- Joined
- Mar 8, 2010
- Messages
- 186
I’ve been trying to figure out what part of my story to tell. I don't want to tell my whole story here, as it would take too long. I could do the whole Crohn’s story, but I would be simply rehashing what others have already said – unbelievable abdominal pains, major weight loss, vomiting up absolutely everything (including water), insomnia, abscesses, fistulas, an ileocecal recession, guinea pig drug trials… the list can go on and on. So I thought I would go on a slightly different route – a part of my story that would have a bit of a moral, something that I hope will make people appreciate what they have. I am no means a talented writer, so you will have to bear with me.
I will start from the beginning, and stay in the first few years of my Crohn’s experience. For it is the first impression that sticks with us the most – which is why it is usually the most important. I grew up with 2 older brothers, my mom and dad. In the fall of ’93, I was 13 years old, my health started degrading for an unknown reason, which I would later come to realize were Crohn’s symptoms. Over the months, I was told by my doctors that there wasn’t anything wrong with me – that it must be in my head, as nothing is showing up on any of the tests they had done. My brothers would torment me and beat me up, then tell me to stop faking it. My father would simply tell me to suck it up. My mother was sympathetic, but always had a look of pity on her face when she looked at me.
Whether it was the fear of the disease and what my life would be like living with it, the drugs I was on including prednisone, or the attitude of those around me, I spiraled down into a deep depression in which I would spend a number of years. Just when I think I would get a foot up, the disease would knock me back down. The support I was receiving wasn’t great – my doctors didn’t believe I was in the amount of pain I said I was in… “Friends” stopped talking to me and started avoiding me, and my family was there, but weren’t overly supportive. I clearly remember my mother asking me how I was feeling. I was having a really bad day, and said I was not too good. My father jumped down my throat saying “no one wants to know the truth – they are just being polite. Just say good, or fine thanks, and leave it at that – quit your complaining”. I thought it was my family who would want to know the truth – apparently I was wrong (at least when it came to him). So at that point, I stopped confiding in anybody. I bottled everything up inside – not a good idea.
Fast forward 2 years. I am deep in depression at this point. My parents don’t believe I’m depressed, so refuse to take me to the doctor to get meds to help. When I ask, they simply tell me to suck it up – that I have this disease for life, that I should learn to deal with it , without always taking pills. While helping out at the M&M Meat Shops Charity BBQ Day, my mother and father were there as well, I overheard my father talking to a co-worker of his. He had the audacity to say “I don’t know why they are even bothering with this charade, they’re never going to find a cure”. That was the biggest kick in the groin I have ever had, and have never forgiven him for. All of my hopes were on them finding a cure for this disease, so I could lead a normal life, and my own father makes that comment.
That was the breaking point.
Something inside me snapped at that moment, and I gave up on life. I succumbed to the disease, and just wanted to die. I tried to. Whether it was jumping off bridges, hanging myself, overdosing, cutting my wrists and thighs, walking into traffic, laying down on railroad tracks with trains coming… I tried them all. Despite everything, there was something buried deep down that refused to give up. After months of trying, and numerous hospital visits and psychiatrist visits because of all this, I was still around.
Then someone came into my life, who had the courage to befriend me. She saved my life, just by being a friend – a support that I never really had before. She gave me my life back, and I can’t thank her enough for that. Sadly she is no longer counted among the living. I am however, all thanks to her. I have gone on to live a somewhat normal life from that point on. My Crohn’s went into remission – even if it was a short remission, it gave me hope that it can happen again. I have met another wonderful woman that I have had the greatest pleasure in spending the last 6 ½ years with, who made me the happiest person by marrying me 3 years ago. She is my life, and I cannot tell her enough how much I love her.
It is amazing what a difference a support system does for people. It doesn’t take much to listen to someone, and that listening can make a world of difference to that person. This forum is something that I wish I had back then. Unfortunately it wasn’t. I am lucky in that I am still here today, and even luckier to have an amazing support system in the love of my life – my wife. Now, I can include this forum as part of that system now too. I look forward to creating friendships with people here, and I hope I can help some people in a way that I have been helped.
Good health and best of luck.
Dustin
I tried for a couple of days to describe what it was that sent me spiraling down so quickly, and Colt said it perfectly in a recent thread. Thank you Colt for putting my thoughts perfectly – I am quoting you twice here:
“To be suffering and then to have someone tell you that you're a bad person for suffering hurts on such a deep level it's sometimes unforgivable. Especially for those of us who hide that suffering with every bit of our will only to reach a level that we fail and no matter what we just can't take it anymore.”
