I finally heard back from my gastroenterologist’s office this afternoon–while I’m at headquarters in Boston, of course. Apparently I’m anemic, and my white blood cell count is pretty low. That could explain a lot of the fatigue and weakness symptoms I’ve been having. My doc’s putting me on iron. I’d been on it before, but he took me off it because my levels were fine and he was afraid it was messing with my digestive system. But I’m guessing with the bleeding I’ve been having, especially without the iron supplements, made me anemic again.
The WBC count is more worrying. It’s almost certainly because of the 6-MP. I have a love/hate relationship with this drug–it’s caused me all kinds of icky side effects, but it’s also given me more control of the UC than any other drug. And now I may have to go off it. He’s not going to take me off it just yet; he wants to get repeat labs in two weeks and go from there. I wasn’t having as many problems on 75 mg–it wasn’t until it got upped to 100 mg that I got really ill–so we’re both hoping that means going back down will solve the problem. But if it’s caused bone marrow toxicity, I may have to go off it totally.
I’m SO FRUSTRATED. The only drug that’s kept my immune system from ripping holes in my intestines might now be killing my bone marrow. If I go off it, I’ll probably get sicker with the UC, but obviously killing my bone marrow isn’t an acceptable scenario either. All I want is a drug that controls my illness without killing me. WHYYYYYY does that have to be so far out of reach?
Some fucker just banged on my window again. This time I decided that I may be 5’4″ and sick as hell, but I didn’t take years of martial arts classes for nothing–I can defend myself if I need to. It was some young guy in khakis and a button-down shirt, and he said he was looking for Christina. I told him no one named Christina lives here. He just stared at me for a minute and then said he’d wander around and try to find her. He seemed…I dunno, stoned or something.
I’m trying to decide if I should call the cops.
When I told my landlady about somebody banging on my window a couple weeks ago, she said she thinks the previous tenants were selling drugs, and my bedroom was their bedroom. But I’ve lived here since January, and I know the apartment was vacant for several months before that because they were renovating the apartment. Wouldn’t the former tenants’ customers know they’d moved by now?
But I don’t really want to call the cops because then I’d have to deal with my cop issues. I’m sure I’d do fine in the moment, but I’d fall apart later. That’s usually how it goes for me with triggers. People think I’m handling everything great, but then once things calm down, it all goes BOOM. And I’m already struggling since I found out about my grandmother dying, so I don’t really want to deal with more triggers right now if I don’t have to. Then again, I also don’t want to worry that I’m going to be raped or murdered in my sleep because I decided not to call the cops.
Okay. Calm down. That guy seemed too out of it to really do us any harm. Plus, one of my roommates is a large guy. Harmless, but he looks intimidating, and sometimes that’s all that matters. I’ve locked the front door and the door to my bedroom, so if somebody tries to get in, I’m gonna know about it before they actually get in. In the morning, I’ll call my landlady and see what she thinks I should do. If I need to, I can make a police report then. She also mentioned that there’s a cop who lives two doors down who’s a really nice guy, so maybe he can handle it informally. I am not going to freak myself out about this tonight. Well, no more than I have already. (Yeah, I’m still shaking.)