I am on week 4 day 3 of the Specific Carbohydrate Diet (SCD). It sucks. I legit have got a tattoo of a donut on my ankle, your girl likes carbs and has never stuck to a diet in her life!
I want to live. Two months ago I didn't, but the person, wife and mother I am today wants to live. My aliments haven't changed but we were able to put a name on the beast, and that changes everything.
Nearly 7 years ago when MS reared it's ugly head, it changed me forever. But, we adapted and moved on. We knew what the good and bad days looked like, and we went on with life. When I started puking in March, it through us for a loop and brought me to my knees.
Again, I was sick and it was taking forever to figure out why. I wasn't puking 20 times a day, passing out, having flushed skin, inability to swallow, having blood come out of both ends for no reason. I lost 32lbs in 8 weeks! I was way too small. I've never had a lot of extra to expend anyhow.
Waiting here and there for this Doctor and that test was frustrating. Like always the Farmer started researching. We tried everything under the sun to help with nausea. My MS was all excited by this activity happening within me so she decided to come to the party... silently.
A month into all this the GI said I had active Crohn's Disease and Barrettes Esophagus. There was no explanation for my throat pain and inability to talk. My pain overall was out of control and my marijuana wasn't enough.
On the way to take the Farmer lunch one beautiful Thursday in May, I had a moment. I couldn't take it anymore. It had been 2 months and I couldn't suffer anymore. I ran a red light that crossed the main highway, and proceeded to place my brand new Mini Van in front of a semi truck. It flashed before me that the truck might not kill me, just fuck me up more and then I'd be in a world of hurt and what would I do?!? So I got out of the way and brought the Farmer his lunch. I sat with him in my rocking chair admiring the off grid cabin he was building me on my favorite part of our land. I won the lottery with him, and I know it. That's mainly what keeps me going. Perspective. What have I got to complain about?! That I live in a 1st world country?!? I've got great health care. I'm married to the hottest farmer on the planet, that's also a shining example of what a Christian man should be, and smart as all get out. That he provides for me, and that I'm blessed to be able to stay at home, live out my dreams and raise our brood of children?!? I am able to own a huge amount of land and grow my own food and share it with the community. I get to follow God's journey for me. So what have I got to complain about?!
Tighten up your apron straps, and straighten your hanky girl. If you've gotta put up with pain in order to receive the gifts you've been given, you best do it!
Some days the pep talks and rose color glasses just aren't enough. After that Thursday I continued to spiral. I tried my rifle to shoot myself in the head and my damn arms couldn't make it work. Saturday night I laid awake in my recliner, pain out of control, crying. I made a plan. My suffering was going to end.
I continued to cry through the night. 6am a Sunday in May I woke up my husband. I told him I loved him so much, that I'd made a plan and I wanted to say goodbye. I couldn't suffer any longer. He started crying, hysterical, asking me what I meant. I was crying and told him he knew what I meant, that I couldn't do it anymore. How wonderful he was. He was crying...the children, the children...that I'd fuck them up forever. That they need me. They don't care if I'm in the bed paralyzed, they just need me, that I'm the only mother they'll ever have. He said we were going to the hospital. I was scared to death but agreed.