- Joined
- Aug 13, 2018
- Messages
- 1
Hey all. A few weeks ago I was diagnosed with Crohn's. The past six months of my life has been a living hell and 2018 has proven to be one of my worst years on record. Congratulations, 2018.
A little bit about me: I'm a 23-year-old graphic design student who's about to enter her second semester as a sophomore in college. 2018 is my first year back to college after a 3 year break (because I wasn't sure college was a fit for me after my first year). I love modifying my car, spending time with my loving boyfriend and playing videogames.
Anyway, let's rewind to the month of February, 2018. In the midst of balancing my classes, projects, finicky car and ever-receding funds I found myself to be dealing with another problem: horrible, sporadic pain in my stomach. I had dealt with a stomach ulcer before (albeit years before this) and the pain was very similar, though not as intense. I am extremely stubborn and have a somewhat high pain tolerance so I shrugged these aches off thinking it was another stomach ulcer.
A few months later and I notice the pain is only getting worse. I'd be on my way to campus (it's an hour long commute) and suddenly, I'd have pains in my abdomen so intense I was scared of passing out while driving. The pain was bad enough when I was just sitting and driving, but walking and stretching my abdomen seemed to make it so much worse. It didn't help that I had to walk a mile uphill from the commuter parking lot and then up a few flights of stairs to get to my design classes.
Finally, finals roll around and the semester ends. I was extremely worried about my grades because I had missed quite a few classes (although they were "workshops" where we just worked on ongoing projects) due to my abdominal pain. At this point, I still had not told anyone anything about the pain I was experiencing. Not even my boyfriend, who was easily picking up on cues that a lot of the time I was in a state of discomfort for some reason and was therefore irritable as hell. Because of this (because of me), we had been arguing quite a lot, and I could feel our relationship suffering.
I returned to work at Napa as a contracted driver (using my own car to deliver parts to local garages). I was finding it challenging to lift parts I needed to deliver (heavy rotors, clutches, exhausts, calipers, etc) and this was when I noticed I had lost a lot of the muscle tone I had gained in my arms from lifting heavier things for my jobs over the past few years.
Then I weighed myself for the first time since probably around December 2017. Keeping in mind that the last time I weighed myself I was around 117-120lbs, I expected to see something very close to that number on the scale. Nope. It read 105lbs. 105 pounds. I had, unintentionally and unknowingly, lost close to 15lbs over the span of 4 months. This is when I realized my summer clothes had been fitting me a little more loosely than I had remembered them the summer prior. Realistically, I had dropped almost 2 pants sizes and I hadn't even really noticed (thank you, yoga pants).
So I began to piece it together in my mind. I had been avoiding food because it was the only variable I could eliminate that would ensure pain relief. I did not, however, realize how much this had been impacting my weight. Like I said, I'm very stubborn and I hate admitting that there's a problem with me or my health. I was very convinced that this... condition, or whatever was ailing me, would go away by itself. I'm twenty-three, for crying out loud, I would say to myself; thinking that I'm at the height of my immunity and my body will surely fix itself.
At this point, I decided to tell my boyfriend and my mom about what had been going on. They seemed surprised, but I could tell by their reactions they weren't fully understanding the amount of pain I was going through. They couldn't really tell how much weight I had lost because I was quite lean to begin with. I can't blame them. Hell, I didn't even realize I had lost so much weight. They did, however, advise that I see a doctor to which I wasn't happy about. I thought about it but there was still that voice in my head saying, nah, I'm sure this will be over soon.
Around late June, my boyfriend and I decided to spend an evening with his cousin and his girlfriend. We planned to hang at their house for a bit before going for dinner and then bowling. The four of us were standing on their porch, bullshitting, when I started feeling very light-headed. I ended up passing out (a first for me) and they told me I hit my head very hard. I woke up with a bruised cheekbone and partial black eye. They wanted to take me to the ER but I refused. I knew I had passed out because I hadn't eaten anything that day and had barely ate the day before. This was my first real wake-up call. The following Monday, I left work early to get checked out at a medexpress. The doctor said I had a mild concussion and told me to stop skipping meals.
About a week later, after pressure from my mother (who had been freaking out ever since she learned I passed out), I finally made an appointment with a doctor to try and get help with my pain. I explained to her my symptoms. Pain whenever I eat, no specific area; avoiding food to avoid pain; losing almost 20lbs in 5 months; passing out and getting a concussion. She prescribed me a PPI and a strong antacid (basically treating me for a stomach ulcer) and scheduled an appointment with a GI, which was over a month's wait away.
