Search

Supporting the Colitis, Crohn's, ostomy and J-Pouch community one butt joke at a time

Tag

hospital

Its raining cats and bowel problems

-kitten-offers-to-help-sad-friendSomething is off in the IBD universe right now and I don’t know why, but I don’t like it. Many of my close friends have been sent to the ER and had hospitals stays for blockages, fistulas and a lot of dehydration. So I’ll preface this with, srsly people. Take care of yourselves. We all need a reminder to take it easy, and to stay on top of our health, and I hope that you take my hospital fun and that of my friends as your own reminder.

So during this period of time I had an interesting situation arise. I would say 90% of my friends have IBD or related health issues. Usually when one of us goes down, be it for IBD issues or life issues, most of us are there to pick them back up. To offer support and to listen to how much life sucks at that moment. But what happens when all of your “pick me up people” are down for the count? How do you pick each other up?

Well I learned that you don’t. I found myself struggling between keeping my own head above water, and sincerely caring for my friends who problems were equally as complicated and sucky. Constantly torn between feeling like a shitty friend and wanting to just be selfish and sick and sad. I would fluctuate between being mad that they didn’t show enough interest or concern in my conditions but at the same time logically understanding why they didn’t and that I was not as supportive as I would have usually been.

So it became this big, mean circle. Where I got sick, and they got sick. I cared for their issues until I had to care about mine. Then I would have less of an interest in their issues, and they’d take less of an issue in mine. Then I would be angry that no one cared as much as I wanted them to. I haven’t confirmed this with any of my other friends, but I almost hope that they felt that same anger, and that I’m not a total asshole.

I am overly sensitive right now. Life is awesome, and I’m doing awesome things but my personal life is a bit of a drag. And it dragged down my health and my attitude all at the same time and I’m working hard to stay on top of it all. But recently I had this power struggle between how I aid my friends and how I aide myself. Quite frankly. I didn’t figure it out. I think I’m past this scenario at least for a while as it seems as though we’re all on the up and up, but damn. That sucked.

REMINDER: You're still sick.

I posted on the BPT facebook page earlier last week that I had pouchitis and that I was taking Flagyl for it.

Well…I got cocky.

I felt better within a few days and like a total dumb ass stopped taking the Flagyl after only about 5 days, only half of the recommended course. In the past this has worked for me, however I was not so lucky this time. It came back, and it came back angry. I noticed it again last Thursday but it really took a toll on Friday. I decided to start taking the Flagyl again but by that time the damage was already done. I laid on the couch most of Friday, Saturday and Sunday hoping to get less tired and feel better but it didn’t really help. So add in some person life drama, and drinking way too much coffee over the last few weeks and bam. Tuesday I checked myself into the ER for pouchitis and severe dehydration.

If you’re like me, you debate the ER for about 3 days before actually going. I called at least 4 friends to get their opinions. I even had my spiel for the doctors and nurses ready to go. It went something like, ” Hi, I have pouchitis and I’m dehydrated, just get me some saline and a CBC and I’ll be out of your way”.  But we all know what never really works. By the time I decided to actually go, I needed to go. I got there and after I got taken back, and put in the hallway (which is so fun as a patient , I literally could not keep my head up I was so drained. I had to take a huge breath before speaking because I was out of breath, and light headed. If I had waited much longer, I probably would have needed a ride, and I hate having other people drive me to the ER. I hate inconveniencing anyone else with my stupid body.

So I get there and after about an hour and a half, I finally got my IV and my fluids. Shockingly it only took one poke, but of course it wasn’t after the nurse telling me over and over how small and deep my veins were, which generally just gets me primed to ask for another nurse, but she got it, and only after like digging around for a few short seconds. To her credit, I’m not even bruised. Well done over chatty nurse, well done. So here is the best/worst part of the ER. They only half hear what you’re saying. They asked if I had pain or nausea, and I really didn’t so I said no, or it was minimal. So when the nurse came back with my goodies she brought, saline, IV Flagyl, IV Benadryl, IV Zofran, and IV Dilaudid. I was like, well, I’m never one to turn down the fun meds so shoot up, but srsly….doctors of the world, does anyone listen? I was actually pretty stoked for the Benadryl because it would help me sleep, Zofran and Diladud are like a weird fucked up bonus.

This ER story is much like many others. They gave me drugs I didn’t need, the Resident treated me like I was an idiot, and the nurses were amazing. The end. I decided to stay in observation for a few extra hours just to get the extra fluids because I thought I’d go to work the next day. But I didn’t. I woke up feeling better, but still just so damn tired. So I stayed home and wished I had stayed in observation for 24 hours so I could have gotten the fluids.

I’ve decided to turn my life into a drinking game to keep myself hydrated. Wake up – Drink. Take a shower – drink. Pet your dog – drink. Check facebook – drink. Its really a totally blast. Actually, its not, I hate trying to stay on top of my hydration. I suck at it, because I drink enough water for normal people, but not enough for the colonless. So I’m posted up at work today with some pedialyte and a water bottle.

So what are the lessons we’ve learned from my mistakes?

Take your damn Flagyl for the whole course.

 Also above all this reminded me that no matter how far I run, or how many programs Girls With Guts has, or how many degrees I get, or the fancy job that I have…I am still chronically ill. Not that I pretended not to be, or that I thought this was all past me, but I was doing so well for a really long time. And I got careless. The worst part about all of it, is realizing that this is my fault and it all could have been prevented. I realized a long time ago that I am not fragile, but it took this to remind me that I am not indestructible.

Headline: Eating is as dangerous as motorcycles

Some of you may know that I ride motorcycles. I have for years, and I really enjoy it. I’m not a girl who just sits on the back. I like to be in control.

When I tell other girls that I ride I often get a lot of questions. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall?” “Will you teach me?” “Have you crashed?” And so on.

The one that people seem to want to talk about the most is “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall?” The only answer to this question is that I don’t think about it. I know many people who have crashed, gotten injured and even died from motorcycle accidents but when I’m riding I do not think about it. If I did, I wouldn’t ride. It’s as simple as that.

So why is this relevant….to anything?

I was pooping today and I looked down as I so often do and I saw skins from the grapes I was eating. I had my usual “I need to chew better” moment and then I started thinking I shouldn’t eat grapes. I shouldn’t eat nuts. I shouldn’t eat lettuce. I shouldn’t eat anything that could cause my jpouch problems.

It was at this time for whatever reason I realized that eating for me is like riding a motorcycle. I could scare myself out of eating certain things, but I don’t because I just don’t think about it. Instead of fretting over what to consume, I eat the same way that I ride. I am very careful, I am cautious and I take extra precautions. I know that I can only control what I eat to a certain extent and then the rest is “fate” or whatever. I can ride very responsibly, carefully, and cautiously, but if I encounter some asshole on the road, the only thing I can control is how I react in that situation. Sure, I may crash one day but it won’t be because I am uneducated about motorcycles or riding them.

Same goes for food. I am careful with what I eat and how I chew it. I make the right decisions for me, and if some day something decides it wants to be an asshole and get stuck in there, that is essentially out of my control. I refuse to not eat certain things anymore (or ride my bike) because I’m afraid of what could happen.

So there. Eating is like riding motorcycles. Next topic: Eating while riding motorcycles.

(I love analogies)

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: