What Would You Do?

          My friend, Veronica, proposed the question: What would you do if you were told that you didn't have that much time left to live? She was prompted by this question because her boss has cancer and he has stopped responding to treatment. Honestly, I don't have time to blog right now, but that's the whole idea isn't it. Time is a selfish bitch. I have projects to finish, deadlines to meet and finals to study for. All of my sleeping and napping has put me over two weeks behind in one of my classes with finals a week away. I can only imagine feeling like I don't have time to be sick if I was given an expiration date.

          I know that my days here on earth are limited, yet I don't live like today will be my last. I lost my bucket list on my old laptop when it died a couple months ago otherwise I'd share it. Sure, I have a list of things I want to do before I die. However, if I knew when my expiration date was, I don't think I'd go on a mission to check as many things off my bucket list as I could. Rather, I'd spend as much time with family and friends as possible. It would be awesome to go somewhere on a trip with them to celebrate my life together.  I'd try to mend my dysfunctional relationship with my sister, Leigha. The people in my life matter to me and if I knew when my time was going to be up, I'd take extra care beforehand to make sure each of them knew how they've enriched my life.

          I'd likely quit my job. Perhaps that's giving up hope, since I only work so that I can afford to live and cross things off my bucket list. Why waste time working if living won't be an expense for much longer? I'd prefer to spend my time writing my autobiography and publishing it to leave behind in hopes that at least one person will be inspired by my story. Then, if I get cured from my imminent death and live longer than my expiration date, I could make my new living as an author. 

          I've already checked some pretty incredible things off my bucket list:

•  Skydive - check
•  Run a marathon - check
•  Ride in a hot air balloon - check
•  Run across the Golden Gate bridge - check
•  Swim with manatees - check
•  Visit NYC - check
•  Visit Washington D.C. - check

           I feel like if I wait to tackle my bucket list until I'm old or dying, by that time it will be too late. The point of my list is for it to enhance my sense of living, not for it to be my grand finale in life.

Everything You Never Wanted to Know About My Colonoscopies

          Most healthy Americans don't have to get their first colonoscopy until after they turn fifty as a screening for colon cancer. I had two colonoscopies by the time I was twenty-five. Wah, wah no big deal. That's right, it's not a big deal to someone with healthy bowels. The procedure is pretty routine. I'm jealous of how easy it was for my dad and my friend Taylor. I also can't describe how strongly I desire to have their grossly normal results.

          Before I get into my first colonoscopy, let me back up and explain how I came about getting there. By the way, I had my first colonoscopy back in 2003.  I don't remember exactly how many months I had been experiencing weird and sometimes painful bowel movements before I finally told my parents that I needed to go to the doctor. I suffered in silence for far too long. I had lots of puss, blood and mucus in my bowel movements. Did I mention a lot of BLOOD? I was going to the bathroom at least 10 times a day with diarrhea. I didn't know what was happening to me. I tried to keep quiet about it, but soon my family started noticing that I was in the bathroom a lot. They never questioned it, they just made comments.  I was afraid and embarrassed to tell anyone until one day when I gathered the courage and called my mom into the bathroom to look in the toilet. I remember the look of concern in her eyes. I had other symptoms, too. I saw my pediatrician, I saw my OBGYN (the issue was with my butt, so I'm not sure why the dr. had poking and biopsies done in my vagina. I still remember the size of the needle they stuck me with down under. I'm pretty sure I closed my legs on the doctor's head after that), eventually I was finally referred to a pediatric gastroenterologist. The diagnostic testing I underwent included: blood work, upper GI series, barium x-rays, sonogram and lastly the colonoscopy.

          I had my first colonoscopy when I was fifteen. FIFTEEN!  Damn, I was a strong kid. I wish I could go back in time and give myself a hug.  I had to drink a gallon of prep. For those of you that don't know prep is the stuff you drink the day before the colonoscopy to clean you out so that the scope can clearly see your colon. They also make prep taste so bad that if the only source of hydration left on the planet tasted like prep, I would rather die of dehydration than gag it down. Obviously, I was down in the dumps by the time I had to take the prep, which probably makes it harder to endure. To give someone that already has the shits a gallon of prep to drink in order to give them worse shits seems like cruel and unusual punishment.  I spent the night crying on toilet. By morning I was extremely dehydrated from everything that came out of me. My mom drove me to the hospital and I don't really remember anything there until I woke up in the recovery room. I was gassy from all the air they shot up me to keep the passage open for the scope to see. My stomach hurt, but I think the pain was from being so empty.  The findings of the colonoscopy concluded the diagnosis of Crohn's disease.  I had the same question most people have when they first hear about Crohn's. What the hell is that? That's a topic for another post entirely. My mom drove me home and I think I slept most of the day.

           I don't remember telling any of my friends about what I was going through. My basketball teammates only knew that I was sick. I'm sure my mom told coach and some of the parents, but as far as telling people about this poop disease... I've come a long way since then. I'm all about creating awareness because I don't want some lost kid to be too afraid to speak up and get help sooner than I did.

          My second colonoscopy is fresher in my mind because it was in 2012. By the time I got around to getting an appointment with my gastroenterologist I had very little control of my bowels. I was pooping myself on a regular basis. Experienced pain that's impossible to explain. I lost 17lbs in a couple weeks. It was my first big flare with Crohn's since being diagnosed. I was even further in the dumps than when I had to take my first prep. This time around I told my friends about it and most of them were supportive.  I went through a different prep this time around. I took some kind of pills to prep the prep. I also drank a bottle of magnesium citrate two days before the colonoscopy. If you've never tried that glorious prep, you can pick up a bottle at any CVS or the like to try. Just take a sip to taste it. Then, I had to drink 8oz of the prescribed prep every 15 minutes until it was gone. I remember clear liquid coming from my ass by the time I was finished. I failed to mention that I fuss and whine like a baby about how I don't want to prep while I prep.  It's miserable.

          My mom drove me to get the colonoscopy. The first thing the nurse wanted me to do when she took me back was to pee in a cup to make sure I wasn't pregnant. The problem was that I was so dehydrated that I tried to pee for over an hour and half in that damn cup of hers and I couldn't even get a single drop of urine out of me. Finally, I signed a paper stating I wasn't pregnant. The thing about dehydration is that it makes it difficult to find my veins for the IV. I scolded that nurse for bruising my arm with the needle searching for a vein. When she finally hooked me up, I'm sure she couldn't wait to get me drugged. By this point I had been laying on the bed naked with a butt flap gown and blanket over me for what seemed like forever.

          To me, it feels like a lot of time passes between when I get put under the anesthesia and when I wake up. When I woke up this time, I heard my mom talking with the doctor. The operative procedure report from my doctor confirms what I thought I heard:

          "A stricture was found in the rectum." "We used a pediatric scope since I don't
          believe a regular would pass." "...the stricture was ulcerative." "I did see an
          orifice likely a fistula. Colitis was found in the descending colon. We reached
          an area with significant ulceration and angulation. I could not go beyond this
          level. It may be stricture but I don't know with certainty. The remaining bowel
          was fairly normal with some old scarring."

          I have colored photos that were taken with the scope of my colon to confirm everything in the report. I'd post them, but I'm sure that would freak you out if you didn't want to see it. It's scary to look at. You'd question how I get poop out through the inflammation and tight passage way. No wonder I was in such pain. I'm surprised that since they couldn't go all the way up due to the stricture that my doctor hasn't ordered another colonoscopy to get a better look beyond it now that I seem to be doing better. I think a colonoscopy would be cake if I could prep while I feel good.  Maybe next time, I'll throw a prepping party where my friends can take shots of alcohol while I take shots of the delicious prep.

A Treasured Day with Taylor

           I spent the day with Taylor yesterday.  It's great to see a real smile return to her face as she gets back to her old self. In a way, it kind of energized me. She's coming out of some really rough health stuff and I couldn't be happier for her. It's difficult to see someone you care for struggle and get beaten down by something out of our control.  Taylor and I really are two peas in a pod with all of our health issues. We support each other on good days and bad. We completely understand when the other isn't feeling well. There have been times when all we do while we hangout is nap. If that's not the perfect friendship for me, then I don't know what is.

           I enjoyed running some errands with her and I especially enjoyed the two and half hour nap she let me take while she did some homework. She's planning a huge 50th birthday party for her mom next month in Lake Placid. I can't wait to celebrate with them. I love Mrs. Conklin!  However, I think I'm even more excited because this will be the first event of Taylor's I'll attend. I'll get to see her in her element of being an event manager and help her however I can. Not to mention there will be an open bar.  In other news, we talked about having a going away party when she moves in two months. It's crazy to think how much I will miss her.

          We saw the movie God's Not Dead and we even watched the Gator's lose to UConn. I picked UConn in my March Madness bracket at work, so I wasn't even mad the Gator's lost. The movie had a great message: God is good all the time. It also reminded me that suffering and evil exists in this world because God allows us to have free will.  I definitely needed that message. Taylor knows I've been struggling with my faith and I'm glad she took me to see that movie. True friends point you to Jesus. I guess that means I've been a sucky friend lately.

