It's Only a Weed if You Don't Think It's Pretty

If it's not broke, don't fix it.

If you're regular, don't change your diet.

I had been eating my high vegetable diet for two months and was feeling great. I'm also the world's biggest cheater, so I'd sneak a cookie or piece of dark chocolate every once in awhile. I did notice that after eating a cookie, I'd feel "off". I also noticed that I could no longer stomach my once daily mocha. You'd think I'd take a clue, but I didn't. I just figured my system wasn't used to the sugar.

Then came Strata Night. My friend Krista came over to color Easter eggs and we made strata (what else do you do with 2 dozen eggs?). We used 100% whole wheat bread. That night I had a migraine and felt like I'd swallowed glass shards. One of my co-workers has Celiac disease and has been telling me to get tested for several months. I finally started to think there might be something to her suggestion.

Now I'm stubborn and sometimes I need a third degree burn before I learn my lesson. So six days after Strata Night I had a piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast. Within two hours I was vomiting and had a screaming migraine. Lesson learned.

I did insist that my primary care physician test me for Celiac disease and it came back negative. Right now I'm in the process of determining what my tolerance level is, but I'm not too excited to get burned again, so I'm just as happy to be gluten free.

As for the connection between my colitis and gluten intolerance, I don't know if I'm an unique case or not. I do know that both are autoimmune disease of the digestive system. Ulcerative colitis is limited to the large intestine. Celiac and gluten intolerance is centralized in the small intestine. Autoimmune diseases tend to run in pairs.

So am I surprised? No.

Is there anything I can do about it? Yes. Don't eat gluten.

My dream is for someday colitis' cure to be a diet modification.

When You Lay in Clover Beware of Bees

Training: Week 9, Day 1
Distance: 11.67 miles
Time: 1 hour 2 minutes
Power Song: Shadow Play by The Killers

Finding out I was gluten intolerant began with a minor bowel obstruction, that hoodwinked my doctors into believing was my gallbladder. Yeah, I can see this is going to need an explanation.

November 2008 Eric took me to the ER for extreme pain in my right side. I was relatively assured it was a bowel obstruction-- I'd had one the year before and clearly remembered the symptoms and namely the pain. At the ER the doctor of course ran a battalion of tests before shipping me off to my surgeon in Grand Rapids. I was hospitalized overnight and sent home.

Two weeks later my primary care doctor called and told me I need to have my gallbladder removed-- apparently, I had more than 20, but less than 30, gallstones and they were the cause of my earlier hospitalization. I was a little shocked to say the least that this was the first time I'd heard about gallstones-- or maybe the drugs in the ER scrambled my short term memory.

Long story short, I couldn't have my gallbladder removed until January and I was instructed to eat a bland diet until surgery. Following doctor's orders, I spent the month of December eating toast, soda crackers, pasta and feeling like I was dying a slow death. By the time I hit the operating table in January I was screaming for them to take my gallbladder out! I couldn't believe that my condition deteriorated so quickly because of an organ the size of a walnut.

Needless to say after my gallbladder came out I needed to detox myself of my high carb bland diet. I started following a no sugar, no wheat diet that my mom follows.

This is what my daily menu looked like:
Breakfast: 1 oz of oatmeal (the real kind, not instant), 8 oz of plain yogurt (the real kind with no flavoring added) and 6 oz of fruit
Lunch: 4 oz lean protein, 6 oz. of cooked vegetable, 6 oz. of raw vegetable w/1 Tbsp. dressing
Dinner: 4 oz lean protein, 6 oz. of cooked vegetable 8 oz of raw vegetable w/2 Tbsp. dressing
I thought for sure I was going to die. My impending death wasn't because this menu didn't include dark chocolate (which was a concern), no, I was more focused on the amount of raw vegetables listed. Raw is a word that most colitis sufferers avoid because if it's raw, it's going to make you raw. However, I had to break my high carb life or my pants weren't going to fit anymore, so I decided to try it for a week.

And I'll be damned. I was fine. In fact, I felt solid and regular--- words that hadn't describe my bathroom habits in several year.

Today's The Day

That is not the face Eric made when I told him the news, but it was pretty close...
Today is the day we can finally tell people. Good thing, too. I really think my tongue was going to break my teeth trying to break loose to spread the word.

The Missing Grain

I had a very nice compliment from two coworkers today-- they both said that I looked like I was feeling good- better than I've ever looked.

Of course I wanted to scream, "It's because I'm pregnant!" But I didn't. I figured the soon be to grandmothers wouldn't be so open to free babysitting if my co-workers found out I was pregnant before they did.

The truth is I feel the best I've ever felt. And it's just not elation from being pregnant either.

There is more to my story than just colitis. For roughly a year I've felt run down, had extra digestive problems and lots of migraines. I just thought it was all related to my lack of a colon. Four month ago I finally found out what the problem really was-- I'm gluten intolerant.

For anyone who doesn't know about gluten intolerance here is your mini-lesson. Gluten intolerance is the small intestines inability to properly digest wheat, barely or rye in varying degree. People who cannot tolerate any form of gluten at any level have Celiac disease. I can tolerate small doses of gluten without major problems, but I still prefer to not take a chance.

