You know that saying about life derailing even the best-laid plans? I did, too, but it has never seemed more accurate than this week. How else would I go from thrilled about my excellent life, with lofty and detailed fitness goals for the impending new year, to buying discount Depends-knockoffs in the "Incontinence" section of a local Safeway?
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| "Discreet," eh? I'll be the judge of that. |
I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease--a mysterious, chronic, currently incurable autoimmune disease involving those two most lovely words in the English language, "inflamed bowels"--when I was 19, but not until just after my 21st birthday a couple weeks ago did I have my first real "flare."
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| A flare is when the disease kicks it up a notch. Bam. |
So I spent my week off from work at home, yes, but instead of bucolic scenes of Christmas bliss, there was a lot of sobbing and despair and blood. Now I'm on three medications and slated for periodic lab work to make sure the medications are doing more good than harm.
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| It gets better, I swear. Here's a cute picture of my cats to lighten the mood. |
My condition is improving now, and though I'm still somewhat bitter about my current puffy-bottomed situation, I've learned some important lessons here.
Support--from family, friends, cats--is vital and not to be taken for granted. In a way, this flare couldn't have come at a better time. I got to be around those who love me and encourage me even at my worst.
Health is also not to be taken for granted. Never have I appreciated the prospect of exercise so much as when I was afraid (yes, a little melodramatically so) that I wouldn't be able to do it again for months.
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| My exercise of choice: Zumba |
Plans are awesome, but there needs to be flexibility.
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Flexibility.
(No, I can't do that anymore.) |
A few mislaid plans don't spell doom. They may just spell change.
Despite everything, I'm still cautiously optimistic about the coming year. I can't wait to see what I'll be capable of.