Time Heals All Wounds... Or So "They" Say

            I’m always shocked when a doctor actually helps me solve a health issue. I’m certainly not an optimist when it comes to health. I think the healthcare industry is out for my money… meaning they’ll mask some symptoms here and there, but they’ll make sure I have to come back for more “treatment.” How can I blame them? They would be out of business if they cured everyone. I’m beyond amazed that my dermatologist was able to get my hair to regrow in the area I suffered hair loss. The last time I saw the area, it was a smooth, fist size bald spot. I haven’t mustered up the courage to look at it since then. It sounds weird, but I can’t feel the difference of whether my hair is re-growing or not when I use my prescribed shampoo.  Since I have my sister, Kelly, put the topical steroid ointment on “the spot” I haven’t had to look at it. Kelly’s reaction to how fast the new hair seems to be growing makes me feel good. It’s the complete opposite reaction everyone had when I showed them the bald spot when I first lost the hair.

                I was hysterical when I first lost the patch of hair. I hated that I was that emotionally attached to my hair. My hair isn’t even that great. I didn’t believe it would grow back. I cried for hours a day mourning the loss of… hair. My friends and family saw me break down. Do you know the phrase that says, “Time heals all wounds?”   I feel like this is a life lesson I refuse to learn. The days, weeks and months when stomach pain deteriorated me, I thought I would forever be enslaved to the torment my body was putting me through. Even now, during this time of wicked exhaustion, I feel like I will never be refueled with life again. Like the issue with my hair these things will pass with time. Now, the hair loss is no big deal. It’s just difficult to see that while I’m in the middle of it. I think the phrase would be better if it said, “Wounds that don’t heal with time will be healed by death.” By adding the element of death to the phrase I think it encompasses those “wounds” which run out of time. This is totally the pessimist in me talking, or maybe it’s the fact that I’m impatient. Part of me doesn’t expect to be healed from anything until I die. No wonder sometimes I think, I can’t wait to die. Though I write those last few lines with some sarcasm, I know I need to work on strengthening my faith. Today I will celebrate the good news by taking a nap!

Spring of 2015

          After waiting over two hours to see an advisor today, the verdict is in. I will be graduating from UCF in the Spring of 2015. It stinks that it's a whole year away, but I think it's for the best. Especially, considering how poor I've been feeling. I find myself sleeping as much as I did on spring break. Except, I'm not on break, so the UCF world keeps spinning at full speed without me. I'm registered for two classes this summer and three classes this fall. I have to wait to register for my last class in the spring of 2015 until I fill out an intent to graduate form this November. 

          I think dead people in a grave have more energy than I have right now. Seriously, why am I so freaking exhausted? I'm taking my pills! I'm taking my medicine. My bowels have been treating me relatively well. I've been getting light headed and out breath by doing routine tasks. Taking a shower should not leave my heart racing and me gasping for air. I'm always sick to some degree, but am I really sick? My body needs to get with the program because I've got stuff I need to do. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to go to school. I don't want to go to the Dermatologist tomorrow. I don't want to spend time with friends and family. Although I'm glad Taylor has planned a nap into our day on Saturday. I don't even want to run anymore.  Yet, I continue to sleepwalk through my responsibilities. I get disappointed every time I wake up. No matter how much sleep I get it just doesn't seem like enough. What's wrong with me? The iron supplements were supposed to start helping.

Constipation... Too Much Information

          I thought I better post something under TMI before I lose my nerve. Plus, I don't feel like studying at the moment. I'm going to start this series off easy with constipation as the headlining subject. As you may know Crohn's disease is known for frequent diarrhea, so you can imagine my confusion when I started dealing with constipation. The constipation began after I began injecting myself with Cimzia in November of 2012.  I'll have to post my theory about how I think it's related to my menstrual cycle later. Obviously, what I consider normal bowel habits would probably make a person with healthy bowels think they're sick. I feel my best when I poop three to four times a day. Yes, that's my normal! It sounds like a lot to most, but it's not that much considering when I'm at my worst I can go up to 16 times a day. I start feeling constipated as soon as I go a whole day without pooping. Normal folks go days without pooping and feel good. But, imagine if you couldn't poop the next four times you felt like you had to poop. I'll feel like I have to go, but I'm greeted with endless amounts of gas and usually no turds. Though on occasion, a tiny one will escape.

