NB: Title to be read in a shouty voice. Not like Barry Scott tho.
I always feel grammatically guilty when I write a question as a statement but I suppose the inner Grammar schoolgirl in me needs to get over her punctuation pottiness and realise that this is my bog and I can do whatever the hell I like. Also technically I would say that grammar is the means in which aides a reader to recount an extract in the way intended, so in that respect I really do need to shut up now because if you’ve just read that title in a shouty voice then job well done to me. But this isn’t about that. Note how my question is a statement and how my statement is not a question such as, “Remission, where are you?”. That would imply that I’m expecting him to come waltzing round the corner, as if i’m due this award any moment now. And whilst God knows i’m certainly due a heavy dosage of the stuff – it’s been almost 6 months now – I’ve pretty much given up. Hence the shouting, anger, frustration, etc. etc. I’m dreadfully fearful that I won’t be seeing him again for quite some time and it’s only recently dawned on me, that having Crohn’s really really really really really, sucks.
I’m not one to feel sorry for myself but recently I’ve found myself feeling sorry for my family. They listen to me selfishly groan about taking 17 tablets daily; a blood test weekly; countless sample drops; the nausea; the headaches; the joint pain; the shaking; the night sweats; the dehydration.. the list goes on. Knowing that my daughter will have to watch me fall severely unwell every other month is enough to break me down and cry for 5 minutes daily because i know that one day she will have to help me lift a glass of water to my mouth as my hands won’t be able to find the strength to do so themselves. She’s 11 weeks old today and already I have lost 4 days of her life. Not being able to pick up my own baby when she’s crying because i’m too weak is heartbreaking and I’m so grateful to have a partner as supportive and caring as A is. I’m not quite sure how he’s doing it – juggling fatherhood with a full-time job with the added role of keeping me going and making me smile, all whilst finding time for himself and then having enough energy left to leave a mess in the bathroom. I’m so proud of him. We’re both as confused as each other as to why things have become progressively worse within the last 12 months. Maybe it’s to do with my pregnancy, maybe it isn’t. Maybe there’s another underlying factor. Maybe this will quieten down. Maybe I’ll be in Remission soon. Maybe I won’t need life-saving surgery. Maybe we can make a temporary glass bubble for me to live in when one of them has a cold. Maybe I should stop whining because it could be oh so much worse. Maybe, if I start lifting weights I can put these steroids to good use.
Also not being able to go in the sun anymore has given me an excellent excuse to buy some really big floppy hats.
But I’d really like you to come back just for a bit, so that I can be the best Mummy and Wifey I can be.
Emma on a bad day xoxo