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In 1998 I got the answer I didn't want, but did. I had colitis (IBD) and Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). Since high school I had been plagued with stomach problems—constipation, abdominal cramps, bloating. I had seen doctors, had numerous uncomfortable gastrointestinal tests, and was always told the same thing, "It's stress, just relax." How could I be under that much stress? I was only 14-years-old at the time. As I entered college my stomach seemed to settle and only rarely did I have any problems over the next fifteen years.
In 1996 I was married. I was 29. The wedding was wonderful, and the first night of our honeymoon on the island of St. Barth's was one I will never forget. A fabulous dinner by the Caribbean ocean, French restaurateurs fawning over our every need, the man I loved by my side, and starting at about 2:00 a.m. five hours spent in our bungalow bathroom with unrelenting diarrhea. “Had I eaten something bad?” I wondered. “Was it the water?” Three days later and many pounds lighter I finally left our island bungalow. I was scared to leave the vicinity of my bathroom, but it was my honeymoon, I had to try.
The rest of our honeymoon went off without a hitch and my stomach remained relatively problem-free until two years later. Another violent and lengthy bout of diarrhea hit and this time is just wouldn’t stop. I was confused, but also scared as my symptoms continued and worsened—there was now blood in my stool! “What was going on?”
Because of my experiences with gastroenterologists during my high school years I was hesitant to seek help. I didn't want to go through oodles of uncomfortable tests just to be told I was stressed. As the weeks progressed and my symptoms continued I saw a holistic doctor who tested my stool and my blood. He found out I was deficient in a number of vitamins. Three days after beginning a vitamin therapy routine the diarrhea was still more frequent and painful than previously. I was losing weight at a frightening rate—nearly twenty pounds in six months. My 5'6" frame weighed a mere 98 pounds. I looked gross, but felt even worse. I felt too sick to eat, spent too much time in the bathroom, and had little to no energy. Finally, I called my old high school gastroenterologist and asked if he could recommend a doctor in my new hometown.
Two months, a couple of doctor's visits, and a colonoscopy later I got the answer I'd been looking for but really didn't want—I had colitis. The doctor said my colon had looked fine during the colonoscopy but the biopsies they took showed a different story. Immediately, I was put on drugs to reduce the inflammation in my intestines. While I hoped the medication would help stabilize my symptoms I couldn't help but feel that my life was changed forever, and not in a good way.
Three years later on a fall evening my husband and I sat on the deck of our Lake Tahoe home and watched the blazing orange sun set over the Sierra Nevada mountain range. He reminisced about our past four years living at Lake Tahoe.
"It's been a big change from Washington, D.C.," he said.
While I listened to his words, my mind whirled through the huge number of changes that had, indeed, entered my life in the past years. The enormity of it hit me all at once. I thought, “I'm only 33 years old. I have an incurable colon disease, and while I've learned to cope with it pretty well, I have no choice but to live with it, and the awful effects it can bring into my day-to-day life.
John asked what I was thinking about.
"Colitis," I told him. "I know I've been living with and dealing with the knowledge of my disease for the past three years, but it only just hit me tonight that it will never go away. I'll never be the same person I was before my diagnosis."
"You're right," he said, a little too matter-of-factly, "You aren't the same person you were before 1998. The past three years have brought huge changes for you, for me, for both of us. And while some days have been harder than others, they haven't all been bad. Think of all you've learned about your disease, your body, you."
I stared at the wood decking beneath my feet and the many, many changes of the past years played through my mind like a slide show.
Urgent, unrelenting diarrhea… cramps… fatigue… confusion… fear… elimination diet… B.R.A.T. diet… Asacol… Lomotil… acidophillus… aloe vera juice… learning to relax… practicing yoga… learning to meditate… Reiki… doctors… nurses… internet chat rooms… websites… resource books… alternative medicine magazines… research… learning to know my body and listen to what it needs… asking for help… asking for space… giving myself time to learn about the new me… accepting my new life and the new me… realizing my disease doesn't have total control over me… knowing there is life after this diagnosis.
I realized my husband was right. I wasn't the same person as before IBD & IBS entered my life, but that wasn't all bad. I had learned a lot about myself over the past years and now knew better how to deal with the good, the bad, and the ugly of my illnesses.
It is now nine years since my diagnoses. I have thought even more about my journey to understand and live with IBD & IBS and have realized that successfully living with these chronic illnesses entailed working through the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I believe this was an important process for me to go through as it allowed my old self to be replaced with my new, better self. I've learned that an important part of living with my IBD & IBS is not to deny myself the opportunity to feel and work through my emotions. I am a stronger, healthier, and more vibrant person today than before my IBD & IBS diagnoses.
 Elizabeth Roberts is a writer and the author of the book, Living with IBD & IBS: A Personal Journey of Success.
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