-l’histoire continue 

Following confirmation from Dr Evs that my Kidney stones should pass without much inconvenience or trouble I was advised on a course of action for my other ‘hoarding dilemma’. I don’t want to outright vocalise the nature of this condition, but hopefully if I allude to a build up in my lower gestational tract, then perhaps it will become clear to the reader. The severity of my situation was ‘quite intense’ and I needed to take immediate and extensive action to resolve my discomfort.

Yes. This story does have a point. Yes I am leading somewhere.

I had to ingest specific treatments at specific times and follow a strongly guided diet of fibre and water for a period of at least three days and then until improvement was noted. I was directed to begin this on Friday afternoon, with sachets of ‘instigator’. On Saturday I had to get Coloxyl from the chemist, a stronger and more insistent stimulant. I had to take one each day for the next few days until the pain had diminished. No more than 3 days on Coloxyl, but as many as needed on other instigators and stimulants.

So Saturday night I took the first pill and Sunday I had the second. It appeared the end was in sight by Monday morning. The pain was nearly gone, my mood was lifted and I even felt stronger and lighter physically. I felt like me again! I was also quietly feeling confident that the Prednisone had taken effect and my mind was clearer than it had been in months.

When I approached my fifth week of university with my biggest strongest game face on, positively glowing out of my pores I felt nothing could get me down. During my second lecture (9:30) my stomach started to talk to me. IT was telling me in cramp language that the last of my digestive issues were in sight. However, by the end of the lecture (11:20) I had received another message completely.

Just get through your tutorial and it will all be okay. Only 3 hours. I could do it. 

Fifteen minutes into the tutorial I was leaving with a severe allergic reaction emerging on my face around my orifices, hot flushes almost sending me to a faint, red sweltering lumps breaking out all over my body and the distracting inability to think clearly. The university medical centre were only able to confirm I was indeed having an allergic reaction, but without my full history couldn’t prescribe me an antihistamine. My recent attempts and failures of over-the-counter and prescription medicines of this kind had sent me in to seizures and strokes. So I had to go back to my trusty hospital teams again for treatments that wouldn’t cause more damage.

My cousin Keris picked me up, she only lives a few blocks from me and my uni, and took me to Fremantle Hospital where it was fast confirmed that I had indeed had an allergic reaction, most likely to the Coloxyl. I didn’t have inflammation or infection. The Prednisone usually would prevent a severe allergic reaction and it was the doctors belief that it may have been the reason the reaction didn’t happen sooner, for longer or stronger. But as the reaction episode did not last for more than 4 hours, and was largely cleared by the time I was attended by the necessary medical experts, there can be no straight conclusions drawn. Anything further is pure speculation.

I was released the same day, from my third hospital visit in less than 2 months. I am becoming exhausted with the rigours my body has been through lately and the extensive toll my extra healing has taken on me. I am starting to become very conscious of the interruptions Lupus is having on my study this year and have forgotten almost entirely the idea of having regular, committed relationships on a simple level and so am seeing the friendships I have re-established slowly slip away as people that don’t feel the desire to keep in touch with me regularly find something more interesting to do.

I am not concerned so much. I have healing to do. And those friends often reflect to me they don’t read my blog either. I wish they would. I wish they knew how much I’m getting around trying to keep my body together. Trying to cling to any semblance of normality that might exist to me. Wanting to hear from them, but lacking the mental capacity to remember to reach out or explain my absences. This life is lonely. I have become a drifter that is inconsistent in maintaining even daily routines. And now I am tired.

I wonder what will happen next week.


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