A couple of weeks later and I'm not getting better, I'm getting worse. The pills she gave me seemed to be making me even more nauseous and intensifying the pain further. It had gotten to the point where I couldn't get out of bed for 2 days and ended up missing work because of it. On the third day, I decided to go to the ER. I don't like hospitals, and I especially don't like being put under a microscope for everyone to see. When I told the doctor my symptoms, he looked at me very sternly and asked if I was bulimic. I assured him that even though I felt nauseous quite often, I had never thrown up due to it. They did a CT scan of my abdomen and I was very nervous about what they would find.
The doctor told us the results of the scan, which was inflammation of my small intestine, and he said that there was a 70% chance it was due to Crohn's disease. At first I was relieved it wasn't stomach cancer. Or any kind of cancer. I didn't really know what Crohn's was, but I could tell by the look on my mom's face it wasn't ideal. Doc comforted us and not only prescribed me tramadol for my pain, but got my appointment with the GI moved to the next day. He said that due to my symptoms and the state I was in, this is very serious and he was very unhappy with how the first doctor had handled it.
To salt the wound even further, immediately after hearing the doctor's prognosis, I get a text from my boss telling me not to return to work. I can't even begin to explain how emotionally rattled I was. In my own twisted world I felt like I was being punished for getting medical attention.
Which brings us to present day. I was officially diagnosed last week following a colonoscopy. Right now I'm taking Prednisone to hopefully reduce my inflammation and possibly send me into remission. I'm having a very difficult time managing my pain and I am continuing to lose weight because of it. I'm hovering around 96lbs. Tramadol seemed to be the only thing that was effective but I'm having to jump through hoops to get it refilled.
I can't help but feel trapped in an overwhelming stupor of depression. I hate that I let myself wither for so long without seeking treatment. I hate that I lay awake at night in pain, crying and inconsolable, with absolutely no way to relieve it. I hate that the idea of food only triggers anxiety and fear now. I'm either in pain or constantly worried about being in pain.
So... hello, my name is blays and I've just been diagnosed with Crohn's. I'm sorry for the lengthy first post, but it feels good to get all this out of my head.
A little bit about me: I'm a 23-year-old graphic design student who's about to enter her second semester as a sophomore in college. 2018 is my first year back to college after a 3 year break (because I wasn't sure college was a fit for me after my first year). I love modifying my car, spending time with my loving boyfriend and playing videogames.
Anyway, let's rewind to the month of February, 2018. In the midst of balancing my classes, projects, finicky car and ever-receding funds I found myself to be dealing with another problem: horrible, sporadic pain in my stomach. I had dealt with a stomach ulcer before (albeit years before this) and the pain was very similar, though not as intense. I am extremely stubborn and have a somewhat high pain tolerance so I shrugged these aches off thinking it was another stomach ulcer.
A few months later and I notice the pain is only getting worse. I'd be on my way to campus (it's an hour long commute) and suddenly, I'd have pains in my abdomen so intense I was scared of passing out while driving. The pain was bad enough when I was just sitting and driving, but walking and stretching my abdomen seemed to make it so much worse. It didn't help that I had to walk a mile uphill from the commuter parking lot and then up a few flights of stairs to get to my design classes.
Finally, finals roll around and the semester ends. I was extremely worried about my grades because I had missed quite a few classes (although they were "workshops" where we just worked on ongoing projects) due to my abdominal pain. At this point, I still had not told anyone anything about the pain I was experiencing. Not even my boyfriend, who was easily picking up on cues that a lot of the time I was in a state of discomfort for some reason and was therefore irritable as hell. Because of this (because of me), we had been arguing quite a lot, and I could feel our relationship suffering.
I returned to work at Napa as a contracted driver (using my own car to deliver parts to local garages). I was finding it challenging to lift parts I needed to deliver (heavy rotors, clutches, exhausts, calipers, etc) and this was when I noticed I had lost a lot of the muscle tone I had gained in my arms from lifting heavier things for my jobs over the past few years.
