It's been a long time coming...

Hello out there. I haven't written since January. Too long. I have thought about it so many times but what I wanted to say was not enough or felt too repetitive, to bother. So here I am. Stuff has happened that I could have written about but this post is 100% influenced by a friend's message I got last week on Facebook. Someone I have not seen in years. And by years I mean 20 which is odd bc I'm TOTALLY only 29 still. ;-) Anyway...

I could attempt to outline the shittiness(according to auto correct- NOT a word) that is IBD but I'm exhausted trying to recall the nonsense from almost an entire year. Let's just say, and so it goes. Pain, meds, pain management, more meds, feeling like shit, fatigue, pain, fatigue...rinse, repeat. The latest was a failed attempt at an epidural with my pain management doctor to try and "break the pain cycle" to give some relief. Not 100% but at least not have it constant. Not for nothing with this failed procedure, it was absolutely blissful to have zero abdominal pain for about four-ish days. Blissful and miserable because, as most people who are chronically ill will tell you, you get to a point where you forget the before. The old you. The normal. So you begin to have a "new" normal life. And it generally is not an upgrade. Well, this four day relief was a bit bittersweet. Getting that time of relief and suddenly remembering how I felt to be a person not in pain pissed me off a bit.
The chance I took for it to work was unknown. Everyone is different and abdominal pain is difficult to treat.
Part of me wishes I hadn't had those four days because now it's fresh. The pain free me isn't this different life fading into the past. It was last fucking month and now it's almost tangible. It is bullshit. But... it didn't work. So now I'm back to where I was before with fresh knowledge of, "Oh yeah I used to not be miserable.". I had basically gotten to the point where the comparison didn't exist because I couldn't remember. And now I can and I'm pissed about it. But it was the chance I took for it to actually work to feel that way pretty regularly. Ignorance can be bliss. That is no lie.

One amazing thing about IBD is this amazing sisterhood that has come about almost entirely online. People you tell anything to, who get you 100% and who you've never met. But they need no explanations. They just know. Some you meet and you know how much the relationship impacts all areas of life. In September I was lucky enough to be the officiant at the wedding of one of my Gutsy Girls. Her husband is amazing and she is someone I know I will always have a connection with. This is me w my hot mic for the ceremony. In true Lisa fashion, at the end, I totally forgot I was miked and started bullshitting with the Bride's sister. No one seemed to notice. Poor Trump. Heehee.

But I digress... I started this discussing a message. This friend had a friend with Crohns, my age, who didn't care for herself and had passed away. I hate reading that because while IBD is not trivial, and can be a bitch, for the most part you will not die if you do it right. Life can suck but you'll be alive. Living is a matter of opinion.
I went months not doing it right in 2009-10 and my first ER visit my Hemoglobin was a 5(they usually transfuse at a 7) and I needed 4 units. Almost half. Yes people, it takes me almost bleeding to death to go to the ER. Stupid or tough-not sure. Anyway it was too close to home. I had responded and in it mentioned how many people think it's trivial which is why I blog and post and am generally annoying about my struggles.

This was her reply: You're never annoying when you bring awareness to such a serious disease. In fact, I credit you with saving my mom's life. I read one of your blog posts a few years ago, when my mom was chronically ill. I sent it to her, which prompted her to question her doctor. She had diverticulitis, and was bleeding internally! Soooo, no, it's never annoying.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Yes people, I bawled. How can you not. It was just this moment of, wow. So maybe I annoy 200 people with my "whining" or doctor check ins, or hospital pictures, but hell yes if what I have to say and what I go through can do this ONE thing??!!! Than I am fine. I'm more than fine. I do have a reason and a voice that can be impactful. Even if it's to a person I've never met who is the mom of a friend I haven't seen since we were drunk in Canada in 1999. 

That message was on October 11th. I haven't stopped thinking about it and what I wanted to say. 

So this is all of it. I feel like I need to come back to this because not only was it therapuetic for me, but apparently more helpful than I thought. People still find their way to my old posts but I hate that it basically stopped. Because it is still a journey. Still a lesson. Still a struggle. Still a life hiding more than I show to everyone. 

Love your guts, everyone. Love your health and the fact that you can! Because nothing matters when your health deteriorates. Nothing. In a month it changes. Day to day. Enjoy it. 

Thanks for reading. XOXO

Hello out there. I haven't written since January. Too long. I have thought about it so many times but what I wanted to say was not enough or felt too repetitive, to bother. So here I am. Stuff has happened that I could have written about but this post is 100% influenced by a friend's message I got last week on Facebook. Someone I have not seen in years. And by years I mean 20 which is odd bc I'm TOTALLY only 29 still. ;-) Anyway...

I could attempt to outline the shittiness(according to auto correct- NOT a word) that is IBD but I'm exhausted trying to recall the nonsense from almost an entire year. Let's just say, and so it goes. Pain, meds, pain management, more meds, feeling like shit, fatigue, pain, fatigue...rinse, repeat. The latest was a failed attempt at an epidural with my pain management doctor to try and "break the pain cycle" to give some relief. Not 100% but at least not have it constant. Not for nothing with this failed procedure, it was absolutely blissful to have zero abdominal pain for about four-ish days. Blissful and miserable because, as most people who are chronically ill will tell you, you get to a point where you forget the before. The old you. The normal. So you begin to have a "new" normal life. And it generally is not an upgrade. Well, this four day relief was a bit bittersweet. Getting that time of relief and suddenly remembering how I felt to be a person not in pain pissed me off a bit.
The chance I took for it to work was unknown. Everyone is different and abdominal pain is difficult to treat.
Part of me wishes I hadn't had those four days because now it's fresh. The pain free me isn't this different life fading into the past. It was last fucking month and now it's almost tangible. It is bullshit. But... it didn't work. So now I'm back to where I was before with fresh knowledge of, "Oh yeah I used to not be miserable.". I had basically gotten to the point where the comparison didn't exist because I couldn't remember. And now I can and I'm pissed about it. But it was the chance I took for it to actually work to feel that way pretty regularly. Ignorance can be bliss. That is no lie.

One amazing thing about IBD is this amazing sisterhood that has come about almost entirely online. People you tell anything to, who get you 100% and who you've never met. But they need no explanations. They just know. Some you meet and you know how much the relationship impacts all areas of life. In September I was lucky enough to be the officiant at the wedding of one of my Gutsy Girls. Her husband is amazing and she is someone I know I will always have a connection with. This is me w my hot mic for the ceremony. In true Lisa fashion, at the end, I totally forgot I was miked and started bullshitting with the Bride's sister. No one seemed to notice. Poor Trump. Heehee.

But I digress... I started this discussing a message. This friend had a friend with Crohns, my age, who didn't care for herself and had passed away. I hate reading that because while IBD is not trivial, and can be a bitch, for the most part you will not die if you do it right. Life can suck but you'll be alive. Living is a matter of opinion.
I went months not doing it right in 2009-10 and my first ER visit my Hemoglobin was a 5(they usually transfuse at a 7) and I needed 4 units. Almost half. Yes people, it takes me almost bleeding to death to go to the ER. Stupid or tough-not sure. Anyway it was too close to home. I had responded and in it mentioned how many people think it's trivial which is why I blog and post and am generally annoying about my struggles.

This was her reply: You're never annoying when you bring awareness to such a serious disease. In fact, I credit you with saving my mom's life. I read one of your blog posts a few years ago, when my mom was chronically ill. I sent it to her, which prompted her to question her doctor. She had diverticulitis, and was bleeding internally! Soooo, no, it's never annoying.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Yes people, I bawled. How can you not. It was just this moment of, wow. So maybe I annoy 200 people with my "whining" or doctor check ins, or hospital pictures, but hell yes if what I have to say and what I go through can do this ONE thing??!!! Than I am fine. I'm more than fine. I do have a reason and a voice that can be impactful. Even if it's to a person I've never met who is the mom of a friend I haven't seen since we were drunk in Canada in 1999. 

That message was on October 11th. I haven't stopped thinking about it and what I wanted to say. 

So this is all of it. I feel like I need to come back to this because not only was it therapuetic for me, but apparently more helpful than I thought. People still find their way to my old posts but I hate that it basically stopped. Because it is still a journey. Still a lesson. Still a struggle. Still a life hiding more than I show to everyone. 

Love your guts, everyone. Love your health and the fact that you can! Because nothing matters when your health deteriorates. Nothing. In a month it changes. Day to day. Enjoy it. 

Thanks for reading. XOXO

I have purple hair and am not at my best.

Hello interweb friends. I hope everyone had a glorious end to their summer. Mine went by really fast even with recovery. It is now "fall" here in Texas at 80 degrees.
It's been way too long since I've written for various reasons I am too tired and too drained to recount here. For those that don't know me personally, my summer after surgery was a struggle, my trip was AMAZING with my family at the beach and school started with little fuss.

I have purple hair because, why not? If not now, when? So let's do this. 
I just had my 2 year anniversary of my original JPouch connection. So many mixed emotions and struggles continue to this day. Never having answers. Daily pain. Not feeling like I can plan or do what I want way too often and just continuous issues. Well, I am missing a major organ so my surprise is pretty naive. Life and your body functioning just can't work correctly missing something like a colon. My Jpouch is a slight replacement for it. The shittiest of substitutes and lacking functionality. It's annoying. I'm pissed. I'm tired. My pouchitis was/is back along with another fissure. So that would be approximately 3 months post op. Way too fast for that to have happened. Again. Considering my last ostomy was to rest my guts from chronic pouchitis. Discouraging isn't quite the word for any of it. In fact, I have nothing in my vocabulary arsenal to adequately describe my feelings to all you "normal" people.
I went into this blog post considering whether to express my positive "go get 'em" face or the real shit I have been struggling with the last 6 months or so. Not to say everything was great prior, but the last 6 months have just been eating at me. In terms of therapy, getting to be with my parents and siblings and all the nonsense that goes with our families was above and beyond anything else I could have tried. That week went too fast. I think I needed two. If I had to move back to the beach and breath the salt air daily it would be so great. I felt so much better too. Salt air fixes everything. And a giant, insane Italian family.
Anyway, I feel like I'm in this shitty, dark place in my head. I don't like myself much. After being out here almost 5 years, I have a handful of acquaintances who are great and I see now and then but don't have that support system of people that everyone needs. I don't have girls I go out with or call to whine or complain to or go get my nails done with or shop with. I don't have a hobby bc honestly after the time I put into school, my pain, my kids, the house, a hobby is more energy than I can spend.  I don't even know who I am anymore many times. I say "me" but in my head I'm referring to this pre-sick person not the current person. The current me is no where near the me in my head that I refer to in a delusion. It's maddening. It makes me sad. Illness aside, I went from always jumping at opportunity and being busy living, to not living my life. To limiting my experiences. And I hate it to my core.
I will never get my sick time back. I feel like I need to double down on time now. Make up for time in the hossie, time recovering from surgery and time where pain just wore me out. There's way too much I want to do. Too many places to see and things to experience. Laughter to be had and people to meet. I don't know. I feel like my life has been in limbo for quite a while. It was one thing being really sick, or in the hospital or with surgery recovery, but now it's just "chronic every single day, I can't win" pain and issues that impact my life. The mental exhaustion from the realization of how long it's been going on, what things I've missed or what I avoid, is huge. 

I don't mean to be a Debbie downer but it is exhausting trying to be "ok" all the time. To smile and make small talk when you want to lay in bed and wait for five minutes of feeling ok. It just sucks the life out of you. So there you have it. I really would love to always be upbeat and positive and looking forward to things but in all honesty that's rare and I'm miserable and life can suck it, big time. In the best way possible of course. I see my surgeon Thursday to tell him things still suck. Trying to live while in pain is the biggest suckfest. I think about going to Europe one day and it's depressing because of all the food I will not enjoy because if I do my trip will be ruined.  I swear there are days I could scream. But I'm too damn tired. 

Hello interweb friends. I hope everyone had a glorious end to their summer. Mine went by really fast even with recovery. It is now "fall" here in Texas at 80 degrees.
It's been way too long since I've written for various reasons I am too tired and too drained to recount here. For those that don't know me personally, my summer after surgery was a struggle, my trip was AMAZING with my family at the beach and school started with little fuss.

I have purple hair because, why not? If not now, when? So let's do this. 
I just had my 2 year anniversary of my original JPouch connection. So many mixed emotions and struggles continue to this day. Never having answers. Daily pain. Not feeling like I can plan or do what I want way too often and just continuous issues. Well, I am missing a major organ so my surprise is pretty naive. Life and your body functioning just can't work correctly missing something like a colon. My Jpouch is a slight replacement for it. The shittiest of substitutes and lacking functionality. It's annoying. I'm pissed. I'm tired. My pouchitis was/is back along with another fissure. So that would be approximately 3 months post op. Way too fast for that to have happened. Again. Considering my last ostomy was to rest my guts from chronic pouchitis. Discouraging isn't quite the word for any of it. In fact, I have nothing in my vocabulary arsenal to adequately describe my feelings to all you "normal" people.
I went into this blog post considering whether to express my positive "go get 'em" face or the real shit I have been struggling with the last 6 months or so. Not to say everything was great prior, but the last 6 months have just been eating at me. In terms of therapy, getting to be with my parents and siblings and all the nonsense that goes with our families was above and beyond anything else I could have tried. That week went too fast. I think I needed two. If I had to move back to the beach and breath the salt air daily it would be so great. I felt so much better too. Salt air fixes everything. And a giant, insane Italian family.
Anyway, I feel like I'm in this shitty, dark place in my head. I don't like myself much. After being out here almost 5 years, I have a handful of acquaintances who are great and I see now and then but don't have that support system of people that everyone needs. I don't have girls I go out with or call to whine or complain to or go get my nails done with or shop with. I don't have a hobby bc honestly after the time I put into school, my pain, my kids, the house, a hobby is more energy than I can spend.  I don't even know who I am anymore many times. I say "me" but in my head I'm referring to this pre-sick person not the current person. The current me is no where near the me in my head that I refer to in a delusion. It's maddening. It makes me sad. Illness aside, I went from always jumping at opportunity and being busy living, to not living my life. To limiting my experiences. And I hate it to my core.
I will never get my sick time back. I feel like I need to double down on time now. Make up for time in the hossie, time recovering from surgery and time where pain just wore me out. There's way too much I want to do. Too many places to see and things to experience. Laughter to be had and people to meet. I don't know. I feel like my life has been in limbo for quite a while. It was one thing being really sick, or in the hospital or with surgery recovery, but now it's just "chronic every single day, I can't win" pain and issues that impact my life. The mental exhaustion from the realization of how long it's been going on, what things I've missed or what I avoid, is huge. 

I don't mean to be a Debbie downer but it is exhausting trying to be "ok" all the time. To smile and make small talk when you want to lay in bed and wait for five minutes of feeling ok. It just sucks the life out of you. So there you have it. I really would love to always be upbeat and positive and looking forward to things but in all honesty that's rare and I'm miserable and life can suck it, big time. In the best way possible of course. I see my surgeon Thursday to tell him things still suck. Trying to live while in pain is the biggest suckfest. I think about going to Europe one day and it's depressing because of all the food I will not enjoy because if I do my trip will be ruined.  I swear there are days I could scream. But I'm too damn tired. 

