Control Issues

I’m making Sally Schneider’s incredible sour cream panna cotta tonight for a work function tomorrow. I can’t eat it, but I do know it’s incredible because I made it for our Halloween party last year and dressed it up in plastic horns and raspberry sauce–before I found out I was allergic to cow dairy. When I figure out how to make this recipe with goat milk, I’ll be one happy chick.

So the prednisone is wearing off. I know because this morning my hands started itching. By the afternoon, they were swelling and I was rubbing ice on them to keep from scratching them. Here’s something you’re going to hear often on this blog: I’M SICK OF IT!

Obviously, it’s frustrating and tiring. Obviously, I’m at my wits’ end. I’m doing everything in my power to control my body and it’s clearly not cooperating. I forced myself to go swimming tonight just because I wanted to do something normal, something routine and regular from my daily life. As I write, my hands are still irritated and I can only hope they improve overnight.

Being sick, for me, is about relinquishing control. You have this body, right? And you think, hey, if I eat right, exercise, and blah blah blah, I’ll be fine, right? No. Wrong. Very wrong. The truth is anything can happen and it can happen to you. Because…well, why not you?

The truth is that no matter how much I read about itching, eczema, food allergies, lupus, candida, and multiple sclerosis, no matter how much I understand it all, that won’t prevent me actually having any or all of these things. As much as I want to figure out what’s causing it and then fix it, there’s no guarantee that’s ever going to happen. That’s hard to digest.

As I was rinsing off from the pool tonight (and don’t worry, my pool is cleaned with saline, not chlorine), I was talking once again to my rash. It went something like this:

You are just not going to win this one. I am one of the most stubborn people I know and I come from a long, distinguished line of stubborn, persevering people. You can eat and eat and eat my skin, but until you kill me, I am not giving up.

Let’s hope my rash has ears.

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