Just when I thought, Okay, I’ve written enough about my ulcerative colitis lately. Time to get back to other things… someone found my blog by searching for Ulcerative Colitis & Love.
My heart melted.
Goose and I started dating about four months before I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. He’s been here, by my side, from the very beginning.
When we started dating, I was sick constantly. Ear infections, strep throat, headaches, exhaustion, and of course, awful stomach aches. After a few months, I was losing weight rapidly and didn’t ever want to eat. I am sure I was far too graphic about all of this with Goose. I was also wasting away into a stick person.
It’s always shocking to go back and look at pictures from that time, because I can compare it to how I look now. Then, it happened so gradually, I hardly noticed.
As the symptoms increased, Goose listened to my fears. The early days of our relationship, the ones we spent getting to know each other, staying up all night talking, and flirting constantly were also full of conversations about my latest ailment. I was frantic because I had no idea what was wrong with me. He listened.
And then I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis and put on Predisone. How he stayed with me during that time I’ll never know.
Let me set the scene for you.
Prednisone made me a crazy person. I would call him on a Tuesday, sobbing, asking why he couldn’t come to visit me that very minute. (Um, I don’t know, crazy Lauren, maybe because our colleges were three hours apart and he had this little thing called class.) It was impossible to go out for dinner, because I never knew what I could and couldn’t eat. I had a giant steroid face. (I also decided to get a perm to accent said steroid face. Brilliant move. Brilliant.)
Clearly I am not suggesting that Goose should have dumped me for being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. That wouldn’t have been very nice. But that’s a whole lot for a boyfriend of four months to handle.
He was patient, listened to me, and supported me. He was fine with last-minute adjustments to plans to accommodate a sore tummy. And he never let on that he noticed my awesome bathroom habits.
Six years later, he’s here to accompany me to doctor’s appointments, make breakfast so I can take my medicine, and pick up the slack when I need a little extra rest.
If that’s not ulcerative colitis & love, I don’t know what is.
Who supports you through difficult times?