Competition Time

Today is a special day. Six months ago at this time My family and I were waiting in the pre-op room. I was in my surgical garb and we were all a little nervous. I was about to begin my journey through this crazy process.

Today I will be competing in my first CrossFit competition since the surgeries. My family will be there. We are all a little nervous.

It won't really matter where I place at the end of the day. What matters is that I did it, against all odds, without complaints or excuses.

I did it.

So I Forgot

Yeah Yeah Yeah

I know

I have been neglecting my blogging duties. I have to be honest though, it is because I was feeling so great.

Everything just seemed to be falling into place. My strength, speed, and stamina were all returning.

I had some major CrossFit accomplishments the past few weeks: my strict pull-up returned, my toes-to-bar found their way home, even my deadlift got stronger.

And then it all came crashing down on me....

After about five days of wondering "was it something I ate?" I called my surgeon for a prescription to get rid of the pouchitis. That nasty little infection apparently has decided to make itself comfortable in my small intestine and that in turn makes me very uncomfortable.

But I started the magic cipro today and I know I will be feeling better by tomorrow. God this is so much easier than having colitis flares!

Strength

Sometimes we don't know where our strength comes from.

You hear about those women able to lift cars to save their children. Pure adrenaline right?

I think people who live with chronic illness have this super strength all the time.

I was talking to one of my friends yesterday. She is plagued by her chronic illness, but you would never know it.

Her husband went in for surgery this week and she confided in me that she has been working hard to put on her "happy face" while caring for him. She's pretending that her illness is fine so that he won't worry. She is working hard to take care of him, the house, the dog, and smiling through her own pain and stress.

That is strength.

For many people with chronic illnesses just getting out of bed, or for me - out of the bathroom, can be a major challenge. Yet we manage. We hold down jobs, take care of others, and take every step every day in pain. Yet we survive.

I am happy to report that things are getting better. It has been 13 weeks since my final surgery and my pain is less and my strength is growing.

Oh wait!

My strength has been there the whole time.

The Date

The hubby and I had a GREAT time on our date. The movie was hysterical and dinner was delicious!

It was only 7pm when we finished dinner so we decided to go and have a few drinks.

This is the first alcohol I have consumed in almost 2 years.

I am not a big drinker to begin with, so this was going to be a major first for me.

My hubby must have asked me three or four times if I was okay to be drinking. He didn't want me to get sick.

I am happy to report that the two Tiramisu martinis I consumed were delicious! I did not even get a hangover, probably because I drank 32 ounces of water with each one. (I am a little nutty about my hydration levels to begin with so I wanted to compensate for the alcohol.) But I did have more active bowls. 


Some people said that alcohol made them lose control of their bowls following their surgeries, but I was fine in that regard. 


Although it was only two drinks...
and I have no intention on testing my limit!

Caregivers

My husband and I are going on a date this Saturday. To a movie and dinner.

I am as excited for this date as I was for our first date.

I am getting my hair done today. I did my nails last night. We have a babysitter.

I realized that this is the first date we have been on since February 4th. 5 months ago. It was three days before I went in for my first surgery.

We have been so caught up in nursing me back to health, getting back in our routine with the baby, etc that I think we forgot about "us" as a couple.

As I started to feel better I would try to take the baby for a while to give him a break, but I never thought about that fact that maybe - just maybe - he would want to spend time with me.

The surgery is just as stressful, maybe even more so, for the caregivers. They feel the frustration of not being able to "fix" the problem, not being able to take away the pain. They have the sleepless nights. They go through it with us.

I am going to say thank you today, especially to my mom, grandma, father, and sister - all of whom came through big time as caregivers during my surgeries.

And thank you to my husband - even though he doesn't read this blog - I love you and appreciate everything you have done and continue to do as we find our way into normalcy. I am so grateful to have you by my side, holding my hand.

And I can't wait for Saturday!!!!!

Why Did I Wait So Long?

So It has been three days and....

BAM! Pouchitis is better.

