If any of you have been sifting through my half way organized “blog categories” you would know that I suffer from Crohns Disease.
Lately I have been dealing with a slew of issues and problems and I decided to do a series of posts about this, or do I stay silent and keep plugging along with the other posts and stick to the mental health issues. But I feel that these two go hand in hand especially after recent studies are showing that Bipolar disorder and Crohns could be said to be working together, against our bodies, as in our brain chemistry is so much more responsible for what our guts are doing and vice versa. Not to say that Crohns is psychosomatic…IT’S NOT!!! But there is something to the mind body connection and researchers are on the cusp of using this information to treat patients who have mental health issues and physical co-morbid ailments.
OH and to those that have told me or another chronically ill person it’s all in my head, can basically see themselves to the image below.
I spent my sweet 16 in the hospital doped up on fantastic drugs and the BEST FOOD EVER! The food part… I am pretty sure the fact that I hadn’t been able, had been wanting, un-willfully/willfully been starving, I hungered to eat, and the fantastic drugs made the food I would at long last receive taste THE BEST!!! That was after a week of tests and needles and allergic reactions to pain killers and anti-nausea medications, and another week after diagnosis and adjusting medications to eventually be able to eat…IT all started with broth and Jello and the day came that I ate chicken and mashed potatoes with carrots. I swear to this day it’s still the best food I have ever eaten…
Pretty sure it was the drugs.
So fast forward to 2014, half my colon removed.
I have a colostomy, affectionately named Fred. Diddle came up with that.
I adjusted, I adapted as usual, as always. Like I do, because I have no choice.
It was going good, a round of nasty meds, a round of chemo, new biologic and gained double my “sick” weight + 25lbs. Then BAM…
Fast forward to 11-2015, and here we go again. My final bits of colon are totally inflammed, and the other bits of the peri-anal disease are working their way around and creating sudden fevers, and malaise, then the erythema nodosum. A visit to the doc, and voila’, another round of prednisone, keep taking the biologic, and come 4/4/2016…
No more colon.
Dr. G is very optimistic, and that the toxic drugs can be replaced with less toxic drugs, to keep a maintenance regimen, so
AM I SCARED AS HELL!!!
What is it going to be like to finally let go of my colon?
I know that sounds really messed up.
Why wouldn’t I want to get rid of a part of me that is diseased and has caused me grief and pain and suffering?
I think that this might be tied to why I can’t have good healthy relationships…maybe. I could be over analyzing…but I think there is a strong and distinct connection.
I have never been able to walk away from either of my shitty relatives and family members. Parents included. It seems death is the only finality I give myself. I continue to go back, forgiving as always, moving on as if nothing happened, and smiling and laughing and joking and talking. Then it happens again the something stupid, the rejection, the games, the drama, the obligations.
But I keep going back…I keep feeding the disease.
I think I need to think on these thoughts a bit more, I think I am onto something…
Greater than an epiphany…is there anything greater than an epiphany?
To be continued…