Dear Diary,
Remember when I said I was praying my two roommates would behave themselves while we were in Reno?
Well, apparently, neither one of them received the memo.
Or maybe they received it, read it, and collectively decided, “Absolutely NOT!” 🙄😂
After surviving the journey to Reno without pooping myself, I thought perhaps the worst was behind me.
Silly me.
Because apparently, getting here was just the opening act.
Welcome to Part Two: Oh Reno!
💳 The Wallet Strikes Again
By the time I arrived at the hotel and conference center, Crohn’s had finally started to settle down.
A little.
Not enough for me to trust her, but enough that I wasn’t actively searching for the nearest bathroom every five minutes.
Progress!
We began checking in when I was informed that a credit card was required for incidentals.
Oh.
Wonderful.
A CREDIT CARD?!
You mean the same credit card that was sitting inside the WALLET I LEFT AT HOME?!
For the love of all things holy!
Remember how I thought Apple Pay was going to save me from financial ruin?
Well, apparently, hotels have their own rules.
So there I stood, a grown woman who used to travel for work every single week, unable to check into her hotel room because she’d forgotten her wallet.
THE EMBARRASSMENT! 🤦🏽♀️😂
Thankfully, my former supervisor came to my rescue and graciously provided her credit card for my room.
Because without her, I might have been sleeping in the hotel lobby, using my suitcase as a pillow.
And considering the day I’d already had, that probably wouldn’t have been the most surprising development.
Once I finally obtained my room key, I headed upstairs to drop off my belongings and, naturally, use the bathroom.
Because while Crohn’s had quieted down, I wasn’t about to give her an opportunity to embarrass me in front of an entire conference full of colleagues.
I handled my business, freshened up, and headed downstairs to register.
I signed in, collected my branded T-shirt, and prepared to mingle.
But first?
ANOTHER BATHROOM TRIP!
At this point, I wasn’t waiting for Crohn’s to tell me she needed attention.
I was practicing preventative maintenance.
And considering I work in property management, you would think I’d appreciate addressing problems BEFORE they become emergencies.
So I used the bathroom again, changed into my conference shirt, and headed out to socialize.
Surely things were about to get better.
Right?
💪🏽 MG Has Entered the Conference
As I walked around mingling with colleagues, I noticed my left arm becoming weak.
Oh, you’ve GOT to be kidding me.
MG HAS OFFICIALLY ENTERED THE PARTY!
Apparently, Crohn’s had decided she’d done enough damage for the morning and tagged in her roommate.
Because heaven forbid I attend a work conference without both of them making an appearance.
Good grief!
Here’s the thing about Myasthenia Gravis.
Muscle weakness doesn’t always announce itself dramatically.
Sometimes it starts subtly.
An arm that suddenly feels heavier than it should.
A muscle that doesn’t want to cooperate.
A familiar sensation that lets you know your body is beginning to struggle.
And there I was, surrounded by colleagues, trying to remain engaged and professional while quietly assessing what my body was doing.
You can look perfectly fine on the outside while your body is having an entirely different conversation on the inside.
Eventually, we sat down to listen to the conference speakers.
For approximately forty minutes, things went reasonably well.
Then my self-diagnosed ADHD decided to join the festivities.
My attention started wandering.
My eyelids became heavy.
And despite my best efforts, I found myself struggling to stay awake.
Then it happened.
I DOZED OFF! 😳
OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!
Here I was at a WORK conference, surrounded by colleagues and leadership, fighting to keep my eyes open.
Not exactly the professional image I was going for.
So I got up and went searching for coffee.
Surely caffeine could save the day.
Except…
THE COFFEE WAS DISGUSTING! 🤮
Calling that stuff coffee felt disrespectful to actual coffee.
Nevertheless, I did whatever I could to stay alert because the last thing I needed was to become the subject of a conversation about professionalism.
Or worse, receive a reprimand because my body had decided it was nap time.
Imagine trying to explain that one.
“Yes, I understand I fell asleep during the presentation, but in my defense, my body is currently hosting a convention of its own.”
Somehow, I don’t think that explanation would have gone over particularly well. 😂
🫁 When Breathing Becomes Work
Finally, the first round of speakers finished.
HALLELUJAH!
Next up was the trade show.
Time to walk around, visit vendor booths, network, and see what everyone had to offer.
Under normal circumstances, this is the kind of event I enjoy.