More Hurdles.

****** I started this entry about a week ago and just couldn't get my mind around it. There was a lot more to my hospital stay but I'm so mentally exhausted I can't recall details and all of it. I'm just too tired. So here's the gist of it anyway. ******


Hello all. I haven't written since my surgery on the 23rd. Recovery while in the hospital was brutal and since being home I just haven't had it in me. I'm hurting. I'm tired. Everything I do wipes me out for two days. My incision is hot pain. I'm sure the scar tissue adds to that. But I'll back the story up.
I went home to NY and ate like a pig the week before surgery and it was glorious. Pizza, Greek food, more pizza, chicken finger subs, oh my!! I had the best time with my cousins and seeing my Gram and a bunch of girls I miss a lot.
I came home Sunday and needed to be on liquids all day. I cheated and had breakfast Sunday morning b/c by now I know it was safe and I had time for it to be a nonissue. So let's just reference my meal at about 1130am Sunday.
My surgery was Monday morning. I arrived and got my IV and everything ready to go. All my Hossie flair and "fall risk" bracelet which is my personal fave.

Hospitals are cold. Yes, that's a scarf. I know it's summer.

Apparently they used some new pain blocking situation( the name escapes me) and has been shown to reduce use of opiates after surgery as it dulls/hinders pain receptors for 72 hours after surgery. If that's the case, I don't want to know what it would have felt like without it. I woke from surgery hurting and groggy. I had my PCA that allowed me to use it for a mini amount of Dilaudid every 8 minutes. It's such a low amount it's practically useless. Something like 1/100th of a milligram. I was allowed a push of .5mg of Dilaudid every 4 hours which would have been great except for lucky me, my blood pressure was way too low for them to give it to me. So for the most part I was suffering the first 3 days post Op. BP being 88/56 isn't gonna fly. Nope. So yeah. Just total shit. It didn't matter that my normal BP is like 90/70 on a good day. They wouldn't give me anything. So it wasn't until I was about 3-4 post OP when I finally got some relief. And they had me up and moving already. And was still nothing by mouth(NPO). Not even ice. Yeah. So fun. My first attempt at liquids with a bunch of Zofran was a disaster so that redid the clock in terms of me eating. The popsicle didn't make it and neither did the 3 tablespoons of broth. By then I was 5 days with nothing to eat. So I was pissed. And once again facing the possibility of an NG shoved down my nose and throat. Oh did I mention my hemoglobin level dropped to 7. Yeah that's transfusion level low. So all this was happening at once. IT NEVER GETS EASIER. Ever. NO matter how many times I've gone through this and am mentally prepared for starving for 4-5 days easily and then the pain of your guts working and/or NOT working, it is never easy. It is just horrible every time. Being attached to an IV pole and having no choice but to drop to the hospital floor and barf in the garbage can is insane. Because hospital floors #1 are so clean. I hit the call button and basically jumped. They raced in because they answered the call and I didn't respond.  #2 Meeting your next RN for the next 12 hours while face first in the trash is swell.
Luckily I didn't need a transfusion although I wouldn't have minded getting topped off because it makes me feel so great!
Finally-- 4 days after surgery I could handle liquids. Well, a sip here and there. GI surgery is just so brutal. Your guts don't have to work for months, the surgery shuts them down even more and then trying to get them to work again and not get sick is such a slow road. I've done it way too many times. So on day 5 post OP I got FULL liquids which is still slop but better than unidentifiable broth.
It's all just so exhausting. Being hungry and thirsty makes you nuts. I can't even remember how many times now I've gone 4,5,6 days with nothing to eat or drink. An ice chip here or there. It breaks you. It continually amazes me what I have gone through. I know I'm different now. I try hard not to let it happen but when so many days you have the shit end of a situation you get bitter. No matter how hard you try sometimes, it creeps in. You see things differently and react differently. You resent what you can't do normally anymore. You hate yourself. You feel betrayed by your own body. I have always lived my life in the moment. Ok, today I'm flaring. Ok right now I need surgery etc... but it's always been with a given idea that the funk will pass and things will be good again. After THIS surgery. AFTER this gets better. After 5 years of thinking things will be good after yet another issue, I don't know if I have IT anymore. I don't know how to explain it other than I've defeated myself. Kinda. I'm not done yet but I'm 3 weeks post Op and it's not like everything is perfect. I'm happier without the ostomy but I can't lie. I have moments where I definitely weigh the pros of having one. There are cons even with the best case scenario it would seem. Bummer.

But I'm pushing on. Dealing with being wiped out after doing something normal for a few hours. I have to. Being normal is costly. 1-2 days afterwards are useless. I'm a slug. I just need to get through THIS recovery and everything will be ok... right???

Thanks for reading. XO

****** I started this entry about a week ago and just couldn't get my mind around it. There was a lot more to my hospital stay but I'm so mentally exhausted I can't recall details and all of it. I'm just too tired. So here's the gist of it anyway. ******


Hello all. I haven't written since my surgery on the 23rd. Recovery while in the hospital was brutal and since being home I just haven't had it in me. I'm hurting. I'm tired. Everything I do wipes me out for two days. My incision is hot pain. I'm sure the scar tissue adds to that. But I'll back the story up.
I went home to NY and ate like a pig the week before surgery and it was glorious. Pizza, Greek food, more pizza, chicken finger subs, oh my!! I had the best time with my cousins and seeing my Gram and a bunch of girls I miss a lot.
I came home Sunday and needed to be on liquids all day. I cheated and had breakfast Sunday morning b/c by now I know it was safe and I had time for it to be a nonissue. So let's just reference my meal at about 1130am Sunday.
My surgery was Monday morning. I arrived and got my IV and everything ready to go. All my Hossie flair and "fall risk" bracelet which is my personal fave.

Hospitals are cold. Yes, that's a scarf. I know it's summer.

Apparently they used some new pain blocking situation( the name escapes me) and has been shown to reduce use of opiates after surgery as it dulls/hinders pain receptors for 72 hours after surgery. If that's the case, I don't want to know what it would have felt like without it. I woke from surgery hurting and groggy. I had my PCA that allowed me to use it for a mini amount of Dilaudid every 8 minutes. It's such a low amount it's practically useless. Something like 1/100th of a milligram. I was allowed a push of .5mg of Dilaudid every 4 hours which would have been great except for lucky me, my blood pressure was way too low for them to give it to me. So for the most part I was suffering the first 3 days post Op. BP being 88/56 isn't gonna fly. Nope. So yeah. Just total shit. It didn't matter that my normal BP is like 90/70 on a good day. They wouldn't give me anything. So it wasn't until I was about 3-4 post OP when I finally got some relief. And they had me up and moving already. And was still nothing by mouth(NPO). Not even ice. Yeah. So fun. My first attempt at liquids with a bunch of Zofran was a disaster so that redid the clock in terms of me eating. The popsicle didn't make it and neither did the 3 tablespoons of broth. By then I was 5 days with nothing to eat. So I was pissed. And once again facing the possibility of an NG shoved down my nose and throat. Oh did I mention my hemoglobin level dropped to 7. Yeah that's transfusion level low. So all this was happening at once. IT NEVER GETS EASIER. Ever. NO matter how many times I've gone through this and am mentally prepared for starving for 4-5 days easily and then the pain of your guts working and/or NOT working, it is never easy. It is just horrible every time. Being attached to an IV pole and having no choice but to drop to the hospital floor and barf in the garbage can is insane. Because hospital floors #1 are so clean. I hit the call button and basically jumped. They raced in because they answered the call and I didn't respond.  #2 Meeting your next RN for the next 12 hours while face first in the trash is swell.
Luckily I didn't need a transfusion although I wouldn't have minded getting topped off because it makes me feel so great!
Finally-- 4 days after surgery I could handle liquids. Well, a sip here and there. GI surgery is just so brutal. Your guts don't have to work for months, the surgery shuts them down even more and then trying to get them to work again and not get sick is such a slow road. I've done it way too many times. So on day 5 post OP I got FULL liquids which is still slop but better than unidentifiable broth.
It's all just so exhausting. Being hungry and thirsty makes you nuts. I can't even remember how many times now I've gone 4,5,6 days with nothing to eat or drink. An ice chip here or there. It breaks you. It continually amazes me what I have gone through. I know I'm different now. I try hard not to let it happen but when so many days you have the shit end of a situation you get bitter. No matter how hard you try sometimes, it creeps in. You see things differently and react differently. You resent what you can't do normally anymore. You hate yourself. You feel betrayed by your own body. I have always lived my life in the moment. Ok, today I'm flaring. Ok right now I need surgery etc... but it's always been with a given idea that the funk will pass and things will be good again. After THIS surgery. AFTER this gets better. After 5 years of thinking things will be good after yet another issue, I don't know if I have IT anymore. I don't know how to explain it other than I've defeated myself. Kinda. I'm not done yet but I'm 3 weeks post Op and it's not like everything is perfect. I'm happier without the ostomy but I can't lie. I have moments where I definitely weigh the pros of having one. There are cons even with the best case scenario it would seem. Bummer.

But I'm pushing on. Dealing with being wiped out after doing something normal for a few hours. I have to. Being normal is costly. 1-2 days afterwards are useless. I'm a slug. I just need to get through THIS recovery and everything will be ok... right???

Thanks for reading. XO

It's like this and like that and like this and ah...

So a few things. This is probably NOT going to be a shiny, happy post. Just warning. I'm a BITCH. First things first, yesterday was World IBD day and I posted and retweeted and what not which is fine bc all the other days of the year I do that too so it's cool. I was on a few sites and groups yesterday getting all bent out of shape. EVERY SINGLE THING was "bring awareness TODAY on World IBD day". "Wear your purple TODAY to bring awareness"... blah blah blah. Seriously. These are the same people who hide their illness, are ashamed of their scars, embarrassed by their ostomies and NEVER talk about their illness outside their locked down Facebook group. Hey, we all have our things. Not all of us are as comfortable with things as others are. I get it. BUT DON"T BLAST THE SHIT OUT OF THE INTERWEBS ONE DAY A YEAR IN THE NAME OF IBD AWARENESS. Because you blasting Twitter is NOT bringing awareness. The average person is not following #WorldIBDday. Bringing awareness to our illness is a DAILY job. You want people to "get" what IBD is about so bad? Do you really? Then open your mouth the OTHER 364 days a year in REAL life. I will guarantee I have enlightened more people this year NOT wearing purple and just by peppering my conversation with my struggle and NEVER hiding what I am, than you do wearing your purple that no one looks twice at. Wearing an ostomy bag to the beach and not hiding it will spark more conversation and offer more chances to inform and educate than posting meme's all damn day long on World IBD day. Don't get me wrong, I love that we have a day. But the point of that day is to be impactful!! Can we TRY to do that the right way going forward? All days? Ugh, sorry. I know I'm a bitch.

Here's my second issue. I am SICK and TIRED of being poked, prodded and tested. I mean just totally fed up. I went to the dentist today for a cleaning bc I've been putting it off. It's hard enough dealing with one thing. Dealing with my oral hygiene has not ranked up there lately. I brush multiple times a day, I floss daily. I'm not a negligent toothy person. But the dentist. Not urgent. Not when I have REAL issues. So I go and it was horrible. First off, my teeth have NEVER been the same since I've been sick. The steroids and the meds have ruined my teeth. Steroids destroy bone. My bone is lower in MANY spots under my gums from a few years ago. I have like 4 cavities and I think prior to getting sick I had 4 my whole life. So I had to schedule to go back for more torture with the cavities. In the meantime, my gums in the back were inflamed caused but me not going in for cleanings. It's just impossible to be as thorough brushing back there on your own apparently. So, I needed my gums LASERED today. Yeah. Freakin' smelled so bad. He was burning my face off. I was laying there just thinking, "This shit never ends with me". They got lasered so they could get at the tartar and bacteria that was beneath the inflamed part. So that was awesome. It didn't hurt because he numbed a lot with novacaine gel and what "hurts" for others isn't shit for me to flinch at anymore. BUT----I'm NEVER skipping a cleaning again. A little PSA- GO GET YOUR TEETH CLEANED!!!

Thirdly, I got set up for a surgery date for my second reversal. I am both excited and terrified. There's something really freaky about knowing what kind of pain you are in for. It is truly easier to be surprised by it. The determination hasn't been made about whether he's opening me up again, or going to be able to do everything local through my ostomy site. At this point I don't even care. What's getting cut open all the way for a third time? I basically have no feeling left around the scar so no chance making it worse. There are always risks no matter what. NOT being cut open doesn't even insure a faster recovery because last time my reversal recovery hurt. AND it was local through my ostomy. So flip a coin, doc. Let's do this. Five weeks from now and we are off. I'm having pain around my stoma site and pain passing output so I can't wait to get reversed. Even if I know how bad it's going to be.

I just have a lot going on in my head. Being chronically ill and always having in the back of your head that you'll need to get cut open again is exhausting. Truly exhausting. It's hard not to let it affect every day and the outlook I have in everything in my life. Recovery is exhausting. Pain kicks your ass. The last reversal turned into a slew of other problems which of course led to more complicated surgeries and another ostomy. Knowing that I'm basically going backwards into that situation again is hard because I can't help but have the little nag in my brain wondering if it's going to end up the same way in a vicious cycle of issues. Hoping not. Thanks for letting me vent.
---->> Get your teeth cleaned and don't take your health for granted. XO

So a few things. This is probably NOT going to be a shiny, happy post. Just warning. I'm a BITCH. First things first, yesterday was World IBD day and I posted and retweeted and what not which is fine bc all the other days of the year I do that too so it's cool. I was on a few sites and groups yesterday getting all bent out of shape. EVERY SINGLE THING was "bring awareness TODAY on World IBD day". "Wear your purple TODAY to bring awareness"... blah blah blah. Seriously. These are the same people who hide their illness, are ashamed of their scars, embarrassed by their ostomies and NEVER talk about their illness outside their locked down Facebook group. Hey, we all have our things. Not all of us are as comfortable with things as others are. I get it. BUT DON"T BLAST THE SHIT OUT OF THE INTERWEBS ONE DAY A YEAR IN THE NAME OF IBD AWARENESS. Because you blasting Twitter is NOT bringing awareness. The average person is not following #WorldIBDday. Bringing awareness to our illness is a DAILY job. You want people to "get" what IBD is about so bad? Do you really? Then open your mouth the OTHER 364 days a year in REAL life. I will guarantee I have enlightened more people this year NOT wearing purple and just by peppering my conversation with my struggle and NEVER hiding what I am, than you do wearing your purple that no one looks twice at. Wearing an ostomy bag to the beach and not hiding it will spark more conversation and offer more chances to inform and educate than posting meme's all damn day long on World IBD day. Don't get me wrong, I love that we have a day. But the point of that day is to be impactful!! Can we TRY to do that the right way going forward? All days? Ugh, sorry. I know I'm a bitch.

