Over the last 7 weeks a lot of people have told me how lucky I was. Perhaps with some leading from me – I was happy that I didn’t have Cancer, sure. Today I am not one of the lucky ones, today it sucks to be me.

The reality of my disease started to set in on Saturday morning as I lay slumped in our bathroom with my head in the toilet. The reality of the rest of my life set in this afternoon as I sat in the specialists office and spoke at me with words I didn’t understand have no chance of either pronouncing or spelling. I had this romanticised inclination of what today was going to be like, that he was going to tell me I was going to be just fine. That today would be the first day of a new life for me – one without the pain of the past few years. I have been kidding myself since I read the first words on the Crohns explanation. I tried to convince myself that “its not so bad” and I tired to convince myself that so I had a hope of convincing other people – so I could reassure them, so I didn’t make them uncomfortable.

Prepare to be made uncomfortable – the fairytale is over as of right now.

I am not happy I have Crohns disease I am not glad that its not in my head. Quite frankly I would rather be a raving lunatic right now that be sitting in this chair, writing this story. First and foremost, I am not alright – not even a little bit. I am so not alright that I can’t even pretend to be alright right now. My universe has come crashing down around me over the last week – but there is this sickening expectation that I need to be “positive” and not confronting. I haven’t even had a chance to mourn my old life that is most certainly over as of tonight. I am angry and alone and upset and no amount of telling me how bright my future is will stop me from feeling that way. There are precious few now that will take the time to listen to me – so few I can count them on one hand. Granted I am lucky to have the few I have – that’s the one thing I am desperately clinging to at the moment so I can keep my head above these murky waters of depression.

I got an email this afternoon that snapped me out of this false state of pretending that everything is roses and hearts. I don’t know the sender half as well as I should – as I will. Its like… she gave me permission to be fucked up – even if it’s just for the evening. Maybe that’s all I was waiting for – permission to accept what’s happening to me. You are kidding yourself if you think you can skip right to acceptance. The model is there for a reason, the process exists because it works. So I am at anger having just finished denial.

I suppose I should explain the reason for my lack of it. Today was my consultation with the specialist that when last time I saw him, he had almost diagnosed me with Crohns Disease. I went into the office chirpy thinking that he couldn’t tell me anything that I didn’t already know. I am so fucking stupid. He confirmed that I had Crohns as he suspected. He then went on to say, while looking at my small bowel series images, that I already had a complication which generally occurs later in the disease. I have small bowel involvement, which means, from what my mere mortal brain could understand, that my small bowel had narrowed. This is what had been causing my more severe symptoms of bloating, distension, pain and vomiting. This means that surgery to remove the effected part of my small bowel is on the horizon. Not right now, but in the next few years, they are going to start cutting pieces out of me, only to have the disease pop up in another place. On top of that I have been prescribed some powerful drugs in high doses to try and combat my Crohns and its symptoms. Prednisone, a corticosteroid and immunosuppressant as well as Sulfasalazine a powerful anti-inflammatory. The Sulfasalazine is only going to be a problem if I am allergic to it – I guess we’ll find that out. Prednisone on the other hand is another kettle of fish – it has many bad side effects including weight gain, abdominal pain, vomiting and most discouragingly dependence after 7 days. I have 6 weeks worth. Prednisone wasn’t my only choice – there was a better drug without the side effects – that cost $250 a month, obviously not subsidised. We are struggling to feed ourselves right now, there is no way we are going to be coming up with another $250 a month. The harder road it is – which coincidently is going to cost $100 a month as it is. So not only have I screwed my partners head with my own problems but now I have fucked us both financially as well. There will be no more holidays, no more dinners out… no more movies, all because I got sick. And yeah – I am angry about it.

Instead of the bright future I used to dream about where we would be getting married in New Zealand, I see me being alone in 6 months, with a mortgage and Crohns disease. I love Stocker and I know he loves me, but how much should one person have to put up with before they split? I will put on 10kgs…. I have robbed us of any possibility of financial stability, my head is spinning out of control and the treatment for my disease is worse that it is. Is it reasonable to expect him to stick around while I am such a mess – when he could go out and find a normal girl… one with which he could have a normal life? I can’t imagine my life without him – I love him so much, I don’t want to loose him, but I have had to start to come to terms with that too. I don’t want to ruin his life, I want quite the opposite. I suppose if I really cared about him that much I would let him go so that he could find normality – perhaps I am just selfish.

Needless to say I am scared beyond what any words could convey. Because as soon as I put that first pill into m mouth, my old life ends and my new one starts. My life as a Crohns sufferer.