- Joined
- Oct 30, 2014
- Messages
- 6
Hi, new here. Please don't consider my name disrespectful to anyone in the group, it's what I called myself while I was dealing with medical professionals who weren't very sympathetic or really paying attention.
I was diagnosed with Crohns in Feb 2014 after a two year journey through the medical system. I say diagnosed with because I still don't think it was Crohns, and that is why I'm here. It's one thing to have doctors throw labels on things but I'm a lot more interested in exchanging information with people who've experienced the disease. My heart goes out to you, I understand the suffering. There are no words.
My story is very long. I'm 50 now, and I like to start way back when I was about 21. Fortunately, there's a large gap of about 27 years where nothing changed but the last two years, quite a lot happened and some of it is my fault, and some of it isn't.
When I was 21, I started to get the dreaded diarrhea, pretty much every day. I was never sick, or tired, or truly uncomfortable except for the whole must get to a toilet very fast for immediate relief, though it was darned inconvenient a lot of the time. No weight loss, no fever, no blood and nothing I ate seemed to make it better or worse. No other symptoms at all. So off I went to the doctor after a few months (remember, I wasn't "sick" and I'd always been healthy so I waited to see if it would either clear up or other symptoms would come along), and went through the stool tests, which showed nothing.
So at that point, you get tagged with IBD. The medical community can't explain it, or cure it so you learn to live with it. In my case, it meant often planning when I would eat if I had to go out later. What I ate made no difference at all, and I tried everything.
At about age 31, I started getting migraine headaches, which only Advil (an NSAID) would stop. Before that, I'd only ever taken the occasional Tylenol. These headaches escalated over the next 16 years or so, to at least once a week if not more.
One evening in Feb 2012, I started feeling poorly, nausea. In my life, this was unheard of. I think the last time I'd felt like that was during the first 2 months or so of my second pregnancy, morning sickness (only lasted an hour or so then). Unlike morning sickness, I did not feel better after barfing. Nausea and vomiting for a couple of hours, the feeling went away. I assumed maybe food poisoning, and didn't worry about it. Then it happened again about a week later, same event. It wasn't until the 3rd time that it twigged for me that I was having attacks, probably gallbladder. At around the same time, the diarrhea started getting worse, more liquid and more urgent. And more burning. I assumed the two were connected, it seemed reasonable.
Like almost everyone these days, I went to Google and discovered that a poorly functioning gallbladder can cause what is sort known as Habba Syndrome. It's not widely accepted (by doctors) but it sure sounded like what had been going on with me for years.
So off to my family doctor, and I got booked for an ultrasound which showed some small gallstones. So yes, my problem very likely was that. I was referred to a surgeon as part of the process towards getting it removed.
Around about March 2012, I met with the surgeon to go over my medical history (blank, except for the (now worsening) diarrhea. He was (quite rightly) concerned about that and when I said I felt it could be linked to my failing gallbladder, he said that it was absolutely not, and he wanted a colonoscopy before the surgery to make sure there was no colon cancer. Fair enough. In spite of the attacks, and bonus diarrhea, I felt just fine. No fever, no weight loss (insert sad face), no blood, nothing.
Things trudged along until July 2012, when the attacks started coming more frequently. One of them was bad enough and lasted long enough that I broke after 6 hours, and my husband took me to the hospital where I was horrified to be given morphine for the first time ever. It worked. I believe it was in August 2012 when I had the colonoscopy. I was getting a bit worn out by then but kept telling myself I could do it, I could hang in there. The colonoscopy came back clean. I was relieved but not terribly surprised. I assumed if there was something seriously wrong, I'd feel sick, weak or tired in some way, or lose my appetite. None of this happened.
So then it was waiting for the surgery to get the gallbladder out. It was booked for early Dec 2012. Around about late Sept, the attacks started coming every evening, but didn't last that long, half hour or so. Then about Oct 2012, they started coming during the day and evening, lasting only minutes. Now I know that doesn't sound too bad, but it wears you out. You're afraid to eat, you can't go anywhere (people, family or strangers, get alarmed when you randomly drop to your knees and beg for a speedy death).
I did call and tell them that at this point, I was suffering, there wasn't another word for it. They recommended Tylenol or Advil for the pain. Which would have been great if I'd been able to keep anything down reliably.
Through willpower (and that they would not move my surgery date forward because I had no other health conditions like diabetes or heart trouble, and would therefore not die) I made it to my surgical date. I remember them being all nice while I was on the table in the OR, explaining things. I remember telling them they could operate with a chainsaw for all I cared at that point. They laughed. Whatever.
Recovery was uneventful. It was laprocopic surgery, and I had no surgical pain. Even that ache you get in your shoulders afterwards from the air they blow in so they can see was next to nothing. I didn't need painkillers. What I needed was a tuna sandwich, something I'd been dreaming about eating, without paying a painandvomiting penalty, for weeks. Food!
I was great for about 3 days. The surgery had been on a Tuesday, and then Friday evening, sitting hemming some pants, I had what felt like a gallbladder attack. And so begins the next stage of health journey.
