In September my doctor changed my Crohn’s medication from Remicade to Humira. The first two months were a big transition. I was going from getting an IV fusion every 8 weeks, where I enjoyed watching movies under a warm blanket for 3 hours, to giving myself injections every other week at home. I did have Jake give me the first 8 to 10 injections. He did so well, especially for someone who does NOT handle medical things very well. Oh, and did I mention he hates needles. Finally came the day he made me promise that I would give the next one to myself. Crossing my fingers, I agreed.
Thanksgiving morning I found myself home alone preparing to have a house full of people and remembering that I needed an injection. I knew I was going to have to muster up the courage to do it myself, because of course baking a turkey and getting ready to host 15 people for Thanksgiving wasn’t enough stress–why not add a self-injection in there too?
The following week I realized it was time to reorder my medication. The company from which I order my meds happened to mess up my prescription. I was going to receive the next batch of injections late. I spent many hours on the phone pleading, begging and being very firm with countless people to get my medication delivered on time. This may or may not have been one of my finest moments in communication with others. I used ugly words that were unnecessary. I was feeling desperate, and I took it out whoever answered my call.
Lord I have sinned, please forgive me.
Two weeks go by and still no medication. I start getting very frustrated, overwhelmed and a little scared. “Was I going to have to restart the ramping dose again? Was I going to have to stop the medication altogether? Would this lead to a flare-up?”, and of course all the added stress–oh, man, the stress! If you know anything about Crohn’s, stress is your first trigger.
I called my husband at work; I explained again my frustrations and then began crying. I asked him to just let me cry because it might make me feel better. And the wise one that he is says: “Isn’t the God of the universe bigger than this? Can’t he have your medication delivered right now if he felt you needed it?” I was quiet for minute, wiped my tears away, agreed with him and got off the phone.
And then I sat for a few minutes and thought about what he said. Slowly but surely I felt peace–peace that God has this under control, peace that He was going to get the medication here if I needed it and I would be okay no matter what.
So here we are January 2014, 6 weeks since my last shot, and still no medication, no more calls from the pharmacy, no more calls from the doctors office, and still I have peace that God is in control.
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