Here's my second issue. I am SICK and TIRED of being poked, prodded and tested. I mean just totally fed up. I went to the dentist today for a cleaning bc I've been putting it off. It's hard enough dealing with one thing. Dealing with my oral hygiene has not ranked up there lately. I brush multiple times a day, I floss daily. I'm not a negligent toothy person. But the dentist. Not urgent. Not when I have REAL issues. So I go and it was horrible. First off, my teeth have NEVER been the same since I've been sick. The steroids and the meds have ruined my teeth. Steroids destroy bone. My bone is lower in MANY spots under my gums from a few years ago. I have like 4 cavities and I think prior to getting sick I had 4 my whole life. So I had to schedule to go back for more torture with the cavities. In the meantime, my gums in the back were inflamed caused but me not going in for cleanings. It's just impossible to be as thorough brushing back there on your own apparently. So, I needed my gums LASERED today. Yeah. Freakin' smelled so bad. He was burning my face off. I was laying there just thinking, "This shit never ends with me". They got lasered so they could get at the tartar and bacteria that was beneath the inflamed part. So that was awesome. It didn't hurt because he numbed a lot with novacaine gel and what "hurts" for others isn't shit for me to flinch at anymore. BUT----I'm NEVER skipping a cleaning again. A little PSA- GO GET YOUR TEETH CLEANED!!!

Thirdly, I got set up for a surgery date for my second reversal. I am both excited and terrified. There's something really freaky about knowing what kind of pain you are in for. It is truly easier to be surprised by it. The determination hasn't been made about whether he's opening me up again, or going to be able to do everything local through my ostomy site. At this point I don't even care. What's getting cut open all the way for a third time? I basically have no feeling left around the scar so no chance making it worse. There are always risks no matter what. NOT being cut open doesn't even insure a faster recovery because last time my reversal recovery hurt. AND it was local through my ostomy. So flip a coin, doc. Let's do this. Five weeks from now and we are off. I'm having pain around my stoma site and pain passing output so I can't wait to get reversed. Even if I know how bad it's going to be.

I just have a lot going on in my head. Being chronically ill and always having in the back of your head that you'll need to get cut open again is exhausting. Truly exhausting. It's hard not to let it affect every day and the outlook I have in everything in my life. Recovery is exhausting. Pain kicks your ass. The last reversal turned into a slew of other problems which of course led to more complicated surgeries and another ostomy. Knowing that I'm basically going backwards into that situation again is hard because I can't help but have the little nag in my brain wondering if it's going to end up the same way in a vicious cycle of issues. Hoping not. Thanks for letting me vent.
---->> Get your teeth cleaned and don't take your health for granted. XO

"Perseverance, secret of all triumphs."

Hey everyone,
I wanted to write within a month of the last one but, well, honestly it's the same shit. I'M TIRED of hearing it so it seemed ridiculous for me to put it out into the universe. But hey, here I am. Since I last wrote my skin has gotten worse. I'm blowing wafers left and right and they aren't cheap. I'm talking a box of 10 over a weekend and wafers are made to last upwards of a week. I've requested some new products and hoping they work better. Something is off this time where the right wafers are NOT working with my body this time. I know after so many weight fluctuations and surgeries, my abdominal landscape is very deformed. Nothing is flat. So my wafers aren't sealing properly. It blows. I have what feels like the worst sunburn you can imagine, then will adhesive and wax that bonds to the skin that you continually have to tear off sometimes multiple times a day. And it itches. I want to tear into it but I can't. I won't post a pic because it is just awful. It makes a person extremely assholey to be that uncomfortable all the time, 24/7. Yes, no typo. Assholey.
So because of the assholey feeling I'm stuck in, I didn't want to write. I want to hide. Well, I don't truly but I do because of this crap.
My classes started. I'm taking 2 on campus and one online. I feel overextended most days. I could sleep til noon everyday. I sleep like shit. I look like shit. I'm run down and listless. Walking up the stairs hurts. From the amount of output from my ostomy, and the consistency, food is blowing through me and I'm probably absorbing nothing. I've had labs and they all show electrolytes are god but I don't feel right. I don't feel healthy. Aside from skin issues, that's my main issue. If I had energy and slept well the skin issues wouldn't impact me the way they do. I'll take my Jpouch over this. That's saying something because if you've been reading, I was really having issues with my colitis. But they way I see it now, my body HATES ostomies. My skin hates them. My ostomy is like a turtle head. It recesses back into my body and with that, behind the wafer hence mucho leakage and mucho acid eating at my skin. So because I'm a jackass, if I'm going to have discomfort, I want my vanity. I want convenience. I want my JPouch. Yes. I said vanity. I have little for the most part which is evident in me voluntarily getting an ostomy. I will bet 99% off people would not take that route for vanity. But whatever. I did because sometimes I can be a bad ass bitch and I bit the bullet. Well, surgeon says it looks like I'm healing well internally. He'll knock me out and scope me in 2 months and figure out my reversal back to JPouch. Another week in the hospital. Another chance of ileus. Can't wait.
But I'll do it and hopefully PREVENTING the inflammation will prove to be a better option from trying to get rid of it. Because that didn't work. AT ALL. Hence my situation.
I'm thankful for my husband that puts up with all this nonsense from me. I love him. I'm lucky I have him in my life. I'm sure many days he wants to slap the bitchiness right out of me. Many days. MANY.
So patiently waiting for new supplies. I will update on if they work, and hopefully they will. We are going away in March and I'd like to travel somewhat comfortably and not have the trip ruined by blowing ostomy wafers. Springing a leak and having to change in an airplane bathroom sounds like the least fun thing to do on vacation. Nah, I can think of a few more but regardless no fun for Lisa.
Ok everyone, it's time to go lights out. I have an early class that goes long and mornings and me are not besties.
Hope everyone is staying warm. This winter is just dragging. XO

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Hey everyone,
I wanted to write within a month of the last one but, well, honestly it's the same shit. I'M TIRED of hearing it so it seemed ridiculous for me to put it out into the universe. But hey, here I am. Since I last wrote my skin has gotten worse. I'm blowing wafers left and right and they aren't cheap. I'm talking a box of 10 over a weekend and wafers are made to last upwards of a week. I've requested some new products and hoping they work better. Something is off this time where the right wafers are NOT working with my body this time. I know after so many weight fluctuations and surgeries, my abdominal landscape is very deformed. Nothing is flat. So my wafers aren't sealing properly. It blows. I have what feels like the worst sunburn you can imagine, then will adhesive and wax that bonds to the skin that you continually have to tear off sometimes multiple times a day. And it itches. I want to tear into it but I can't. I won't post a pic because it is just awful. It makes a person extremely assholey to be that uncomfortable all the time, 24/7. Yes, no typo. Assholey.
So because of the assholey feeling I'm stuck in, I didn't want to write. I want to hide. Well, I don't truly but I do because of this crap.
My classes started. I'm taking 2 on campus and one online. I feel overextended most days. I could sleep til noon everyday. I sleep like shit. I look like shit. I'm run down and listless. Walking up the stairs hurts. From the amount of output from my ostomy, and the consistency, food is blowing through me and I'm probably absorbing nothing. I've had labs and they all show electrolytes are god but I don't feel right. I don't feel healthy. Aside from skin issues, that's my main issue. If I had energy and slept well the skin issues wouldn't impact me the way they do. I'll take my Jpouch over this. That's saying something because if you've been reading, I was really having issues with my colitis. But they way I see it now, my body HATES ostomies. My skin hates them. My ostomy is like a turtle head. It recesses back into my body and with that, behind the wafer hence mucho leakage and mucho acid eating at my skin. So because I'm a jackass, if I'm going to have discomfort, I want my vanity. I want convenience. I want my JPouch. Yes. I said vanity. I have little for the most part which is evident in me voluntarily getting an ostomy. I will bet 99% off people would not take that route for vanity. But whatever. I did because sometimes I can be a bad ass bitch and I bit the bullet. Well, surgeon says it looks like I'm healing well internally. He'll knock me out and scope me in 2 months and figure out my reversal back to JPouch. Another week in the hospital. Another chance of ileus. Can't wait.
But I'll do it and hopefully PREVENTING the inflammation will prove to be a better option from trying to get rid of it. Because that didn't work. AT ALL. Hence my situation.
I'm thankful for my husband that puts up with all this nonsense from me. I love him. I'm lucky I have him in my life. I'm sure many days he wants to slap the bitchiness right out of me. Many days. MANY.
So patiently waiting for new supplies. I will update on if they work, and hopefully they will. We are going away in March and I'd like to travel somewhat comfortably and not have the trip ruined by blowing ostomy wafers. Springing a leak and having to change in an airplane bathroom sounds like the least fun thing to do on vacation. Nah, I can think of a few more but regardless no fun for Lisa.
Ok everyone, it's time to go lights out. I have an early class that goes long and mornings and me are not besties.
Hope everyone is staying warm. This winter is just dragging. XO

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Thankful November

There seems to be a thing going around on social media where every day someone writes something they are thankful for this month. The idea is great. Truly it is. I don't have the dedication or attention span to do something every single day like that. I tried the October photo challenge on Instagram and failed miserably. Day 5. Oh, Day 17? Ok.
I will say this for this post. I am thankful for a lot. Despite the shitty hand I've been dealt and continue to get dealt I have some very wonderful things going on. There are so many days it is hard to see them through the fog of pain, the reality of illness and doctor's appointments and focusing on the negative. I'm sick of being tired and in pain. I'm sick of not going to beautiful places and traveling. I miss the salt air. I actually miss working out. I hate running one errand and being wiped out for an entire day. Then there comes a day that pulls the veil and makes everything feel so wonderful and in that moment, I forget I have anything to bitch about to begin with.
As much as I'm thankful that I had many years without so much as a sprained ankle, migraine etc... the last few years have definitely made up for it. So I'm thankful for a pain-free childhood and lived my 20s like I had to burn myself out on purpose.
I have my supportive husband who puts up with all this drama, and me being crabby and in pain, and not fun on many occasions. We don't go on vacation because I suck. Our outings are short lived. I'm pretty useless with heavy lifting situations and I'm usually in a drug induced coma at night if Daughter #2 wakes up. I have two healthy, beautiful, perfect girls. They are goofy and crack me up. I have a great family that I don't see nearly enough because we are scattered all over the country. I have childhood friends that I will always have a bond with and no matter how much time or distance, I know they will always be there.
Since moving to Texas I've met some really great people. I have friends I've met through my kids and through my Husband and I love those couple of gals. They know who they are. I enjoy the sunshine almost everyday, and Daughter #1 loves her school and all her friends. If this state wasn't run by a bunch of conservative, Republican douchebags and was on the ocean it would be perfect.
Specifically, today I am thankful for the internet and my IBD struggle. Yes. Thankful. Friday I got to meet up with a fellow gutsy girl that I met online through a support page. We slowly formed a friendship and we came to realize some similar interests outside of our guts.
Both of us being JFK nuts was one of our common threads. We met to see the movie "Parkland" and seriously it couldn't have been a better way to transition to "real life" friendship. It was like we'd been friends for years. We went to lunch and we probably could have sat there for 3 hours shooting the shit about whatever. And yes, we DID talk about our issues, but the best part is we didn't HAVE to. In fact we talked about that at the very end. After lunch, she left and I wandered around some shops killing time before a doctor's appointment and I realized, at one point, I felt really light. I just felt GOOD. I mean, I was still in pain and what not but I felt this weird sense of completeness I haven't felt in a while. Then it struck me that this was someone that understood me on more levels than anyone I'd met or known in a long time. There wasn't just the our-kids-go-to-school-connection, or the IBD connection, or the our-husbands-know-each-other-connection. It was really that sweet spot of both of us having this illness that brought us together and yet, if that illness disappeared we'd still be cool. It was almost as if you have this friend and then you both get diagnosed with the same thing so you just "get it". But you can still just be because you each understand so you don't need to explain it. I don't know. I hope that makes sense. Whatever I'm saying is, I'm thankful for my IBD and the internet for bringing me to this point where I have this friend I never would have known otherwise. She's not the first "friend" I have now because of my illness, but she's the first I got to meet up with. I had a pretty shitty couple of days around that pocket of a couple of hours, but somehow it wasn't so bad. I won't even get into those details right now. Thanks, Casey. Glad to now really know you in real life, so when I say "my friend" it doesn't just mean a name or face in my laptop. So I'm thankful. =) Have a great day everyone. Happy Birthday to the USMC today and a big thanks to all the Veterans tomorrow.

There seems to be a thing going around on social media where every day someone writes something they are thankful for this month. The idea is great. Truly it is. I don't have the dedication or attention span to do something every single day like that. I tried the October photo challenge on Instagram and failed miserably. Day 5. Oh, Day 17? Ok.
I will say this for this post. I am thankful for a lot. Despite the shitty hand I've been dealt and continue to get dealt I have some very wonderful things going on. There are so many days it is hard to see them through the fog of pain, the reality of illness and doctor's appointments and focusing on the negative. I'm sick of being tired and in pain. I'm sick of not going to beautiful places and traveling. I miss the salt air. I actually miss working out. I hate running one errand and being wiped out for an entire day. Then there comes a day that pulls the veil and makes everything feel so wonderful and in that moment, I forget I have anything to bitch about to begin with.
As much as I'm thankful that I had many years without so much as a sprained ankle, migraine etc... the last few years have definitely made up for it. So I'm thankful for a pain-free childhood and lived my 20s like I had to burn myself out on purpose.
I have my supportive husband who puts up with all this drama, and me being crabby and in pain, and not fun on many occasions. We don't go on vacation because I suck. Our outings are short lived. I'm pretty useless with heavy lifting situations and I'm usually in a drug induced coma at night if Daughter #2 wakes up. I have two healthy, beautiful, perfect girls. They are goofy and crack me up. I have a great family that I don't see nearly enough because we are scattered all over the country. I have childhood friends that I will always have a bond with and no matter how much time or distance, I know they will always be there.
Since moving to Texas I've met some really great people. I have friends I've met through my kids and through my Husband and I love those couple of gals. They know who they are. I enjoy the sunshine almost everyday, and Daughter #1 loves her school and all her friends. If this state wasn't run by a bunch of conservative, Republican douchebags and was on the ocean it would be perfect.
Specifically, today I am thankful for the internet and my IBD struggle. Yes. Thankful. Friday I got to meet up with a fellow gutsy girl that I met online through a support page. We slowly formed a friendship and we came to realize some similar interests outside of our guts.
Both of us being JFK nuts was one of our common threads. We met to see the movie "Parkland" and seriously it couldn't have been a better way to transition to "real life" friendship. It was like we'd been friends for years. We went to lunch and we probably could have sat there for 3 hours shooting the shit about whatever. And yes, we DID talk about our issues, but the best part is we didn't HAVE to. In fact we talked about that at the very end. After lunch, she left and I wandered around some shops killing time before a doctor's appointment and I realized, at one point, I felt really light. I just felt GOOD. I mean, I was still in pain and what not but I felt this weird sense of completeness I haven't felt in a while. Then it struck me that this was someone that understood me on more levels than anyone I'd met or known in a long time. There wasn't just the our-kids-go-to-school-connection, or the IBD connection, or the our-husbands-know-each-other-connection. It was really that sweet spot of both of us having this illness that brought us together and yet, if that illness disappeared we'd still be cool. It was almost as if you have this friend and then you both get diagnosed with the same thing so you just "get it". But you can still just be because you each understand so you don't need to explain it. I don't know. I hope that makes sense. Whatever I'm saying is, I'm thankful for my IBD and the internet for bringing me to this point where I have this friend I never would have known otherwise. She's not the first "friend" I have now because of my illness, but she's the first I got to meet up with. I had a pretty shitty couple of days around that pocket of a couple of hours, but somehow it wasn't so bad. I won't even get into those details right now. Thanks, Casey. Glad to now really know you in real life, so when I say "my friend" it doesn't just mean a name or face in my laptop. So I'm thankful. =) Have a great day everyone. Happy Birthday to the USMC today and a big thanks to all the Veterans tomorrow.

