in the-boonies GPS, which is giving me a 30 second heads-up on any and all turns I’m making. I’m going 45mph, pissing off the locals, down the hellishly curving roads of rural Wisconsin and Minnesota, whilst also dodging...

This ball started rolling much faster than I anticipated, after a year of nothing. I shouldn’t say nothing , I *was* prepping for the surgery, seeing if I could get my crohn’s under some kind of control with medicine. I have not had good luck with this in the past (6 weeks in a Minnesota hospital with pancreatitis because of a reaction to a medication) and one of the medications that my Rochester GI team wanted me to try was a form of chemotherapy, which I was and am emphatically *not* okay with. Luckily, my Eau Claire GI team agrees with me, and so therefore I’m just on double the dose of Humira (which I’m not thrilled about either, but they could not control my crohn’s *sigh*). The double dose of Humira has been the closest to what I would call remission in years. I’ll save you the symptoms of my recovery. (Actually... as of my appointment on the 17th with my main GI doc, he’s telling me it looks like I may in fact be in remission!) Over 50 shots in my belly. The re...

I did not intend for this to be a three-part series, but it’s looking like lumping this in with the other two will make the most sense. I’ve already written about the study that Ketchup Klinik mentioned to me that I may be a perfect candidate for, and I had my appointment at the end of October. Now I have more information, and I have a much better idea of what hoops I’ll need to jump through to complete the study (if all the heads of the study agree that I am indeed a candidate; it is not set in stone yet). Good-ish news: this post won’t be quite as graphic as part 2. It may be clinical at some points, but not terrible. On the 22nd, my cab picked me up at 4:30 am to check in for my 7:30 MRI. I got my IV port set, got undressed and into my sexy hospital gown and booties, and went back to the waiting room to display my hairy legs to the rest of the people waiting. (Hey - I live in Wisconsin. I don’t shave my legs in the winter...it’s fucking freezing up here and I need that...

I can hear what you’re thinking, in the collective brains of all my friends and family out there - Jill, are you seriously fucking writing a blog post about Taylor Swift?? Yeah, I am. Stick with me, homefries. When I’m writing this, Taylor Swift is only 24 years old. Love her or hate her, she’s put together one hell of an empire for herself, hasn’t she? Think about that for a second. 24. What were YOU doing when you were 24? I don’t say this to make you feel bad (or good, for you achievers) about yourself, I just want you to be aware of how you felt when you were that age. I know that I was still trying to figure out life. Wait. What the fuck am I talking about? I’m * still * trying to figure out life. I was little more lost (so to speak) at 24 though. I’m a bit more comfortable in my skin at this age (as I write this, it’s 35). I was scared. I had essentially just packed up my truck and moved from Ohio to way northern Wisconsin. I was living in a motel (!!!...