What a difference 10 days make

I was at a pretty low ebb when I made my last post. As is often the case, things got worse before they got better.

A couple of days later, I felt so unwell that I began to panic. I couldn’t believe that such a tiny reduction in the dose of my azathioprine – from 100 mg to 75 mg – could have such a major impact on my colitis. As I lay on the sofa with every joint screaming and shuffled around the house like a really old woman, I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever feel better again, and I cried my eyes out. 

My head seemed to be full of cotton wool not brain cells and, after much internal debate, I decided to send back the bit of work that was giving me so much grief and to cancel another scheduled job. It was better to give my client the chance to get the jobs done properly first time around than for me to make a mess of them so that they missed their deadlines trying to get them up to scratch. I felt awful to be letting my client down but I knew it was best for them and best for me. Once I’d made that phone call, it felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders, and I was able to relax into illness without the added stress of work looming over me. I took things steady and didn’t overdo things when I felt good for a couple of hours.

It’s paid off. Ten days later, I’m delighted to be on the mend. I baked some bread yesterday (with the help of my breadmaker) and that’s a sure sign that things are returning to my normal. I’m getting my brain used to thinking again and I’m hoping that I can do close to a full week of work this coming week.

I can hardly believe the difference in such a short space of time, but I’m still taking it gently. I’ve cancelled my plans to do the whole New Model Army Spring tour – I think it would be too much too soon – and I’m not buying any new gig tickets or making any major plans for the next few months. Better to take each day as it comes.

It is wonderful to be in remission from a chronic disease, but it lulls you into a false sense of security. Your brain fools you, making you believe that the condition is under your control. In reality, the disease is still in control of you – it’s just taking a rest and waiting in the wings to pounce. Hopefully it’ll be another five years until my colitis is strong enough to make another almost successful takeover bid.