Broken. Just broken. For now.

I guess my goal lately is to go at least a month in between posts. Not intentionally but it keeps happening. Pretty much health wise things are chugging along. Got another scope by a different doc to tell me the same thing as last time. Severe ulceration still. Some nasty fissures causing pain. Muscle spasms are back to piss me off. Couple that with the abdominal pain from my engorged fallopian tube and I'm just in pain daily. Basically nonstop. Discomfort in so many areas. There are days I'm not leaving the house unless necessary. My pain pills dull it and I'm content to be under my electric blanket and zoning out. Some days it takes everything out of me to go to class. Running errands wipes me out for the day. It's just so pathetic and ridiculous. I had to take Daughter #1 to the doctor and it struck me how much time in the last four years has been eaten up by my medical issues. I've put in some solid time. Time I could be traveling. Reading. Hell, vacuuming would be better. Ok, maybe not, but it's just such bullshit. I was driving along thinking what do I have to show for four years? Let's not reduce the importance of having my child, naturally, but really. Not much. A lot of laying on my ass with zero drive or with too much pain to accomplish anything. I got pissed. Just that angry, upset pissed and the tears just come.
I'm 36. My time has slipped through my fingers. So much of it without any joy in it. Just days of pain. Hospitals. Doctors. Driving to doctors. Filling scripts. Getting tests. I've fucking had it. There's nothing I can do either but keep going and keep thinking that there will be a point where I'm just real and whole and healthy and not broken anymore.
As shitty as it's all been, that is still MY intention. I don't look at myself as this sickly, forever disabled person who will be trapped with this crap forever. My reality speaks to the contrary but maybe I'm an idiot. I do feel broken many, many days. It makes me sad. It's this weird feeling of losing life. Your 30s are FAR from old. This is prime time baby, and I don't have the body to make it happen. That pisses me off more than I can describe. You know when you get so drunk on Friday night and you sleep all day Saturday and all of a sudden it's Sunday and you are pissed that you basically missed your whole weekend? Well, that's my life. Saturday night I went out for a friend's birthday. I laid around all day to conserve energy so I would actually make it out(Yes, if I had so much as gone out to eat, run to the store etc... there would have been a good chance it just would have used my reserves and I would have bailed). We met for food(I didn't eat. Just not worth the risk) and then went to a bar with a DJ and a band for 80s night. We all had crimped hair and looked crazy and it was fun. We get there and the music was just so great. Those of you who know my drinking/partying/out all night/dance all night days know I loved it and it was my favorite thing to do. We would go dance for hours! Well, seriously two songs in and I'm lightheaded. I've got pain shooting through my abdomen. I'm just trying, trying to smother it and be ME and have fun. But I can only fake it so much. There were a couple points I thought I may hit the floor either from pain or exhaustion. In the middle of all those people smiling and dancing and drinking and LIVING, I was HATING myself. I just felt so broken. Like who the hell am I kidding? I almost left in that moment but I couldn't. I wanted to make it as long as I could because me being there was so rare. I don't go out and I don't even mean drinking or whatever. I don't really have many friends here or go to dinner or happy hour or yoga class or book club or whatever else normal, social people do.
Not too many years ago I had things to do every night. I was either out doing things with Dillan or out doing things with friends. I was rarely home. I have NEVER been a sit at home person. I was actually surprised I got invited because I had only met everyone once prior to being invited out. It felt nice. I didn't want to be lame and let my defective body win. So I milked my Captain and coke and danced as much as I could and had a lot of fun. I'm glad I went. I miss that part of me but indulging in the old me just casts resentment on the bullshit I deal with now.
Three years after filing for SSDI and being denied three times, I finally won at my hearing in August. So in two years my case will get reviewed to see if my heath has changed. It's a weird feeling. It felt good to win after fighting so long and them being so stupid in denying that IBD can affect a person's life so much. On the flip side, I don't think of myself as being so useless. Even though it's reality. I tried to work part time and I was in so much pain and it was so hard. To be this young and have the smallest things drain you is so difficult. <sigh>  But I guess it's nice to be justified in this way. I expect in two years at the review I'm going to be perfect, and healthy and as figured out and normal as possible and pick up my life where I left off a few years back. I have vacations to take and shit to do, people. Big time. I'm less than a month out from another surgery. I've got issues separate from that that I don't see resolving before then. So this should be interesting to say the least. Nothing I can do but meet it head on but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Thanks for listening to my boo-hooing. I've had over 10, 000 hits on my blog now. That amazes me, so thank you! XO

I guess my goal lately is to go at least a month in between posts. Not intentionally but it keeps happening. Pretty much health wise things are chugging along. Got another scope by a different doc to tell me the same thing as last time. Severe ulceration still. Some nasty fissures causing pain. Muscle spasms are back to piss me off. Couple that with the abdominal pain from my engorged fallopian tube and I'm just in pain daily. Basically nonstop. Discomfort in so many areas. There are days I'm not leaving the house unless necessary. My pain pills dull it and I'm content to be under my electric blanket and zoning out. Some days it takes everything out of me to go to class. Running errands wipes me out for the day. It's just so pathetic and ridiculous. I had to take Daughter #1 to the doctor and it struck me how much time in the last four years has been eaten up by my medical issues. I've put in some solid time. Time I could be traveling. Reading. Hell, vacuuming would be better. Ok, maybe not, but it's just such bullshit. I was driving along thinking what do I have to show for four years? Let's not reduce the importance of having my child, naturally, but really. Not much. A lot of laying on my ass with zero drive or with too much pain to accomplish anything. I got pissed. Just that angry, upset pissed and the tears just come.
I'm 36. My time has slipped through my fingers. So much of it without any joy in it. Just days of pain. Hospitals. Doctors. Driving to doctors. Filling scripts. Getting tests. I've fucking had it. There's nothing I can do either but keep going and keep thinking that there will be a point where I'm just real and whole and healthy and not broken anymore.
As shitty as it's all been, that is still MY intention. I don't look at myself as this sickly, forever disabled person who will be trapped with this crap forever. My reality speaks to the contrary but maybe I'm an idiot. I do feel broken many, many days. It makes me sad. It's this weird feeling of losing life. Your 30s are FAR from old. This is prime time baby, and I don't have the body to make it happen. That pisses me off more than I can describe. You know when you get so drunk on Friday night and you sleep all day Saturday and all of a sudden it's Sunday and you are pissed that you basically missed your whole weekend? Well, that's my life. Saturday night I went out for a friend's birthday. I laid around all day to conserve energy so I would actually make it out(Yes, if I had so much as gone out to eat, run to the store etc... there would have been a good chance it just would have used my reserves and I would have bailed). We met for food(I didn't eat. Just not worth the risk) and then went to a bar with a DJ and a band for 80s night. We all had crimped hair and looked crazy and it was fun. We get there and the music was just so great. Those of you who know my drinking/partying/out all night/dance all night days know I loved it and it was my favorite thing to do. We would go dance for hours! Well, seriously two songs in and I'm lightheaded. I've got pain shooting through my abdomen. I'm just trying, trying to smother it and be ME and have fun. But I can only fake it so much. There were a couple points I thought I may hit the floor either from pain or exhaustion. In the middle of all those people smiling and dancing and drinking and LIVING, I was HATING myself. I just felt so broken. Like who the hell am I kidding? I almost left in that moment but I couldn't. I wanted to make it as long as I could because me being there was so rare. I don't go out and I don't even mean drinking or whatever. I don't really have many friends here or go to dinner or happy hour or yoga class or book club or whatever else normal, social people do.
Not too many years ago I had things to do every night. I was either out doing things with Dillan or out doing things with friends. I was rarely home. I have NEVER been a sit at home person. I was actually surprised I got invited because I had only met everyone once prior to being invited out. It felt nice. I didn't want to be lame and let my defective body win. So I milked my Captain and coke and danced as much as I could and had a lot of fun. I'm glad I went. I miss that part of me but indulging in the old me just casts resentment on the bullshit I deal with now.
Three years after filing for SSDI and being denied three times, I finally won at my hearing in August. So in two years my case will get reviewed to see if my heath has changed. It's a weird feeling. It felt good to win after fighting so long and them being so stupid in denying that IBD can affect a person's life so much. On the flip side, I don't think of myself as being so useless. Even though it's reality. I tried to work part time and I was in so much pain and it was so hard. To be this young and have the smallest things drain you is so difficult. <sigh>  But I guess it's nice to be justified in this way. I expect in two years at the review I'm going to be perfect, and healthy and as figured out and normal as possible and pick up my life where I left off a few years back. I have vacations to take and shit to do, people. Big time. I'm less than a month out from another surgery. I've got issues separate from that that I don't see resolving before then. So this should be interesting to say the least. Nothing I can do but meet it head on but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Thanks for listening to my boo-hooing. I've had over 10, 000 hits on my blog now. That amazes me, so thank you! XO

#sickmomfail

Guilt. So much guilt comes with being chronically sick and in pain. This is the summer of #sickmomfail. Last summer I was recovering from surgery. This summer was supposed to be my "all in" summer. Nope. In pain. Stoned on pain meds. Laying on my bed playing word games on my phone. I can't imagine being sick like this prior to the digital age. I would have gone nuts. Daughter #1 loves to just GO... and I'm in park. As in parked on my sore ass. I feel like my chronic lameness makes her sad. I know she gets so disappointed. I hate it. I hate not being me. I feel trapped in a body that is defying me. I'm not eating much. I feel lethargic from meds. But let me back up a minute.
I left off needing to see my surgeon about my biopsy and scope results.  So I went last Wednesday and naturally there couldn't be good news. The basic rundown is as follows: I have Pouchitis in my JPouch. I have inflammation and ulceration of the 1cm that's left of my rectum, called the rectal cuff. So it's Cuffitis. My fistula that was opened is still healing and open and painful. And the cherry on top is that I have dysplasia somewhere up in there. By the time he got to that I was upset and didn't get the specifics of where. For those who don't know, dysplasia is abnormal cell growth. Often it is precancerous in nature so the area needs to be taken care of so it doesn't progress to cancer. For those that haven't been reading my blog, I had advanced cervical dysplasia over about 50% of my cervix in 2011 and had to have the area scraped away to prevent it from manifesting into cancer. So now I'm dealing with it somewhere else. Seriously..I have zero shame and modesty left. This must be how porn stars feel... nothing left to hide. So, now my surgeon wants to confer with some super specialist and double check the labs and maybe re-scope me and take new biopsies. HOW FUN!!! WoooooHoooooo! What a fan-fucking-tastic summer so far.
So, now I'm back on a steroid three times a day. This time Entocort. So far I don't notice much change other than the night sweats and being on edge 24/7. I'm used to being on Prednisone which kicks in fast so I know I'm being impatient. I'm also using a nightly suppository which is just a regular party in my ass. Yeah--- so painful, open wound ass and I need to put that through that. It SUCKS. Big time. It's hard too. Like plastic. So all you "I do anal stuff for sexy fun" people are OUT OF YOUR DAMN MINDS. Holy shit. Never.
I'm also still taking Norco for pain and Flagyl for the pouchitis. So, that's my day. Pill popping. Barely eating because it's just not worth it right now. It is truly a big struggle to pull myself together and be normal. I'm not succeeding. I feel useless. I am sad. I hate disappointing my kids. Lots of movies with Daughter #1. I feel so guilty not being 100%. I would love to run around. Can't swim because of the fistula healing. Can't ride bikes. Hurts to move a whole lot. Hurts to sit. The pain pills that normally knock me out at night are now fighting against the steroid induced night sweats. That's a lot of fun. :-/
My big outings have been a swim meet, fireworks on the 4th and the drive in movie. The last two I was parked in the back of Hub's truck trying to stay comfortable. Not an easy thing to do. So yeah. It's been tough. I need to find out where we go from here. I will have to be scoped again and they will need to surgically remove all the precancer cells and then monitor me. For now just trying to get rid of the pouchitis and treat the cuffitis that is causing me pain and issues. And I'm starving. I love food and this sucks. I had some rice yesterday and some marshmallows. I think that's it. But I had made a tomato cream sauce the night before and ate it and was in MISERY all that night into yesterday so that makes me pull back on eating. I knew acidic tomato would be bad, but I just wanted to EAT! It's really hard to cook and NOT eat what you made. It was yummy but it made me want to die for 6-12 hours later. NOT WORTH IT! But I'll do it again. It's hard just not eating what you like. Or cooking one thing and knowing you are eating something lame. It erases any motivation to make something. So at 4pm when I have no dinner plan, it sucks. I know all IBDers struggle with this. We just want something real and want what we want. If we feel ok we push the envelope and we suffer. I'm no exception. My diet is crap. Many fruits are bad. Most vegetables. I could live on potato chips and junk and be fine. One helping of something healthy and I'm in misery. I never thought I'd miss salad so much. And broccoli. It's ridiculous.
Enjoy your day everyone. Run and play with your kids. Or without your kids. Take advantage of being able to just 'Do'. When you can't it royally sucks.

