Really?

June 2004-

Why me?

Why me?

Why me?

I could ask this question a thousand times and never grow tired of it.

Why me?

Of course I knew the world didn't revolve around me and that bad things could happen to me. Yet, I never really though anything "bad" would happen. But here I was in Muskegon living a reality that I though would only happen to other people.

It was during this time that the permanency of my colectomy stuck me. There was no going back. Using the bathroom every 2-3 hours, night or day was not new, I'd been living that life for a long time, but before there was always the hope that I'd recover. That there would be a drug that would put me in remission. Or prednisone. There was always good ole pred. Yes, it was horrible for my body, but it gave me a quasi normal life.

But now things couldn't be undone. As a fellow colectomy survivor put it, "Your colon is now in a jar a formaldehyde and being used a paper weight to hold down the bill for your surgeon's new BMW."

What would I do for a job? For now I was working for my aunt and there was an employee bathroom three steps away, but what about when it was time to get a teaching job? A first year teacher getting a room next to the teacher's bathroom was as likely to happens as NMU saying, "Don't worry about the last four years, it was on us!"

What would happen if I needed to go during a test? Who'd watch my class. I could lose my job if I left a class unattended. What do I say in an interview? Not that I'd say anything! I'd almost rather not get a job, than discuss my intestinal issues with a principal during an interview.

And there were other things. Like children. For a women a colectomy reduces her chances to conceive. But if I do, what if I give colitis to my children? How could I give this to someone else. I couldn't live through it, watching my child have colonoscopy after colonoscopy, taking drug after drug, only to have a colectomy in the end, knowing that I'd given to them. Knowing it was my fault. They'd hate me. I'd hate myself.

I could adopt. But what kind of mother would I be? Always sick. I'd be the mommy who's always "not feeling well". Not able to keep up. What would that do to my family?

And who'd want to marry me? I'm sick. Defective. Damaged and missing parts.

I have a shorten life expectancy.

No health insurance company will cover me.

I'm prone to bowel obstructions.

This might not be my last surgery.

I'll have to buy toliet paper in bulk from Sam's Club.

Same goes for Hemroid cream.

I'm paranoid to use a public restroom.

I won't use my own bathroom without turning on the radio/shower/faucet.

I'll always be looking for the next bathroom.

I'll always carry extra toliet paper and underpants in my car.

Life isn't fair.