The thing is, the last two weeks and a bit have been a bit rough. Yes, you guessed it – I’m sick again. What started with a slightly irritated eye turned into anterior uveitis which them morphed into shingles on my forehead, scalp, and left eye.

This is the opposite of fun. And to be honest, this recent bout of sickness nearly broke me. I was finally pushed to my point of no return. Never before have I said to Marc, “I feel like I’m dying“.

It wasn’t the pain that made me say this. It was the feeling of giving up. Giving up the fight against this body of mine that seems to hate me.

I really was optimistic with the start of 2018 that once I had my final surgery, the health problems would be over. This simply is not the case. I haven’t felt well since August. Something is off, but according to my blood work, everything is normal.

When doctors keep telling me that there is no indication that there is a problem, it begins be a bit hard to hear. I guess I’m imagining my fatigue, the breathlessness, the small intestine pain, the blockages, the racing heart rate, and the general feeling of being unwell.

And now, still after the acute peritonitis and this crazy storm of uveitis (likely thanks to a funky little gene called HLAB-27) and shingles – I’m still considered to be healthy.

So yeah, now I feel like my body is winning this battle. I try to do everything right – eat healthy, exercise regularly, keep my stress low, get adequate sleep, etc., etc.

But it’s not working. I can’t stop the battle that my body is waging.

Normally this is when I write about looking forward or being optimistic or doing the best with what I have. I can’t write this anymore. I don’t feel this. I’m at the point where hope just seems to end in disappointment and sadness.

So now, I’ve accepted that it is what it is. After nine years on this sickness train, I’m okay with it. This is how it is going to be for me. Better than me than you – I know how to handle it.

I realize this post could be considered to be a bit of a downer – don’t worry. I’m okay. I’m in a new place. I have finally admitted to myself that there is nothing I can do to stop the chaos that is happening in my body. It really is out of my control.

Fortunately, thanks to 2018 Boston Marathon winner, Des Linden, I have a good quote to think of in times like these, “All I can do is control the controllables“.

Two weeks ago I was in the hospital. I thought I was just going in for a quick trip to the ER to get my intense stomach and pelvis pain sorted out. I did not expect to stay until Thursday afternoon.

So many doctors. So many questions. So much pressing and poking of my abdomen. So many blood draws and two CT scans. This was all on Tuesday. At this point, Marc was still supposed to be getting on a plane the next day to fly to Belgium.

This all changed when the doctor started asking me about my living will and my end-of-life directives. This is when shit got real. Turns out that I had acute peritonitis. You can Google this if you want. Let me just tell you it’s bad. 40% of people who get this die from it.

Those days in the hospital were crazy and intense.

And now, here I sit, two weeks later. The pain in my abdomen, pelvis, and the area where my rectum used to be finally eased off on Saturday. (Yes, three days ago.)

I don’t know what caused the acute peritonitis. I saw doctors from the gastro team, the medicine team, the general surgery team, and the gynaecological team – no one could tell me why I got sick. It’s a mystery.

What is not a mystery is that life is for the living.

So now, it’s forwards and upwards. I don’t know why I got sick. I do know that never want to experience pain like that ever again (the pain caused me to faint and crash land on the floor).

But this is the past. I live in the here and now. So now I get back to life. I was sick, and now I’m not. End of story.

I feel like I’ve written a version of this blog post so many times before. It’s the post that goes something like this: okay there’s a big pile of lemons but it’s time to make lemonade and I can’t sit around waiting for something to change, if I want progress and to be whole again, I have to be the change, I have to be the one inspiring me.

Yep, I’ve written very similar words many times before. All those times before I was in the thick of racing my cyclocross bike and had big goals I was aiming for. Back then I was bound and determined that I wouldn’t let little barriers like chronic illness stop me. In fact, at the time, this was just the extra fuel I needed to convince myself that anything is possible.

Now, it’s a bit different. I’m not that same bike rider anymore. I’m not that same person anymore. Now, the bike for me is something that I ride for fun. I want to ride and long and hard. I want to ride my ‘cross/road bike, my mountain bike, and my fat bike. I want it to be fun.

This is the time to put a new record on the record player. No more repeating the same old words about lemons. Now, here at the age of 46 with a huge dose of perspective and life experience, the training, the riding, and the racing mean something different for me.

