SO the year started fantastic. I got a promotion at my job, the winter storms hadn't caused any severe mishaps, I was (and still am) falling more madly in love and I had two vacations, to more tropical climates, planned within the first two months.
January went off with only a slight hitch of my 25th birthday meltdown. The number stung so hard and for no apparent reason at all. Thoughts came barrelling through my normal routine of who I was, who I'd become, where I was going and how I was going to make my impact on this world before I woke up middle-aged and with regrets. I absolutely refuse to be complacent and "normal" in what people expect of their lives. I'm a thrill seeker. I like challenge and I like (healthy) risks. As my future begins to mold and unfold, taking another's wishes and goals into account, makes my type-A mind go into overdrive of planning and setting myself (us) up for success. Eventually, after throwing myself the weirdest pity party of all-day tears and laughter, and speaking with my closest friends, I settled down enough to start being (slightly) normal again.
So February comes along. As my counterparts are receiving their valid US Passports, I received a letter stating that I was issued the wrong renewal forms, and because my initial passport was before my 16th birthday, I was in need of a totally new passport- with two weeks until flight time to Mexico- a trip that had so much anticipation, excitement and nerves behind it already.
I decide to make a drama out of getting it by encountering battles with no-name organizations like the United States Post Office, the United States Department of Justice, a company called Sameday Passport out of Chicago and Fedex. It ended with a small extortion of my bank account, a lot of anxiety and a day late into Cancun. But I got there, and I'm thankful and still believe you learn from everything and things happen for a reason. - It just took me a lot of deep breaths and a few sips of watered down Mexican cocktails to reassure myself.
It's now only February 14. This past week has felt like two entire months on it's own.
On the day we arrived home from Cancun, I was experiencing some indigestion and stomach pains but took light to it, due to our incessant obsession with room service in Cancun and our unlimited poolside refreshments. I believed it to be just the normal run of the mill stomach issues for me. Never have had a normal digestion process. Stomach pains and cramping have been something of slight regularity, so I made mention in passing to Brian and my friends I was traveling with, of seeing blood, but never thought much more about it.
The next morning I spoke with my mother at my teeth cleaning appointment (dear doc, sorry you had to witness my mouth 6 hours after getting home from Mexico. Whoops.), explaining that my body was excreting moderate to heavy amount of bright red blood, but I was sure it was to go away. She expressed her concerns but has come to realize in the 25 years of trying to make me listen, that I've inherited both her and my father's stubborn trait and I would do what I was going to do.
I left the Dentist's office in haste of a good soup and salad in America. It had been days since my body has seen proper nutrition and I was craving vegetables and leaves. Brian and I headed to lunch and after a couple bites I was in the bathroom in pain and started to get a bit nervous.
I spent my entire day thereafter being incredibly lethargic and sleeping. I came around in the evening and made my way to my grandparents house, who also happened to be in town that week. We talked of our lives, my trip, the weather and everything else we could think of. I sat on the floor next to Gram's chair, feeling very relaxed and safe, yet never mentioned what was going on- something I never do. (My grandparents probably know more about me than they care to admit, because somehow I always blurt random life happenings out in hopes they share their experiences and/or knowledge.)
I finally made it home about 7:30pm and exhaustively hugged my mother. I was in the works of grabbing misc. things around the house that belonged to me and without fail, I needed to use the bathroom. It hadn't gotten better, and had most definitely gotten worse. I, like the 4 year old I am, grabbed my mother's hand and made her look. Her startled look and onset worry instantly made me feel like the child I was being. Off to the ER I was to go. No if's and's or but's (no pun intended Noren) about it. She pleaded to go with me, but I assured her she needed her rest before work the next day, and Brian would go with me.
Seven very long hours later, I had a good looking doctor put his fingers in my backside, take blood and stool samples and tell me it was outside of his expertise and I needed to see a specialist. Awesome. Back to square one- actually negative after the probing I received. And it was only Tuesday.
Wednesday. In and out of sleep, I played phone tag with my Aunt Tracy, whom works in the Spectrum Health systems in Grand Rapids. She helped get me an appointment with a general surgeon in GR who would be the starting block in my road to discovery. After my initial consultation, and his complete puzzlement, he set up an array of tests and procedures to start slaying the dragon. (At this point I haven't eaten anything solid and still having rough cramps that mimicked menstrual pains.)
