LOSTnut
Poopy
- Joined
- Mar 25, 2010
- Messages
- 542
Well, as I promised in the post I am ready to join the group officially.
I was diagnosed in April 2005 after a rather harrowing experience and, as with most of you, the really scary part was not knowing what was wrong.
It started innocently enough by having dinner at a mexican restaurant with my daughter. I love all things spicy and so I gorged myself on the salsa and chips. So, it was nothing out of the ordinary, since certain foods always had me going that I had to visit the bathroom once we got back home. However, this time it didn't stop. In the course of a couple of weeks I dropped 20 lbs (american), which as woman who was always teetering on being slightly overweight, wasn't all too bad, right? Well, sure as heck didn't want to loose it at this rate at my age. You know -- the birthday suit just doesn't retract in kind.
Anyhow, the D progessed and after 2 1/2 - 3 weeks I couldn't keep anything in me, it just ran through. Work was a drag and, living in Tucson, AZ, I got a little worried about dehydration. By then, I also was in quite some pain. Finally, I went to Urgent Care but they only put a bag of fluids in me and sent me home. Well, that $800 bag went right out the back door!
A week later I tried the ER with the same result. By then I was really getting scared. Pain, weakness, fatigue, tired and not able to keep any fluids in the increasing heat .... not good!
I called my doctor and literally asked him to help me and what I needed to do to get admitted to the hospital. He told me to go back to the ER. He must have heard some of the desperation in my voice because when I went and waited for a couple of hours he came to the ER, looked at me, went in the back and got me in and admitted. There were several reasons to admit me at this point, the main was my heart because of low potassium levels.
At that point I really didn't care much anymore. I was pretty much out of it, tired of putting anything into my body and very, very tired of wiping my butt. The hospital stay is somewhat a haze but I remember having a doctor with pretty dismal bedside manners -- he didn't instill any confidence of finding the cause and just poked and prodded and tried all the tests he could think of. I think after 1 1/2 weeks on a Sunday a miracle walked through the door. A GI on call! The first and one and only doctor who came into my hospital room, sat on my bed and looked at me. At that point I had turned my back to him but he laid his hand on my shoulder and said, "We won't let you die!" I cannot even describe what that meant at that moment. But, I finally felt life tugging at me and I turned around to look at him ..... and we talked. We talked about theories of what I could have and what tests need to be done. While I was already (at this point) scheduled for the colonoscopy he told me what it is and what the outcome might be.
Oh well, I don't want to drag this out too much but - tada - I got diagnosed with Crohn's, received the appropriate medication and responded really well and within days.
And, like with many here, initially it was a relief to know what was wrong until the reality of what is REALLY wrong set in and how much it would influence the rest of my life. I was in remission for over a year but then had flares and D but it was all tolerable.
Then, last year in July I developed the first abscess, got treated. It came back with more of a vengeance in October and that is when my doctor (yes, the one from the hospital is now my regular GI) got me on Cimzia.
Overall, I guess, I was a little too careless and love food waaaay too much, which probably caused the punishment that I have to go through now. So, I have to remind myself that hot salsa isn't the way to go and that I should stick with the poached fish for a while. :ylol2:
Opps -- guess this is longer than I intended and I hope I didn't bore y'all too much.
Thanks for reading though!
I was diagnosed in April 2005 after a rather harrowing experience and, as with most of you, the really scary part was not knowing what was wrong.
It started innocently enough by having dinner at a mexican restaurant with my daughter. I love all things spicy and so I gorged myself on the salsa and chips. So, it was nothing out of the ordinary, since certain foods always had me going that I had to visit the bathroom once we got back home. However, this time it didn't stop. In the course of a couple of weeks I dropped 20 lbs (american), which as woman who was always teetering on being slightly overweight, wasn't all too bad, right? Well, sure as heck didn't want to loose it at this rate at my age. You know -- the birthday suit just doesn't retract in kind.
Anyhow, the D progessed and after 2 1/2 - 3 weeks I couldn't keep anything in me, it just ran through. Work was a drag and, living in Tucson, AZ, I got a little worried about dehydration. By then, I also was in quite some pain. Finally, I went to Urgent Care but they only put a bag of fluids in me and sent me home. Well, that $800 bag went right out the back door!
A week later I tried the ER with the same result. By then I was really getting scared. Pain, weakness, fatigue, tired and not able to keep any fluids in the increasing heat .... not good!
I called my doctor and literally asked him to help me and what I needed to do to get admitted to the hospital. He told me to go back to the ER. He must have heard some of the desperation in my voice because when I went and waited for a couple of hours he came to the ER, looked at me, went in the back and got me in and admitted. There were several reasons to admit me at this point, the main was my heart because of low potassium levels.
At that point I really didn't care much anymore. I was pretty much out of it, tired of putting anything into my body and very, very tired of wiping my butt. The hospital stay is somewhat a haze but I remember having a doctor with pretty dismal bedside manners -- he didn't instill any confidence of finding the cause and just poked and prodded and tried all the tests he could think of. I think after 1 1/2 weeks on a Sunday a miracle walked through the door. A GI on call! The first and one and only doctor who came into my hospital room, sat on my bed and looked at me. At that point I had turned my back to him but he laid his hand on my shoulder and said, "We won't let you die!" I cannot even describe what that meant at that moment. But, I finally felt life tugging at me and I turned around to look at him ..... and we talked. We talked about theories of what I could have and what tests need to be done. While I was already (at this point) scheduled for the colonoscopy he told me what it is and what the outcome might be.
Oh well, I don't want to drag this out too much but - tada - I got diagnosed with Crohn's, received the appropriate medication and responded really well and within days.
And, like with many here, initially it was a relief to know what was wrong until the reality of what is REALLY wrong set in and how much it would influence the rest of my life. I was in remission for over a year but then had flares and D but it was all tolerable.
Then, last year in July I developed the first abscess, got treated. It came back with more of a vengeance in October and that is when my doctor (yes, the one from the hospital is now my regular GI) got me on Cimzia.
Overall, I guess, I was a little too careless and love food waaaay too much, which probably caused the punishment that I have to go through now. So, I have to remind myself that hot salsa isn't the way to go and that I should stick with the poached fish for a while. :ylol2:
Opps -- guess this is longer than I intended and I hope I didn't bore y'all too much.
Thanks for reading though!
