I grew up knowing my mother was ill. Some of my earliest memories were being read to on the couch where she would nap because she lacked, at times, the energy to do more. Several surgeries were required over the years, but not all due directly to her ulcerative colitis. Early on in her treatment, her kidneys failed as a side effect of Asacol and the negligence of her medical team. Though it wasn't something my parents would talk about to us, I learned later that she wasn't expected to live long on hemodialysis; if it wasn't for the grace of my father being a close match for the kidney transplant she received six years ago, I wouldn't have her here now.
Last December, we both received the same diagnoses: Crohn's. Her ulcerative colitis had been misdiagnosed. Celiac disease wasn't the only cause of my rampant digestive troubles. In some ways, it's helpful to have a veteran of this Thing to talk to and compare treatment plans with. Then again, I feel the oppressive inevitability of what the future holds. Last week was my first hospitalization related to the Thing - Imuran-induced pancreatitis. I'm 24. Family always said that I was blessed with good genes - the kind that made Maths a breeze and turned the occasional head. The genes that mattered, however, have shown to be quite the different story. When I'm really in a piss-poor mood, I can rattle them off to myself - stupid eczema, stupid erythema nodosum, stupid depression, stupid Celiac, and now goddamn-stupid-bloody Crohn's. At least they can now fit neatly under one auto-immune header. Oddly comforting to an odd mind. Or perhaps the kind of odd comfort you get after seizing upon a concrete diagnosis after years of searching.
As you might've deduced, the above wasn't written in the best state of mind. Just a tad blue about the whole matter. My sense of humor is alive and well, just a bit busy fighting off those personal demons. I'm sure it will show up eventually to poke some darkly inappropriate humor at precisely the wrong moment.
Pleasure to meet you all, and much thanks to the forum in general for providing a lot of beneficial information thus far.
-K
Last December, we both received the same diagnoses: Crohn's. Her ulcerative colitis had been misdiagnosed. Celiac disease wasn't the only cause of my rampant digestive troubles. In some ways, it's helpful to have a veteran of this Thing to talk to and compare treatment plans with. Then again, I feel the oppressive inevitability of what the future holds. Last week was my first hospitalization related to the Thing - Imuran-induced pancreatitis. I'm 24. Family always said that I was blessed with good genes - the kind that made Maths a breeze and turned the occasional head. The genes that mattered, however, have shown to be quite the different story. When I'm really in a piss-poor mood, I can rattle them off to myself - stupid eczema, stupid erythema nodosum, stupid depression, stupid Celiac, and now goddamn-stupid-bloody Crohn's. At least they can now fit neatly under one auto-immune header. Oddly comforting to an odd mind. Or perhaps the kind of odd comfort you get after seizing upon a concrete diagnosis after years of searching.
As you might've deduced, the above wasn't written in the best state of mind. Just a tad blue about the whole matter. My sense of humor is alive and well, just a bit busy fighting off those personal demons. I'm sure it will show up eventually to poke some darkly inappropriate humor at precisely the wrong moment.
Pleasure to meet you all, and much thanks to the forum in general for providing a lot of beneficial information thus far.
-K