Heather Armstrong of Dooce fame had never been afraid to talk about her inability to poop or Leta’s poop or poop in general. Ladies and gentlemen, I think she has freed us, (can I get an amen), yes I say FREED US ALL to talk about POOP.
And dear Internet that’s what this post is going to be all about — Dumping Out. Problems on the potty. The perils of porcelain…
While Heather has been known to strain in vain on the pot…I’ve been on the opposite end of the spectrum for the past, oh… eight months. Food moved through me like water through a sluice gate. I had to force myself to eat because I was never really hungry and most times after I did eat, I felt like hell and then found myself on the pot “doing my thing”. I was “doing my thing” from 3 to oh… 20 times a day.
And I actually gained some weight — about 15 lbs over five months or so as things got worse and I moved around less and less and ate just as much if not more. Food was the enemy physically, but psychologically I think I fell into a vicious cycle of looking to it for comfort. Most people would lose weight with what I have — and if nothing else this really underscored my emotional ties to food. It’s a powerful thing.
Of course not being a physician…I decided to treat myself by experimenting with different diets and eliminating certain food groups. I thought — maybe I’ve become lactose intolerant! Let’s cut out milk and other dairy products! And you know what, it worked. Or I thought it did. It turns out my scientific / logical skillz need some sharpening because I fell into the old cum hoc ergo propter hoc logical fallacy trap. Correlation does not necessarily imply causation, yeah? Within two weeks my symptoms were back full blown. Throw the stress of a job transition and a cross-country move into the mix and that is a nice recipe for feeling like crap.
Finally I hauled myself to a specialist after this condition was getting waaaay too much to bear. We tried a few treatments — like a three week round of antibiotics to treat for a possible lingering infection from my diverticulitis back in October, 2004. No improvement though and I started to feel much worse. Finally we arranged to have a lower GI endoscopy done and lo and behold I have ulcerative colitis.
Thank God. That was about the best diagnosis I could hope for. That’s better than Crohn’s Disease and way better than cancer — though that was never really suspected. Still, until you take a look in there and see, you never know.
So no I’m on a drug called Prednisone and feeling friggen awesome. For starters knowing what was wrong and that is being treated is a load off my mind. Secondly, it’s just fantastic to feel normal or at least better. Lastly, one of the side effects of the Prednisone is euphoria. Nice bonus.
Long term, I think I am going to be dealing with this on and off again for the rest of my life. Not a fun proposition, but not the worst hand dealt ever, either. The important thing is that right now I feel great and can exercise and get around and think straight for the first time in a long time. That’s good enough. I’ll make the most of it and deal with the rest of it as it comes.
And…for those of you who might be curious as to what my UC looks like (mind you it’s not my image, but is a fair substitute to illustrate the inflammation) Thus, here is my stunt / stand in colon:
You could have lived without that, yeah?