But as we made our way through the trade show, I noticed something concerning.
My breathing was becoming labored.
Not ordinary tiredness.
That familiar feeling of having to work harder than I should just to breathe.
I don’t know whether anyone around me noticed.
Maybe they did.
Maybe they didn’t.
But I noticed.
And I knew I needed to stop.
Rather than continue walking around, I decided to cut my time at the trade show short and return to my room.
I had approximately ninety minutes before dinner and the evening festivities.
Surely that would give my body enough time to recover.
Except getting to my room presented another challenge.
As I walked, I could feel the exertion catching up with me.
My breathing was still labored, my muscles were tired, and suddenly my bladder decided it wanted to participate.
OH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
Not now!
PLEASE, NOT NOW!
I stopped walking.
Clenched everything I could possibly clench.
And said a silent prayer.
“Lord, PLEASE don’t let me pee on myself right now!”
Because there are embarrassing moments, and then there’s becoming the talk of an entire professional conference because you had an accident in the hallway.
I did not need that kind of publicity.
So I gathered myself and continued toward my room.
One careful step at a time.
Just me, my bladder, and the Lord working toward a common goal.
And would you believe it?
I MADE IT WITHOUT AN INCIDENT! 🙌🏽😂
Another victory!
At this point, forget conference attendance.
Forget networking.
My greatest accomplishment was making it to the bathroom before disaster struck.
And quite frankly, I was proud of myself.
🎰 Ninety Minutes of Rest & a Casino Full of Smoke
Once safely inside my room, I settled in for what I hoped would be a little rest.
Then my phone rang.
It was my assistant!
And honestly, hearing from her made me feel better.
Sometimes a familiar voice is exactly what you need after a day when your body has been putting you through the wringer.
Then my phone rang again.
This time, it was my coworker letting me know she was ready for dinner.
Well, so much for my ninety-minute recovery session.
Back to work we go! 🙄😂
I met her in the lobby.
My breathing was still a little labored, and my left arm was still completely weak.
But the evening wasn’t over, and I felt obligated to participate.
So I pushed through.
Not because I felt better.
Not because my symptoms had disappeared.
But because, in that moment, I felt like I had no other choice.
We still had about thirty minutes before the doors opened for our team dinner, so we decided to check out the casino.
Now, normally, I’m all for a little casino action.
But before we could get very far, I smelled it.
CIGARETTE SMOKE.
Oh, absolutely NOT!
Apparently, my respiratory system hadn’t suffered enough for one day.
I tried to play it off, continued talking, and acted as though everything was perfectly normal.
Meanwhile, my lungs were probably filing a formal complaint.
Dear Management: We would like to report unsafe working conditions.
Signed, Kia’s Respiratory System. 😂
Eventually, we headed back upstairs for dinner.
🥗 The Pickiest Pescatarian in the Building
Once the doors opened, we found a table, saved our seats, and headed off to investigate the food options.
Now, for those of you who don’t know me personally, let me explain something.
I might be the PICKIEST pescatarian on the face of the planet.
Yes, my diet consists primarily of fruits and vegetables, with the occasional seafood.
But here’s the catch.
I don’t like all vegetables.
I don’t like all fruits.
And just because something comes from the ocean doesn’t mean I want it on my plate.
I know.
I’m complicated.
But at least I’m consistent. 😂
Unfortunately, the dinner options weren’t particularly appealing.
So I settled on mashed potatoes, grilled cheese, and a salad.
A five-star nutritional masterpiece! 🙄😂
Was it the healthiest combination I’ve ever put together?
Absolutely not.
But did it fill me up?
Sure did!
And after the day I’d had, that was good enough.
After dinner, we mingled and waited for the raffle.
By approximately 8 PM, I was completely spent.
You see, when I’m home, unless I have something planned that I’ve intentionally rested for, I’m usually in bed by 8:30 PM.
And that’s not because I’m boring.
It’s because my body has a schedule, and apparently it takes that schedule VERY seriously.
By 8 PM, my internal notifications were already going off.
Low battery.
Power-saving mode activated.
Please connect Kia to a pillow immediately. 🔋😂
But the festivities weren’t finished.
So despite the exhaustion, muscle weakness, and breathing difficulties, I stayed.
Finally, the raffle began.
And what did I win?
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
Not even a consolation prize for surviving the day with my underwear dry.
Honestly, I feel like that alone deserved some recognition.
