| all hallow's eve. ulcerative proctitis. |
[Oct. 31st, 2003|11:41 pm] |
That shit I said about not talking about my gastric distress in here? I take it back. Prepare for a guided tour of my colon.
I made it to my appointment this morning. I woke up early enough to get there with time to spare, but was stopped by cramps and such. I was actually a little late. Movement seems to trigger them; if I lie still, it's usually well-behaved. For a time, anyhow.
My bloodwork reveals that I'm anemic and low on iron, due certainly to the slow drip of blood that's constantly collecting, awaiting painful excretion. Maybe that's why I feel so out of it. Maybe it's just the chronic pain that's making me feel so weak. The doctor made a note that I looked gray, and told me to go to the emergency room.
My father picked up Alexis and me and took us to a gastroenterologist's office that he'd somehow scored a same-day appointment for. (It was that or go to the ER.) I was given a
They talked to me a bit, and gave me a colonoscopy. A colonoscopy is a very, very uncomfortable (yet not quite painful) procedure wherein a flexible hose was stuck up my ass and used to inflate (yes, inflate) my colon, have a look around and take some samples on the way out. I admit it; I squealed a bit. Given how painful that region is, it didn't take kindly to having a scope slid through it. They gave me a canister containing a mix of blood, mucus, shit and lubricant to take down to the lab for further testing. Oddly enough, this was done with me lying on my side, not on my belly. I wonder why. Maybe being on my belly would squish something.
After I got dressed, the gastroenterologist explained that I have ulcerative colitis---proctitis, to be exact---which consists of a bunch of small holes (not perforations, just ulcers) on the wall of my colon, which are leaking pus and blood, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. I'm to take some sulfa drugs, antiinflammatories and folic acid, along with the meds the infirmary doctor prescribed. She also gave me three 60 mL enemas that she said would make it hurt less, perhaps.
All this has been rather sudden. Every time I google my symptoms, I get the idea that I've come down with a debilitating and permanent condition, that I'll never be well again, that my life as an even moderately active person is over. This scares the hell out of me. I think I managed to put on a brave face, but... I'm frightened. I don't want to have part of my guts removed, I don't want to shit through a hole on my belly; I just want to be able to get up and walk around normally.
Of course, what I want isn't exactly relevant here. I curse my body for being defective; I want to curl up into a ball and cry. But, of course, I can't do that. I have to go give myself an enema (I'm getting a spectrum of new experiences here) and shower. The thought of the former is unpleasant at the least, given that I can vividly remember my colon shifting from the colonoscopy.
Alexis has been a real trooper. She's brought me things, let me lie down for the whole day, and in general been incredibly nice to me. I hate being helpless. I hate being stuck in bed. I hate that she has to wait on me; even if she doesn't mind it, I do. I feel disgusting and sick and I'm frankly hating myself a great deal right now.
Everyone whose ass just happens to work: say a little thank-you prayer. Believe me, if it stopped working, you'd miss it.
(I haven't really thought about today being Halloween. Being unable to stand for very long, eat anything but broth or concentrate has distracted me from the festivities.) |
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