Bored bad dating stories
The lump in my throat was becoming more obvious to me, but I wasn”t ready to spew forth this truly shitty news just yet, so I just told mom I had to change first and I”d tell her what happened.Something about seeing my poor, young face in that changing room mirror brought me down from the clouds of denial.This was at the high point of my patient advocacy efforts and I”d enlisted mom to help me document every gory detail, so before I passed out on the bathroom floor in the hotel, while she was calling for help I signaled for her to take a picture. Only now do I recognize how truly and utterly fucked up that was.Was I so in need of a distraction from my own shitty life, so in need of validation of what my disease did to me, and to others, that during an honest to goodness near death experience I had to be an unpaid ass reporter and ask my mom to document, once again, the suffering of her baby girl?Oh right, I have to tell my amazing, supportive, been through hell-and-back mother that once again, something is wrong with her baby.When I got cleaned up and passed the waiting room on my way into the changing room, I was starting to feel again.Was it so important that the world know what IBD patients go through that I immediately post this to my Facebook page? That”s why you haven”t heard from me for a while, because I”m trying to get my shit straight.I”m still trying to accept all the bad health stuff that happens to me, and instead of distracting myself with advocacy and things that do legitimately help others in my same situation, I realized that I don”t have to make the worst thing about my life my purpose too.
Why do they always do road work in the summer, huh? Shen came in and we discussed his magical fistula healing serum (glucose and sometimes doxycycline) and wondered if he could juice me up while we were there.These are stories of happenings and feelings about the Jpouch surgery, preliminary surgeries, and life without a colon.