Once everything wrapped up, I said my goodbyes and headed upstairs.
Unfortunately, my bladder had one final negotiation planned.
But after another carefully executed walk to my room, I made it without an accident.
TWO FOR TWO!
Somebody get this woman a trophy! 😂
😴 BiPAP, AirPods & Preparing for Round Two
Once inside, I started preparing for bed.
First, my BiPAP machine.
Because apparently, even sleeping requires equipment and preparation when your body has decided breathing shouldn’t be automatic.
Next, I plugged in my phone.
Then my AirPods.
Yes, the SAME AirPods that caused an emergency trip back home before my flight.
Because tomorrow meant another full day of conference activities.
Eight hours.
Possibly more.
Of people talking.
And while I’m sure there would be valuable information shared, I already knew my attention span and exhaustion might have other plans.
So I figured I could keep one AirPod in my ear and listen to music when I needed a distraction.
PLEASE don’t tell my supervisor.
Or his supervisor.
Or her supervisor.
Actually, let’s just keep this entire arrangement between us, Diary. 🤫😂
With everything plugged in and ready for the next day, I climbed into bed.
My body was exhausted.
My roommates had worn out their welcome.
And all I wanted was a peaceful night’s sleep.
Surely tomorrow would be better.
Right?
🌅 Day Two: Crohn’s, Coffee & the Spanx Olympics
The next morning, I opened my eyes.
And before I could even properly acknowledge that I was awake, Crohn’s made an announcement.
GOOD MORNING, ROOMMATE! DID YOU MISS ME?!
OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
I could not get out of bed fast enough.
I practically launched myself toward the bathroom.
And when I tell you I BARELY made it to the toilet…
BARELY! 😩🚽
Apparently, Crohn’s had taken a little break overnight and was now fully rested and ready to resume her regularly scheduled nonsense.
Ma’am!
We have an entire conference day ahead of us!
Could you PLEASE act like you’ve been somewhere before?!
After Crohn’s finished her thirty-minute morning meeting with the toilet, I was finally able to move on with my day.
Thirty minutes!
Ma’am, this could have been an email! 🙄😂
I headed straight for a hot shower.
Now, I know heat isn’t always my friend, especially with MG.
But for me, a hot shower sometimes seems to help move things along and gives me a better sense of what my digestive system has planned.
Because when you have Crohn’s Disease, one of the most dangerous questions you can ask yourself is:
“Is that gas… or is that something else?”
And unfortunately, my digestive system doesn’t always provide a clear answer.
Sometimes it’s gas.
Sometimes it’s an emergency.
And sometimes you learn the hard way that you should NEVER have trusted that fart. 💨😂
After showering, I completed my skincare routine, brushed my teeth, and handled all the little things that make me feel like myself.
Then came the real challenge.
THE SPANX.
You see, I had purchased a dress specifically for the conference.
Cute dress.
Professional dress.
A dress that said, I have my life together.
There was just one little problem.
THE DRESS WAS NOT FUPA-FRIENDLY! 😩😂
So there I stood, trying to squeeze myself into Spanx like I was preparing for an Olympic event.
Pull.
Adjust.
Tuck.
Suck it in.
Pull some more.
LORD, WHY IS GETTING DRESSED A FULL-BODY WORKOUT?!
Eventually, everything was where it needed to be.
The dress was on.
The FUPA was reasonably contained.
My hair and face were done.
And from the outside?
I looked like a woman ready to conquer the day.
But before leaving my room, there was one more thing to consider.
Myasthenia Gravis.
After yesterday’s performance, I wasn’t taking any chances.
I took my Mestinon, hoping it would help manage the muscle weakness that might show up during the day.
I also tucked a few of my prescribed pills into my pocket so I’d have my medication with me while I was out and about.
Because apparently, leaving my hotel room now requires the same level of preparation as an international expedition.
Phone? Check.
AirPods? Check.
Medication? Check.
Spanx doing the Lord’s work? CHECK!
Dignity?
Well, we’re still working on that one. 😂
At 7:50 AM, I met my coworker at the elevator.
Dressed.
Presentable.
Medicated.
And prepared to face another day.
At least that’s what the outside suggested.
Because underneath that cute dress was a woman running on determination, medication, and a whole lot of prayer.
At 8 AM, it was time for breakfast.
Unfortunately, the options weren’t appealing.