Guilt. So much guilt comes with being chronically sick and in pain. This is the summer of #sickmomfail. Last summer I was recovering from surgery. This summer was supposed to be my "all in" summer. Nope. In pain. Stoned on pain meds. Laying on my bed playing word games on my phone. I can't imagine being sick like this prior to the digital age. I would have gone nuts. Daughter #1 loves to just GO... and I'm in park. As in parked on my sore ass. I feel like my chronic lameness makes her sad. I know she gets so disappointed. I hate it. I hate not being me. I feel trapped in a body that is defying me. I'm not eating much. I feel lethargic from meds. But let me back up a minute.
I left off needing to see my surgeon about my biopsy and scope results.  So I went last Wednesday and naturally there couldn't be good news. The basic rundown is as follows: I have Pouchitis in my JPouch. I have inflammation and ulceration of the 1cm that's left of my rectum, called the rectal cuff. So it's Cuffitis. My fistula that was opened is still healing and open and painful. And the cherry on top is that I have dysplasia somewhere up in there. By the time he got to that I was upset and didn't get the specifics of where. For those who don't know, dysplasia is abnormal cell growth. Often it is precancerous in nature so the area needs to be taken care of so it doesn't progress to cancer. For those that haven't been reading my blog, I had advanced cervical dysplasia over about 50% of my cervix in 2011 and had to have the area scraped away to prevent it from manifesting into cancer. So now I'm dealing with it somewhere else. Seriously..I have zero shame and modesty left. This must be how porn stars feel... nothing left to hide. So, now my surgeon wants to confer with some super specialist and double check the labs and maybe re-scope me and take new biopsies. HOW FUN!!! WoooooHoooooo! What a fan-fucking-tastic summer so far.
So, now I'm back on a steroid three times a day. This time Entocort. So far I don't notice much change other than the night sweats and being on edge 24/7. I'm used to being on Prednisone which kicks in fast so I know I'm being impatient. I'm also using a nightly suppository which is just a regular party in my ass. Yeah--- so painful, open wound ass and I need to put that through that. It SUCKS. Big time. It's hard too. Like plastic. So all you "I do anal stuff for sexy fun" people are OUT OF YOUR DAMN MINDS. Holy shit. Never.
I'm also still taking Norco for pain and Flagyl for the pouchitis. So, that's my day. Pill popping. Barely eating because it's just not worth it right now. It is truly a big struggle to pull myself together and be normal. I'm not succeeding. I feel useless. I am sad. I hate disappointing my kids. Lots of movies with Daughter #1. I feel so guilty not being 100%. I would love to run around. Can't swim because of the fistula healing. Can't ride bikes. Hurts to move a whole lot. Hurts to sit. The pain pills that normally knock me out at night are now fighting against the steroid induced night sweats. That's a lot of fun. :-/
My big outings have been a swim meet, fireworks on the 4th and the drive in movie. The last two I was parked in the back of Hub's truck trying to stay comfortable. Not an easy thing to do. So yeah. It's been tough. I need to find out where we go from here. I will have to be scoped again and they will need to surgically remove all the precancer cells and then monitor me. For now just trying to get rid of the pouchitis and treat the cuffitis that is causing me pain and issues. And I'm starving. I love food and this sucks. I had some rice yesterday and some marshmallows. I think that's it. But I had made a tomato cream sauce the night before and ate it and was in MISERY all that night into yesterday so that makes me pull back on eating. I knew acidic tomato would be bad, but I just wanted to EAT! It's really hard to cook and NOT eat what you made. It was yummy but it made me want to die for 6-12 hours later. NOT WORTH IT! But I'll do it again. It's hard just not eating what you like. Or cooking one thing and knowing you are eating something lame. It erases any motivation to make something. So at 4pm when I have no dinner plan, it sucks. I know all IBDers struggle with this. We just want something real and want what we want. If we feel ok we push the envelope and we suffer. I'm no exception. My diet is crap. Many fruits are bad. Most vegetables. I could live on potato chips and junk and be fine. One helping of something healthy and I'm in misery. I never thought I'd miss salad so much. And broccoli. It's ridiculous.
Enjoy your day everyone. Run and play with your kids. Or without your kids. Take advantage of being able to just 'Do'. When you can't it royally sucks.

Unexpected recovery.

Well, in my last post I talked about getting scoped to check for fistulas, fissures etc... Tuesday morning came and I was STARVING after being on fluids all day Monday.

Ready to go. A simple scope, right?

 I couldn't wait to eat after my scope. It's always one of my favorite meals because you realize how great food is after spending two days on chicken broth.

My view of the lights in the OR. Just hanging out, waiting. 

Well, imagine my surprise(horror) when I woke up from anesthesia in absolute, excruciating pain and in tears. Waking up crying isn't exactly normal. I was there alone b/c I've had so many scopes that it is nothing to me, so I had told Hubs to leave and just head back when they call that I'm in recovery. I was my surgeon's last procedure before he left to have his office hours and was still out when he checked in before he left. So in my fog, I heard the nurse say something about surgery, she handed me a Lortab and then said she was calling my surgeon. I was just laying there crying... Not to be completely ridiculous but it felt like someone drove a car up my ass. After 20 minutes the Lortab had done nothing. At that point I was wishing for post delivery pain from having my kids. Lovely. So I vaguely hear her on the phone. She returned like an angel with a push of Demerol for my IV, so within 5 seconds I was a happy and completely stoned girl. Hubs shows up and talks to my surgeon. He discovered a few issues while doing the scope. Ulcers and inflammation in the 1cm of what's left of my rectum and anal fistulas. Now, if you were a good student and googled 'fistulas' like I said, you would have found out that they are essentially an infection that burrows and fills with pus below the surface. As you can imagine, pockets of that can cause the extreme pain I had been dealing with for MONTHS.  Sexy, I know... settle down!! I am one lucky bitch!!
 So the only way to treat these disgusting things is to open them up and clean them out and let them drain. Antibiotics don't work. So, yeah. I woke up to that having been done to my ass. And he took a bunch of biopsies as well because of the inflammation. I'm actually kinda thankful he just did it while he had me there. The procedure cost $1200 so having had to go back and pay that again would have pissed me off. As it is I feel like someone should have paid ME for having to go through that shit. Just disgusting. I mean, prior to me getting sick I never even knew this kind of crap existed for people. I suppose that's why I talk about it.
Needless to say, my Norcos have been my best friend since Wednesday. Tuesday I was out for the count for the rest of the day which I'm used to. Anesthesia has always done that which I don't mind.
It has been pretty painful this week. Walking around is nearly impossible. Squatting, sitting... I can't lift for another week while this crap heals. I'm afraid to eat because you can imagine how fun going to the bathroom is with all that nonsense going on... so it's been pretty cool. Not at all.
So yeah, the last few weeks have really sucked. Last night I got the coolest message from a friend I haven't seen in years... He said my blog was like me- "honest and awesome". I have to say, that made my night. It's funny how you may think someone may not even consider you at all...and then have them say something so great like that. I don't know. It was just pretty cool. So, to my friend, thank you for that. =)

Trying to make recovery look easy.

I'm hoping the next few days has the pain tapering off. I see my Surgeon on the 3rd so I will get all my biopsy results back. He's assuming it will be Proctitis and not Crohn's like we feared. I'm just preparing for the worst anyway. It tends to make the reality easier. Regardless, this means I will be going on meds  of some type. Possibly a steroid. None of that is making me happy because the whole reason I went with getting gutted was to avoid pumping myself full of meds forever. <sigh> Such complete bullshit. Like really, that 1cm has to give me trouble after getting over 5 feet of guts removed. Ridiculous. Sneaky disease. I'm still going to shut you down. It might take me another 5 years. Whatever. But I'm going to win. I always win. ;-)
Thanks for reading... go out and run around and eat a bunch of food, and drink some beer for me, ok? Sweet! I appreciate it.

Well, in my last post I talked about getting scoped to check for fistulas, fissures etc... Tuesday morning came and I was STARVING after being on fluids all day Monday.

Ready to go. A simple scope, right?

 I couldn't wait to eat after my scope. It's always one of my favorite meals because you realize how great food is after spending two days on chicken broth.

My view of the lights in the OR. Just hanging out, waiting. 

Well, imagine my surprise(horror) when I woke up from anesthesia in absolute, excruciating pain and in tears. Waking up crying isn't exactly normal. I was there alone b/c I've had so many scopes that it is nothing to me, so I had told Hubs to leave and just head back when they call that I'm in recovery. I was my surgeon's last procedure before he left to have his office hours and was still out when he checked in before he left. So in my fog, I heard the nurse say something about surgery, she handed me a Lortab and then said she was calling my surgeon. I was just laying there crying... Not to be completely ridiculous but it felt like someone drove a car up my ass. After 20 minutes the Lortab had done nothing. At that point I was wishing for post delivery pain from having my kids. Lovely. So I vaguely hear her on the phone. She returned like an angel with a push of Demerol for my IV, so within 5 seconds I was a happy and completely stoned girl. Hubs shows up and talks to my surgeon. He discovered a few issues while doing the scope. Ulcers and inflammation in the 1cm of what's left of my rectum and anal fistulas. Now, if you were a good student and googled 'fistulas' like I said, you would have found out that they are essentially an infection that burrows and fills with pus below the surface. As you can imagine, pockets of that can cause the extreme pain I had been dealing with for MONTHS.  Sexy, I know... settle down!! I am one lucky bitch!!
 So the only way to treat these disgusting things is to open them up and clean them out and let them drain. Antibiotics don't work. So, yeah. I woke up to that having been done to my ass. And he took a bunch of biopsies as well because of the inflammation. I'm actually kinda thankful he just did it while he had me there. The procedure cost $1200 so having had to go back and pay that again would have pissed me off. As it is I feel like someone should have paid ME for having to go through that shit. Just disgusting. I mean, prior to me getting sick I never even knew this kind of crap existed for people. I suppose that's why I talk about it.
Needless to say, my Norcos have been my best friend since Wednesday. Tuesday I was out for the count for the rest of the day which I'm used to. Anesthesia has always done that which I don't mind.
It has been pretty painful this week. Walking around is nearly impossible. Squatting, sitting... I can't lift for another week while this crap heals. I'm afraid to eat because you can imagine how fun going to the bathroom is with all that nonsense going on... so it's been pretty cool. Not at all.
So yeah, the last few weeks have really sucked. Last night I got the coolest message from a friend I haven't seen in years... He said my blog was like me- "honest and awesome". I have to say, that made my night. It's funny how you may think someone may not even consider you at all...and then have them say something so great like that. I don't know. It was just pretty cool. So, to my friend, thank you for that. =)

Trying to make recovery look easy.

I'm hoping the next few days has the pain tapering off. I see my Surgeon on the 3rd so I will get all my biopsy results back. He's assuming it will be Proctitis and not Crohn's like we feared. I'm just preparing for the worst anyway. It tends to make the reality easier. Regardless, this means I will be going on meds  of some type. Possibly a steroid. None of that is making me happy because the whole reason I went with getting gutted was to avoid pumping myself full of meds forever. <sigh> Such complete bullshit. Like really, that 1cm has to give me trouble after getting over 5 feet of guts removed. Ridiculous. Sneaky disease. I'm still going to shut you down. It might take me another 5 years. Whatever. But I'm going to win. I always win. ;-)
Thanks for reading... go out and run around and eat a bunch of food, and drink some beer for me, ok? Sweet! I appreciate it.

Invisibly sick... a day in my life.

So people always talk about Invisible Illnesses. IBD has that funny way of being one. You don't always look sick. Currently I'm not anemic so I'm not pale. I'm thin but not malnourished and sickly thin. I'm not weak and run down so I have what looks like normal energy levels. I'm no longer on steroids that puff my face up. I'm not on immunosuppressants that make my hair fall out. On the surface I look fine. If you didn't know, you wouldn't know. So I'm sure there are plenty of people rolling their eyes if I say I have pain or who are doubtful about why I haven't worked in years or why when I finally was feeling better and got a job, I got taken out for two weeks. I suppose it's all very easy to doubt and to not believe. Those who have had chronic pain understand. Those with IBD understand. You have weeks, months of feeling "normal" for the first time and think you have finally crossed that bridge. Then you realize you haven't even gotten there yet. I've written about the IBD stuff often enough that people get how it affects lives. Now, post surgery, a year out from colectomy I am frustrated. I am in pain. It hurts to stand, to walk, to move around. It hurts to wear anything but granny panties and sweats. It hurts to pee. I've been eating less so I won't go to the bathroom. I'm taking pain meds and muscle relaxers and topical creams to lessen my misery. No one can see any of that. No one looks at me and has any idea how much pain and discomfort I'm in while I'm carrying on the most random conversation about nothing. Google 'anal fissures'. Google 'anal fistulas'. It's horrible. Click on 'images' and it gets even better. It is graphic. They are things you probably never even considered existed. Hemorrhoids, yes maybe, but the issues that can crop up down there with IBD just aren't talked about. The whole fissure situation was bad enough...seriously. But with fistulas it's an entirely different scenario. That means surgery. More pain. I'm not here to gross you out but if you went and googled like I said to, you can only imagine. Of course many of those images are VERY extreme. But my point is, sickness can be invisible. Pain is invisible and easily hidden by those who are accustomed to having it daily. So before you pass judgement on people who 'don't look sick', you should also consider what you can't see. Issues that you'll never even consider being a possibility in life that someone right in front of you has going on. I don't know. I feel like it's been a very weird few years of my brain and body battling it out and my body winning a lot. It has been hard being in my early 30s and having to say I just don't work. I'm sure to many that sounds like a dream or is their reality, but when it's not a choice, it's different. I'm not just choosing to stay home with my kids. I'm not just choosing to be dependent on Hubs. I'm not lazy or feel like a man has to take care of me. It has not been a realistic possibility for me to work since 2010. And honestly I probably should have stopped prior to that because work was affecting my health immensely but I didn't.  I don't know where I wanted to go with this post other than to say, sometimes it just really sucks to not be in control. To be limited in your capacities and abilities and independence really sucks. It's the Anti-Lisa. And I'm tired of it. Life really does have a way of laughing at your plan. No matter how much a perfect plan or life you have plotted out, in the end you don't have very much control over it like you think. You get dealt one bad health situation and it affects you for years. You just never know what's around the corner and that goes for positive things as well. I just try to play the hand I'm dealt. I try to make the best decisions for right now, for today, because that's the only thing I'm sure of. Tomorrow may prove me wrong... I guess I'll wait and see.

So people always talk about Invisible Illnesses. IBD has that funny way of being one. You don't always look sick. Currently I'm not anemic so I'm not pale. I'm thin but not malnourished and sickly thin. I'm not weak and run down so I have what looks like normal energy levels. I'm no longer on steroids that puff my face up. I'm not on immunosuppressants that make my hair fall out. On the surface I look fine. If you didn't know, you wouldn't know. So I'm sure there are plenty of people rolling their eyes if I say I have pain or who are doubtful about why I haven't worked in years or why when I finally was feeling better and got a job, I got taken out for two weeks. I suppose it's all very easy to doubt and to not believe. Those who have had chronic pain understand. Those with IBD understand. You have weeks, months of feeling "normal" for the first time and think you have finally crossed that bridge. Then you realize you haven't even gotten there yet. I've written about the IBD stuff often enough that people get how it affects lives. Now, post surgery, a year out from colectomy I am frustrated. I am in pain. It hurts to stand, to walk, to move around. It hurts to wear anything but granny panties and sweats. It hurts to pee. I've been eating less so I won't go to the bathroom. I'm taking pain meds and muscle relaxers and topical creams to lessen my misery. No one can see any of that. No one looks at me and has any idea how much pain and discomfort I'm in while I'm carrying on the most random conversation about nothing. Google 'anal fissures'. Google 'anal fistulas'. It's horrible. Click on 'images' and it gets even better. It is graphic. They are things you probably never even considered existed. Hemorrhoids, yes maybe, but the issues that can crop up down there with IBD just aren't talked about. The whole fissure situation was bad enough...seriously. But with fistulas it's an entirely different scenario. That means surgery. More pain. I'm not here to gross you out but if you went and googled like I said to, you can only imagine. Of course many of those images are VERY extreme. But my point is, sickness can be invisible. Pain is invisible and easily hidden by those who are accustomed to having it daily. So before you pass judgement on people who 'don't look sick', you should also consider what you can't see. Issues that you'll never even consider being a possibility in life that someone right in front of you has going on. I don't know. I feel like it's been a very weird few years of my brain and body battling it out and my body winning a lot. It has been hard being in my early 30s and having to say I just don't work. I'm sure to many that sounds like a dream or is their reality, but when it's not a choice, it's different. I'm not just choosing to stay home with my kids. I'm not just choosing to be dependent on Hubs. I'm not lazy or feel like a man has to take care of me. It has not been a realistic possibility for me to work since 2010. And honestly I probably should have stopped prior to that because work was affecting my health immensely but I didn't.  I don't know where I wanted to go with this post other than to say, sometimes it just really sucks to not be in control. To be limited in your capacities and abilities and independence really sucks. It's the Anti-Lisa. And I'm tired of it. Life really does have a way of laughing at your plan. No matter how much a perfect plan or life you have plotted out, in the end you don't have very much control over it like you think. You get dealt one bad health situation and it affects you for years. You just never know what's around the corner and that goes for positive things as well. I just try to play the hand I'm dealt. I try to make the best decisions for right now, for today, because that's the only thing I'm sure of. Tomorrow may prove me wrong... I guess I'll wait and see.

