Life as an Oxymoron

So I mentioned that my ulcerative colitis has been flaring. It has caused issues at work and at the barn. Right now I am on steroids to hopefully get my system back on track. There has been minor improvements, but life is still rocky. Some days I cannot even make the 45 minute drive to work without stopping. Raw fruits and vegetables are out. Milk is out. Food in general is the enemy, and I seriously have to pick my battles.

I am  like my Cobs, an easy keeper. All my life I have been what society considers "overweight." Even when I actively worked out, I did not lose a ton of weight. So my dropping 30 pounds since November, though welcome, has been distressing. I have been shedding hair at an alarming rate. Remember my sister has alopecia, so hair loss is no joke. The dang UC is not allowing me to absorb enough nutrients. Nothing stays in me long enough. Even my pills are going right through me. So now I am an oxymoron. Who ever heard of a malnutritioned overweight woman? Mom is worrying because my Memere's actual cause of death was starvation.
I am now taking a multi vitamin and my breakfast is a nutritional drink. Dad even got me some that are really high in protein. I am not as tired, but am still dropping weight.

one of my therapists

Another thing I am doing to try to help is PEMF therapy. At adult camp the lunch speech is always about PEMF. The therapists bring a chair for people to try. I decided to sit on it. It ended up being nearly 40minutes and most of the time it focused on my left side. Guess which side my colitis is on? After the session I actually got hungry and did not have any gastro issues for a few hours. Soon after camp, Peggy found out that someone in the neighborhood had started doing PEMF treatments. She offered discounted services for people, dogs and horses. So twice a week she works on me, and even researched how to treat UC. Her machine is not quite as powerful as the one the other people have, but I have had some good results. After my last treatment, I even hopped on Roscoe bareback. It was therapy for my mental health. As long as I can ride, I can deal with the rest. Even being an oxymoron.