I should have been here a long time ago because it is almost four years since I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease..
I'll start off by saying it hasn't been pleasant. I've never felt so horrible in all my life than I did when I was suffering flare up after flare up, BM after BM. I was turning fifteen when I was diagnosed though the attacks were present several months before diagnosis and the pain was like nothing I had ever felt before, I could only describe it as a gripping, twisting pain, like my body was eating away at my intestine bit by bit. I'm now turning 19, I'm in full time employment and I have an amazing, beautiful girlfriend of 7 months.
I've been through the rough and tumble with Crohn's disease and I honestly wouldn't wish my traumatic experience on my worst enemy. I'm not usually one for feeling sorry for myself but my experiences haunt me till this day and they will for some time.
I lost a whole chunk of my life I'll never get back. I was house bound, I dropped out of High School and I couldn't face my friends for months at a time; I felt useless, horrible in appearance and physically decimated. I had gone from being a healthy eight stone teenager to a measly 4 stone little boy, a shadow of his former self.
Medication didn't touch the problem, in fact, I don't even think it came close. Prednisolone, Azathioprine and Infliximab all tried their hand at fighting the battle that was Crohn's but none came close to tackling the issue, not even for a month, not even for a week, not even for a day.
Months and months passed of constant stomach pain and hospital visits grew frequent. I sank into a deep depression and nothing could shake this funk, without a positive attitude it was clear that I was beat. I had a strong family backing, and when I allowed them to be there, my friends were. Nothing helped. Nothing. I was passing on average eight BM's daily, anything I ate raced through me and passed through the other side. I can't describe the pain and horror that I was going through at every BM, though to make you understand, imagine shards of glass passing through your body. That's about as accurate as I could imagine.
Christmas 2010 came; an apparently joyous time for everyone but me. I honestly didn't want to live at this point though I forced a smile and pushed on through until the day before New Years. That's when it happened, that's when my large intestine ruptured.
A searing heat rippled through my body as my intestine began to tear; wasted flesh no longer able to take the battering of Crohn's at its worst. Within half an hour of my initial screams of terror I was lying in a hospital bed, half-conscious, health professionals at either side frantically jotting down notes.
A life-saving Ileostomy procedure was the decision and I didn't have a say, there was no time for decision. My life was to be changed forever, for the better.
I woke up on New Year looking like a victim of war. My torso was bandaged and I couldn't move, I had a crippling abdominal pain that was strange and like nothing I had experienced prior. I lifted the bandages and was terrified at the bloody mix of mucous and surgical staples that sat before me. I had a twelve inch scar flowing perfectly down my stomach and a small, transparent pouch on the right hand side. I was intrigued and though smelling horrendous. I tried to get up.
Now, if you're going to get an Ileostomy and you know you're getting said procedure; don't get up the day after. Don't even try. A staple burst in the middle of scar and I screamed in horror which attracted the attention of everyone in the ward including a gaggle of nurses who came across to explain what had happened.
Days passed in the hospital and the morphine ran dry; I was getting up out of bed (in a massive struggle) to do some kind exercise and deemed that a walk around the ward would be best (it was also all I could manage). After a few days I was satisfied by the fact that I had no more BM's, no more Crohn's related pain in the abdomen. The reassurance of nurses that the Ileostomy wasn't as bad as first though sank in and I began to shower, eat and show signs of normal life.
I was signed out of hospital a week early through sheer determination to re-join the outside world. It felt good to be even part-normal for the first time in years and I wasn't letting the Ileostomy pouch get me down neither.
Most of the generalizations of the Ileostomy pouch I found to be false in the coming months. I wore then, and often do to this date, a small-ish pouch that doesn't show under clothing. It doesn't smell and, after two years, I've found that it is generally well receipted. I was soon partying, having intimate relationships and getting back into the sway of things. Life was, and is, finally on the up after such a traumatic few years.
I'm not saying it's all perfect; not by a long shot. I do sometimes get depressed about my situation (of having a pouch), though maybe selfishly as I know there are those FAR worse off than myself and I do suffer flair ups, which again, may be down to me refusing to lay off my 'eat anything' diet.
The future seems bright and I'll do anything to help those who were or are in the same situation. If my experience can help anybody get through hard times then it's well worth it. I can't reverse what I have but I'm grateful that I can live the life I want to live. I know everyone isn't so fortunate!