I actually can't believe how much better I am feeling. After all the pain, frustration, and anger I now feel like a new person.

So "Why did I wait so long to call my surgeon?"

I thought it was "healing pains". Aftershocks of the surgery if you will.....

I wonder how long I had the pouchitis. 

Next time I will call right away.

My faith has been restored. Tomorrow I may try some fruits and veggies again.

Pouchitis

Okay so I have been a little behind on the blog.

To be honest, I have been behind on everything. Flu-like symptoms, nausea, feeling exhausted. I blamed it on my daughter and chasing around a one year old.

Then I started having more pain, frequency and urgency with my bowels. I blamed it on the fruits and veggies.

Then came the blood and I was all out of scapegoats.

I called my surgeon.

In five minutes he diagnosed me with Pouchitis. It's an infection in my new J-Pouch and can very easily be fixed with antibiotics.

I will let you know if he is right. We should know within the next three days.

After all I have been through I tend to be a skeptical when it comes to diagnoses.

Learning to Walk

I know I have been talking about all of my frustrations lately. That is because frustration is what I am dealing with. Frustration is what is on my mind. I thought I was getting better but then I had several bad days in a row. Frustration consumes me.

But I learned a very important lesson from my daughter yesterday.

She has been toddling around for the last few weeks. She walks well if she is holding onto a hand, but we have been encouraging her to walk more - without us there for support.

Yesterday I watched her fall down countless times. On her butt, on her twisted legs, on her hands, on her belly, even flat down on her face.

She didn't cry once. She got back up and kept trying.

Despite the fact that those falls may have hurt, despite her frustration, she kept getting back up and trying again.

So I am trying to be more like one my year old. Despite how much it hurts sometimes, despite how frustrating it can get when I have several "bad days" in a row - I will not cry, I will not give up, I will not get embarrassed.

My daughter and I are learning to walk together.

Should You Be Lifting That?

I don't like having to ask for help. I never have and probably never will.

I learned during the surgery that it is okay to accept help. I still don't like to ask for it though.

But what drives me crazy is when people judge me for what I am doing now - 11 weeks after the final surgery.

For instance, at work we were told that we needed to box up our office areas and take home any valuables because construction would be occurring during our vacation. So I loaded my office space into three boxes. Books, papers, files, and office supplies. I tried to distribute the weight evenly since I knew I would have to go down a flight of stairs and through several sets of doors.

Now we all had to do this. Everyone was busy.

My boss saw me carrying one of the boxes and said "Should you be lifting that?" 

No offer to help mind you. She was busy with her own work. But that isn't what irritated me. I didn't need the help. It was difficult moving the boxes, but I could do it slowly but surely.

What irked me was her judgmental tone. Yes I had just had major surgery. Yes I had just been out of work for 3 months. But no I am not completely helpless.

Did she expect me to be weaker? Sicker? Complain more? Do less? Did she think I was faking the surgery?

I don't know.

But what I do know is that I am strong. A hell of a lot stronger than most people. And I don't need her or anyone else judging me for it.

Some Things to be Happy About

After yesterday's rant, I figured I needed to do some soul searching and find all of the things I have gotten better at since the surgeries.

1. I can shower without having to sit down.
2. I can shave both legs in the same shower session. I was alternating one leg per day for a while there.
3. I can bring the groceries into the house without getting winded.
4. I can walk.
5. I can run.
6. I can lift my daughter.
7. I can lift weights heavier than my daughter.
8. I slept 5 straight hours last night.
9. It still hurts to go to the bathroom, but at least it doesn't make me cry anymore.
10. I haven't pooped myself in 6 weeks. 


So I guess I am getting better. I should probably start saying that when people ask how I am doing.

Frustration

There are many things that are frustrating with this process.

My frustration of the day is the slowness in my progress.

I am 11 weeks post-op and I know I shouldn't complain. Things could be a lot worse. Things could always be worse. But this blog allows me to vent so deal with it or don't read :)

I ran a 5K at 8 weeks post-op. It was my slowest 5K time ever in my life. 