I want to ride. I want to get stronger. I want to lift weights. I want whole body fitness. I want to be outside. I want to enjoy what I’m doing. I want to do it because it feels good that day. I want to be comfortable in my skin and spandex on the bike.

Yeah, I think this is a pretty good place to be. Tomorrow is a brand new start. I start with heaving some dumbbells around in the basement. I get going with some structured bike riding. I commit to my yoga practice. I do some new stuff like walking in the woods and slowing myself down. I get myself ready for a great winter of long fat bike rides. In between all of this I remember that there is a huge life away from sport that includes things like pottery class, drawing, movies, books, delicious food, traveling, and exploring this city fully.

It’s kind of exciting. I’ve got to admit it. I think this time around, it just took me some extra time to find myself again. And now, I’m keen to see what’s next – gravel riding, more technical mountain biking, riding up big mountains and eating croissants, bunnyhopping curbs, and maybe a few drawings about bikes – really whatever I want.

I’ve had this gnawing pull to write a blog post for a few days now. The only problem is, there’s simply not much to say.

I’ve been riding a bit – not as much as I’d like. I’ve signed up for another pottery class. I’m doing the local cyclocross series around Ottawa on Sunday mornings. I’m slowly teaching myself to draw thanks to a very well-written and illustrated book. I had a silly fall on my mountain bike last weekend and sprained my thumb. That’s really about it.

I kind of feel like I’m just lingering. Waiting for things to happen or even turn around. The lack of control that comes with the long-term status quo of lingering can be tiresome and unnerving. The not knowing and the weariness of wondering if it will ever end can be a lot to manage.

When it gets to this point – the point where I am now, I get fed up. I feel the need for action and for something to happen. Normally, I would tell myself “right then get up and do it then”. But I can’t do this. I’ve got something new keeping me at a standstill – fear.

Fear of not knowing what could happen. I’m used to riding and training. I’m used to feeling alive through my ability to sweat and suffer. But this is coming with a heavy price right now. So what is a person supposed to do? I’m about ready to say “to heck with it – let’s get back on the two-wheeled horse and start moving forward”.

If not for my physical health, but for my mental health. This waiting for results and waiting for phone calls about doctor’s appointments in the distant future is no way to get through the day. Yes, there are days when I’m so tired that I can’t walk up the stairs without being winded and needing a little sit down. But then there are the days when I feel like I could ride for hours and hours.

It’s time for compromise. Time to live fully on the days when I can and time to take the extra nap on the days when I need it.

And no, I can’t find other ways to live fully. A full life for me means I ride my bike. This might not make sense to you. Well, think about that thing that you do that gives you a full life. Now, take it away. How do you feel? Exactly. Now you understand why this lingering cannot continue.

It’s been six months since my panproctocolectomy completion surgery. Geez, that is a mouthful isn’t it?

When I saw my surgeon in May at about the half-way point of the first critical phase of healing, he told me it would take “a good six months until you are fully healed and feel normal”.

Well, I’m ready for it. I’m ready for feeling normal. Any day now, I guess.

I was feeling really great physically – riding a lot, starting to find some strength and endurance, and generally starting to feel like myself.

And then I wasn’t. It kind of snuck up on me, but seemingly overnight I couldn’t walk up the stairs without getting winded, I couldn’t do back-to-back bike rides, or go for a long steady mountain bike ride.

I was tired. All of the time. I still am.

So now I’m riding when I feel like it and when the conditions are pleasant. This is hard. I feel guilty for not being out on my bike right now on this unseasonably warm October day. But, I can’t – I’m tired.

Or am I? Yes, I’m starting to wonder if this is all in my head… Marc assures me that it’s not in my head. But sometimes it’s hard to know. I keep thinking that tomorrow I’ll wake up and feel like myself again.

It has after all been six months.

I did see my gastro doctor today. I’ve done more blood work and he’s put in a referral to a liver specialist for that pesky liver disease that is lurking in my chaotic body. Until I hear back, I wait – status quo.

Keep riding when I can. Keep lining up at ‘cross races. Keep trying my hardest. Keep my eyes open and looking forward.

Seeing the possibility rather than getting frustrated with what isn’t possible. It’s not easy. I’m not that great at it. But, there is no other option.