Thursday. Bri and I went to the Gerald R. Ford Museum to kill some time and get my mind cleared. I wasn't able to eat or drink until my test at 3pm, so I needed to keep busy. After learning about the only US President who was not elected to the Vice President role, nor the President role, I was quite content with heading downtown to Blodgett. Pretty quiet day in the grand scheme of things, which is all I could hope for.
That's when D-Day hit. Friday. I had an early afternoon colonoscopy scheduled. Unlike the rest of the 25 year old women I associate with, this procedure was no threat to me, being that I've had one done a few years ago with IBS-like symptoms as well. So I suited up, in an awkward gown and grippy socks and went under for what I thought would be a quick 30 minute scope. I instantly woke up through the sedation screaming in pain. I cried. I acted like a baby. and then I swore. I think I said every word that came to mind, even if I didn't know it's full meaning. I grabbed both nurses hands and acted like I was giving birth to 8 kids. at once. They gave me another shot to ease the pain, but it was too late. I had already felt it all. The shooting pain, the crippling shocks, the everything that isn't prepared for.
In recovery, Brian knew something was wrong. My pillow was covered in black from the mascara I had applied to impress my 70 year old surgeon. I continually heard the nurse explain that I was fine and that "young women just reacted dramatically to sedation." The fight in me was gone, I had nothing left for her- which is comparable to me being at a loss for words, usually non-existent. I whimpered and cried and tried to explain to him what I went through and was feeling. Of course the procedural nurses and the doctor were on to their next victim, so it was me, battling the wicked witch of the endoscopy department on my lonesome, with Brian in a cluttered cloud of "what the heck is going on?"
After I convinced the kind woman to leave me alone and discharge me, I was escorted to the car and off Brian and I went to South Lyon, back to the arms of Mom- who will always and forever make everything better. I had an OK weekend. Several bouts of afternoon pain ranging from cramps & bloating to body numbing surges, but I came back to GR wide-eyed Sunday evening, ready to take on the world... and my desk, that I had now vacated for over a week.
Nice try.
About 1pm this afternoon I doubled over in pain. The nausea overcame me and the fever rose. What the heck? I followed the diet that I have been reading and researching about. I was completely hydrated. What was going on? I called the doctor and he called in a prescription to help ease the digestive pains. I retreated to my apartment feeling defeated on this bright sunny day. I took my first pill and tried to sleep. No such luck. The pill actually had the opposite effects on my digestive tract and stopped everything. So now, instead of awful pain and constant bathroom sprints, I had a build up of pain and no movement. WHAT THE HECK?!
So here I am, 7 P.M. on a Monday night. I'm lost, I'm confused and consistently asking myself, Why me? What did I do wrong to make myself get like this? Where did I choose the wrong path? And why isn't this adding up to a pattern I can detect and consequently change?
And that, is completely horrible thinking.
I didn't do this to myself on purpose. Auto-immune diseases aren't confirmed by any certain cause. Absolutely I've added to it. With my rockstar, party-hard lifestyle through college and into my mid-20s. The top 3 irritants of irritable bowel diseases? Alcohol, nicotine & caffeine. Gee, nothing to do with my line of work or my social circle... during worknights- mostly. kinda. never.
How was I so ignorant to miss the signs? The constant stomach aches and all the gross things that happen in the bathroom that it's not politically correct for women to openly discuss? Where was my brain when my body was talking? Why was partying more important than how I felt?
Such a shame. What a letdown. I'm such a strong, independent, leader-type and I can't even follow my own rules or standing up for myself?
So here's the part where the quarter life crisis I had just a mere month ago comes back around. I need to work something new into the plans. I need to be open to change and willing to learn. I need to re-learn life in means of eating to live and not lavishly dining on expensive vodkas and highly saturated foods because I can. (The urge for fine dining and cocktail parties hasn't left- and I don't think it ever will.) But I can do this. And I will.
My friends will be the first to announce how I can't turn down a bet. The football game, the approaching a stranger for conversation, the awkward comments that break the silence- you name it, I'd probably give it a go. So here's the point where I challenge myself. It definitely won't be easy. But I'm optimistic.
I have a great family, a wonderful boyfriend (who now knows every intricate awkward detail of my life) and a helluva group of friends. And you know what? A great rest of the year to keep on rolling.
Why NOT me? I'm more than capable.