Apologies for the length of this, and I'm stopping for now. I'll try to get to the next installment shortly. I think I need to tell this story to people who will understand.
I was diagnosed with Crohns in Feb 2014 after a two year journey through the medical system. I say diagnosed with because I still don't think it was Crohns, and that is why I'm here. It's one thing to have doctors throw labels on things but I'm a lot more interested in exchanging information with people who've experienced the disease. My heart goes out to you, I understand the suffering. There are no words.
My story is very long. I'm 50 now, and I like to start way back when I was about 21. Fortunately, there's a large gap of about 27 years where nothing changed but the last two years, quite a lot happened and some of it is my fault, and some of it isn't.
When I was 21, I started to get the dreaded diarrhea, pretty much every day. I was never sick, or tired, or truly uncomfortable except for the whole must get to a toilet very fast for immediate relief, though it was darned inconvenient a lot of the time. No weight loss, no fever, no blood and nothing I ate seemed to make it better or worse. No other symptoms at all. So off I went to the doctor after a few months (remember, I wasn't "sick" and I'd always been healthy so I waited to see if it would either clear up or other symptoms would come along), and went through the stool tests, which showed nothing.
So at that point, you get tagged with IBD. The medical community can't explain it, or cure it so you learn to live with it. In my case, it meant often planning when I would eat if I had to go out later. What I ate made no difference at all, and I tried everything.
At about age 31, I started getting migraine headaches, which only Advil (an NSAID) would stop. Before that, I'd only ever taken the occasional Tylenol. These headaches escalated over the next 16 years or so, to at least once a week if not more.
One evening in Feb 2012, I started feeling poorly, nausea. In my life, this was unheard of. I think the last time I'd felt like that was during the first 2 months or so of my second pregnancy, morning sickness (only lasted an hour or so then). Unlike morning sickness, I did not feel better after barfing. Nausea and vomiting for a couple of hours, the feeling went away. I assumed maybe food poisoning, and didn't worry about it. Then it happened again about a week later, same event. It wasn't until the 3rd time that it twigged for me that I was having attacks, probably gallbladder. At around the same time, the diarrhea started getting worse, more liquid and more urgent. And more burning. I assumed the two were connected, it seemed reasonable.
Like almost everyone these days, I went to Google and discovered that a poorly functioning gallbladder can cause what is sort known as Habba Syndrome. It's not widely accepted (by doctors) but it sure sounded like what had been going on with me for years.
So off to my family doctor, and I got booked for an ultrasound which showed some small gallstones. So yes, my problem very likely was that. I was referred to a surgeon as part of the process towards getting it removed.
Around about March 2012, I met with the surgeon to go over my medical history (blank, except for the (now worsening) diarrhea. He was (quite rightly) concerned about that and when I said I felt it could be linked to my failing gallbladder, he said that it was absolutely not, and he wanted a colonoscopy before the surgery to make sure there was no colon cancer. Fair enough. In spite of the attacks, and bonus diarrhea, I felt just fine. No fever, no weight loss (insert sad face), no blood, nothing.
Things trudged along until July 2012, when the attacks started coming more frequently. One of them was bad enough and lasted long enough that I broke after 6 hours, and my husband took me to the hospital where I was horrified to be given morphine for the first time ever. It worked. I believe it was in August 2012 when I had the colonoscopy. I was getting a bit worn out by then but kept telling myself I could do it, I could hang in there. The colonoscopy came back clean. I was relieved but not terribly surprised. I assumed if there was something seriously wrong, I'd feel sick, weak or tired in some way, or lose my appetite. None of this happened.
So then it was waiting for the surgery to get the gallbladder out. It was booked for early Dec 2012. Around about late Sept, the attacks started coming every evening, but didn't last that long, half hour or so. Then about Oct 2012, they started coming during the day and evening, lasting only minutes. Now I know that doesn't sound too bad, but it wears you out. You're afraid to eat, you can't go anywhere (people, family or strangers, get alarmed when you randomly drop to your knees and beg for a speedy death).
I did call and tell them that at this point, I was suffering, there wasn't another word for it. They recommended Tylenol or Advil for the pain. Which would have been great if I'd been able to keep anything down reliably.
Through willpower (and that they would not move my surgery date forward because I had no other health conditions like diabetes or heart trouble, and would therefore not die) I made it to my surgical date. I remember them being all nice while I was on the table in the OR, explaining things. I remember telling them they could operate with a chainsaw for all I cared at that point. They laughed. Whatever.
Recovery was uneventful. It was laprocopic surgery, and I had no surgical pain. Even that ache you get in your shoulders afterwards from the air they blow in so they can see was next to nothing. I didn't need painkillers. What I needed was a tuna sandwich, something I'd been dreaming about eating, without paying a painandvomiting penalty, for weeks. Food!
I was great for about 3 days. The surgery had been on a Tuesday, and then Friday evening, sitting hemming some pants, I had what felt like a gallbladder attack. And so begins the next stage of health journey.
Apologies for the length of this, and I'm stopping for now. I'll try to get to the next installment shortly. I think I need to tell this story to people who will understand.