My Crohn's Story: How it happened and what it meant for me.

Hi everyone! I promised it and here it is!

So, when I was fifteen years old I began to feel minor pains in my abdomen. I tried to ignore it but it was consistent and I was not hungry. I kinda felt like I had a cold. My mom took me to the doctor where she said I had a cold and told me to go home (in her defense, I hid some of my symptoms. I was in the marching band at my high school and I felt as though I could not miss any practice or I would lose my spot in the show).

After a few more weeks of this, the pains were worsening and I still was only able to a eat a few bites at each meal before my tummy protested. Then, one day, I felt no pain in my abdomen. I thought it was over, though I STILL could not eat. Relieved, I played through my day like any other. After band practice, which ended at six, I went home and had some Mac and Cheese (hahaha....really, I only had two bites and my dad had gone out and bought the box because I thought I would be able to eat). Since I was unable to eat the full portion, we put it in the fridge and I went and took a shower.

For a bit of perspective on the part that is coming up, we had (without our knowledge) an ant mound in our walls and ants were everywhere and I am afraid of them.

After I got in the shower my dad came in my bathroom and sprayed for ants. While he was in there I had a horrendous pain in my side again. This time it was worse and I was fed up. I started crying but I knew I could not be loud because then I would have to miss practice the next day. After he left I collapsed in my shower and started crying like a baby. I was screaming, "WHY?!?!" over and over. My parents had been outside and so I crawled out of my shower and laid on my bathroom floor. When my mom came inside and heard me she ran to check on me and began to look for ants. When she saw there were no ants and had found out I was in tremendous pain she got me some clothes and told my dad to start the car. At this point it was nine at night.

We got to our local hospital, which, mind you, is not a very good place to be, and sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes. There were many people in front of us but the doctors wanted to stop my incessant screaming.

They told me they had to do a CAT scan to see what was wrong. Three hours later I was getting scanned. Two more hours after that, they said I had a white mass in my lower right abdomen. They said it could be my appendix but that they were not for sure and did not have the supplies if it was not. They also said that they had called Scottish Rite to get an ambulance to send me there. This was close to four in the morning.

The ambulance arrived and they made me stay awake the entire ride to the hospital (which was painful because they kept going over bumps). When we arrived in Atlanta it was around 6 am.

I went into a prep. room because they knew I had to have surgery. I had nurses galore and had needles all over and was on morphine as I had been all night and morning. I had a guy who was going to be my surgeon and he was looking at my scan pictures and determining how to go about it. Then Dr Glasson, my savior, came in and looked at my scan pictures and said that no one else could be in the room except my parents and I. The surgeon who had been set to preform the surgery was like, "Whaaa..." and she said that she was doing the surgery.

She told us, not that I was paying any attention, that I might have Crohn's or Colitis and that I needed to go into surgery NOW!

After my three hour surgery I was in ICU until I woke up and was moved to a new room. I vaguely remember some people coming by to see me and some balloons but I was out of it.

Later I woke up completely and was in pain from my surgery. I fell back asleep after I was told how to work my morphine button. By the way, morphine makes me a very pissed off person. I was mostly asleep for the next three days.

When I was finally able to remain conscious for more than an hour I was told that 18 inches of my intestines had been removed. They said they were in Canada being tested to see what medicine I needed. They had affirmed that I had Crohn's by this point. They also told me that I had been an hour away from dying when I went into surgery.

I had a tube sticking out of my nose which led to my stomach because my stomach was not working from the surgery and that tube was siphoning my stomach acid. My tummy woke up 5 days later and until then I could not eat.

I was in the hospital for twelve days. At the end of my imprisonment my bottom stitches popped open and later became infected and then healed really fast. Blood soaked my pants from that encounter. It was great fun. *note my sarcastic tone*

In the end, I had to take 6MP, which is a mild chemo pill for those who do not know. I also became lactose intolerant. When I went back to school, a month after my last visit, people thought I had cancer and that I had been pregnant. There were many rumors I had to stifle with viewings of my nice battle scar. (the uploader is not working and so I will post a blog with just pictures soon.)

This is how it happened to me. Care to tell me your story? Or maybe you want me to post about some tips that you need? Drop me a line at crohnssucks65@gmail.com