It’s been a week, so in the words of Malcolm Tucker: come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off.

Husband away for work, which whilst unavoidable has resulted in needing to get a nanny on a temporary basis for the first time in the small human’s life. I can’t remember ever feeling this alone about anything and it’s been really scary because I don’t know what any of this means yet. Dark clouds circle overhead a lot of the time and I’m struggling to see levity in anything. I may have to watch the original Gossip Girl again to centre myself.

I am being referred to a major hospital in the US, and while grateful for this, I had to chase this, so gave them a couple of days. The Person of Porlock answered the phone. I cried. She still refused to help. I cried more. I then had to return a form, which I cried whilst filling in. Will be chasing them again in the morning. I’m hoping I get to speak with someone else. Not holding my breath.

I’ve been reading about childhood presentation of IBD – this can include lots of things that were going on with me when I was a kid. What if this is one epic puzzle being completed? But then, what if it isn’t? Maybe I’m clinging to this because it would answer so many questions. It would nip so many health-related what-ifs in the bud once and for all. Or not.

I’ve had the most awful joint inflammation this week too. It came on (most helpfully) after I saw the lovely Dr F, who referred me to the US doctors. I thought I was coming down with a cold virus because my body was wracked with aches and I was sweating all night. But nothing was forthcoming. Turns out its all more to with my intestines. Or bowel. Or colon. Or whatever. I don’t even know what’s hurting any more. I am on steroids now though, so at least I’ll look like Arnie by the end of the week.

I have managed to lose 13 lbs in under two weeks though, so at least my surgeon will be happy.

Peace x