July has pretty much been a write off, and now I’m angry. I’m angry at my body, for being so weak. I’m angry at it for not being strong enough to fight against IBS. I’m angry that my IBS has led to my body not being strong enough to fight away other infections. I’m angry that my IBS has meant that I haven’t been able to enjoy myself, for the past 4 weeks. I’m angry that my answer to every social invitation has been ‘no’. I’m angry.
And sad. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. My GP sent me to A&E last week, and I thought I would start to feel better after that. The truth is, I don’t. Consequently, I’m at my wits’ end, mentally. I feel drained. I took 2 days’ sick leave last week and only came to work today, because calling in sick makes me feel so guilty.
I miss going out for drinks with friends. I miss going round to see my family, without feeling like I just want to crawl into bed. I miss having something interesting to talk about after the weekend. I miss the beautiful shops. I miss just relaxing.
I think this IBS flare up has been as bad as when I was first diagnosed with it, 4 years ago. I’ve lost over half a stone in weight, I don’t feel like me.
You know that saying ‘every cloud has a silver lining’? My story has one. My diabetes.
My sugar levels over the past two weeks have been near enough perfect. The last time I had a reading that was out of range, was a week ago. Even then, my meter was only reading 8.7! I can’t get my head around it. For a lot of people, illness causes havoc for their sugar levels. I’ve been getting levels 5-7 for the past 7 days. Am I temporarily cured, in that case?! Ha. I wish.