          You should understand that if you saw what I call turds, you would probably be freaked out. Most people don't think twice about taking a shit. I think about the consistency, form, color, and whether there was blood or not.  It used to freak me out. Now it only freaks me out when I've recently seen what normal people call turds. My turds are typically really thin because my intestines are so constricted and tight from the inflammation and scars. They are no bigger around than one of my fingers. Anal sex is never happening for me. I don't see how that can bring anyone pleasure whatsoever anyway. My doctor lubes the scope and her fingers and it's always uncomfortable and sometimes it's even painful. I can't imagine a dick would feel any better. When I walk into a public bathroom where someone didn't make sure their shit flushed all the way, I stand and admire the HUGE freaking poops some women have. Seriously, my butt could never produce such beautiful creatures. Okay, back on the topic of constipation. I consider myself constipated even if one small turd escapes because let's be honest. One of my turds isn't very relieving. I know I'm constipated when it feels like I need to poop more, but nothing more comes out of my bad ass. My stomach will begin to cramp just after the first day of being constipated and the longer I go without a bowel movement the more pain builds up in my stomach. Eventually, I'll just want to lay in bed and moan about how all I want to do is poop. It's kind of a crazy thought for a crohnie because most of our existence is spent wishing we could stop pooping.

          Miralax is my close friend. My friend Taylor always comments about my two giant bottles I keep in my bathroom. If I lived by myself, I'd keep them in the kitchen. Up until last month as soon as I went a day without pooping, I would begin taking a double dose of Miralax everyday. It would take up to a week for it to work and give me a good poop that's why I never hesitated to start taking it. I was always miserable by the time it started working. This is something I've told my friends and family once, but to keep telling them every time I experience it would likely be redundant and annoying. I know I was annoyed with it every other month.

          After I started taking the iron supplements to help my anemia, I was concerned that constipation would be a side effect. Thankfully, my mom is always researching home remedies for constipation. It's usually easier to try whatever she finds than it is to have to listen to her tell me it's my fault for still being constipated and feeling like shit. The latest two remedies from her have actually seemed to help even while I'm taking the iron supplements.  I've been taking coconut oil pills and rubbing peppermint, an essential oil, on my belly. Since I've started these I haven't been constipated. My poop has been dark green since I've gotten back from NY. I don't know if it's something I ate, or if it's from the iron or coconut pills. Dark green poop means I'm not constipated, so I'll take it as one less thing bringing me down.

C's Get Degrees, Too

           Do you remember me telling you about those waves of exams? Yeah, well I just found out that I survived the second wave, which took place right in the middle of my trip to New York! I surprised myself in ECO 3411 by getting an 88% on the second exam. I'm surprised because I know for a fact I am not learning anything from this class. Oh, and the professor who taught the class before spring break had some kind of surgery so now a different guy is doing a worse job at teaching it. The new professor has changed the schedule of what we'll be going over the rest of the semester. He's changed all of the power points, which I already had printed out. I'm over it!

           The next exam I took during the second wave came the day after I got back from New York. I didn't study on my trip. Sure I read a little of my Financial Models book on my flight out until I fell asleep. I got home Sunday, March 23rd a little before 11:45pm and went to bed only to wake up to study at 6am. My Financial Model Exam was at noon on Monday. I studied my butt off to learn all of the formulas I thought I needed to know. The exam was 5 pages of free responses where I was asked to fill in certain excel formulas to complete models using cell references. This would be cake on a computer, but it seems trickier since I have to hand write the formulas. Two of the five pages were complete curve balls to me with material over the "real option model." I'd never heard of it before, so I bull shitted the best I could by making up formulas on these two pages that were worth 24 of the 60 points. I walked out of the exam expecting to fail. I was okay with the idea of failing because I knew my NY trip took away from studying, but it was worth it. I was also okay with it because I feel like I am learning the most in this class, so I know I can make it up on the next exam. I just wanted to get higher than a 52% so that I would still be passing the class. I ended up getting a 47/60, which is a 78%! That's a passing grade!!! I laugh because I know I didn't know that much information on the exam. There's no way I could have guessed right on that many free responses to get 47 points out of 60. No matter, I've never been happier to get a 78% in my life!

          The third exam in this wave of exams was for business law. I got an 89%, which means I have to get a 91% on the final if I want to pass the class with an A. Honestly, I'm okay with getting three B's this semester. I knew I wouldn't maintain my spot in the top twenty of all the finance students. I've already got into Phi Kappa Phi honors society that requires you to be in the top 10% of all undergraduates with any declared major at UCF. So, I'm just going to enjoy the rest of my UCF student experience without stressing about getting A's. Lately the professors don't do their job well enough to learn 90% or more of the information anyways. I'd rather take a nap instead. I need more energy because I'm to the point of feeling like it doesn't matter... C's get degrees!