“It's so unbelievably frustrating not just to suffer, not just to have everything you do complicated and obstructed by this terrible disease, not just to tough it all out at extreme physical and emotional cost, but then to have someone tell you that it makes you a bad person and a burden is unbearable. No matter how extreme the disease makes us hurt, it never approaches that level of pain.”
I will start from the beginning, and stay in the first few years of my Crohn’s experience. For it is the first impression that sticks with us the most – which is why it is usually the most important. I grew up with 2 older brothers, my mom and dad. In the fall of ’93, I was 13 years old, my health started degrading for an unknown reason, which I would later come to realize were Crohn’s symptoms. Over the months, I was told by my doctors that there wasn’t anything wrong with me – that it must be in my head, as nothing is showing up on any of the tests they had done. My brothers would torment me and beat me up, then tell me to stop faking it. My father would simply tell me to suck it up. My mother was sympathetic, but always had a look of pity on her face when she looked at me.
Whether it was the fear of the disease and what my life would be like living with it, the drugs I was on including prednisone, or the attitude of those around me, I spiraled down into a deep depression in which I would spend a number of years. Just when I think I would get a foot up, the disease would knock me back down. The support I was receiving wasn’t great – my doctors didn’t believe I was in the amount of pain I said I was in… “Friends” stopped talking to me and started avoiding me, and my family was there, but weren’t overly supportive. I clearly remember my mother asking me how I was feeling. I was having a really bad day, and said I was not too good. My father jumped down my throat saying “no one wants to know the truth – they are just being polite. Just say good, or fine thanks, and leave it at that – quit your complaining”. I thought it was my family who would want to know the truth – apparently I was wrong (at least when it came to him). So at that point, I stopped confiding in anybody. I bottled everything up inside – not a good idea.
Fast forward 2 years. I am deep in depression at this point. My parents don’t believe I’m depressed, so refuse to take me to the doctor to get meds to help. When I ask, they simply tell me to suck it up – that I have this disease for life, that I should learn to deal with it , without always taking pills. While helping out at the M&M Meat Shops Charity BBQ Day, my mother and father were there as well, I overheard my father talking to a co-worker of his. He had the audacity to say “I don’t know why they are even bothering with this charade, they’re never going to find a cure”. That was the biggest kick in the groin I have ever had, and have never forgiven him for. All of my hopes were on them finding a cure for this disease, so I could lead a normal life, and my own father makes that comment.
That was the breaking point.
Something inside me snapped at that moment, and I gave up on life. I succumbed to the disease, and just wanted to die. I tried to. Whether it was jumping off bridges, hanging myself, overdosing, cutting my wrists and thighs, walking into traffic, laying down on railroad tracks with trains coming… I tried them all. Despite everything, there was something buried deep down that refused to give up. After months of trying, and numerous hospital visits and psychiatrist visits because of all this, I was still around.
Then someone came into my life, who had the courage to befriend me. She saved my life, just by being a friend – a support that I never really had before. She gave me my life back, and I can’t thank her enough for that. Sadly she is no longer counted among the living. I am however, all thanks to her. I have gone on to live a somewhat normal life from that point on. My Crohn’s went into remission – even if it was a short remission, it gave me hope that it can happen again. I have met another wonderful woman that I have had the greatest pleasure in spending the last 6 ½ years with, who made me the happiest person by marrying me 3 years ago. She is my life, and I cannot tell her enough how much I love her.
It is amazing what a difference a support system does for people. It doesn’t take much to listen to someone, and that listening can make a world of difference to that person. This forum is something that I wish I had back then. Unfortunately it wasn’t. I am lucky in that I am still here today, and even luckier to have an amazing support system in the love of my life – my wife. Now, I can include this forum as part of that system now too. I look forward to creating friendships with people here, and I hope I can help some people in a way that I have been helped.
Good health and best of luck.
Dustin
I tried for a couple of days to describe what it was that sent me spiraling down so quickly, and Colt said it perfectly in a recent thread. Thank you Colt for putting my thoughts perfectly – I am quoting you twice here:
“To be suffering and then to have someone tell you that you're a bad person for suffering hurts on such a deep level it's sometimes unforgivable. Especially for those of us who hide that suffering with every bit of our will only to reach a level that we fail and no matter what we just can't take it anymore.”
“It's so unbelievably frustrating not just to suffer, not just to have everything you do complicated and obstructed by this terrible disease, not just to tough it all out at extreme physical and emotional cost, but then to have someone tell you that it makes you a bad person and a burden is unbearable. No matter how extreme the disease makes us hurt, it never approaches that level of pain.”
