I'm here, I think to myself. I made it this far.
Sudden terror strikes.
I'm in the middle of the tube that leads to the plane getting ready to head home from Maui. I look up at my husband. "I have to go to the bathroom. Please don't be mad." He isn't mad. He never gets mad, but I always feel the need to apologize. "I am so sorry."
He squeezes my arm. "We'll check with the stewardess."
We finish the walk together, him holding onto me in case something happens. I am always afraid the worst is going to happen so I am always prepared. Unfortunately, we've both just been frisked at security because I stupidly put lotion in my carry on and the TSA people thought I was carrying a bomb. If we stop now, I'll hold up the plane. I am utterly terrified.
I make it to the steward. "Is there a bathroom I can use?" I whisper this frantically.
She steps aside and opens a door. "Right here, ma'am."
I cringe. "Not here. I don't want to bother anyone. Is there another one?"
"Not until we are in the air."
I just can't do it. I'd rather the worst happen than people loading and listening to my shame. I walk down the center isle of the plane with my husband beside me. All of a sudden I really don't care what the stewardess said and beeline it to the bathroom in the back where no one has yet loaded. I can find peace here. Away from everyone. No one is in the small kitchen, so I open the door and get in. The small space makes my skin crawl, but I made it. I am OK. The worst did not happen.
When I make it back to my seat, my frantic family members are worried for me.
"Did you make it?"
"Are you all right?"
"It's OK. Just sit down."
"How do you feel?"
In my head, everyone on the now fully loaded plane is listening and I flush. I can imagine what they are thinking and I don't dare shush the mouths with the worried looks on their face. I love them too much.
***
That is one moment in a Crohnie's life. I didn't want to go on medication before the trip because sometimes the medications make me sick. So, I made everything work for me and I tried so hard not to be a bother to anyone, because I hate bringing people down. I always knew where the bathrooms were located, apologized when my stomach decided it didn't like whatever it was I ate, which is mostly hamburger. I am living on burgers as it is the only food that doesn't bother me right now. Everywhere I went there was either a port-a-potty or a real live bathroom in the perfect place. I swear it was God thing.
I really want to try medical marijuana but my company doesn't recognize California law. This comes as a great disappointment as I had hoped things had changed. As usual, I must have misunderstood. Crohn's is a serious disease requiring serious medications. There is something wrong with a health system that won't allow me to at least try marijuana instead of the immune crushing cancer drugs without fear of being fired.
It isn't right.
I don't want cancer.
There is too much of it in my life right now.
No one with any kind of a mind-set would want that for oneself.
Trust me here.
Cancer is devastating.
There is a lady in California who was recently hired and upon whom an immediate drug test was done. She was found to have marijuana in her bloodstream and the disease she was treating was Crohn's disease. She was immediately fired. There is talk her case will go all the way to the Supreme Court, but there is little hope it will stand up. This depresses me. But, give me a few days to get back into the swing of things and my good humor will rise up. I'll make that damn appointment with my gastro doc and I will put this behind me.
Medication be damned.
Sudden terror strikes.
I'm in the middle of the tube that leads to the plane getting ready to head home from Maui. I look up at my husband. "I have to go to the bathroom. Please don't be mad." He isn't mad. He never gets mad, but I always feel the need to apologize. "I am so sorry."
He squeezes my arm. "We'll check with the stewardess."
We finish the walk together, him holding onto me in case something happens. I am always afraid the worst is going to happen so I am always prepared. Unfortunately, we've both just been frisked at security because I stupidly put lotion in my carry on and the TSA people thought I was carrying a bomb. If we stop now, I'll hold up the plane. I am utterly terrified.
I make it to the steward. "Is there a bathroom I can use?" I whisper this frantically.
She steps aside and opens a door. "Right here, ma'am."
I cringe. "Not here. I don't want to bother anyone. Is there another one?"
"Not until we are in the air."
I just can't do it. I'd rather the worst happen than people loading and listening to my shame. I walk down the center isle of the plane with my husband beside me. All of a sudden I really don't care what the stewardess said and beeline it to the bathroom in the back where no one has yet loaded. I can find peace here. Away from everyone. No one is in the small kitchen, so I open the door and get in. The small space makes my skin crawl, but I made it. I am OK. The worst did not happen.
When I make it back to my seat, my frantic family members are worried for me.
"Did you make it?"
"Are you all right?"
"It's OK. Just sit down."
"How do you feel?"
In my head, everyone on the now fully loaded plane is listening and I flush. I can imagine what they are thinking and I don't dare shush the mouths with the worried looks on their face. I love them too much.
***
That is one moment in a Crohnie's life. I didn't want to go on medication before the trip because sometimes the medications make me sick. So, I made everything work for me and I tried so hard not to be a bother to anyone, because I hate bringing people down. I always knew where the bathrooms were located, apologized when my stomach decided it didn't like whatever it was I ate, which is mostly hamburger. I am living on burgers as it is the only food that doesn't bother me right now. Everywhere I went there was either a port-a-potty or a real live bathroom in the perfect place. I swear it was God thing.
I really want to try medical marijuana but my company doesn't recognize California law. This comes as a great disappointment as I had hoped things had changed. As usual, I must have misunderstood. Crohn's is a serious disease requiring serious medications. There is something wrong with a health system that won't allow me to at least try marijuana instead of the immune crushing cancer drugs without fear of being fired.
It isn't right.
I don't want cancer.
There is too much of it in my life right now.
No one with any kind of a mind-set would want that for oneself.
Trust me here.
Cancer is devastating.
There is a lady in California who was recently hired and upon whom an immediate drug test was done. She was found to have marijuana in her bloodstream and the disease she was treating was Crohn's disease. She was immediately fired. There is talk her case will go all the way to the Supreme Court, but there is little hope it will stand up. This depresses me. But, give me a few days to get back into the swing of things and my good humor will rise up. I'll make that damn appointment with my gastro doc and I will put this behind me.
Medication be damned.
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