READY

TINY SUMMER POEM #2

Some context: I have an autoimmune disease called Microscopic Lymphocytic Collagenous Colitis. Diagnosed two years ago, after months of upset stomach, for several months I thought I had more or less managed to control my symptoms with diet and regular acupuncture.

And then all hell broke loose after I visited a so-called Naturopath who decided I had Lyme disease, even though I tested negative. I should have seen red flags coming out of all his orifices, but I’d been getting ill again, and when you’re desperate, it’s easy to be gobbled up by idiots. Also, he was a doctor. Not that being a “doctor” makes a difference, really; I’ve seen more than my fair share of crap doctors in the past five years between one problem and the other. Anyway, this moron told me I had parasites, that I needed to do a cleanse, and when I asked him whether he was certain about this, because I had this incurable autoimmune disease, he was adamant that I absolutely must, and that he’d helped many patients with my type of autoimmune disease.

I have never taken so many supplements and weird medications in my life. I had about two weeks of deworming, as well as bicarbonates, and all sorts of different magnesiums, and Gingko, and Vitamin C, D, B, etc, you name it, I probably had it. When my husband and I drove down to Spain for Christmas, my husband laughed at me, saying we almost needed my old horse trailer just to bring my drugs down. I had about two huge carrier bags full of frickin’ drugs! Mental!

Anyway, the only thing this wonderful doctor managed to do was mess up my gut even more. So I’ve had D off and on for months now, I don’t know what I can eat, not eat, because one day I’ll eat something and be fine, and the next day I’ll have it and be on the loo all day. There are days where I don’t even dare leave the house. It’s that crazy. And when it gets that bad, I’m just exhausted.

Thank goodness I’m on an excellent anti-depressant, and have been since early January. Prior to that I was a mess (see yesterday’s poem). Writing is also a saviour.

Anyway, MLCC is not a life threatening disease, but it does make socialising extremely complicated. Restaurants are pretty pointless, as if I can have something on the menu, it will have to be made as boring and bland as possible (gluten and lactose free; I’ve attempted to eat gluten and lactose again on the advice of a new nutritionist, but so far I am far from convinced) and even then chances are I’ll be sick later on. Going to eat at people’s houses is awful because my diet is so complicated, so I’d rather eat beforehand, or take my own food, which doesn’t always land very comfortably with everyone.

I used to love food. Now I almost hate it.

Beth Kempton’s prompt today is: READY. If I’d written it earlier today, I would probably have written a completely different poem. Unfortunately, I’m writing it now, after having met some friends, and had a glass of Cava (Spanish champagne). And then I got violently sick. So these are my thoughts on READY.

I am ready

For this illness

To take a back seat,

If only for a little while.

I am ready

To take a mental break

From this daily food lottery.

I am ready to stop being brave.

So damn ready.

Give me a break.