Mighty Mouse Juice

I have pretty much lived my entire life in fear of one thing or another. One of my biggest non-philosophical, non-existential, and downright irrational fears is mice. I have hated them and been afraid of them for as long as I can remember. So color me disgusted.
Last week I was reading up on possible liver problems associated with Crohn’s Disease and I found out that Remicade has a patient street name of “Mighty Mouse Juice.” The drug is literally made with mice protein. My brother started singing the Mighty Mouse theme song–and with my husband’s help–re-arranged the lyrics to make it: “They became Remicade….” I know, great support!
mighty mouse
I find it ironic though…the one thing that scares me the most is also the one thing saving my life. Now isn’t that just a metaphor for my life?
In other news, me latest liver blood panel came back flagged high–again. I submitted a portal on Friday to see what they wanted me to do next, but so far I have not heard anything. While waiting I decided to try to detox my liver. Sometimes I really think I have good ideas… until I have to execute them. In this case it was roasted dandelion root tea. I can assure you, it tastes as awful as it sounds.
I did get a few good laughs with the tea though. One co-worker was insistent that we were going to get through this cup of sludge together and was very motivating. I have been forced to drink some pretty unbearable things in my time as a crohnie so I was punking out, majorly. However, my co-worker’s insistence was the key to success. I brewed a cup and the next thing I knew there was a ring of us standing around playing the sip-sip-pass game. Okay, it was more like them taking a sip and trying not to blanch too hard. One girl said it tasted good, but I had to ask her if her face knew that.  
I had another flair this weekend; they are all starting to blur together. I know I have said it before, but the pain isn’t my undoing. It’s the emotional stuff: my kids’ faces and the words they say. I actually missed donuts-and-park day this week. I have not missed that Sunday tradition in months. The whole point of the day was to let the kids know that no matter how bad things got, I would always be there. We would always have these days, these moments…and I ruined it. Or so it feels like.