The mask I wear...

Well, I've been meaning to bang this bitch fest out for a few days so here goes...
I HATE IBD. I HATE what it has done to my body and my life. I HATE being THAT girl who can't hold up her end of the deal because I have no idea when my body wil decide to betray me. I HATE being forever changed. Even though being sick has taught me a lot about myself and has revealed a strength and resolve I never knew I had, I kinda liked me the way I was. I don't think I needed to learn that I could endure this much pain. If I never had it, I think I would still be kick ass and living my life my way like Hurricane Lisa does. Instead, I got sidetracked and held back along with the lesson. The last 10 days have been unbearable for me. Besides the wonderful rectal spasms that are in a pain category all their own, I developed yet another horrible rash. IBDers call it butt burn but this is butt burn times 100. It is full on adult diaper rash. No wonder babies scream bloody murder with rashes. Holy shit, it hurts. My skin is so raw it's weeping. I have cut back my food and my fluids because going to the bathroom is pure torture. Even peeing. Your pee is acidic. That on raw skin can make you cry. And it has. I go through all of this with a smile on my face. With my makeup done, and my hair blow dried and a cute outfit on. I crack jokes as my facade. I'm due a mother effing Oscar is what it is.
Someone in one of my IBD groups on Facebook had commented this weekend that a picture I posted showed me looking happy and healthy. It's all bullshit. Smoke and mirrors. Urban Decay concealer and some great highlighter. Here's me faking everything being swell while I'm in pain just sitting down.

Concealer, bronzer, highlighter and Norco= fake health. 

My dad was in town for Father's Day. I wasn't about to let my pain control his trip. We went to dinner. I smiled and took pictures on Father's Day while on the inside I was cringing and in pain. My head a fog of pain killers and muscle relaxers just to allow me to function at a basic level. Moving sends pain searing through my body. I reapply my lipgloss and smile and make a joke. It's such a game. It's such bullshit. I want my life back. I don't want to leave work early because I'm in pain. I freaking HATE it. And I'm skinny. I'm at the lowest end of a healthy weight for 5'3". A few days of pain and I drop 5-8 pounds because as it is I absorb nothing. But I look great. I'm so skinny. I'm so lucky. Oh yeah--- Soooooo lucky. :|  I can buy clothes in the girls department and I lost my tits. Yeah- I lucked the hell right out with the big ole IBD lottery. Ugh--- I'd trade all this crap for 40 pounds and a properly functioning body.
So my surgeon was out of town last week and I finally got in to see him today at 5.

Just a normal day. Waiting for more pain at the surgeon's. 

 I need to get my pouch scoped because he doesn't feel the CT AND the MRI were comprehensive enough to figure out what's going on. I'm in too much pain. Spasms won't stop. My pouch surgery was textbook and now to have all this post OP shit is ridiculous. My surgeon says to me tonight that all my issues are issues that are present with Crohn's. CROHN'S. No. I refuse to accept that until there is something to substantiate it. I was tested and retested and biopsied within an inch of my life and NOTHING ever pointed to Crohn's. My surgeon had my small intestines IN HIS HANDS on purpose last May to triple check. I got gutted and cut wide open instead of doing it laproscopically so that he could better check my small bowel before gutting me.
I just don't know. So I get to go have my pouch checked out at Baylor with my surgeon, his partner and some other superman colo-rectal guy so they can all use me as a science experiment and try to problem solve. Luckily, I don't have any modesty left whatsoever so 3 grown men scoping my ass is just another day for me.
It is days like today where I feel this tiny pull telling me to go back to my ileostomy. Yes...seriously. Where many feel ostomies are a death sentence, I would actually consider going back.
I'm emotionally exhausted. I'm physically shutting down some days. I don't sleep from pain. I feel like I've been fighting an internal war for 4 years. How do I hang on? How do I get up everyday and bother faking it and keep going. Wouldn't it be easier to stay in bed, screw wearing makeup and putting an outfit together. Wouldn't that be more reflective of "sick"?? Sure. But I know that's not me. IBD may be destroying my body but I try so hard to stop it from destroying who I am. I give up a lot as it is. I don't feel independent anymore. Well, I'm not. I went back to work to try to regain some of it and it is a daily battle every time I have to go in. That's not me. I keep trying to force myself back into a Lisa that isn't really there anymore. And I'm stubborn and just keep trying.  I rely on Mat so much. He went out on a whim yesterday and got a new truck. I want to do that. I'm so afraid I'm stuck in this dependent state forever because these issues won't end. I hate putting that on him too. It's not fair to him. I could go around and around. It won't change anything right now. I just need to face the reality head on and make the most of it. In the meantime, my Disability hearing is finally in August. Yeah, over a year after it was requested because I got denied 3 times because I should have had no problem working fulltime while I was hemorrhaging blood daily about 30 times a day. Yeah- sounds completely doable to be holding a job with that going on.
Ok, I'm ending on this because the pain meds are kicked in. My surgeon took me off work for two weeks while I get tested, scoped and so my skin can heal. He wants me basically doing nothing to try to keep the spasms at bay and help my skin heal. <Sigh>  Defective. I feel like a defective burden. I don't know how much more I can take.
Good night all....

Well, I've been meaning to bang this bitch fest out for a few days so here goes...
I HATE IBD. I HATE what it has done to my body and my life. I HATE being THAT girl who can't hold up her end of the deal because I have no idea when my body wil decide to betray me. I HATE being forever changed. Even though being sick has taught me a lot about myself and has revealed a strength and resolve I never knew I had, I kinda liked me the way I was. I don't think I needed to learn that I could endure this much pain. If I never had it, I think I would still be kick ass and living my life my way like Hurricane Lisa does. Instead, I got sidetracked and held back along with the lesson. The last 10 days have been unbearable for me. Besides the wonderful rectal spasms that are in a pain category all their own, I developed yet another horrible rash. IBDers call it butt burn but this is butt burn times 100. It is full on adult diaper rash. No wonder babies scream bloody murder with rashes. Holy shit, it hurts. My skin is so raw it's weeping. I have cut back my food and my fluids because going to the bathroom is pure torture. Even peeing. Your pee is acidic. That on raw skin can make you cry. And it has. I go through all of this with a smile on my face. With my makeup done, and my hair blow dried and a cute outfit on. I crack jokes as my facade. I'm due a mother effing Oscar is what it is.
Someone in one of my IBD groups on Facebook had commented this weekend that a picture I posted showed me looking happy and healthy. It's all bullshit. Smoke and mirrors. Urban Decay concealer and some great highlighter. Here's me faking everything being swell while I'm in pain just sitting down.

Concealer, bronzer, highlighter and Norco= fake health. 

My dad was in town for Father's Day. I wasn't about to let my pain control his trip. We went to dinner. I smiled and took pictures on Father's Day while on the inside I was cringing and in pain. My head a fog of pain killers and muscle relaxers just to allow me to function at a basic level. Moving sends pain searing through my body. I reapply my lipgloss and smile and make a joke. It's such a game. It's such bullshit. I want my life back. I don't want to leave work early because I'm in pain. I freaking HATE it. And I'm skinny. I'm at the lowest end of a healthy weight for 5'3". A few days of pain and I drop 5-8 pounds because as it is I absorb nothing. But I look great. I'm so skinny. I'm so lucky. Oh yeah--- Soooooo lucky. :|  I can buy clothes in the girls department and I lost my tits. Yeah- I lucked the hell right out with the big ole IBD lottery. Ugh--- I'd trade all this crap for 40 pounds and a properly functioning body.
So my surgeon was out of town last week and I finally got in to see him today at 5.

Just a normal day. Waiting for more pain at the surgeon's. 

 I need to get my pouch scoped because he doesn't feel the CT AND the MRI were comprehensive enough to figure out what's going on. I'm in too much pain. Spasms won't stop. My pouch surgery was textbook and now to have all this post OP shit is ridiculous. My surgeon says to me tonight that all my issues are issues that are present with Crohn's. CROHN'S. No. I refuse to accept that until there is something to substantiate it. I was tested and retested and biopsied within an inch of my life and NOTHING ever pointed to Crohn's. My surgeon had my small intestines IN HIS HANDS on purpose last May to triple check. I got gutted and cut wide open instead of doing it laproscopically so that he could better check my small bowel before gutting me.
I just don't know. So I get to go have my pouch checked out at Baylor with my surgeon, his partner and some other superman colo-rectal guy so they can all use me as a science experiment and try to problem solve. Luckily, I don't have any modesty left whatsoever so 3 grown men scoping my ass is just another day for me.
It is days like today where I feel this tiny pull telling me to go back to my ileostomy. Yes...seriously. Where many feel ostomies are a death sentence, I would actually consider going back.
I'm emotionally exhausted. I'm physically shutting down some days. I don't sleep from pain. I feel like I've been fighting an internal war for 4 years. How do I hang on? How do I get up everyday and bother faking it and keep going. Wouldn't it be easier to stay in bed, screw wearing makeup and putting an outfit together. Wouldn't that be more reflective of "sick"?? Sure. But I know that's not me. IBD may be destroying my body but I try so hard to stop it from destroying who I am. I give up a lot as it is. I don't feel independent anymore. Well, I'm not. I went back to work to try to regain some of it and it is a daily battle every time I have to go in. That's not me. I keep trying to force myself back into a Lisa that isn't really there anymore. And I'm stubborn and just keep trying.  I rely on Mat so much. He went out on a whim yesterday and got a new truck. I want to do that. I'm so afraid I'm stuck in this dependent state forever because these issues won't end. I hate putting that on him too. It's not fair to him. I could go around and around. It won't change anything right now. I just need to face the reality head on and make the most of it. In the meantime, my Disability hearing is finally in August. Yeah, over a year after it was requested because I got denied 3 times because I should have had no problem working fulltime while I was hemorrhaging blood daily about 30 times a day. Yeah- sounds completely doable to be holding a job with that going on.
Ok, I'm ending on this because the pain meds are kicked in. My surgeon took me off work for two weeks while I get tested, scoped and so my skin can heal. He wants me basically doing nothing to try to keep the spasms at bay and help my skin heal. <Sigh>  Defective. I feel like a defective burden. I don't know how much more I can take.
Good night all....

I'm in pain & uncomfortable & bitchy & I'm not sorry.

Hey there--- It's been a bit. I didn't mean to go this long but life has a way of making me feel like I got blasted with a Louisville slugger and then I'm down for the count. That was way too many sports references in one sentence!
So I've been working part time and for the most part it's kicking my ass. I am just so thoroughly exhausted I can barely function on my days off. I feel so guilty because I just want to sit down and not get up. It takes everything in me to get ready... When I work I don't eat much that day so I've lost some weight that I can't afford to lose. So work days I eat maybe one time. I don't drink enough on those days either so I know it's contributing to my dehydration, sluggishness and lightheadedness. It's just not a good combination. It amazes me what that 20-25 hours is doing to me. Not to mention the days I am in so much pain while I'm working. There are nights I don't think I'll make it. Or I need to take care of something while it feels like a hot poker is searing through my insides with my spasms. It's beyond frustrating. Some days I just want to give up and stay in bed because I think, that may be overdoing it at the moment. I don't know. I'm in a horrible catch 22.
Being in chronic pain takes so much out of me. I'm wiped out over the littlest thing. And it's hard to explain it, or make people understand without just sounding like a big lazy wuss. I was supposed to see my surgeon this week  but they rescheduled me once and then I had to reschedule it due to some personal commitments. So still doing the same meds. The antispasmotic drug puts me in a coma so I guess it works???? I don't know because I'm in a coma. So that's out for daytime. 5mg of Flexeril doesn't do much and if I up it to 10mg I'll be stoned out of my mind. Same with the Valium. So not sure what to do next. Some days I can't even think about dealing with this forever. I hate thinking that way because I keep telling myself, "Well, you aren't bleeding to death anymore", but that doesn't take the current pain away. And my canker sores are back. I have 5. That used to be my warning signs for a flare. When I get them now I freak internally. So it's Stress? IBD? I don't know but they Hurt! I don't consider myself to NOT have an IBD anymore although technically my UC was gone when my colon hit the biohazard bin. I still feel as though I am an IBD patient. I always will be. The actual diseased part of my body is gone, but the aftershock of that surgery continues to affect my daily life. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to deal with it some days. I am just so worn out. I had two late nights at work and on my day off today have no energy to enjoy it. What kind of shit is that??? Complete shit, that's what. I don't enjoy cooking anymore because I feel like anything I eat will kill me later, and the effort it takes is more than the energy I have. I am mentally exhausted from the stress my physical limitations cause me. Every night when I go to bed I dread the morning because it comes too soon. My sleep is broken nightly. On the odd night I sleep through the night, it's a drug induced sleep and I still feel like shit the following day.
 I know... I bitch and moan and complain...blah blah. I'm running on empty. Faking being okay takes a lot of work and today I don't feel like pretending. I want to be a crabby bitch who is in pain and discomfort CONSTANTLY and I don't want to apologize for it. I'm sorry that this is inconvenient for some but- oh well. Too bad, so sad.  I won the big IBD lottery which has been a big ole F you for me, so anyone else's inconvenience is the least of my problems. Ugh-- I HATE being this person. Today isn't an anomaly. I just took my mask off. Figuratively and literally. I'm not even putting makeup on today.  Today I want to be a miserable, chronically sick asshole and not be apologetic for it. And that's all I've got. Sorry this was a pisser. Tomorrow may bring me something to feel happier about. Enjoy your health. Don't take it for granted. Take advantage of just being able to do whatever you want. Don't put that run off until tomorrow. Or the day trip or the hike..... One day you may not be able to accomplish it because of something you have no control over and you will wonder why you put it off. Thanks for reading. Enjoy your weekend, everyone. XO