For years whenever I had diarrhea I'd eat a bland diet of toast, soda crackers or pasta waiting for things to calm down, but during the past year that strategy hadn't been working. Also, whenever I ate spaghetti or Eric's wonderful homemade pizza, afterwards I'd feel like I was digesting razor blades. I thought I'd just eaten to much or the tomato sauce was getting to me.

Nope, it was the gluten.

I've been gluten free for 3-4 months now and I feel amazing. I can honestly say that this is the best I've felt physically in almost eight years. I had mentioned that Eric and I have been wanting to start our family for several years now. I can't help but think that the gluten free diet, plus the bike riding, has put my body in the best possible condition to carry a child.

Blog It

Training: Week 8, Day 2

Time: 1 hour 20 minutes

Distance: 15.87 miles

Power Song: Hang Me Up to Dry by The Cold War Kids

I won't worry about being pregnant. I won't worry about being pregnant. I won't worry about being pregnant.

The Detroit Free Press ran an interesting article about blogging on Sunday, July 19th. The focus of the article was that blogging can help boost your career. Not only can a blog show potential employers that you can write, or not, but it can also highlight your personality, or lack of, and show that you have drive, or lack of. Basically, your blog can be an on-line resume. So I wonder what potential employers would see in my blog?

Would they only focus on my health issues and see me as someone who'd miss work? Or instead would they see someone who calls in sick because they are honestly unable to come to work?

Would they focus on my past medical history as a potential disability? Or would instead they see that I'm driven despite the odds?

Will my resume be marked as fallible? Or instead will my fallibility highlight my adaptability?

These are all questions I had to ask myself before I started this blog. My current employer knows of my colitis and is very understanding. But what if they weren't? My dad heavily counseled me to 'edit' anything that could endanger my job. It's wise council.

But I can't do it. If I going to write about my life with colitis, then I'm going to bare it all. I'm tired of keeping quiet and feeling like I should hid this part of my life. I've done nothing wrong. Colitis is just something that happened to me. And it's a sucky part of my life. It's something that happened not because of a lifestyle choice, but because that is just the way my life played out. And yeah, there are parts about it that aren't pretty. Some of it's really depressing actually. And hiding it, only giving part of the story, just makes it worst for me. Because when I don't give the whole story I feel like I've done something wrong and I haven't.

So yes, maybe this blog will red flag me. But honestly, in the end, I can't work for someone that will hold colitis against me. I give 150% when I'm at work. And when I'm not there it's not because I'm at the beach or taking a bullshit 'mental health' day. I've not there because I can't be there.

Colitis has taught me to work harder.

I Can Do This

Okay. I can do this.

The doctor says I just need to keep my hear rate below 140 beats per minute. No sweat, really I won't be sweating at all with that low of a pace. I'll try it tomorrow and see how it goes. I'm sure I'll be fine. Pregnant women do all kinds of things. I mean heck, Great Granny Hutch gave birth to her 7th child in the morning, and was out working in the fields that afternoon. I'm not even going to be giving birth at GYGIG. I'm just going for a little bike ride for three days. I only be 12 weeks along. No sweat.

But now I have a bigger problem. How do I keep quiet about this? Eric and I have decided to keep it to ourselves for a week. That will be harder that riding 210 miles on my bike, without a bathroom break!

And Then This Little Thing Called Life Happens... Literally

Tests Number 1 & 2 Then Test #3, just because Meijer's generic brand might be off, despite what the 1-800 customer service operator says....

How is this possible.

I mean, yeah, I know how it's possible, I am married and we both know that pregnancy is a side effect of unprotected sex. A very much desired side effect in our case. But really, how is this possible.

We've been not "not trying" for three years. There is adoption information sitting on my kitchen counter. We've accepted that we might need more than nature to make this family thing work. How is this possible.

Okay. Breathe. Let's start from the beginning.

I was at work and didn't feel so great. I had an upset stomach with some cramping. I left early to call my colon rectal surgeon's office and get something to take. Crap (not literally) I'm five days late and need to take a home pregnancy test to make sure I'm not pregnant, even though I know I'm not. The doctor's office always asks me to confirm that I'm not pregnant "just to make sure".

I hate this part. Walking into Meijer. Knowing I'm not pregnant. Knowing I'm going to be disappointed, yet again. I've given up buying tests. It's less heart breaking. Maybe I'll just hold off another day or two and "suck it up". After all, maybe it's just menstrual cramps that I'm having.

HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE. I mean, I'm still sitting on the toliet staring at a blue strip. It hasn't even been one minutes, more like 20 seconds. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? Okay, it's not. That is a really light blue strip. Where's the box. There has to be a number to call.

Okay. Any blue strip, no matter how light, is a positive test. How is this possible? There's only one thing to do--- sit down, watch Elizabeth: The Golden Years, and drink three glasses of Crystal Light so I can take another test.

How long can it take for that Crystal Light to start working? I mean seriously, Queen Elizabeth is going to defeat the Spanish Armada before I have to pee again.

It's a second blue strip. This isn't possible. It has to be a mistake. I mean both tests did come from the same box. Next step-- sit on the couch paralyzed until the husband--soon to be Daddy?-- comes home.

Husband, no help. Seems to be in a state of --- shock? Okay, there's one solution. Another test. From a different store. One that reads "pregnant" or "not pregnant".

Oh, Wow.

I'm pregnant.

Canine Cool Down

Training: Week 8, Day 1
Distance: 11.67 miles
Time: 57 minutes
Weather: 67 and sunny
Power Song: Dashboard by Modest Mouse

There is one casualty in my quest for a good cause- the dog.

I adopted Queen Mab when I was a junior in high school (hahahaha did my parent laugh about that when I moved to the U.P. for 5 years and they kept the dog!). Mab is in herself a medical miracle. At nine months old a hit by car accident left her with a broken right hip and snapped left knee. Then she developed urinary tract problems which require special food and medication. And she's allergic to pollen, which requires medication. Then she had this weird blood issue where her body stopped making red blood cells and she needed a blood transfusion and medication. And then she started having seizures, which requires medication. Oh yeah, and within the last year she has snapped the majority of her teeth in half, which thankfully doesn't require medication. My dog takes more medication than all my grandmother's combined.

When I moved back home in April 2004 my parents had two rules for me #1- I must live within one hour of my surgeon. #2- The dog was moving with me. In comparison, I actually think the first one was the more negotiable.

Moving Mab from a roam where you may country setting to a bedroom and a half apartment in the middle of the city was not an easy transition. To make matters worst my roommate had a cat. In order to keep both our wits Mab and I would take nightly walks. Over the years these walks have become a part of our daily lives. But now with me training, the walks have slowly died off.

Mab gets so excited when she sees me in my workout gear and then is so disappointed when she's left behind. I wouldn't be surprised if she chews my tires off my bike one day. I really need to throw her a bone (horrible pun intended) and start taking her for a walk as part of my cool down.

Day Lilly Blossoms Only Bloom One Day

From my front yard.

My driveway is lined with day lilies. I love them. They are pretty. They are hardy and don't require a lot of time on my part. Their blossoms only bloom for one day, yet, each plant has several blossoms to display. Within a few years they spread and claim an area as their own. There are several varieties. And they are resilient.

Yesterday's post was heavy and I feel it necessary to tell you that's how I felt at the time. I was 24, had just ended a three year relationship, was recovering from a colectomy, worried about my academic future and had years worth of denial crashing down on me. In light of that, I think I was in rather high spirits!

Also, it didn't last.

I can only lick my wounds for so long before my optimistic side takes over. However, I would be lying if I said I still don't have times where a lot of those old thoughts rise up. This past week was a rough one for me. I just didn't feel well. My abdomen ached and that repeat pain in my side was back. Motrin wasn't enough to take care of all the aches. It was hard to sleep because I couldn't get comfortable, but once I did, I was out for 9-11 hours. Sleep is usually my indicator that something is up. When I feel great I sleep 7 to 8 hours, but when I'm not feeling well that bumps up several hours, plus I can take a nap in the afternoon.

Obviously, taking an afternoon nap and going to work took up the majority of my time last week, so I didn't train for Get Your Guts in Gear. But that was last week, and I'm going to deadhead it like I do my day lilies. I might have missed one week, but I still have I lifetime ahead of me and I'm not going to miss out mourning for one lost week. Colitis has made me resilient.

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.

You can always go home, but how long do you want to stay?

Training: Week 7, Day 2
Distance: 15.46 miles
Time: 1 hour 3 minutes
Weather: 72 degrees w/83% humidity
Power Song: Sabotage by Beastie Boys

Who would have thought Gatorade actually works? I always figured that 'sports drinks' were more marketing spin than substance, but it seems to be helping me stay hydrated. Live and learn.

May 2004- So not only was I angry (filled with dark rage would really be more accurate), living with my parents and jobless, but I also had to return to Northern Michigan University to pack the rest of my apartment and watch my best friends graduate.

It's a horrible thing to hate your best friends for graduating. And my hate really was an irrational since I wasn't even due to graduate until the following fall.

But I did.

They were going to be able to move on. Change the world. Start on all the plans we dreamed about for the last fours years. And what was I doing?

For three years I'd been in denial about my colitis. For three years I'd been numb to any emotion attached to my health. For the most part I'd even insulated myself from the pain of having a colectomy. But that all changed.

Pure and fresh anger pumped through my body filling me with renewed energy. A job. I needed a job and found one as a veterinarian's assistant. Apartment. I needed to get out of my parents' place, so I got a place with my cousin and repainted the whole place. As a side note, it's always best to discuss color choice with your roommate before you paint.

And despite keeping myself busy, I'd still lay awake at night, staring at the newly painted walls, screaming inside my head, Why me?

At What Point In a Vacation Do You Relax?

See Mom, I do wear a helmet

Training: Week 7, Day 1
Distance: 8 miles
Time: 1 hour
Weather: Sunny and gorgeous
Power Song: Conversation with Eric

I don't know what I've been doing the last two weeks, but it hasn't been training. I of course had great intentions to follow my plan, but then this little thing call My Life crept into my schedule. Since I'm not a professional athlete I'm not worried about losing the Tour de France because of two weeks of light training, BUT it does set me back in my training and I'll need to repeat week six. That's okay though, I'll be back on schedule this week.

I did watch a great documentary called Blood, Sweat + Gears: Racing Clean to the Tour de France, directed by Nick Davis. The film follows the Pro-Cycling Team Garmin Slipstream, nicknamed the Clean Team, through the 2008 cycling year. The film highlighted this teams quest to race without any performance enhancers. In the last five years pro-cycling has made headlines with doping scandal after doping scandal. At least in Europe they have. Here in America anything we hear about pro-cycling has to do with Lance Armstrong. I'm not an avid follower by any means, but this film was really interesting. It was impressive to watch what these guys put their bodies through. I never realized there was so much planning and strategy to a bicycling race. After watching the film, I'm glad of one thing:Get Your Guts In Gear is not a race!

Blood, Sweat + Gears is playing on the Sundance Channel through the month of July.

Biking the Great North

Yes, I'm aware that I'm one of the few people that can pull off a button up sweater and big jewelry while hiking. It's a talent.

Two of the most inspiring women I know.

Training: Week 6, Day 2

Distance: 13 miles

Time: 53 minutes

Weather: Overcast

Power Song: no music (I forgot my earphones!)

Location: Atlanta, MI (Elk Capital of Michigan)

Today was another power ride. I was scheduled to ride for an 1 1/2 hours, but cut it short so I could spend more time with the girls. Riding in Atlanta (Michigan) was a nice change of scenery. I've been getting bored with my routes at home and my current routes are pretty flat. Around Jen's house there were plenty of long sloping hills which were a nice challenge. Tackling those few hills did make me realize I need to work more hills into my training. I was winded after the first two hills and really they weren't all that big.

The Get Your Guts in Gear's Facebook page says the route for the Midwest ride will start in Libertyville, IL head north to Wisconsin, wrap around Lake Geneva, WI, and loop back to Libertyville. The word is that this ride is less hilly than the New York and Seattle rides, but will still pass through rolling farmland and country roads. In other words, I need to get my guts off flat city bike trails and onto some rolling country roads.

Vacation

Just another peaceful morning on Muskegon Lake.

Training: Week 6, Day 1

Distance: 8 miles
Time: 30 minutes
Power Song: Cocaine Blues by Johnny Cash, sung by Joaquin Phoenix

This morning was a sprint power ride. I have to leave this morning for a girls weekend up North and didn't have time for my scheduled 2 hour ride. This week is going to be off. I'm off on vacation all week, but have plans for almost every day. I am bringing my bike with me up North, so hopefully I'll be able to slip in a ride while I'm gone.

More when I'm back.

Happy 4th of July

Training: Week 5, Day 2

Distance: 8 miles

Time: 1 hour 2 minutes

Power Song: no music

Weather: 72 and overcast

Happy Apple Pie Weekend!

Gears and Guts Both Need Liquids to Keep Moving

My bike chain derailed today-- OPI's Aphrodite in a Pink Nightie partners well with Gear #2 Grease, don't you agree? Training: Week 5, Day 1

Distance: 25.23 miles

Time: 2 hours (exactly!)

Weather: 68 & breezy

Power Song: You, Me & the Bourgeoisie by The Submarines

And the heat wave is finally over! Michigan's weather has been terribly inconsistent for June. Cooler weather in June is normal for us, but usually it's a little warmer than the low to mid 60s. Then last week's temperature spiked to the mid 80s with heavy humidity.

I didn't feel all that well last week-- I was more exhausted and my heart felt like it was pumping lead instead of blood to my muscles. It was a different kind of tired than what I've felt before. It makes me wonder if I was suffering from a little heat exhaustion.

I carry plenty of water when I ride and drink a lot of fluids throughout the day, but when you go from riding in 68 degree weather to 86 degree weather, your body has a harder time adjusting-- especially if you are not a seasoned athlete. Especially if you are not a seasoned athlete, that is also minus your large intestine.

Fun Body Function Fact: The colon is the last part of the human digestive system. It's primary job is to store waste, reclaim water, maintain your body's water balance and absorbing some vitamins (e.g. vitamin K).

Implication: If you don't have a large intestine, it's harder to stay hydrated.

Day to day I drink an average of 2-4 cups of coffee, 1 1/2- 2 liters of water and 1 glass of milk. Last summer I was in West Virginia for a week and upped my water intake to 2 liters of water, plus a couple of glasses of juice and still had a hard time staying hydrated. A fellow patient of my colon rectal surgeon is a marathon runner. My doctor is amazed that he is able to stay hydrated long enough to run 26.2 miles.
The biggest problem I have with staying hydrated is that I can only drink so much before I'm water logged. I have also started to crave soda, whereas before it was more of an occasional treat. I think my body wants the added salt and fluids.

I've always regarded power drinks as something for wannabes and extreme athletes, you know, the Lance Armstrongs of the world. But I think it's time for me to look into them and see if they need to be incorporated into my daily intake.

Let the Healing Begin

Me and the girls three weeks after I'd withdrawn from student teaching. The exposure is a little off in this photo, but only a litte. The sad thing is my color had improved by the time this photo was taken. Training: Week 4, Day 3

Distance: 13.04 miles

Time: 59 minutes

Weather: 83 & Humidity 57%

Power Song: Bicycle by Queen

April 2004- So now what? How does one go about healing?