Then I weighed myself for the first time since probably around December 2017. Keeping in mind that the last time I weighed myself I was around 117-120lbs, I expected to see something very close to that number on the scale. Nope. It read 105lbs. 105 pounds. I had, unintentionally and unknowingly, lost close to 15lbs over the span of 4 months. This is when I realized my summer clothes had been fitting me a little more loosely than I had remembered them the summer prior. Realistically, I had dropped almost 2 pants sizes and I hadn't even really noticed (thank you, yoga pants).
So I began to piece it together in my mind. I had been avoiding food because it was the only variable I could eliminate that would ensure pain relief. I did not, however, realize how much this had been impacting my weight. Like I said, I'm very stubborn and I hate admitting that there's a problem with me or my health. I was very convinced that this... condition, or whatever was ailing me, would go away by itself. I'm twenty-three, for crying out loud, I would say to myself; thinking that I'm at the height of my immunity and my body will surely fix itself.
At this point, I decided to tell my boyfriend and my mom about what had been going on. They seemed surprised, but I could tell by their reactions they weren't fully understanding the amount of pain I was going through. They couldn't really tell how much weight I had lost because I was quite lean to begin with. I can't blame them. Hell, I didn't even realize I had lost so much weight. They did, however, advise that I see a doctor to which I wasn't happy about. I thought about it but there was still that voice in my head saying, nah, I'm sure this will be over soon.
Around late June, my boyfriend and I decided to spend an evening with his cousin and his girlfriend. We planned to hang at their house for a bit before going for dinner and then bowling. The four of us were standing on their porch, bullshitting, when I started feeling very light-headed. I ended up passing out (a first for me) and they told me I hit my head very hard. I woke up with a bruised cheekbone and partial black eye. They wanted to take me to the ER but I refused. I knew I had passed out because I hadn't eaten anything that day and had barely ate the day before. This was my first real wake-up call. The following Monday, I left work early to get checked out at a medexpress. The doctor said I had a mild concussion and told me to stop skipping meals.
About a week later, after pressure from my mother (who had been freaking out ever since she learned I passed out), I finally made an appointment with a doctor to try and get help with my pain. I explained to her my symptoms. Pain whenever I eat, no specific area; avoiding food to avoid pain; losing almost 20lbs in 5 months; passing out and getting a concussion. She prescribed me a PPI and a strong antacid (basically treating me for a stomach ulcer) and scheduled an appointment with a GI, which was over a month's wait away.
A couple of weeks later and I'm not getting better, I'm getting worse. The pills she gave me seemed to be making me even more nauseous and intensifying the pain further. It had gotten to the point where I couldn't get out of bed for 2 days and ended up missing work because of it. On the third day, I decided to go to the ER. I don't like hospitals, and I especially don't like being put under a microscope for everyone to see. When I told the doctor my symptoms, he looked at me very sternly and asked if I was bulimic. I assured him that even though I felt nauseous quite often, I had never thrown up due to it. They did a CT scan of my abdomen and I was very nervous about what they would find.
The doctor told us the results of the scan, which was inflammation of my small intestine, and he said that there was a 70% chance it was due to Crohn's disease. At first I was relieved it wasn't stomach cancer. Or any kind of cancer. I didn't really know what Crohn's was, but I could tell by the look on my mom's face it wasn't ideal. Doc comforted us and not only prescribed me tramadol for my pain, but got my appointment with the GI moved to the next day. He said that due to my symptoms and the state I was in, this is very serious and he was very unhappy with how the first doctor had handled it.
To salt the wound even further, immediately after hearing the doctor's prognosis, I get a text from my boss telling me not to return to work. I can't even begin to explain how emotionally rattled I was. In my own twisted world I felt like I was being punished for getting medical attention.
Which brings us to present day. I was officially diagnosed last week following a colonoscopy. Right now I'm taking Prednisone to hopefully reduce my inflammation and possibly send me into remission. I'm having a very difficult time managing my pain and I am continuing to lose weight because of it. I'm hovering around 96lbs. Tramadol seemed to be the only thing that was effective but I'm having to jump through hoops to get it refilled.
I can't help but feel trapped in an overwhelming stupor of depression. I hate that I let myself wither for so long without seeking treatment. I hate that I lay awake at night in pain, crying and inconsolable, with absolutely no way to relieve it. I hate that the idea of food only triggers anxiety and fear now. I'm either in pain or constantly worried about being in pain.
So... hello, my name is blays and I've just been diagnosed with Crohn's. I'm sorry for the lengthy first post, but it feels good to get all this out of my head.
