Back in October I started feeling some unusual tummy pain. It would come about a half hour after I ate, and it felt like someone was literally ripping my intestines out of me. I apologize for any yucky visuals that last sentence may have caused. But anyway, it felt pretty terrible. I visited the campus health center, who prescribed a medicine that didn’t work, and then visited a gastroenterologist, who prescribed a blood test for the Celiac disease antibodies. The test came back inconclusive because my immune system is already weak, so the Celiac antibody count was skewed. Or something like that.
So he ordered another blood test, a genetic test to see if I have the marker for Celiac disease. Which, as I’ve just learned today, the lab did wrong. I now need to give more blood and wait another two weeks for the results. Those are just the bare bones of the story, but enough to understand what is going on in my life right now.
I am frustrated, I am defeated, and most of all I am still sick. I am sick of the pain that comes on when I’m least expecting it, or worse, the pain that comes on exactly when I’m expecting it. I’ve tried eliminating peanut butter, which didn’t alleviate the symptoms, as well as dairy and fiber, which didn’t help either. I am tired of people thinking they know exactly what is wrong with me, telling me to change my diet when I know in my heart that my diet isn’t to blame.
It is exhausting, to say the least, but I have been through worse medical experiences before and I’ll get through this one, too.