God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...

That's the part of the serenity prayer I've always had trouble with. I change the things I can, and I know the difference. Yet I stubbornly persist in not accepting things, even when I know I can't change them. Today, I'm going to say something important. Not because you need to hear it, necessarily, but because I need to remind myself of it yet again:

Healing is a process.

I hate those four words. After so much time in pain and exhausted, I was at least a little excited once a name was put to the monster and I was given the means to beat it. But what I didn't take into account was the damage that had already been done. There's no telling how long I've had Celiac, aside from the fact that I've had serious symptoms for two years, and I did not have it in spring of 2007 (that's when they did tests and diagnosed my IBS). So I had it anywhere from 2-5.5 years before it was diagnosed. That kind of damage can be pretty extensive.

But I got excited - I've had 3 good days. Things seemed to be turning around. And then the day after my last post, I woke up in so much pain I was shaking. I stuck it out and worked through it, but I paid the price - I couldn't work Friday or today.

Here's the thing about chronic pain - you get used to it. That's not to say that you like it, or that you don't notice it. But it becomes a part of your day. I get up, I'm hungry, I'm tired, I have to go to the bathroom, and I'm in pain. All of those are assigned essentially the same value. But having those good days (good = 4 or less on a 10 scale) kind of took me out of being used to it, making a bad day that much worse.

So instead of hoping that I'll magically just be all better, I'm going for a new, more realistic hope. I was diagnosed in October of 2012. By my birthday (September 2nd), I'd like to be at least mostly pain free (more good days than bad). Fingers crossed, rice bag on, and snuggie equipped. I'll keep you updated.