How I’m learning to let go
Just short of two years ago, I found myself sitting in the emergency room with a fever of 102.5 degrees Fahrenheit, one hand clutching my stomach, the other gripping my now husband’s hand. An intake nurse led me behind a curtain.
“How much pain are you in?” She pointed to the pain scale from zero to 10 with faces underneath the numbers ranging from smiling to crying.
“Ten,” I said, closing my eyes.
This excruciating abdominal pain sent me to the emergency room two more times within a few months before doctors figured out that I had sepsis due to a Crohn’s disease flare-up. At my first two visits, doctors concluded my Crohn’s symptoms were just acting up and sent me home once they’d brought my fever down. But in the end, after many tests, they realized I needed surgery to remove a part of my small intestine that Crohn’s had damaged beyond repair.
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