Do you sit around on the couch, watching television and let your body go at it? I can't do that, I'd die of boredom before the week was out.

Do you start out with slow walks along the river listening to Enya? Okay, time to reveal a deep dark secret that's even more embarrassing than my Angry Ass issues. I own every Enya CD, including holiday specials.

Do I clean out the self-help section of the library? I do read a lot of 'relationship' books... but usually my 'relationship books' involving a dashing lord and a brave heroine in a great dress.

Do I call one of the 1-900 physic hot lines? This one is out. I don't have a job and I don't think I can mow enough of my Dad's lawn to make up for one phone session.

Maybe following a 12 step program would help: Step One: I admitted I was powerless to my disease and that my life was no longer manageable. Check. Step Two: I've come to believe that a power greater than me could restore me to sanity.... Okay, well I don't think I'm insane, so does this one really apply to me? I guess the 12 step program is out.

I'd been in denial for three years and now that I'd accepted that I was sick, I didn't know what to do. Worst yet, I'm not a person of inaction. 'Just being' is a mindset that has always been incomprehensible to me. Concepts don't 'sink in' with me unless I'm distracted by something else. For me meditating leads to brooding, which leads to over thinking, that then knots itself into a complex bitter little ball. No sitting around my parent's house, watching television and 'just being' for the summer was not going to work for me. But I was too sick to lead my old life. So where do I go?

And within hours of moving back in with my parents my denial morphed into anger.

When It's Time to Go, It's Time to Go

Photo taken on Thursday, April 4, 2004, my last day of student teaching.

Training: Week 4, Day 2
Distance: 25.3 miles
Time: 1 hour 53 minutes
Weather: 80 w/ 60% humidity
Power Song: Supermodel by Rue Paul (If you've hesitant about Rue Paul I recommend listening at mile 12 of 25 as you are tackling a hill).

Today's photo was too gruesome for even me to publish. I was late getting started this morning and didn't leave until 11 a.m. There was a nice breeze blowing off from Lake Michigan, but the skin on the back of my knees kept sticky to each other. Not a pretty sound or sight.

I realize that I left my Angry Ass story hanging with the post Living in a Toilet Paper House While It's Raining (June 13). Since my only thoughts today were, "Keep pedeling, keep pedeling, keep pedeling", this is a good place to continue with my story. Also, after some feedback I discover that it may be confusing to tell when I'm talking about present events versus past events. Anything that happened in the past will be dated and be in italics.

April 5, 2004- Despite my major realization that I was indeed sick and probably in need of some serious rest, I returned to student teaching. I went back because I really didn't know what else to do. I like security. I like being in charge of my choices. I'm a control enthusiast. Accepting that I was going to have to change my master plan and move forward with a plan that I had no say in was unsettling to me. So I returned to my classroom not sure what I was going to do, until a student, who had several vices, looked me in the eye and said,

"Amber, you look like you shouldn't be here." (Students were allowed to call teacher's by their first names, in fact, my students didn't even know my last name.)

That night I called my parents and made arrangements for them to come get me. I then called my university advisor and told him I was withdrawing. I couldn't finish out the last three weeks. He was very supportive. However, I couldn't make that last call to my supervising teacher to tell her I was leaving. I knew she'd try to guilt me out of it. Maybe that's why I called my parents first. They were the fuse for this change of events, once they started there would be no going back. In the end my mom called for me. It was easier than I thought it would be to allow someone else to think for me.

That night I had two calls from people I worked with at the school, all trying to talk me out of leaving. They said things like, "You'll regret not finishing." "You are so close, just tough it out."

I finally got mad. Really mad. How dare they question my right to get better. Sure, I'd abused myself to the point of exhaustion, but they had no right to call me and try and talk me into staying. Where they not listening at the staff meeting when I talked about my emergency air ride to Grand Rapids? Did they not hear me vomiting in the bathroom and see the dark circles under my eyes? How can they be supportive of someone that has fallen off the wagon four times, but have no compassion for me?

Looking back I realize that my angry was also self anger. How dare I question my right to get better. Was I not paying attention when I was aero-medded to Grand Rapids? Did I think it was normal to vomit in the bathroom between classes? Did I think the dark circles under my eyes were typical for student teachers? How I could I encourage teenagers to keep working at their own problems, when I couldn't even take care of myself?

Summer Haze

I'm looking glam as usual, but compared to Mother Nature I'm a sweaty, red faced couch potato.

Training: Week 4, Day 1

Distance: 20.7 miles

Time: 1 hour 38 minutes

Weather: 87 & HUMID

Song: Cowboy Dan by Modest Mouse

Training today was like riding a stationary bike, in front of the oven, while wrapped in a wet sheet. Despite the humidity I had a solid ride and covered a fair amount of miles. In fact, I was supposed to ride for two hours and my planned route wasn't long enough. I'm getting stronger and the distances are becoming longer. It's amazing how quickly my body is adapting-- remember I'm a dark chocolate eating couch potato that watched Bones marathons all winter.

