Hello, Hickman: Insertion + Healing

Hello, Hickman: Insertion + Healing

How is it that the words ‘nil by mouth’ manage to trigger the most intense hunger and thirst you’ve ever known? I’m uncomfortably hungry and, consequently, uncomfortably cranky. Every minute seems to stretch on for eternity, but also fly by like a loosed arrow. Time seems to loop back on itself like a Möbius strip, both molasses-slow and lightning-fast. I lay back against my pillows in exasperation. I have felt like this a thousand times, but I won’t ever get used to it. 

I loathe the waiting period. If anything needs to be done to me, I’d much rather it happen first thing in the morning – or that I do not know about it until immediately beforehand. Luckily, there’s only about an hour more to wait before I’m wheeled down to have my Hickman line inserted. I’m terrified, but eager at the same time. Knowing I’ll be getting sedation helps, but until the procedure is underway, nothing can quiet the anxiety in my brain, buzzing away like so many bees. 

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…and getting it back again

…and getting it back again

Happy belated World IBD Day! What better time to get back into blogging? If you read my last post, you’ll know that I was in a bad place in the early months of the year. Now? Well, not much has actually changed, honestly. I’m still experiencing the same symptoms as ever. Infliximab might as well be saline for all the good it’s done me, after six months/five infusions. Exam season is upon us, stress is oozing out of my every pore, and I have an MRI booked for June because my bloods aren’t showing any kind of improvement. By rights, I ought to be feeling as terrible as I did in February. But now things feel different, and I’m in a better position to explain exactly what was going on in my head then (and now!). I want to document everything – the good and the bad – and that starts with explaining why I’ve been so silent these last few months.

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On Losing Hope

On Losing Hope

This is probably the darkest – and most honest – post I’ve written in a while. Content warning for depression and mention of death, and my apologies in advance for the florid turns of phrase I use to describe abstract concepts.

I’ve been quiet lately. Christmas came and went – I had a beautiful, rejuvenating few weeks with my family, and I was brimming with hope and optimism for infliximab and the new year ahead. January came. And, as always, exams came with it. I returned to uni, shut myself away in my flat, and studied harder than I’d ever studied before. I was exhausted. But it paid off.

And now February is here. The new term has started, the modules I was so excited about are up and running, and… it’s not living up to my personal hype. In short, I’m struggling. Really struggling.

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Gastroenterology Appointment: September 2018

Gastroenterology Appointment: September 2018

Okay, so, here’s the tale from my updates post that I started to write, before realising it was waaaaay too long and it would need its own post. I always think “oh, nothing much happened,” and then I start writing and actually A LOT HAPPENED. But, spoiler: we’re still no further forward than we were six months ago. How can that be, I hear you ask? Well, let me start from the beginning..,

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(My) Mental Health and IBD

(My) Mental Health and IBD

It’s World IBD Day! It’s Mental Health Awareness Week! I hope both of them are good to you. It’s quite an intersection of ‘awareness days’, isn’t it, considering the mental toll IBD exacts? So there’s no better time to write about when the two collide spectacularly! Here’s my tale…

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Diagnosis

It’s the first day of Crohn’s and Colitis Awareness Week – happy #PurpleFriday to you all, and I hope you’re doing well – or if you’re not, that you’re doing as well as you can be right now. I’m hoping to publish one post per day for the entirety of this week. We’ll see how it goes – but to kick-start the process, I thought I’d make it a long one, and share something I’ve never written about in full before: my diagnosis story.

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