I began lifting weights again. I eased back into it starting small at 6 weeks post op, but grew more confident these last two weeks and tested out some max effort lifts. I am 20 pounds off my power clean. I am 30 pounds off my push jerk. I am 50 pounds off my deadlift. I am 70 pounds off my back squat. I am 80 pounds off my overhead squat.

I also did some time trials. I am 15 seconds slower on my 500m row. I am 30 seconds slower on my 400m run. I am 40 seconds slower on my 800m run. I am 1:30 slower on my mile.

My husband told me last week that I look angry when I work out. 

That is probably because I am. 

Crossfit

Truth be told, I have always been athletic.

I love sports. For a while after college I ran. 5Ks to marathons and everything in between. But the colitis made consistent training difficult.

About 5 years ago a friend of mine opened a gym, a Crossfit gym, and I immediately fell in love.

The workouts were short and intense, compared to the hours I would spend running every day. It gave me the feeling of being part of a team. It fed into my competitive nature.

And the best part....

I was never more than 200 meters from a bathroom.

I Crossfitted 5 to 6 times per week, even in the days leading up to the surgeries.

Although I would watch my performances go down the tubes - not being able to lift the type of weight I usually would, being much slower, feeling gassed just a few minutes into the workout - I knew it was important to continue to Crossfit despite personal frustrations.

It made me stronger and helped me recover quickly from the surgeries. It also provided me a much needed emotional outlet.

I was even in the gym, working out, 6 weeks after the first surgery, bag and all. My doctor encouraged it. Even though I don't think rope climbs may have been the best idea I ever had, it was important that I take back my life.

I also received an overwhelming amount of support from my Crossfit family. Cards, flowers, gifts, meals, visits. Their positive spirit helped me through the toughest experience of my life.

I have been easing back into my workout routine over the last four weeks and the support is indescribable.

Even though I am now the last person to finish the workout, even though I can not lift as much as I used to, even though I can not perform dead-hang pull ups, ring dips, handstand push-ups, and a plethora of other movements the way I used to, my friends still cheer me on and assure me that I am amazing and will get my groove back.

Truth be told, they are the amazing ones.

With Gratitude

When I returned to work one of my colleagues asked me how the surgeries went.

I responded: 

"It was a great experience."

I immediately realized that I sounded like a freak.

Who says that surgery, especially a series of surgeries as complicated as this type, is a great experience?

I must explain...

During this ordeal, I learned an incredible amount about my family, my friends, and most importantly about myself.

I learned that my family will be there through anything. They will visit you every day in the hospital. They will bring you milkshakes. They will clean your bathroom. The gruesome moments that no one else sees, they see those, and they will do whatever they can to help even if it means just letting you cry. 

I learned that those who I thought were friends were not really the friends I thought they were. I was shocked when I went 13 weeks without any contact from some of my colleagues whom I previously considered friends. No text messages, no checking on how I was doing via Facebook. I wasn't expecting phone calls, cards, or flowers, but I was shocked by how quickly I was forgotten.

In this, I learned who my true friends are. The many who sent cards which helped keep my spirits high. The overwhelming amount of flowers I received in the hospital - some from friends I had not seen in months. The time taken out of busy schedules to come visit, many driving well out of their way to simply sit on my couch with me. The meals that showed up at our door that kept us fed throughout the entire first month of the ordeal. The emails, the texts, the phone calls, the Words with Friends games. I will never be able to express my gratitude for these friends.

I also learned that "Til death do us part" truly meant that to my husband. He was there every step of the way. He was a full time dad to our new child, a full time caregiver to me, all while working his full time job. He never lost his cool either, or at least never let me see it. He cooked the meals, cleaned the house, did the laundry, and comforted and catered to me. Soup with saltines at 9pm? Grilled cheese at 7am? Run to the store for more Imodium? Trip to the emergency room because I thought I had a blockage? He never acted like I was an inconvenience. He once told me that he loved me because I could help him move our furniture. He has now seen me, someone he fell in love with for her strength and independence, at my weakest and most vulnerable. And I think he loves me more now than he did when we got married. 