And after yesterday’s experience, I wasn’t putting my faith in the conference coffee.
So I headed to the café in the hotel lobby.
Was it Starbucks?
No.
But was it better than whatever they were serving in the conference room?
ABSOLUTELY! ☕😂
At this point, I wasn’t asking for perfection.
I just wanted a cup of coffee that didn’t taste like disappointment.
💪🏽 MG’s Grand Finale: Four Stops, Four Flights & One Exhausted Woman
Surprisingly, the remainder of the conference day was relatively uneventful.
Crohn’s seemed to have finally decided to behave herself.
MG, on the other hand, kept reminding me she was still present.
A little neck fatigue.
Some arm weakness.
Subtle reminders that my body was working harder than it should.
By dinner, I was completely exhausted.
Not the kind of tired that another cup of coffee could fix.
The kind that settles deep into your muscles and makes even ordinary movements feel like work.
And what did the conference schedule have planned after dinner?
A PARTY!
Because apparently, after two days of conference activities, my body was expected to have enough energy left to socialize, dance, and pretend it wasn’t operating on its last two percent of battery life.
Wonderful.
Just wonderful. 🙄😂
As we headed toward the party, MG apparently decided she’d been far too quiet.
“Oh, you thought we were finished? Girl, I’ve got something for you!”
And just like that, my breathing became increasingly difficult.
Walking toward the party area, I had to stop.
Not once.
Not twice.
FOUR TIMES!
Four separate stops because I was struggling to catch my breath, feeling completely exhausted, and desperately trying to keep my bladder from betraying me.
Because apparently, my bladder and respiratory system had formed some kind of partnership.
Every time I exerted myself, my bladder threatened to give way.
Finally, we reached the party area.
And that’s when I saw them.
STAIRS.
Not just a couple of steps.
FOUR FLIGHTS OF STAIRS!
Are you SERIOUS?!
Who planned this?
Because my body was looking at those stairs like they were Mount Everest.
So I climbed.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
One step at a time.
Trying to manage my breathing, conserve what little strength I had left, and prevent another bladder emergency.
At this point, I wasn’t even attending a party.
I was participating in an endurance challenge nobody had warned me about! 😩😂
When I finally made it into the room, I immediately located a seating area.
There it was.
My sanctuary.
My safe place.
My new best friend.
A CHAIR!
And I had every intention of remaining in that chair for the evening.
Unfortunately, my coworkers had other ideas.
Apparently, they thought I should get up and participate.
Dance a little.
Have some fun.
And normally?
I’m all for it!
I love music.
I love dancing.
I love having a good time.
But on this particular evening, my body was already waving a white flag.
Still, I made an effort.
I got up.
Danced a little.
Participated.
Because sometimes you just want to feel like everybody else.
You want to enjoy the moment without having to explain why your body can’t always keep up.
And for a little while, I managed.
Until approximately an hour later.
🔥 Operation Escape: Somebody Turn Off the Heat!
Suddenly, my internal thermostat decided it was time to crank up the temperature.
OH, HERE WE GO!
I could feel myself getting hot.
And when you have MG, overheating is not something I take lightly.
Heat can worsen muscle weakness, and I was already dealing with enough of that.
So instead of enjoying the party, I was trying to cool myself down before my body decided to stage a complete rebellion.
Eventually, I managed to cool down.
THANK YOU, JESUS!
Now, surely this was my opportunity to make a graceful exit.
Right?
Wrong.
Every time I attempted to leave, somebody stopped me.
A coworker.
A supervisor.
Another coworker.
Someone would grab my arm, pull me back into the conversation, or encourage me to stay a little longer.
Y’ALL! LET ME GO HOME! 😩😂
Well, technically, let me go upstairs.
But you get the point.
The hardest part wasn’t necessarily the stairs, the dancing, or even the exhaustion.
It was knowing my body was telling me to stop while I was still trying to meet everyone else’s expectations.
Nobody could see how much effort it was taking just to participate.
And sometimes, explaining why you need to leave feels almost as exhausting as staying.
Finally, the DJ announced the last song.
HALLELUJAH!
Never in my life had I been so happy to hear that a party was ending.
I said my goodbyes and made my escape.
When I finally reached my hotel room, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a bed.
Not a slot machine.
Not a beautiful view.
Not a fancy hotel amenity.
A BED.
A glorious, wonderful, beautiful hotel bed.