Hey there--- It's been a bit. I didn't mean to go this long but life has a way of making me feel like I got blasted with a Louisville slugger and then I'm down for the count. That was way too many sports references in one sentence!
So I've been working part time and for the most part it's kicking my ass. I am just so thoroughly exhausted I can barely function on my days off. I feel so guilty because I just want to sit down and not get up. It takes everything in me to get ready... When I work I don't eat much that day so I've lost some weight that I can't afford to lose. So work days I eat maybe one time. I don't drink enough on those days either so I know it's contributing to my dehydration, sluggishness and lightheadedness. It's just not a good combination. It amazes me what that 20-25 hours is doing to me. Not to mention the days I am in so much pain while I'm working. There are nights I don't think I'll make it. Or I need to take care of something while it feels like a hot poker is searing through my insides with my spasms. It's beyond frustrating. Some days I just want to give up and stay in bed because I think, that may be overdoing it at the moment. I don't know. I'm in a horrible catch 22.
Being in chronic pain takes so much out of me. I'm wiped out over the littlest thing. And it's hard to explain it, or make people understand without just sounding like a big lazy wuss. I was supposed to see my surgeon this week  but they rescheduled me once and then I had to reschedule it due to some personal commitments. So still doing the same meds. The antispasmotic drug puts me in a coma so I guess it works???? I don't know because I'm in a coma. So that's out for daytime. 5mg of Flexeril doesn't do much and if I up it to 10mg I'll be stoned out of my mind. Same with the Valium. So not sure what to do next. Some days I can't even think about dealing with this forever. I hate thinking that way because I keep telling myself, "Well, you aren't bleeding to death anymore", but that doesn't take the current pain away. And my canker sores are back. I have 5. That used to be my warning signs for a flare. When I get them now I freak internally. So it's Stress? IBD? I don't know but they Hurt! I don't consider myself to NOT have an IBD anymore although technically my UC was gone when my colon hit the biohazard bin. I still feel as though I am an IBD patient. I always will be. The actual diseased part of my body is gone, but the aftershock of that surgery continues to affect my daily life. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to deal with it some days. I am just so worn out. I had two late nights at work and on my day off today have no energy to enjoy it. What kind of shit is that??? Complete shit, that's what. I don't enjoy cooking anymore because I feel like anything I eat will kill me later, and the effort it takes is more than the energy I have. I am mentally exhausted from the stress my physical limitations cause me. Every night when I go to bed I dread the morning because it comes too soon. My sleep is broken nightly. On the odd night I sleep through the night, it's a drug induced sleep and I still feel like shit the following day.
 I know... I bitch and moan and complain...blah blah. I'm running on empty. Faking being okay takes a lot of work and today I don't feel like pretending. I want to be a crabby bitch who is in pain and discomfort CONSTANTLY and I don't want to apologize for it. I'm sorry that this is inconvenient for some but- oh well. Too bad, so sad.  I won the big IBD lottery which has been a big ole F you for me, so anyone else's inconvenience is the least of my problems. Ugh-- I HATE being this person. Today isn't an anomaly. I just took my mask off. Figuratively and literally. I'm not even putting makeup on today.  Today I want to be a miserable, chronically sick asshole and not be apologetic for it. And that's all I've got. Sorry this was a pisser. Tomorrow may bring me something to feel happier about. Enjoy your health. Don't take it for granted. Take advantage of just being able to do whatever you want. Don't put that run off until tomorrow. Or the day trip or the hike..... One day you may not be able to accomplish it because of something you have no control over and you will wonder why you put it off. Thanks for reading. Enjoy your weekend, everyone. XO

happy colonlessiversary...or something.

One year. About the same exact time I sit here typing I was waking up from anesthesia. It seems nearly dreamlike, but I can say it was the most intense pain I have ever experienced. There are no words to explain it. Naturally they wake you up, you feel pain and then they get you going with the good meds. But in the time they moved me from a gurney to my bed, I thought I was dying. Hubs said I made animal sounds. Just primal, hurting sounds. I remember them telling me to roll and shift so they could move me. I remember just crying and saying I couldn't. I had just been cut open from above my belly button to my pelvic bone. My guts were separated from the surrounding organs and tissue. He pulled out my small intestines and looked them over for signs of Crohn's. He then put all of that back in and proceeded to remove all five feet of my large intestines and almost all of my rectum. Just enough was left to attach my J Pouch later. The loose end of my small bowel was formed into a reservoir shaped like a "J" and that was attached to what was left of my rectum. A portion of my small intestines much closer to the stomach was then disconnected from the rest and rerouted out through my abdomen at a stoma site so nothing would pass to the J Pouch while it healed. I was then stapled shut. All that shit hurts. The incision hurt. The stoma site hurt. The internal pain hurt. I felt like I got run over. Getting gutted is no joke. I just looked through my post op pics. I remember thinking my scar was so intense. In one year I almost forget it's there. But I don't hide it.

From being stapled shut after surgery---->

40 staples

Early scar, about 2 weeks post op after staples came out --->

FrankenBelly

Two days ago on World IBD Day.

I remember wondering if it was going to look like train tracks forever.
One year ago was the end of one long battle that changed me, crushed a lot of my spirit, messed with my self esteem, altered my body image, made me fear food, and made me doubt what I can do. It has been a very different type of battle this year, especially my time with an ostomy. There were nights I struggled and cried and said I couldn't do it. Hubs would say, "Well, it's too late. You have to. They can't put your colon back in now". My post surgical pain only ever came close to my UC flare pain the first few days post op. By the time I was home my flare pain put my recovery to shame.'
I still struggle. I will never be normal. Some days are worse than others. Some days are so great I forget I'm missing a major organ. Other days I swear I don't know how I can live this way. In terms of having colitis, no I technically don't have it anymore since Ulcerative colitis is only in the colon. But I struggle. My life is impacted everyday by this change in my anatomy. There are some foods I'll never eat again. There are other foods I just can't say no to and I pay for it for almost two days. I may have issues forever. They will never compare to a flare but regardless, they are there. My scar tissue pain has finally started subsiding. My fear that I have Crohn's and not UC is slowly fading as time goes on. I still have symptoms I am dealing with daily that keep me on alert. I can dehydrate very quickly and some days I get lightheaded fast because of it. I spent my first day out in the heat the other day and it didn't go so well. It hit me fast. Summers will be a continuous effort to stay hydrated and keep myself from blacking out. My absorption probably isn't the best and when my levels drop I feel it pretty quickly. I don't want to say I may have limitations forever. I hope not. I hate that thought and I hate when my body holds me back and betrays me. I don't want to be afraid to go for a bike ride. Or wonder if my spasms will shackle me for the day, or keep me up all night. I can only take it and it comes and play the hand I'm dealt. Being back at work part time has already been impacted by it. I hate that. I don't like feeling like maybe I can't hold up my end because my stupid body has other plans. It's hard. It hurts. It frustrates me and creates a lot of self doubt. Hoping that will lessen as time goes by.
 Anyway- Happy one year to me being colonless and getting to tell my story. Thanks everyone for being supportive and reading and sharing. Love to all.
XO from one gutsy broad. =-)

One year. About the same exact time I sit here typing I was waking up from anesthesia. It seems nearly dreamlike, but I can say it was the most intense pain I have ever experienced. There are no words to explain it. Naturally they wake you up, you feel pain and then they get you going with the good meds. But in the time they moved me from a gurney to my bed, I thought I was dying. Hubs said I made animal sounds. Just primal, hurting sounds. I remember them telling me to roll and shift so they could move me. I remember just crying and saying I couldn't. I had just been cut open from above my belly button to my pelvic bone. My guts were separated from the surrounding organs and tissue. He pulled out my small intestines and looked them over for signs of Crohn's. He then put all of that back in and proceeded to remove all five feet of my large intestines and almost all of my rectum. Just enough was left to attach my J Pouch later. The loose end of my small bowel was formed into a reservoir shaped like a "J" and that was attached to what was left of my rectum. A portion of my small intestines much closer to the stomach was then disconnected from the rest and rerouted out through my abdomen at a stoma site so nothing would pass to the J Pouch while it healed. I was then stapled shut. All that shit hurts. The incision hurt. The stoma site hurt. The internal pain hurt. I felt like I got run over. Getting gutted is no joke. I just looked through my post op pics. I remember thinking my scar was so intense. In one year I almost forget it's there. But I don't hide it.

From being stapled shut after surgery---->

40 staples

Early scar, about 2 weeks post op after staples came out --->

FrankenBelly

Two days ago on World IBD Day.

I remember wondering if it was going to look like train tracks forever.
One year ago was the end of one long battle that changed me, crushed a lot of my spirit, messed with my self esteem, altered my body image, made me fear food, and made me doubt what I can do. It has been a very different type of battle this year, especially my time with an ostomy. There were nights I struggled and cried and said I couldn't do it. Hubs would say, "Well, it's too late. You have to. They can't put your colon back in now". My post surgical pain only ever came close to my UC flare pain the first few days post op. By the time I was home my flare pain put my recovery to shame.'
I still struggle. I will never be normal. Some days are worse than others. Some days are so great I forget I'm missing a major organ. Other days I swear I don't know how I can live this way. In terms of having colitis, no I technically don't have it anymore since Ulcerative colitis is only in the colon. But I struggle. My life is impacted everyday by this change in my anatomy. There are some foods I'll never eat again. There are other foods I just can't say no to and I pay for it for almost two days. I may have issues forever. They will never compare to a flare but regardless, they are there. My scar tissue pain has finally started subsiding. My fear that I have Crohn's and not UC is slowly fading as time goes on. I still have symptoms I am dealing with daily that keep me on alert. I can dehydrate very quickly and some days I get lightheaded fast because of it. I spent my first day out in the heat the other day and it didn't go so well. It hit me fast. Summers will be a continuous effort to stay hydrated and keep myself from blacking out. My absorption probably isn't the best and when my levels drop I feel it pretty quickly. I don't want to say I may have limitations forever. I hope not. I hate that thought and I hate when my body holds me back and betrays me. I don't want to be afraid to go for a bike ride. Or wonder if my spasms will shackle me for the day, or keep me up all night. I can only take it and it comes and play the hand I'm dealt. Being back at work part time has already been impacted by it. I hate that. I don't like feeling like maybe I can't hold up my end because my stupid body has other plans. It's hard. It hurts. It frustrates me and creates a lot of self doubt. Hoping that will lessen as time goes by.
 Anyway- Happy one year to me being colonless and getting to tell my story. Thanks everyone for being supportive and reading and sharing. Love to all.
XO from one gutsy broad. =-)

WEGO health Writing day #30- I slacked big time. A day late....

Yesterday's prompt--- Today, write a recap of your experience. What was your favorite prompt? Least favorite? What have you learned? Or describe your HAWMC experience in one word!

I tried. I really did. Between starting back to work, school homework, kids etc... I can't believe I managed to do 14 out of 30. I think that's a pretty good average.
Some days I knew what I wanted to write but didn't have the time, or the energy to get it done. Some days I just plain forgot I had it going on.
I like Day 7, 9 and 19.
Here are the links to them.....

http://gutsylisa.blogspot.com/2013/04/day-7-wego-writers-challenge.html?zx=aa8d516472424431

http://gutsylisa.blogspot.com/2013/04/wego-health-writers-challenge-day-9.html

http://gutsylisa.blogspot.com/2013/04/wego-day-19-vintage-lisa-throwback-pic.html

I've been really realizing the last few weeks how much impact my daily symptoms have on my life. I've been struggling with spasms STILL. The Flexeril and Valium barely keep them limited enough so I can function but I have had some days recently that a double dose didn't help. I went back to work and from day #1 my body is retaliating. Pain. Spasms. I can smile and fake it through most of my pain and discomfort now. I've had lots of practice.
Today I feel worn out. Just completely run down. It's a flashback feeling I don't like at all. I could just lay in bed all day. I'm working 5-10pm today so something has to give or it'll be a long rough night.
The frustration of feeling like I'm at the mercy of my stupid body that won't get it's act together is indescribable. I HATE it. The broken sleep is killing me. Being awake from 3-430 in the morning KILLS me. It's nightly. I'm tired(ha!) of it. My brain wants to wake up and go for a run. My body wants to stay in the fetal position in PJs all day long. I'm upset. I'm pissed. I'm annoyed. I'm fed up. I went for an MRI yesterday to see if there is anything the inconclusive $700 CT scan missed. For $700 it should have come to clean my bathrooms too. So now we wait. I should have results by tomorrow. I'm losing blood. Daily. It's not much but ANY puts me in panic mode. I definitely haven't hit anemic mode or anything because I know that feeling all too well. I can function like it ain't no thang at a 7 hemoglobin when normal is around 14. Sick girl. Ugh.
Also the self esteem is at an all time rock bottom low lately. I hate what I see. Oddly, my scars are the last thing I'm dissatisfied with!! it's everything else. I'm just weak. And look like shit. I'm tired. I'm out of shape. I feel like I've aged 10 years in the last 4. Chronic pain and illness will do that I suppose.
Anyway, enough of my sobbing.
Have a good day everyone. My semester is winding down. Having a mental battle about what to do about school. On the fence about continuing. I need a nap. Or a drink. Whatever.

Yesterday's prompt--- Today, write a recap of your experience. What was your favorite prompt? Least favorite? What have you learned? Or describe your HAWMC experience in one word!

I tried. I really did. Between starting back to work, school homework, kids etc... I can't believe I managed to do 14 out of 30. I think that's a pretty good average.
Some days I knew what I wanted to write but didn't have the time, or the energy to get it done. Some days I just plain forgot I had it going on.
I like Day 7, 9 and 19.
Here are the links to them.....

http://gutsylisa.blogspot.com/2013/04/day-7-wego-writers-challenge.html?zx=aa8d516472424431

http://gutsylisa.blogspot.com/2013/04/wego-health-writers-challenge-day-9.html

http://gutsylisa.blogspot.com/2013/04/wego-day-19-vintage-lisa-throwback-pic.html

I've been really realizing the last few weeks how much impact my daily symptoms have on my life. I've been struggling with spasms STILL. The Flexeril and Valium barely keep them limited enough so I can function but I have had some days recently that a double dose didn't help. I went back to work and from day #1 my body is retaliating. Pain. Spasms. I can smile and fake it through most of my pain and discomfort now. I've had lots of practice.
Today I feel worn out. Just completely run down. It's a flashback feeling I don't like at all. I could just lay in bed all day. I'm working 5-10pm today so something has to give or it'll be a long rough night.
The frustration of feeling like I'm at the mercy of my stupid body that won't get it's act together is indescribable. I HATE it. The broken sleep is killing me. Being awake from 3-430 in the morning KILLS me. It's nightly. I'm tired(ha!) of it. My brain wants to wake up and go for a run. My body wants to stay in the fetal position in PJs all day long. I'm upset. I'm pissed. I'm annoyed. I'm fed up. I went for an MRI yesterday to see if there is anything the inconclusive $700 CT scan missed. For $700 it should have come to clean my bathrooms too. So now we wait. I should have results by tomorrow. I'm losing blood. Daily. It's not much but ANY puts me in panic mode. I definitely haven't hit anemic mode or anything because I know that feeling all too well. I can function like it ain't no thang at a 7 hemoglobin when normal is around 14. Sick girl. Ugh.
Also the self esteem is at an all time rock bottom low lately. I hate what I see. Oddly, my scars are the last thing I'm dissatisfied with!! it's everything else. I'm just weak. And look like shit. I'm tired. I'm out of shape. I feel like I've aged 10 years in the last 4. Chronic pain and illness will do that I suppose.
Anyway, enough of my sobbing.
Have a good day everyone. My semester is winding down. Having a mental battle about what to do about school. On the fence about continuing. I need a nap. Or a drink. Whatever.

