Stolen

It’s been several weeks since the last theft, but yesterday’s caught me a bit by surprise. I expressed my frustration to my husband. “This Crohn’s Disease has stolen a day from me.” He replied with words that conveyed their concern as well as his own frustrations. “No, it stole a day from us.”

It is easy to feel selfish when pain and hindrances hit you hard. For some strange reason we begin to think we are the only ones suffering. My husband’s words, not a rebuke as much as a reminder that we are in this together, opened my eyes to see more of those that suffer indirectly. You see evidences around the house of previous thefts: a few projects I haven’t been able to complete and an emergency supper kit for the kids to prepare in case I’m down for the count and Karl is at a meeting somewhere.

At this point in time I’m still learning a lot about the disease that has had more than 25 years to learn about me. I know one type of medication that doesn’t work. I know of several others that are still to be tried, but they bring higher risks with them. With every passing stolen day and the muddled days of recovery that follow, I’m also learning more about the amazing gift of a husband who’s with me every step of the way, many times picking up the load that I’ve dropped when Crohn’s demands an immediate appearance.

The day may have been stolen from us, but somehow, together, we’ll find a way to get the most out of the days that are ours.

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