I'm Not Dead...

I'm really not dead... although these past few weeks I've often wondered if It would be easier.

No, I'm NOT suicidal... just still feeling so bad that I've wondered about my quality of life. I parked myself in the Dr's office on Monday and told him that I'm tired of vomiting and having bloody diareah and basically being bed ridden. 

I think He got the message because he changed up my meds and told me to call him on Thursday ( today) to let him know if I was a bit better, otherwise he will be sending me up north to Birmingham to the Univ. Of Alabama for some more specialized treatment. So far they still believe that they are just dealing with a very bad flare up of ulcerative colitis. Just trying to get me into remission.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Ted is Mr. Mom and Dad and seems to be doing fine except for a few mini outbursts here and there about the laziness and lack of following direction from our little punks.

He can't seem to understand why they don't do things the FIRST time he asks... I say welcome to parenthood. This is why they have to live with us for so long, because they need to be beaten over the head with each and every little lesson until they turn 30 and then they finally "get it". I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

So night before last I took my new meds and went o sleep. In the wee morning hours, my bowels began to "speak" as they usually do. I passed a little toxic gas and ran to the potty. 

Back to bed within a minute I lay down quietly so as not to wake my sleeping husband. next thing I notice him get out of bed and walk to the bathroom and then walk back to bed. He gets into bed and asks me a question...

ted-  Honey did you pass gas?

Me- why yes, yes i did

ted- Argh, maybe you could warn me next time?

Me-  why?whats the point?

ted- so I could protect myself ... in some way

I spent the next five minutes laughing silently in bed picturing myself spooning my husband while he sleeps in a military grade gas mask.