WEGO Day #19- Vintage Lisa throwback pic

Today’s Prompt:

• Post a vintage photo of yourself, with a caption about the photo and where you were in terms of your health condition.

The joy of finding a beautiful vintage item is the history behind it, imagining how it was used or worn and cherished by its previous owner. In many ways, vintage items have lived a whole other life before coming into yours. Take this concept and apply it to a vintage photo of yourself. What story does this photo tell about you and your condition? What was your life like when it was taken? How have things changed since then?

I am 'only' 35 so I don't know how vintage I can really be. Maybe to a 15 year old I am but when I think vintage I think the 1940s and 1950s. Pin-up girls and poodle skirts. Glam Hollywood. Red lips and peep toe shoes. 

Anyway, my last laptop crashed and I lost all my pictures because I was an idiot and never backed it up. BACK UP YOUR COMPUTERS EVERYONE! 

This means I lost everything from the second I went to digital. Daughter #1 as a little munchkin, her Kinder field trips, a lot of my illness documentation, pregnancy pics, nights out with friends, family, vacations, my wedding day to Hubs... I have to stop because thinking of it makes me sick to my stomach.

 So it was slim pickings, but here is vintage Lisa. 

It was the St. Patrick's Day parade day in Buffalo 2009. Insanity! We started off with brunch at 1030am at Cole's and literally wandered around bar to bar until we ended back at Cole's for an 11pm meal! I was with a group of people I love and have a blast with and miss so much now that I'm in Texas. I had a job I loved, awesome coworkers, the social life was kicking because I was going through a divorce and perpetually celebrating it. It was the Lisa D variety show!! I was working hard, playing hard and hadn't been diagnosed yet. I was a better mom now that I wasn't with my ex who was destroying my life. Symptoms were still mild where I wasn't worried and hadn't even seen a doctor yet. Life was good. I was starting over and I felt like ANYTHING was possible.  ---->

VERY shortly after this day my life would change, symptoms got worse and I officially became a 'sick' girl. 

Today’s Prompt:

• Post a vintage photo of yourself, with a caption about the photo and where you were in terms of your health condition.

The joy of finding a beautiful vintage item is the history behind it, imagining how it was used or worn and cherished by its previous owner. In many ways, vintage items have lived a whole other life before coming into yours. Take this concept and apply it to a vintage photo of yourself. What story does this photo tell about you and your condition? What was your life like when it was taken? How have things changed since then?

I am 'only' 35 so I don't know how vintage I can really be. Maybe to a 15 year old I am but when I think vintage I think the 1940s and 1950s. Pin-up girls and poodle skirts. Glam Hollywood. Red lips and peep toe shoes. 

Anyway, my last laptop crashed and I lost all my pictures because I was an idiot and never backed it up. BACK UP YOUR COMPUTERS EVERYONE! 

This means I lost everything from the second I went to digital. Daughter #1 as a little munchkin, her Kinder field trips, a lot of my illness documentation, pregnancy pics, nights out with friends, family, vacations, my wedding day to Hubs... I have to stop because thinking of it makes me sick to my stomach.

 So it was slim pickings, but here is vintage Lisa. 

It was the St. Patrick's Day parade day in Buffalo 2009. Insanity! We started off with brunch at 1030am at Cole's and literally wandered around bar to bar until we ended back at Cole's for an 11pm meal! I was with a group of people I love and have a blast with and miss so much now that I'm in Texas. I had a job I loved, awesome coworkers, the social life was kicking because I was going through a divorce and perpetually celebrating it. It was the Lisa D variety show!! I was working hard, playing hard and hadn't been diagnosed yet. I was a better mom now that I wasn't with my ex who was destroying my life. Symptoms were still mild where I wasn't worried and hadn't even seen a doctor yet. Life was good. I was starting over and I felt like ANYTHING was possible.  ---->

VERY shortly after this day my life would change, symptoms got worse and I officially became a 'sick' girl. 

WEGO challenge Day #11 -- social media, what, who, when, wow!

Today's prompt. 

Write about your favorite social network. Do you love Twitter? Facebook? Pinterest? Why?

I love the internet. I can not imagine what life would have been like in High School or college(the first time) with the 24/7 connection to the world. 

Those who know me, know I love them all. Facebook can be oh so annoying, but the positives of what I have gotten from it, make me hang in there. I have reconnected with people who I lost touch with. I get to see where their lives have gone, see their beautiful kids, faces that bring back great memories, and it's effortless to connect and share pics and info with many people at once. Plus, I have a built in IBD network of so many wonderful people that I have never met, and may never meet, who get it and understand and have been in my shoes and me in their's. My facebook IBD groups made me feel less scared and isolated and singular. It allowed me to own my struggle with IBD. It's brilliant!

I also love Twitter. I love getting all my news headlines, traffic issues, funny tidbits, my IBD community exchanges blurbs about their shitty days or their successes. I love the simplicity of the retweet. I love seeing the randomness that celebrities come up with on their accounts. 

On my old macbook. I'm sure my smartphone was with me too.

I'm much newer to Pinterest but I do enjoy it. It is unreal the ideas and recipes and home decor and outfits and picture scenarios can be in one place. It really seems endless and could take up an entire day. I like that everything is on it's own little boards and it becomes it's own little way of passing ideas and stories. 

I use all three to share my blog and share my journey and pass along details and stories of people that I admire or connect with and feel others should read about. 

I love it. I love that you can find out virtually anything in a matter of seconds. I love video chatting and think there should be more of that. I remember dial up with a phone cord stretched into the spare room of my parents house. I remember when AOL disks came in the mail every other day. Amazing how much has changed. I still write thank you cards though. You know, the ones you put a stamp on and mail?! =)

Today's prompt. 

Write about your favorite social network. Do you love Twitter? Facebook? Pinterest? Why?

I love the internet. I can not imagine what life would have been like in High School or college(the first time) with the 24/7 connection to the world. 

Those who know me, know I love them all. Facebook can be oh so annoying, but the positives of what I have gotten from it, make me hang in there. I have reconnected with people who I lost touch with. I get to see where their lives have gone, see their beautiful kids, faces that bring back great memories, and it's effortless to connect and share pics and info with many people at once. Plus, I have a built in IBD network of so many wonderful people that I have never met, and may never meet, who get it and understand and have been in my shoes and me in their's. My facebook IBD groups made me feel less scared and isolated and singular. It allowed me to own my struggle with IBD. It's brilliant!

I also love Twitter. I love getting all my news headlines, traffic issues, funny tidbits, my IBD community exchanges blurbs about their shitty days or their successes. I love the simplicity of the retweet. I love seeing the randomness that celebrities come up with on their accounts. 

On my old macbook. I'm sure my smartphone was with me too.

I'm much newer to Pinterest but I do enjoy it. It is unreal the ideas and recipes and home decor and outfits and picture scenarios can be in one place. It really seems endless and could take up an entire day. I like that everything is on it's own little boards and it becomes it's own little way of passing ideas and stories. 

I use all three to share my blog and share my journey and pass along details and stories of people that I admire or connect with and feel others should read about. 

I love it. I love that you can find out virtually anything in a matter of seconds. I love video chatting and think there should be more of that. I remember dial up with a phone cord stretched into the spare room of my parents house. I remember when AOL disks came in the mail every other day. Amazing how much has changed. I still write thank you cards though. You know, the ones you put a stamp on and mail?! =)

WEGO Writing challenge Day #10. --- Picture Perfect.

Here's the prompt---->

HAWMC Day 10: Wordless Wednesday!

It’s often hard to like pictures of ourselves – post your favorite picture of yourself.  

I rarely like a picture of myself, especially since getting sick. My hair is different, my face looks different, my body composition is different, all the weight fluctuations have created a skewed body image in my head. It sucks. Every once in a while I'll see a picture taken that reminds me of the 'old' me and where I think, "Ok, I look pretty good!". I don't know. My hair had grown in a bit and I had a good cut, most of my fat prednisone face was gone, my eyelashes look nice and it was date night! It's few and far between. Anyway, here's one from a while ago I really like..... 

HAHAHAHAHAH-- JUST KIDDING!!!! I do love leopard print shoes though. Ok, here it is for real! ;-)

Here's the prompt---->

HAWMC Day 10: Wordless Wednesday!

It’s often hard to like pictures of ourselves – post your favorite picture of yourself.  

I rarely like a picture of myself, especially since getting sick. My hair is different, my face looks different, my body composition is different, all the weight fluctuations have created a skewed body image in my head. It sucks. Every once in a while I'll see a picture taken that reminds me of the 'old' me and where I think, "Ok, I look pretty good!". I don't know. My hair had grown in a bit and I had a good cut, most of my fat prednisone face was gone, my eyelashes look nice and it was date night! It's few and far between. Anyway, here's one from a while ago I really like..... 

HAHAHAHAHAH-- JUST KIDDING!!!! I do love leopard print shoes though. Ok, here it is for real! ;-)

WEGO Health writers challenge Day #9-- parenting while sick.

Here is today's prompt. I know, I'm totally late--->

HAWMC Day 9:

As a parent with health conditions or parent to a child(ren) with health conditions, what do you hope you’re doing right?

The hardest thing about being sick wasn't the pain. It wasn't losing a job I loved. It wasn't the meds that made me ugly and crazy. It wasn't the hospitalizations. It was how many times I had to tell my daughter, "No". Her PreK, Kinder and 1st grade was consumed with a mom who was always in bed, in pain, in the bathroom, half asleep, on pain meds, in the hospital, at the doctor.... the list goes on. I stopped making promises because I couldn't keep them. I knew if I said we would go to the park tomorrow, chances were that I would in no way be able to handle that. Seeing disappointment on her face so many times killed me. She hated when I was in the hospital. I don't know how much it freaked her out. I know she hated seeing all my IVs and the PICC line and she saw at least one blood transfusion. It was very, very difficult to explain. After my surgery she became more curious as I got better. She would ask to see my stoma. It didn't gross her out. She asked if she would have to get her large intestines taken out. Again, I didn't want to give a false promise so I just said that I hoped not. She told her teacher last year that her Mommy got her large intestines taken out. Her teacher didn't believe her. I'm not sure where she thought a 7 year old would come up with that on her own!! Things are better now. I felt guilty for not being fully present for so long. I felt guilty of the days I was missing. I hated UC for making me unable to be involved with my child. 

Family visits in the big H.

What I hope I did and continue to do right, is just be honest. I never lied about how I felt or what I was going through. She knew my pain. She knew my wounds. Saw my hair fall out. Saw me stapled shut. I always try to be as honest as it is appropriate for her age. I think it makes her understand and not be resentful. If I had hid it, she wouldn't have really 'gotten' it and then possibly would have just resented that I never wanted to play with her.
I hope anyway. I know having surgery gave me my life back. If I lay in bed now, it's a choice, not a necessity. Things have improved. My daughter hasn't forgotten. She's happy I'm better and can be more involved and I think I've disolved any leftover fears she might have had. I hope. 

Here is today's prompt. I know, I'm totally late--->

HAWMC Day 9:

As a parent with health conditions or parent to a child(ren) with health conditions, what do you hope you’re doing right?

The hardest thing about being sick wasn't the pain. It wasn't losing a job I loved. It wasn't the meds that made me ugly and crazy. It wasn't the hospitalizations. It was how many times I had to tell my daughter, "No". Her PreK, Kinder and 1st grade was consumed with a mom who was always in bed, in pain, in the bathroom, half asleep, on pain meds, in the hospital, at the doctor.... the list goes on. I stopped making promises because I couldn't keep them. I knew if I said we would go to the park tomorrow, chances were that I would in no way be able to handle that. Seeing disappointment on her face so many times killed me. She hated when I was in the hospital. I don't know how much it freaked her out. I know she hated seeing all my IVs and the PICC line and she saw at least one blood transfusion. It was very, very difficult to explain. After my surgery she became more curious as I got better. She would ask to see my stoma. It didn't gross her out. She asked if she would have to get her large intestines taken out. Again, I didn't want to give a false promise so I just said that I hoped not. She told her teacher last year that her Mommy got her large intestines taken out. Her teacher didn't believe her. I'm not sure where she thought a 7 year old would come up with that on her own!! Things are better now. I felt guilty for not being fully present for so long. I felt guilty of the days I was missing. I hated UC for making me unable to be involved with my child. 

Family visits in the big H.

What I hope I did and continue to do right, is just be honest. I never lied about how I felt or what I was going through. She knew my pain. She knew my wounds. Saw my hair fall out. Saw me stapled shut. I always try to be as honest as it is appropriate for her age. I think it makes her understand and not be resentful. If I had hid it, she wouldn't have really 'gotten' it and then possibly would have just resented that I never wanted to play with her.
I hope anyway. I know having surgery gave me my life back. If I lay in bed now, it's a choice, not a necessity. Things have improved. My daughter hasn't forgotten. She's happy I'm better and can be more involved and I think I've disolved any leftover fears she might have had. I hope. 

WEGO Health writer's challenge Day #8--- Tigress

Here is WEGO's prompt for Day #8--->
If your health condition (or the health condition of a loved one!) was an animal, what would it be? Is it a real animal or make believe?  

This one is a tough one. The days that are symptom free are few and far between. Almost nonexistent. 
For the most part, having UC has sucked big time. I'm going to have to say my UC was/is a Tiger. 

Meow- good kitty.

Sometimes Tigers just lay around all lazy soaking up some sun, doing a whole lot of nothing. And then out of no where it can attack quickly reaching up to 40mph to catch it's prey which it proceeds to strangle by locking it's jaws around it until it dies. I definitely felt UC strangling the life out of me. Out of nowhere. One minute I was just chilling, having some water and -BAM- Tiger ambush is complete. Then it proceeded to tear me apart. Being sick was always two extremes for me. The half asleep lazy sunbather and the wild attacking killer. No in between. Even now with my JPouch I have days it feels like I was never sick and then the next day I can feel horrible and there aren't enough muscle relaxers in the world that can help me. 

Here is WEGO's prompt for Day #8--->
If your health condition (or the health condition of a loved one!) was an animal, what would it be? Is it a real animal or make believe?  

This one is a tough one. The days that are symptom free are few and far between. Almost nonexistent. 
For the most part, having UC has sucked big time. I'm going to have to say my UC was/is a Tiger. 

Meow- good kitty.

Sometimes Tigers just lay around all lazy soaking up some sun, doing a whole lot of nothing. And then out of no where it can attack quickly reaching up to 40mph to catch it's prey which it proceeds to strangle by locking it's jaws around it until it dies. I definitely felt UC strangling the life out of me. Out of nowhere. One minute I was just chilling, having some water and -BAM- Tiger ambush is complete. Then it proceeded to tear me apart. Being sick was always two extremes for me. The half asleep lazy sunbather and the wild attacking killer. No in between. Even now with my JPouch I have days it feels like I was never sick and then the next day I can feel horrible and there aren't enough muscle relaxers in the world that can help me.