High Noon

Good news. After an emergency appointment with my lovely specialist yesterday, I have new drugs.
I explained the whole work thing, how I am constantly tired and so on. I got a little bit emotional but managed to wheel out the stiff upper lip.

Me: I never wanted to go round the world on a skateboard before I had Crohn's, and I still don't, but I do expect to be able to go to work and not have to go to bed at 8pm.
Him: Not unreasonable
M:To give you an idea of how crap things are, I did two loads of washing yesterday and washed up - then had to have a lie down
H: So you would describe your life as?
M: In all honesty, crap. If this is to be my life, I'm not sure I want it.

Dr looks through huge file on me, being careful to keep a firm hold on it lest it slip off the desk and render the 2ft tall nurse unconscious.

H: Hmmm. Yup, your recent bloods suggest that you are indeed feeling like crap, physically. And I'm not surprised you are at the end of your tether with work.

I know he believes me, as under todays date in the file he writes ' X is feeling crap, employers being ridiculous.'

Here somes the sticking point. We both know that a steriod called Prednisolone will fix me up straight off. But we also both know that I will have to be off work to take the initial big doses and that eventually, steroids will make my arms and legs fall off.

There is an audible bing - followed by more leafing through the file - and a lightbulb goes on...

H: I've never given you Budesonide, have I?
M: No, but I have read about it
H: So you'll know it's a steroid, but with far fewer side effects than Pred?
M: Yes
H: How have I never given you this before? Humph

Dr tuts at hinself for a bit.

A shaft of sunlight enters the room accompanied by a choir of angels.

H: Right, lets do that then. You should feel better in about a week.

And just before I fall to my knees to give thanks that there is hope,and that there will be no hospital admission, he also says:

H: And if your enployers give you any more problems, refer them to me. You've been through a hell of a time in the last few years. I'll either speak to them or write to them, the idiots. Pfft.

And off I trot the hospital pharmacy to pick up my new drugs.