It was a Wednesday. I remember it very clearly. Wednesdays were always and have always continued to be my least favourite day of the week. Bad things just tend to happen then. Anyway, I remember it being slightly overcast but still warm. I was still able to wear a t-shirt despite it being the middle of September. Of course I brought a sweater just in case. I like to be prepared and when one is going into the hospital having been gravely ill for three weeks straight and just gone through a three day colonoscopy prep all culminating in losing as much weight as a small child one tends to get chills and hot flashes at the drop of a hat.
My mother dropped me off at the door and then went to park the car. And while sitting on the bench I remember smelling something sweet. I turned around to see a farmer's market benefiting the hospital behind me. They were selling fresh fruits and veggies. This sticks out in my brain because I recall thinking to myself my lack of desire for food, especially these foods and if I would ever eat again. Yes, I felt that sick. And yes. My suspicions were right. In two short hours my world would change.
My Mama came back to retrieve me and I entered the place I had both come to fear and worship. After making another trip to the washroom and ridding my bowels of the final excrement they had managed to hold onto I made my trek up to the second floor. My memory is recalling a joke my mom said about taking the stairs. I just shot her a look. We took the elevator.
Upon reaching the second floor I remember seeing that it was under construction and there were new check in procedures. This made me nervous. I don't do well with new situations and the fact that this was not what I had researched made me even more anxious. So anxious in fact that I got put to the front of the line, bypassing a two hour wait time because of fear of me fainting or my heart exploding from Tachycardia. Apparently a 20 year old isn't supposed to be 105 pounds without being confined to a gurney so she doesn't get hurt. IVs are also particularly difficult to place when you are so dehydrated I have come to realise.
So to catch you up to speed. In the hospital. Tachycardia (fast and irregular heartbeat). 5 IV attempts. 105 pounds. Told to not get up off of the bed for any reason. Rolling into a colonoscopy theatre to meet my Gastroenterologist....
I don't really remember much more after this. I met my wonderful Dr. P. She asked me a lot of questions, none of which I can bring to the front of my mind. But I remember it being cold. I also remember my mom putting my hair into a ponytail. I remember this because I love my mom and after 5 IV attempts your arms are pretty beat up and not really usable. And the anesthesiologist putting the oxygen in my nose. And it being laced with some happy gas. Next was the white fluid. It hurt going into my arm. This I remember most of all. I remember an "ow" escaping my mouth and being turned onto my left side. As I was slipping away the last thing I recall was them telling me to lift my head to put the mouthpiece in as I was also getting an endoscopy....
Then came blankness.
....until 45 minutes later. They only gave me enough drug to last twenty. Let me reiterate. I was very sick. And tired. Oh so tired. After slipping in and out of consciousness for another ten minutes the nurse took charge and demanded I get up. Well I showed her. After five minutes and a fainting episode I was comfortably back in my bed sleeping it off. When I finally came around I had some Gatorade. And then Dr. P. came in and gave me the news the would change my life forever.
"You have Moderate to Severe Crohn's Disease it three spots." She said. And even in my Propofol hazed state this image is burned into my brain and always will be. She drew me a diagram. She showed my where I had a patch of moderately inflamed tissue in my descending colon. She showed me another patch in my transverse colon. She showed me where I was so badly inflamed she could not even get the scope into in my Ileum. And then she told me what I will absolutely never ever EVER forget. "If you had waited until October 4th (my original scope date) you probably would not have made it. You would have been in the hospital undergoing surgery to remove 1-3 feet of your small and large intestines."
Thank God for cancellation lists!
She then wrote me a prescription for a very high dose of Prednisone, took me on as a patient and has been by my side ever since.
So two years later, as I sit here listening to The Fray, 35 pounds heavier, in much better spirits and writing my story word by word I realise how truly close to the end I was. It all came down to 19 days. 19 days that could have meant having to spend the rest of my life with an Ileostomy. Or worse.
I have said it again and again, I am sorry for the diagnosis but happy to finally have one.
A word for my discomfort.
A name for my pain.
And although I may complain about LCB and all of his antics he is a part of me.
And I wouldn't change that for the world.
(But would it kill you to let me eat a nice Caesar Salad once in a while?)
;)