Feel free to ask anything, I'm open to any questions you might have!
I'll start off by saying it hasn't been pleasant. I've never felt so horrible in all my life than I did when I was suffering flare up after flare up, BM after BM. I was turning fifteen when I was diagnosed though the attacks were present several months before diagnosis and the pain was like nothing I had ever felt before, I could only describe it as a gripping, twisting pain, like my body was eating away at my intestine bit by bit. I'm now turning 19, I'm in full time employment and I have an amazing, beautiful girlfriend of 7 months.
I've been through the rough and tumble with Crohn's disease and I honestly wouldn't wish my traumatic experience on my worst enemy. I'm not usually one for feeling sorry for myself but my experiences haunt me till this day and they will for some time.
I lost a whole chunk of my life I'll never get back. I was house bound, I dropped out of High School and I couldn't face my friends for months at a time; I felt useless, horrible in appearance and physically decimated. I had gone from being a healthy eight stone teenager to a measly 4 stone little boy, a shadow of his former self.
Medication didn't touch the problem, in fact, I don't even think it came close. Prednisolone, Azathioprine and Infliximab all tried their hand at fighting the battle that was Crohn's but none came close to tackling the issue, not even for a month, not even for a week, not even for a day.
Months and months passed of constant stomach pain and hospital visits grew frequent. I sank into a deep depression and nothing could shake this funk, without a positive attitude it was clear that I was beat. I had a strong family backing, and when I allowed them to be there, my friends were. Nothing helped. Nothing. I was passing on average eight BM's daily, anything I ate raced through me and passed through the other side. I can't describe the pain and horror that I was going through at every BM, though to make you understand, imagine shards of glass passing through your body. That's about as accurate as I could imagine.
Christmas 2010 came; an apparently joyous time for everyone but me. I honestly didn't want to live at this point though I forced a smile and pushed on through until the day before New Years. That's when it happened, that's when my large intestine ruptured.
A searing heat rippled through my body as my intestine began to tear; wasted flesh no longer able to take the battering of Crohn's at its worst. Within half an hour of my initial screams of terror I was lying in a hospital bed, half-conscious, health professionals at either side frantically jotting down notes.
A life-saving Ileostomy procedure was the decision and I didn't have a say, there was no time for decision. My life was to be changed forever, for the better.
I woke up on New Year looking like a victim of war. My torso was bandaged and I couldn't move, I had a crippling abdominal pain that was strange and like nothing I had experienced prior. I lifted the bandages and was terrified at the bloody mix of mucous and surgical staples that sat before me. I had a twelve inch scar flowing perfectly down my stomach and a small, transparent pouch on the right hand side. I was intrigued and though smelling horrendous. I tried to get up.
Now, if you're going to get an Ileostomy and you know you're getting said procedure; don't get up the day after. Don't even try. A staple burst in the middle of scar and I screamed in horror which attracted the attention of everyone in the ward including a gaggle of nurses who came across to explain what had happened.
Days passed in the hospital and the morphine ran dry; I was getting up out of bed (in a massive struggle) to do some kind exercise and deemed that a walk around the ward would be best (it was also all I could manage). After a few days I was satisfied by the fact that I had no more BM's, no more Crohn's related pain in the abdomen. The reassurance of nurses that the Ileostomy wasn't as bad as first though sank in and I began to shower, eat and show signs of normal life.
I was signed out of hospital a week early through sheer determination to re-join the outside world. It felt good to be even part-normal for the first time in years and I wasn't letting the Ileostomy pouch get me down neither.
Most of the generalizations of the Ileostomy pouch I found to be false in the coming months. I wore then, and often do to this date, a small-ish pouch that doesn't show under clothing. It doesn't smell and, after two years, I've found that it is generally well receipted. I was soon partying, having intimate relationships and getting back into the sway of things. Life was, and is, finally on the up after such a traumatic few years.
I'm not saying it's all perfect; not by a long shot. I do sometimes get depressed about my situation (of having a pouch), though maybe selfishly as I know there are those FAR worse off than myself and I do suffer flair ups, which again, may be down to me refusing to lay off my 'eat anything' diet.
The future seems bright and I'll do anything to help those who were or are in the same situation. If my experience can help anybody get through hard times then it's well worth it. I can't reverse what I have but I'm grateful that I can live the life I want to live. I know everyone isn't so fortunate!
Feel free to ask anything, I'm open to any questions you might have!
