I feel terrible.

Back in Italy I chose to double my medication to pull me through, but boy, does that come to haunt me now.

My Crohn was acting up because of that decision, and for three weeks I have been visiting the toilet countless times for the number two disguised in a number one. Like a wolf in sheep clothes. And now, as a result, I have suffered urinary or kidney infection symptoms.

So not only do I visit my personal room for, what feels like an endless amount of times, number two in sheep clothes, but number one as well.




I have decorated our toilet many years ago, as if it was a cosy little tearoom. Because I spend so many times spilling my guts, literally, I wanted it to be a nice little room to comfort me during the many and long, horrible moments. Ramon even changed the lights for a garland of Christmas lights against the ceiling, to dim the lights for a less graphic display.

But this last two weeks, I am actually sitting more in my cosy little tearoom, than kneeling. So I experience the interior from a completely different angle this time. I have noticed that my floor is a complete storyboard.

When I want to focus to zone-out, I always find a spot to stare at, so my eyes can create an illusion of shapes, due to the light or the lines and texture created on the surface. Some regular staring places always have the same reoccurring image. And sometimes, if I stare long enough, I see many different shapes, but they too always remain on the same place, to be found again.




Except for my granite toilet floor I’ve come to notice. I keep seeing new shapes, and some never to be found again. There are all kinds of things happening on that little half a square meter. Persons and objects that make a story….

An intriguing story I may add….

Some shapes are reoccurring, but other ones are totally lost, never to be found. Killed in battle I imagine. And some betrayed by their kinsmen, to be reappeared each time on a different spot, scarred for life. ‘There can only be one….’

Hmmmm, yes indeed…. Each visit to the loo is a like visit through time. And like a Highlander as Connor MacLoad, I will defeat this….

Taking a deep-deeeeeeep breath………

I will go to the physician tomorrow morning, to again…. Press the matter of my condition, and plea for help. Even though the test results aren’t clear, the physical pain I am going through should be enough to try and find the source. Because I know the inflammation that is most likely the cause, is pretending not being there because of my meds. So I truly hope, my imaginary sword will decapitates my physical deficiency, and I will receive the ‘the quickening’, so I am one step further to ‘the Prize’, and feel better again.

And maybe then I will encounter my toilet floor as I used to.