With that in mind, remember I'm trying to recruit 20 riders to participate in the October Get Your Guts in Gear ride. If I can go from couch to 210 mile ride in five months, so can you. At first it may seem odd of me to use oh, not so glamours photos when I'm trying to recruit people to ride. Let's face it, I'm sweaty, red faced and have eye makeup running down my face (which I normally remove, but forgot today). I'm intentionally using these pictures because they are honest. You are going to sweat as a rider. And you are going to ache a few days. And it is an investment of your time. However your sweat, pains and time are all symbolic of what Crohn's and colitis patients experience everyday.

If being a rider does not appeal to you, consider being a volunteer crew member. No training involved. You just show up and become a worker bee. Get Your Guts in Gear rides are manned by volunteers so the most money possible can be donated to the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America, the United Ostomy Associations of America, Inc., Advocacy for Patients with Chronic Illness, Inc. and the Colon Club.

As much as I want everyone I meet to become a rider or crew member, I know realistically, it's not going to happen. So if you aren't rider or crew member material, please consider making a financial donation.

Everyone knows someone that has Crohn's or colitis.

Everyone.

Who can you honor with your sweat, aches, time or money?

Canadian Invasion

Myself, Shemp & Marcia Check out those bags!


Training: Week 3, Day 4
Distance: 15 miles
Time: 1 hour 10 minutes
Weather: 72, Overcast & humid
Power Song: no music today


As I was cooling down my ride today I passed a couple on bikes who were obviously traveling somewhere. They were both carrying four bags each, plus wearing a lot of gear. I did just pass them, but then curiosity got the better of me and I turned around to talk to them.

Come to find out Shemp and Marcia are traveling by bike from Toronto, Canada to Washington State. Yikes! They'd already been on the road two weeks and plan to be on the road until August 31. They are mostly staying in hotels, but are prepared to camp once they hit the mountains. Intense! Then they found out I was riding in Get Your Guts in Gear and thought I was intense-- apparently, they'd never do more than 50 miles a day and me doing 70 a day for three days was really impressive. Hah! Biking across two countries is impressive. I'm just going for a ride.

To make a long story short Shemp and Marcia (who had a wonderful British influenced clip to her voice) were taking the Lake Express Ferry from Muskegon, MI to Milwaukee, WI. They had missed the Ferry's entrance (which isn't well marked from the bike path), so I guided them back to the Ferry. I did take a picture of us. Note that my master camera skills were once again used. This time I captured that perfect moment when my eyes were closed AND my leg looks like it has elephantaisis-- I know. I got talent.

What a cool experience to meet cross country travelers. That takes a serious commitment. I wonder what it would be like to take a trip like that.

Coast to Coast with Colitis Summer 2010. Takers? Anyone?

Zen and the Art of Riding with Hemorrhoids

Training: Week 3, Day 2
Distance: 13 miles
Time: 1 hour
Weather: 79 & Muggy
Song: Lights by the Editors




'June Snow'









The exhilaration for training leveled itself out today-- I forgot how hard it is to climb back on the bike after you've been off for a week! I'm experiencing some of Week One's general aches and pains, and I feel really slow. By Friday I should back on track, but for now I'm a smidgen sore.

Tomorrow I have to face every woman's fear-- purchasing bicycle shorts. They're short and tight and the bike shop I frequent is an all male staff--- but, oh, the padding, blessed padding of bicycle shorts! I've never owned a pair, I've always 'toughed' it out and hoped I'd develop... callouses?

But now I'm older, wiser and have a few exit speed bumps, so I'm going to treat myself. Now that the heat of last week's health problems are over, I can see how easy it would be for me to slip back into denial about my health. Five years ago I would have kept training and going to work until I passed out from the pain. Now I purposely step back and let myself heal. Not that I'm not Mrs. Suzie Sunshine about it, in fact, I'm actually very....moody about it, and my husband is a saint for still loving and caring for me.

Something I keep saying over and over again is "Colitis is just something that happened to me, it's not who I am." From the outside this is a simple statement, but to me it is a profound statement of truth that took years for me to understand.

And when I'm bogged down I have to continuously remind myself that colitis is just part of my life. I can either stop and deal with it. Or I can ignore it and deal with it later.

Experience has taught me it's better to deal with it immediately.

Back in the Saddle

Training: Week 3, Day 1

Distance: 13.44 miles

Time: 1 hour 13 minutes

Weather: Sunny & 78 (Beautiful!)

Power Song: Are We Human or Dancer by The Killers

I'm back! As much as it stinks to be down and out for several days, I always experience a sense of exhilaration when I'm back full throttle. It sounds corny, but Muskegon Lake really did smell fresher, the sun felt warmer (I didn't even mind getting a little sun burned), I had a smile for every person and noticed several 'quaint' spots that would be good for a picnic. This is the part I don't mind about colitis-- I don't take good days for granted.

Since I missed all of Week 3 training I need to repeat it. I'm not worried, there is still 14 weeks before the Ride, so I should be in adequate shape by October 2-4. And my goal isn't to race, it's to finish. Two hundred and ten miles sounds like a lot, but when you break it down over three days, it's only 70 miles a day. If you average 12 miles an hour it would take just under 6 hours to finish. Even better yet, if you did average 12 miles are hour, there is a fully stocked restroom every 12 miles along the ride (remember you're dealing with the Angry Ass Peloton).

Doesn't sound too bad does it?

