So, I find myself awake at 4am.
I’m beginning a Crohn’s flare up. Pain, bloating, you name it — like a pitbull, it’s growling in my face. I’m not impressed.
I am trying to get to the bathroom. The house is dark. Of course, the eye infection I’ve been battling off and on for two months has crusted my eyelids shut. I almost trip over a shoe. All I need is a fall right now considering my last fall landed me in the operating room and wearing a leg immobilizer for four months.
I make it to the washroom. The cat meows because it’s time for her breakfast. I tell her she’s going to have to wait until I got sorted out this morning. She doesn’t understand.
I return to my bed. I pour a cup of cold tea from a kettle I made yesterday afternoon. I add some sugar — I have a feeling I’m going to need it. I turn on my light — are there any house flys that have decided my tea is their swimming pool? No? Good. That was a most unpleasant experience two days ago.
I can’t find my eye drops. I have three different kinds at this point — one is an antibiotic, the other is Visine for red eyes, and the other is a lubricant formulation. The table beside my bed is quite cluttered despite yesterday’s attempt to organize and clean it. There are my dentures, my eight pill bottles, papers from my counsellor, appointment cards, and a quart of paint that I haven’t used for anything in about a year.
Finally I find the Visine. How good it feels within the first few seconds for my dry, red, burning eyes to feel bathed in comfort!
So it’s 5 in the morning. I find myself, somewhat blind, and trying to open the box for a new lamp. This one is a salt lamp. Not just salt, but special salt from the Himalayas. I struggle to rip the tape sealing the box. I get it out and figure out how it goes together. I am mindful not to electrocute myself as my aching back protests as I bend for a free slot to plug into on one of a few power bars. The light works, fair enough.
Finally, I am starting to be able to see. I read the product description on the side of the box. There’s a leaflet for some health company that apparently has a lot of yoga products. The box reads like an advertisement. The general message is about “ions”. I had heard of ions before. Is it scientific? I don’t know. There is a mess of health advice that is either too clinical for me to understand or too pseudo-scientific to admit that you buy into it.
It feels like I’m calling the magic unicorn for answers.
This morning I am supposed to get an infusion of a newer Crohn’s drug. It would be my first time with this medication. I mull over my experiences with all these medications. I don’t feel hopeful that this will be the one to change my symptoms. I feel bad because I’ve kept the doctors busy filling out paperwork and getting the chemo ward at the hospital all set up to give me the infusion by IV. Now, I don’t want to go. I am flaring up anyway — I don’t know if you can even have it when you flarel Regardless, I know I’ll be hiding from phone calls for a while now.
My thoughts go toward medicinal marijuana. Does it work for Crohn’s? Who is studying it? What are the findings? A glance at Google suggests that marijuana is a treatment for IBD, but everyone summarizes the research as, “we need more research.” Meanwhile, I am still here. Suffering.
I have a friend who smokes marijuana. They could get me some. I could try it. The legality of it all is changing in Canada. They are going to legalize and regulate and tax it. I’d just be jumping the queue by a year or so. I feel highly superstitious asking this, but it stands to reason, “At this point what do I have to lose?”
Let’s give the magic unicorn a try. Afterall, the cat wants her breakfast!