And judging by the way my body felt, it was just as happy to see that mattress as I was.
After two days of Crohn’s emergencies, MG-related weakness, breathing difficulties, bladder negotiations, questionable coffee, conference presentations, and a party that apparently required mountain-climbing skills…
I WAS FINISHED.
My roommates had officially worn out their welcome.
And for once, I wasn’t asking either of them for permission to do anything.
I was going to lie down.
I was going to rest.
And if anybody needed me?
They could take it up with Crohn’s and MG.
Because Kia had officially clocked OUT! 😂💜🌻
🎵 Music Playing in My Head While Writing This
“Under Pressure” — Queen & David Bowie 🎶
Because between Crohn’s, MG, my professional responsibilities, and a bladder with absolutely no respect for my reputation, the pressure was REAL.
And apparently, everyone wanted to contribute.
💭 Reflection Corner: The Invisible Cost of Showing Up
One of the hardest parts of living with chronic illness is that people don’t always see how much effort it takes to do ordinary things.
Attending a work conference might seem simple.
You check into your hotel.
Listen to speakers.
Network with colleagues.
Walk through a trade show.
Attend dinner.
But when you live with Crohn’s Disease and Myasthenia Gravis, those ordinary activities can become exhausting.
Every bathroom trip requires planning.
Every episode of weakness requires awareness.
Every moment of labored breathing forces you to consider whether you can continue or need to stop.
And sometimes, you’re doing all of this while trying to remain professional, engaged, and present.
The people around you may see someone smiling, socializing, and participating.
What they don’t necessarily see is the constant negotiation happening between you and your body.
How much longer can I stand?
Can I make it back to my room?
Will my breathing settle if I rest?
Is my bladder seriously about to embarrass me in front of my colleagues?
And here’s what made this trip particularly difficult.
I knew my body needed rest.
I could feel it.
But I also felt obligated to participate.
To be present.
To show up for my team.
To meet the expectations that come with my professional responsibilities.
And those choices aren’t always as simple as someone saying, “Just go rest.”
Because sometimes, explaining why you need to stop feels like another responsibility you’re too exhausted to manage.
But there’s something else this trip reminded me.
Being committed to my career doesn’t mean I should have to ignore my health.
I can love my work and still need accommodations.
I can enjoy being around my colleagues and still need to leave early.
I can be a dedicated professional without proving my dedication by pushing my body beyond its limits.
And I can acknowledge that I pushed myself too far without pretending those decisions were easy.
That’s the complicated reality of living with invisible disabilities.
Sometimes the greatest challenge isn’t the diagnosis itself.
It’s navigating a world that doesn’t always recognize what you’re carrying.
And if I manage to get through the day without peeing or pooping myself?
Well, that’s just an added bonus. 😂💜
💬 Your Turn, Diary Readers
Have you ever felt pressured to keep going when your body was telling you to stop?
Whether you’re living with chronic illness, managing an invisible disability, or simply trying to balance your health with professional responsibilities, I’d love to hear how you navigate those moments.
Because sometimes, the strongest thing we can do is acknowledge that we need a break.
🌻 To Be Continued… One Last Time!
Two days.
One forgotten wallet.
Countless bathroom trips.
More bladder negotiations than I care to remember.
Four flights of stairs.
And two roommates who apparently believed this was THEIR vacation.
Crohn’s and MG had certainly made their presence known.
But despite the exhaustion, weakness, breathing difficulties, and constant fear of an embarrassing accident, I made it through.
Maybe not gracefully.
Definitely not effortlessly.
But I made it.
And sometimes, that’s enough.
Now, all that’s left is getting home.
Simple, right?
HA! Have we learned NOTHING from this trip?! 😂
Because if there’s one thing Crohn’s and MG have taught me, it’s that you should never assume the adventure is over just because you’ve packed your bags.
And considering how this trip started, I’m not making any promises about how it’s going to end.
🎬 COME BACK TOMORROW FOR THE GRAND FINALE!
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries | Kia’s Journey: 🌻 Going Back to Cali ✈️💜
Because surviving Reno was one thing. Getting back to California with my dignity, my belongings, and my underwear intact? Well, that’s an entirely different adventure!
Until tomorrow, Diary…
Keep living, keep laughing, and remember that even when your body has other plans, your story is still worth telling. 💜🌻
With love, laughter, and a whole lot of clenching,
Kia Lorice
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries 💜
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