In fact, I bet you could join this ride with me. Stop it, don't laugh. If dark chocolate eating, Bones marathon, couch potato Amber can do it, so can you.

And hello, I'm recovering from a partial bowel obstruction. If I can do, so can you. And who even cares if you make all 210 miles, take it 12 miles at a time. There are sweep vans that will give you a ride back if you can't make it-- but you can, so don't worry about.

See you're mostly convinced.

Wouldn't Northern Illinois and Southern Wisconsin be beautiful to ride in October?-- all the trees just changing color, cool breezes from Lake Michigan, cheese, cows, beer.... well, I can't guarantee beer. But cows and cheese, yes.

http://www.ibdride.com/ Check it out. My goal is to recruit 20 riders/volunteer crew members. You know you want to be one. At the very least you know someone who does.

Living in a Toliet Paper House While It's Raining

Easter Day 2004- Family Tip: When trying to avoiding looking 'sickly pale' don't stand next to Tanning Goddesses

Training: Week 3, Day 5
Time: 0
Distance: 0
Power Song: Hometown Glory by Adele

April 2, 2004-- I spent my Spring Break sleeping. Weary and exhausted are words that are often tossed out like change to a homeless man- thoughtlessly given until the giver has been homeless.

I was weary and exhausted

The week that I slept was Holy Week (Christian holiday that begins with Palm Sunday and extends through Easter Sunday). I was raised in a Christian home and was active in my faith through college, but I changed as I became sicker. I couldn't understand why God allowed this to happen to me. Myself, my family and three churches were praying to him for my healing... and nothing. I lost my 'faith of a child' during my illness.

On Good Friday I was scheduled for a CT scan. This scan would either clear me to return to the classroom or keep me home for another week. My normal doctor was on holiday and I had to see another doctor. My sub doctor compared my previous scan and the current on. I had a 'potentially troublesome spot'. He wanted to hospitalize me. He said he wanted a second opinion, and the only doctor on Good Friday would be the hospital's on call doctor. All I heard was hospital and started crying and said no.

When he asked what was wrong I told him I wanted to be home for Easter with my dog. He told me that if I'd let him admit me, he'd bring his dog to the hospital on Easter for me to see. It was the lamest compromise I've ever made in my whole life.

My hospital room was one I'd stayed in before-- a corner room with a view of the courtyard--where I could potentially play with the doctor's dog on Easter.

My mom left me alone to call my Dad. She was barely holding in her tears.

In a hospital there is always noise from medical equipment filling your ears. Or nurses are constantly pestering you to draw blood or check your fluid intake and output. It smells like weird disinfectants. But I didn't register any of this.

Instead, I sat on the bed looking at the courtyard. It was gray and unkempt from the long winter. I knew I had to chose. Up until now it's all been Amber's way, and here I was in the hospital, yet again. I could keep fighting. Keep trying to prove I could live my life how I wanted, no matter what. And I could keep ending up in the hospital. Keep pushing myself. Keep denying the truth.

I was tired.

Tired of fighting.

Tired of seeing my mom cry.

Tired of my Grandma lighting candles and praying with the Saints of Intestinal Disease for my recovery.

My way wasn't worth it anymore.

Okay God.

I get it.

I'm sick.

The Family That Shares a Bathroom Together...

Family Photo taken Christmas Day 2001- 1 year after my diagnosis

Training: Week 3, Day 4
Time: 0
Distance: 0
Power Song: Song to the Moon by Dvorak

March 30, 2004- My CT scan showed what could be another abscess forming. It was just big enough to make my surgeon recommend that I spend Spring Break within an hour of him.

My parents finally had me right where they wanted me. No car. No money. Doctor's advise for me to stay put. And I was too worn down to fight.

Throughout this whole ordeal I can see where people might think, "Where was her family in this whole Britney Spears self destructive mess?"

They were there the whole time. Looking back I realize how strong my parents really were to let me make all those stupid mistakes. They didn't approve of what I did or enable me. They told me I was being irrational, and that I should listen to my doctors, but they knew they couldn't 'make me' do anything. I was over 18, paying for my own college, room, board and car. What could they do?

The incredibly selfish part of all this was that my brother was also diagnosis with colitis during this time and I didn't even care. I was too wrapped up in making my life work the way I wanted. Many families are broken over events much smaller than this. Disownments and estrangements happen. Wounds are made. And sides are chosen. But this didn't happen to my family. They held strong, waiting for when I would need them most.

My parents are the strongest people I know.

How to Mess Up Your Colectomy Recovery.. Again and Again and Again

Training: Week 3, Day 3

Length: 0

Distance: 0

Power Song: Repetition Kills You by The Black Ghosts

Photo was taken in 2004 during my student teaching placement

Medical advisement believes I'm suffering from a partial bowel obstruction. A clear liquid diet and movement are the best at home cure. If I want medical treatment I'd have to be hospitalized and have a gastronasal tube shoved down my nose. I've been there before, I'd rather not go back. So I'm home for another day or two, drinking broth and walking circles around the house to help things 'work out'. I'm not well enough to train, so this week will be a wash as far a training goes. On the bright side, I'm not in the hospital and I'm able to get around... mostly.

