My confession to my mother resulted in a trip to my pediatrician, who in turn sent us to a local gastroenterologist. He was the first of many. Dr. L (to protect his identity) began the litany of tests. Bloodwork, sigmoidoscopy, and then the colonoscopy. And that was it.
I had Ulcerative Colitis.
The doctor put me on a rather small dose of Asacol, a commonly used anti-inflammatory. The first of many meds.
Just what every 13-year-old wants, right? Something that makes them different from their peers. There was no way I was telling my friends. Not even the girl who had been my very best friend since kindergarten. The shame continued...
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