Freak Like Me

Being sick is completely infiltrating me. I remember a couple of months ago when 31 and I were working together and I left work mysteriously to go to a doctor's appointment and he asked how it went down once I returned to work. I responded, "well, I'm not dying." All very cryptic I know, but that's always how I've been about my colitis. Not a very sexy disease and I don't want to be perceived as diseased anyway. I wouldn't even want to be perecieved as diseased or damaged or not strong or not normal even if it was something romantic like TB where I had to go to a sanitorium or something. But now things are on a whole other level. First of all it is impossible to hide. I am not myself. The other night I was on Roosevelt Island and I know the girls all know the up to the minute news but I don't know how much the guys know and I was sitting next to MY on the couch and he could not stop focusing on the fact that my lips were moving but I wasn't talking. He was like, "check out Briana's lips, Briana what do they have you on?" Mercifully, V came to my rescue like she does with a, "oh, it's not that bad, she's fine." She's so cute, I love how she is such my protector and defender.

In truth though I'm not fine. And it's starting to really sink in for me. If I was fine, why would the doctor suggest moving up my next colonoscopy from October 17 to tomorrow (which I refused to do). If I'm fine then why am I now seeing an endorcrinologist for what was supposed to be some routine inbalance in one of my blood tests just to be on the safe side which turned into another, 'we need to go to the next level,' conversation once my irregular, abnormal results came back. The next level consists of two days of tests. I asked for sometime in November. He said, "how about the soonest time they can squeeze you in." Yeah, I'm optomistic. Yeah, right. I'm starting to get really scared. I don't want to get sick and die. My quality of life is already getting lower by the day. Come on. How low can it go. I don't know who I am anymore. I really don't. I don't have any pep in my step except when I am bouncing off the walls from the steroids. My appetite is erratic. I don't crave coffee. I have no attention span. I am near tears most of the time. I am mean to people. My favorite things I can't do. I would kill for a good run but the whole equilibrium issue poses a serious problem. I am not allowed to drive. I am also not allowed to drink. And the drinking thing, what the fuck is that all about. I am on every drug known to man. All of them prohibit drinking, from the xanax to the cipro to the ambien to the zoloft to the nausea shit to the regular colitis drugs but the kicker is that the chemo drug specifically states that drinking on it will make my stomach bleed. Isn't my stomach bleeding anyway? Isn't that what the problem is? Then who the fuck cares if my stomach bleeds. It's just doing what it does. The tragedy is that alcohol holds absolutely no appeal for me right now. Not an iota. How is that possible? I AM NOT ME. I AM NOT ME. I like alcohol. I LIKE TO DRINK!

Who am I? I don't know. An insane ranting lunatic yes. But I AM NOT ME. And I get all of these comments from people about my new self like when I complain about having no focus or too much energy or too little energy or my moods are unpredictable or I am depressed or I do crazy angry things like, "oh, I do stuff like that all the time." But I don't! Again, trying to make me feel better is a good thing. I appreciate you for that. I love you for that. Thank you so much for that but those qualities that YOU may have, I do not. And all I am saying is that I want mine back. I don't know how to do this body snatchers thing. I had enough trouble being me. And again there seems to be no end in sight. I am just so fucking sick of it. So sick of it. I want to know now what the future holds. Is the best it's going to be? Is this my new life now? Am I going to get worse? Am I going to be able to get married and have kids? Am I going to go back into remission? Am I??? How long is this going to last? How long can I do this for?

I feel like I am trying to squeeze everything good into my life that I know of. I don't get joy out of things I used to and I am scared that my health is going to remain precarious so I need to see everyone. I need to love everyone I love. I need to be close to everyone I love. I need to get pleasure where I can. My LG night was a gift. I need more nights like that, being with him like that was so healing. I try and cram in as much good shit as I can and then I start to shut down, like Friday night on Roosevelt Island where I had to leave early. I needed to be home. I needed to be alone. Then when I get home I can't sleep, despite all the drugs that should induce me to sleep. Good that I am never bored. I don't watch tv. Netflix, which I thought would save me from my sleepless nights is my nemesis and the voracious reader that I am, I can't read. I can listen to music and I try to keep myself happy with my 'I am a badass motherfucker' playlist and my 'what's my motherfucking name' playlist but somehow I end up listening to 'growing pains' and 'rainy day music' more often than not. But I feel safe at home. I don't know what to expect from myself when I am around people and it is exhausting to worry about and it is exhausting to try to control. Especially because I usually can't control it.

But I have to say that it was the nicest thing in the world to be on Roosevelt Island among my Roosevelt Island family and be as crazy and erratic as I am and just let it out. MY noticed my leg shaking and like my spontaneously moving lips he couldn't get over that either. But he loves me anyway. All of my Roosevelt Island peeps love me. And thank god for them. They love me for who I am right now, not only who I used to be (and hope to be again). Or thank god for them for making me feel comfortable enough to be my bad self in front of them. Aw Shiiiiit.