"You can't wake up / This is not a dream" - Halsey
My colorectal specialist confirmed that I do indeed have a fistula. According to her, the MRI results showed a lot of inflammation around one of my strictures which made it difficult to pinpoint the exact location of the fistula, but it's around the area I've had a stricture in ever since I can remember. That area just so happens to be located near my bladder.
As she recommended surgery "soon" (within two months) she used a chart and pointed to the diseased, strictured part of my bowel that she wants to remove and replace with tissue from a healthy part of my bowel. She went on to explain that she would stitch up the fistula in the bladder and the stitches would dissolve. I asked, "So, you want to do a resection?"
My colorectal specialist looked me in the eyes, nodded her head, and replied, "Yes."
Before I schedule bowel resection surgery, I am getting a stool test and lab work that my gastro ordered as well as making a follow-up appointment with my gastro. The lab work is going to measure Remicade levels in my system to help us determine if the medicine is being effective. My colorectal specialist advised me to consult with my gastro about medication options. Am I going to stay on Remicade? Are there other medicines out there that could get Crohn's under control and heal the fistula without surgery? I'll blog about this in another post.
Now, back to my nightmare. Resection would put me in the hospital for 4-7 days. Recovery would be 4-6 weeks and it could take up to 6-8 weeks to return to "normal activities". My colorectal specialist said she wouldn't know until we are in the operating room whether or not I would require a permanent stoma. This scares the shit out of me. This is more terrifying than going head first into that fucking MRI machine. If this happens, there will be no turning back. I was kind of expecting it, but that doesn't mean I'm not in denial about it. I've been ugly crying intermittently. Even though my ass is fucked up, I do not want to have to poop in a bag for the rest of my life. I'm not even thirty years old yet.
