"You f*cked up"

So one of the major tests needed to diagnose colitis is a colonoscopy. You know, the lovely camera shoved up into a very intimate place. Well, without getting into gory details, I'll fill you guys in on why this actually sucks and there should be a better method for testing and checking out your intestines.

You start out by getting this powder that you have to mix into four liters of water. It smells a little funky, but there are worse smells; the green cart on a hot summers day; one year old baby diapers; cat vomit; and that soy factory near the old Lakeport factory. But this powder has a taste worse than its smell.

I don't quite know how to describe this taste. It's a sour and salty taste. Chemically too. I once accidentally got shampoo in my mouth and it tasted so bad I vomited it up. The colonoscopy prep tastes like salty shampoo pretty much. It's brutal. They suggest that you mix it with flavouring like Crystal Light or Mio. Well we didn't exactly have that on hand. So stupid me just drank it as is.

I'd also like to point out that my lovely boyfriend was there that night. He not only came over knowing I had to drink a bunch of nasty liquid to thoroughly cleanse my colon, but he spent the night to make sure I was okay. He's totally a keeper. Men, take a note on how to show your ladies love.

So after the first glass of the nasty liquid I began gagging. By the fifth glass I was about to puke. My poor tongue had never tasted something like that before. Even pouring lime cordial, courtesy from my mom's friend who rented the basement, did not help at all. In fact, it made it worse. I didn't see how I could finish the liquid.

So that's when the darling boyfriend came up with a brilliant idea. You're not allowed to eat solid foods, but you can have pickle juice. I'd quickly chug down a glass of the nasty juice, and Ryan would give me a piece of pickle to suck on and chew a bit. This killed the aftertaste and made the task a little more bearable. So with his help, I did manage to finish the nasty prep.

After a brutally long night, most of it in the bathroom, my colon was cleansed and I was ready to go to the hospital. Ready to not only have a colonoscopy, but also an endoscopy.

Before everything  they hook you up to an IV and get you relaxed. That part isn't so bad, enjoyable even. They even numb your throat with a nice spray. The spray tastes like the way hot batteries smell. It's an acidic metallic taste. If you've ever had braces (and I have) and accidentally had tinfoil in your food you'll know the taste.

I'm sorry to digress, but I do have to point out about my bad teeth. I have a smaller jaw and too many teeth. It's a curse. I've had my fair share of dental surgeries, all being put under full sedation. I've become used to sedation. So now, being sedated for the scoping, my body was already used to it.

So back to the scope jobs. I had fallen asleep and the endoscopy went fairly well I assume. I slept through that one. The colonoscopy did not go well.

I remember feeling pressure in my gut. It was a heavy pressure and it hurt. In fact, it really hurt. I began to try to speak and ask what was wrong. I remember opening my eyes and still being in the room and the doctors were around me. I tried to move away from the pain. I started to whine and try to speak. I was awake. Prematurely awake.

After a few minutes the nurse began to notice I was awake, She tried telling me to calm down and the began pushing more drugs. I quickly faded back to sleep.

I start to come to in a lumpy bed and realize I must be in recovery. I hear the nurse tell my mom they had a slight problem and had to give me extra sedation and to expect me to be asleep for as long as another hour. Well, clearly they underestimated my body again.

I groggily pull myself up and stare at the nurse. I open my mouth and spit out "you f*cked up". And yes, they really did.

Being diagnosed with colitis, more than just a punch in the gut

I'd like to say that one day I woke up sick and was immediately diagnosed with this nasty disease, in fact I'd love to say that I have it pretty much under control by now. But of course, nothing is ever that simple and life really does kick you when you're down. No biggie though, I'm tougher than I look.

The hardest part is feeling constantly sick and no one believing you. In fact, it took over 5 years of being really sick before my parents and doctor took me seriously enough to start giving me tests. That was the worst part, being told to suck it up and to stop making things up. It was hard to have your parents tell you to stop freaking out when you start finding blood in the toilet or your food runs through you within half an hour of eating it for three weeks straight. So that's why I'm writing this; so that other people who feel sick know they aren't overreacting and have the courage to tell their family "I'm actually sick and you really need to take me to the hospital" and to not cry when their doctor tells them that they are "too fat to have a digestive disorder" and that "you're too young to be that sick". News flash, I really was sick so ha!

