December 2, 2009

"There's been blood when I wipe lately," I finally admitted.

"Really?" he asked. "Then you need to start doing your enemas again."

"Ahhh. I hate doing those enemas!" It's true. I hate it. Every night before bed. It does not make for an easy drifting off to sleep, that's for sure.

"Well I'll help you with them then," he offered - seriously. I laughed.

"It's not that I can't do them myself," I explained, "It's just that I hate how it feels after I've done them." I think if you listened closely you could hear me growling inside.

"Well we need you healthy, don't we Django?" he asked. Django perked up and walked over to us. "Tell your mama how much we need her," he said to the dog as we both petted him. I laughed again.

"You just need me to walk you," I said to Django.

"No. We need you. Tell your mama how much we need her Django," he said. And I believe them. My boys need me. And I need to be responsible here and take care of myself for them. I honestly think I've been in denial lately, because I know that there has been blood for quite a while. Not a lot. That's good. But it's been there nonetheless, which means the disease continues to flare. No remission. I just kept telling myself it was hemorrhoids. But no. It's not. I'm afraid that by admitting that it continues to flare, I'm one step closer to another surgery and the possibility of an ostomy again. But maybe I'm willing to live with it. Maybe I am. Maybe I would rather feel not 100% all the time than live with an ostomy. God, these choices are hard. And yes, it's not certain that I would have an ostomy again, but . . .

Okay. So tonight - the enema. Once again, the enema routine. Really Abby, it's a little inconvenience compared to what could be - right? Yes. Right.