The past couple of days have been rough. I feel as if I am going through the motions. Get up, try to eat something so I don't throw my guts up by 8am. Get to work, struggle to find a comfortable position sitting, because my liver is so incredibly swollen, it hurts to sit for an extended period of time. Fight off nausea. Take a few phone calls, write a few emails, and try to stretch out the morning, before having to take another dose of medicine. Take second dose of meds, try to once again shove food down my throat before the nausea sets in. Avoid the lunch room, because smells make the nausea so much worse. Go back to my desk, struggle to find another comfortable position. Try to keep my eyes open. Do some more work, and rejoice when the clock hits 4pm. Get home, immediately change and lay down. Typically nap two hours. Try to find something to eat that doesn't upset my stomach. Read for an hour or so before bed, and then am asleep between 9-10pm each night.

It is SO incredibly difficult not to let illness overtake your life, but when you can barely make it through a day, the battle is almost over before it starts. 

Depending upon the next few weeks, I may try to see if I can work something out with my job, about working from home a day or two a week. I am hoping with the changes in medication that this will be completely unnecessary, but if my disease progresses, it may be one of the only choices I have left. I am hoping and praying and doing everything in my power, in order to aid in my recovery. What makes this difficult, is that in someways I am my own worst enemy. In order to ask for help, in order to ask for accomendations, in order to admit some form of defeat, in order to admit that I am not the person I once was, I have to overcome myself. I think the stark realization of the seriousness of my illnesses has been a slap in the face. I had such overwhelming success coming back from a severe traumatic brain injury, that I went in full force with my Crohn's diagnosis, being so incredibly confident, okay so albeit a bit cocky in that I had this battle in the bag. For the first couple of years, I did, and was even able to be medication free for a time. This most recent flare up and the additional diagnosis of AIH, has brought me back to reality, and shoved my cocky attitude in my face. I am not perfect. I am not a failure, and I cannot do everything alone. Which has been so incredibly difficult to admit. I hate asking for help. I hate feeling like a failure. 

The past three months have scared me. I now see that I cannot ignore my issues, and that even if I attempt to do the best job ever, that sometimes, life is out of my hands, out of my control. It has been one of the most incredibly difficult things I have had to do this far in life. I don't consider it admitting to defeat, but that I need help in going at this. It is going to be a long, life long battle, with sometimes no end in sight. I just know I cannot do this alone any longer.