And from this all I have learned a lot about myself. You never know what you are made of until you are tested. This was the biggest test I ever faced and I am proud to say I passed. I am still adjusting and I've heard it can take up to a year. There are good days and there are bad days, but I guess I was right...

It has been a great experience.

The People I Hate

I know hate is a strong word. But right now it is the only word I can find to describe how I feel about certain people I have encountered over the last few months. These are all comments that were said to me over the last 4 months...

Person # 1 - Mr. or Mrs. "I Know More Than You"
"You should eat gluten free, dairy free, organic, macrobiotic..."
"You should exercise more/less."
"You should drink more water/drink less water."
"You should do yoga, pray, avoid crowds, carry hand sanitizer."

Thanks for the advice idiot - I've been there done that for the last 16 years. Trust me your brilliant idea was my brilliant idea 10 years ago and IT DIDN'T WORK. It's not like I just woke up one day and said "Boy I would really like to have my large intestine removed today." Right now I just want to punch you in the face.

Person # 2 - Mr. or Mrs. "My Life Is Worse Than Yours"
"I had a cold and couldn't work out last week. God you don't know how hard it was."
"I feel awful. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Things have just been crazy with work. I haven't worked out in 4 weeks. I feel like I'm starting from scratch. You know how that is."

Wow! Your life is so hard. I feel so awful for you. Living with half a brain must be difficult. Are you seriously going to complain about your cold to me? I don't feel bad for you. You think not sleeping last night was hard? I've done the crying baby thing and you know what I would rather do that any night of the week. I haven't slept either but it's because I am up every hour to go to the bathroom. I wear a diaper because I can't control my bowls. My diaper rash is worse than my daughter's. God I hate people sometimes!


Person # 3 - Mr. or Mrs. "Let's Compare Surgeries"
"It can't be that bad. When I had my C-section...."
"You will be fine. When I had my hysterectomy...."
"When I had my foot surgery..."
"When I had my knee surgery..."
"When I had my gallbladder out..."

Guess what! I don't want to talk about your surgery. If I did, I would have asked. And your surgery was nothing like my surgery so let's not compare. 

Person # 4 - Mr. or Mrs. "Insensitive"
"At least you don't have cancer."

Yes someone said that to me. They didn't have cancer either. Even if they did, their words would not have helped in any way, shape or form. 

Teaching & Learning

Teaching is a great job. Thankless at times, but so rewarding.

The hardest part of the job...
not getting to go to the bathroom when you need to.

I went back to work four weeks post-op, full-time.

I still had my back-up outfit stashed in a draw in my classroom. I wore long thin maxi pads as diapers (sorry guys I have no tricks - buy Depends). I taught sitting down. I didn't eat until I got home for the day or I ate very little, mostly chicken and rice.

I was lucky because my students, although they might not have understood, took pity on me and behaved. Or at least most of them did.

It was a bad idea all the way around. I should have listened to my doctor's warnings.

It has been ten weeks since the second surgery and I have not made any substantial gains. I blame it on my own pigheadedness.

I am fortunate to be heading into summer vacation soon and I fully intend on using the time to finish healing. I am living my life, don't get me wrong. I am not a hermit. I am living because I have learned the tricks of the trade - many that I have shared with you in this blog.

But I have learned that I still have some healing to do.

Back to Work

Three weeks after the second surgery I asked my doctor if I could go back to work. I teach high school. It's not like I am a construction worker. I thought it would be fine.

He told me to wait. I couldn't because I was running out of sick time.


He told me to only go back part time. I couldn't because of the way my schedule of classes fell.


He told me I would regret pushing it. He was right.

A Blockage?

About two weeks after my resection, a friend of mine came to visit.