Anyways, as far as I can remember I always had a "sensitive tummy", or at least that's what my mom always said. My dad would tell me to suck it up most of the time. Sometimes, for no reason, I'd either be constipated (really painful and the relief was almost as bad) or having the runs. Sometimes I'd vomit for no reason. Stomach cramps, gas pains, nausea, and burning feelings were common. I got used to them. I never had a fever, only had the flu once in my life, and food poisoning definitely wasn't the cause. I assumed that I really had a sensitive tummy and just had to get used to it. Bye bye heavily salted foods, hello vegetables.

That did help a little. My mom was always a healthy cook. I was probably the only kid who loved brussel sprouts, go figure. I grew up loving stir fries with plenty of veg, salads, fish, and whatever fruit I wanted to eat. If I wanted to eat a cactus pear or dragon fruit I was allowed. However, Kraft Dinner and fast food was a big no-no. I used to sneak over to the KFC down the street with my brother and use my babysitting money to buy us lunch. To this day I still haven't eaten Mr Noodles and my mom flips on me if I eat canned soup.

After a few years of being sick I just accepted it and was drilled constantly about eating healthier. And to my surprise, I was getting worse. Suddenly I began noticing dairy made me really sick. Oh well, my dad is lactose intolerant. My family and doctor assumed I was as well. Didn't bother with tests. What's that saying about assuming? Yeah, shouldn't have assumed.

I avoided dairy for a long time. It wasn't worth the pain or embarrassment. Trust me on that. But even avoiding dairy I was still getting sick. No big deal. I can handle it. And then the blood came.

At eleven years old I was still a little too young for a period, which is what my mom assumed the blood in the toilet was when I first noticed it. But nope, it wasn't that. The next time I started bleeding my parents assumed it was just hemorrhoids. What eleven year old gets hemorrhoids?! Yeah I spent a long time in the bathroom, but I definitely wasn't straining.

For the longest time, every time I saw blood I would start crying and panicking. Looking back, I know it was an okay reaction. Who wouldn't cry when they see blood coming from places it shouldn't? I should have gone to the doctors right away. I knew I was really sick.

Whatever, right? Suck it up and stop crying. Grow up. Everyone bleeds once in awhile. Yeah, right.

This continued on for a about five more years. The constant sickness and occasional blood. I just accepted this as my new normal. When I would be walking to school and puke, I'd simply rinse and spit with water and chew some gum. If I was close enough to home I'd go a brush my teeth. I became a gum fiend because the peppermint made my stomach feel better sometimes and also hide any vomit breath. You adapt. My new normal was being sick. Can't drink black teas because those seem to make me really sick. Herbal tea is fine for me.

So one day at school my social worker notice that I looked a little sick. I told her about how I was feeling sick and started telling her how I was always feeling sick. She actually was the one who told me that it was serious. She called my family doctor and made him actually do something. Go figure, a social worker caring more about your health than your parents. Who would have thought?

So with Janet lighting a fire under my doctor's ass I actually started getting some testing done. I saw a G.I specialist and Doctor G was pretty cool. After a barium x-ray and some horrible scoping I finally was given my diagnosis of colitis. After years of being sick and being told that I wasn't I could finally scream back "I told you so!" Despite the fact I had a disease that can be treated (with horrible steroids and a plethora of other medication that makes you sick in other way) and not cured, I actually felt relieved. I mean, yeah colitis sucks and it'll eventually get worse, but it isn't colon cancer (yet) and I can still keep all of my intestines (ditto). I know eventually I'll have to face these factors, but Doctor G hopes that with a very strict diet I can prevent the disease from progressing. In fact, despite the fact that I was sick for so long, I am relatively healthy enough to stay off the medication. I flare up sometimes and I hate being sick. I also rarely get enough calcium and have low iron and b-vitamins, but those can be managed with multivitamins and dark leafy greens.

Don't let anyone tell you that you aren't sick. You know your body better than they do. Stick to your guns. If I didn't finally grow a pair and tell my amazing social worker I would probably still be getting sick and wondering if my life was just going to be a miserable state of needing to be within close proximity to a toilet.