The Beginning: when Crohn's Disease changed my life

Happy Fourth of July to all!  Feel free to comment and share this post! And don't forget to follow me on Twitter: @CrushingCrohnie. With this second post, I want to go back to where my Crohn's journey began:

Although, I can't remember the exact day the symptoms began, I do remember it was in November 2000.  And I remember it changing my life.  I was 14 years old, a freshman in high school and trying to find my way in that stage of life.

It seemed as though, one day, I was eating and drinking the things I liked and wanted without repercussions.  Then suddenly that ease was gone.  I would eat something and quickly, my stomach would be in pain, and I'd have to, even more quickly, run to the restroom.  I would drink something, and it could just be water, and I'd have the same experience.  To be more graphic, (here's the warning for those with weaker stomachs to jump to the next paragraph) the stomach aches were followed up by bouts with bloody diarrhea. Of course this wasn't just limited to food and drink consumption but more of an off and on all day battle.

At this point, I'm not sure what I was thinking besides this whole situation was hampering my life.  I didn't want to go anywhere due to my frequent need for the restroom.  I felt terrible from the pain.  And I was getting weaker and thinner.  I was practically starving because food wasn't staying in my body long enough to provide nourishment.  Plus, I didn't really want to eat or drink if I was just going to be in pain.  But I still can't understand why I didn't find this to be an issue to tell my parents about.  I remember the doctor asking me that-why didn't I tell anyone?  I don't know.

Maybe it just had to do with a very naïve way of thinking about mortality. I mean, the worst illness I had ever had was probably strep throat or a stomach virus. (And now it seemed I had a 24 /7 stomach virus minus the vomiting, thank goodness.)  I'd never had a broken bone.  Although, I did bust my lip on wooden gymnasium bleachers when I was 9 or 10 years old (sporting oral braces), and as you might guess, I needed stitches.  So me being sick and affected by an issue that wasn't going away in a few days...that didn't dawn on me as something that could happen.

So if I didn't tell my parents that things seemed to be amiss, that my body seemed to have something against me, how did they ever find out?  It was one day in February 2001, and I was getting out of the shower, and my mom came into the bathroom.  She told me I looked like I was anorexic.  At this point, I'm sure I had some concern with self image as all teenage girls manage to have, but to the point that I would do self harm?  I wasn't to that point. 

And I believe my parents had noticed my frequent trips to the bathroom.  But maybe they were naïve, too.  They had three healthy children up to this point.  One of them could be seriously ill?  Surely not.  But after seeing a pale skeleton of a daughter and asking me many questions I'm sure, it was off to the doctor for me.  There were more questions and the beginning of many tests, and I believe my first set of lab work (that I was aware of).  So that was scary.  Of course, that was only the beginning. 

It seems like the lab work results came back very quickly and that the medical provider we saw had  hunch that what we were dealing with was going to be bigger than she could take care of.  The word Leukemia may have been spoken, because even though I wasn't sure what it was, I was scared I might have it.

The results showed that I didn't have much blood to pump through my body.  My blood count was way too low.  My parents were advised to send me to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital by ambulance stating a papercut could be serious.  (Who knew all of that schoolwork could be dangerous?  Just kidding.)  However, my parents felt it would be best if they drove me there.  As stated earlier, I had never been through anything that sent me to a medical facility beyond a general practioner's office.  They felt that an ambulance ride would be too much for me to deal with.  (At this point, the aforementioned papercut statement wasn't mentioned.)  So off to Vanderbilt we went... To be continued!