I was feeling brave and itching to go out. I suggested we go out to eat. My doctor had just told me that I could start eating fruits and veggies again and I was craving a salad from my favorite restaurant. Out we went!

I only ate a little, chewed carefully, drank a ton of water. I followed all the rules. 

But the pain in my stomach, right under my stoma scar, I knew it immediately.... 

I had a blockage.

We waited out the night. I used heating pads. Took a hot shower. Drank hot water. Nothing helped. 

At 7:30am we went to the emergency room. I hadn't gone to the bathroom in over 12 hours. I was scared.

By the afternoon we were on our way home. Everything had passed. It was nothing major. Apparently blockages happen and can pass on their own. 

Apparently I had a lot of swelling around the site where they had reconnected my small intestine. I was also retaining a lot of fluid. 

Lesson learned. 

But trust me - it is not something I want to go through again.

The Strangest Thing

I felt stronger after the second surgery. I'm not sure why, but I did. I wasn't passing out all over the place. I wasn't winded from walking.

It was the strangest thing.

Oh boy was there pain though. 

You go to the bathroom constantly. Probably 20 or more times a day. It was like my colitis was back. Only it was a pain in my butt this time. Literally. So bad I would cry. I will never forget the pain of this for as long as I live.

One of my friends told me I was walking like I had a stick up my butt. I wasn't surprised. It felt like I did.

I told my doctor at my two week appointment. He recommended Imodium and bananas. And lots of diaper cream.

What I have found helps the pain the best is a routine of Imodium and Metamucil. Two Imodium before bed. One glass of Metamucil in the morning. This combination has reduced the number of times I need to go a day and has helped thicken things up. Those of you who are going through it know what I am talking about.

I also take a baking soda bath every night to help soothe the pain. Between half a cup and a full cup of baking soda mixed with hot bath water. I sit in it for 20 or 30 minutes and read a book.

It has been ten weeks since my resection. I am hoping it will get better soon.

Time for the Second Surgery

When I walked into the surgeon's office at 6 weeks, I was the patient he wanted to see. I had begun simple household tasks such as cleaning bottles and doing laundry (even if I took the laundry up and down stairs in my arms making several trips rather than using the heavy laundry basket). I was cooking and cleaning.

I was going for walks regularly with my husband and our daughter. We would walk around the neighborhood until I was too tired to continue.

I was doing the grocery shopping. I was going out with friends. I even volunteered some time organizing some competitions at the gym we go to.

The surgeon smiled and said he couldn't believe I was the same patient he saw two weeks ago.

I went for my tests to see if I was ready for surgery. The first was a rectal exam to make sure the connections were  healed internally. The second was the J-Pouch study to test the integrity of the new J-Pouch. They weren't pleasant tests but they were over quickly and I passed with flying colors.

We set the date for the resection and to close the stoma. It would be done exactly eight weeks since the first surgery had been performed.

Stop Being A Wimp

At four weeks I visited with my surgeon. He said that my incisions were healing well (I had five since my procedure was done laparoscopically). He asked how I was doing physically. I said I was doing well. I had after all showered that day and walked all the way from the parking garage to his office without stopping to sit down.

He told me to stop being a wimp.

He pointed to the fact that I had been extremely active before the surgery, at the gym everyday. Why was I suddenly proud of myself for a 7 minute walk? He told me I should be walking at least 30 minutes a day at this point. Ooops.

When I asked if I could start driving he actually laughed at me. Apparently I should have started sooner.

He told me that he wouldn't let me go in for the second surgery in my current condition. He wanted to see me again in two weeks. And he wanted me to be a fully functioning member of society. No more laying around all day long. No more only showering twice a week. No more relying on everyone else to cook my meals, clean my house, and care for my child.

It was time for me to man up.

But I still wasn't allowed to pick up my daughter. She weighed 20 pounds and the max weight he wanted me lifting was 10 pounds. Go figure. He told me to have my husband put her in the stroller and to take her for a walk.

So I did.