March 2-9, 2004-----My emergency flight back Grand Rapids resulted in me being hospitalized for four days. I was loosely diagnosis with a ruptured abscess in my abdominal cavity. Nothing drip antibiotics and mandatory time off didn't 'cure'. I was released from the hospital on the condition that I stayed within one hour of my surgeon for five days. I missed seven days of student teaching, but on the eighth day I returned to the classroom.

I should make it clear, this move was not approved by my doctor or my parents. In fact, the only people who seemed to think it was a good idea was myself and my supervising teacher, who'd already reminded me that the days I'd missed would be added on to the end of my placement.

When I returned to my classroom I was sapped. I was too tired to make myself dinner, so I ate ice cream. Doing laundry was impossible. Plus, before my colectomy I'd had to resign from my job as an apartment advisor giving up my plush, fully furnished two bedroom apartment for an unfurnished, windowless basement apartment. It was depressing. Oh yeah, I also found out my boyfriend of three years was sleeping with one of our friends. All in all, that time remains a rather grim part of my life.

Well, excepts for getting rid of the smuck boyfriend, I did feel less entagled when the door slammed in his carcass.

Three weeks after returning to the classroom the pain in my side returned. This time I went right to the ER, where I was fondly remembered. Before I left for the ER I called home. I was still talking to my mom when I heard the front door slam and my Dad's truck roar to life. He was on his way. And I would be going home with him.

Dad arrived in Marquette shortly after the ER discharged me with pain meds and a clean CT scan. That night he made linguine with shrimp. It was the best meal I'd eaten since January. I was packed up and returned to Grand Rapids, where I was given the instructions to stay in the area for at least one week. It was Spring Break at school, so my teacher didn't give me too hard of a time. Not to say she didn't give me a hard time, she was after all concerned I wouldn't be back in time for spring break staff training.

Now, I'm a pretty patient person, but getting grief from someone who walked out on me after one week of 'supervision', treated me like a full staff person (minus the pay), and had me write all my own curriculum, really cheesed me. Just to give her something to fret about I told her I might not be back... period. Until my doctor released me, I was not going anywhere.

Not that I believed it of course. My sheer stubbornness would put me back on time, no matter what the doctor said.

March 10, 2004 Return to Student Teaching

March 29, 2004 Return to Grand Rapids for treatment of mystery pain

Training Interrupted

Training: Week 3, Day 2

Distance: 0

Length: 0

Power Song: Music from The Piano by Nyman

I spent this weekend with a general pain that by Sunday night had upgraded itself to needing Darvocet. Monday morning wasn't much better. And this is the part that enrages me.

Do I go to work? If I go to work, everyone will ask how I feel because I don't look well. What do I tell people? Laypeople can't handle the truth of my health, it's an uncomfortable topic unless it's going to end with a crude punch line. But if I stay home what do I tell my boss? How many times can I call in sick, before it becomes an issue? Will I become part of the working population that is not promoted because of my colitis? Worst yet, I live in Michigan, what happens if I lose my job because of my colitis? My job provides the insurance. What happens if I lose my job and we lose our insurance? No insurance covers me because of my pre-existing condition, and the ones that do cost an outrageous amount.

Ultimately, I call in sick. My abdomen is too swollen to fit my work pants and I can't stand up straight.

Pain plus swelling equals a call to the doctor. But which doctor do I call?

My primary care physician? Maybe I just have gas.

My OBGYN? Maybe I have really bad PMS.

My surgeon? I don't want to see him. Seeing him means there might be a complication. The pain isn't like it was last year when I was blocked, but it's not very far away on the pain scale. My food is still moving, so I can't be blocked. But my abdomen is swollen. And it's my former ostomy that's radiating the pain.

Common sense prevails and I call my surgeon, who slips me in for Tuesday afternoon.

I hate this. I'm not able to function effectively at work, but I'm aware enough to be bored at home. I can amble downstairs to put in a load of laundry, but pushing the vacuum cleaner requires too much abdominal strength. The dog is thrilled that I'm home, but wants more than petting. Eric sees me home and is worried we'll be in the hospital soon. Someone calls me to do something tonight and I have to give out the lame excuse that I'm not feeling well.

I missed my ride on Sunday and Monday was a planned recovery day. Today is going to be another recovery day, but not the kind that I want.

It isn't the pain that frustrates me. If it was only pain, I can plow through that. It's the constant weight of deciding how much to tell people, who to call and finding something to do besides watching the stupid box (TV).

I feel trapped.

Openly talking about about my health is not 'smart' career wise and socially unacceptable. But not talking about it makes me a liar. I have to talk about it. I'm an open person. When someone looks at me and asks, "Are you feeling okay?" Instead of saying, "I'm tired." I'd rather say, "Well, my watery diarrhea kept me up last night, so I guess no more watermelon for me!"

Well... maybe I should work on fine tuning that last one.

Michigan's Bathroom Bill

Training: Week 3, Day 1

Time: 0

Distance: 0

Power Song: Hard Sun by Eddie Vedder

My husband Eric is a commercial fisherman and today he was working in Leland (Fishtown). Leland is three hours from our house, so I rode along. I brought my bike with every intention of putting in a two hour ride, but I didn't get that far. Yesterday I was having some pain at the site of my former ostomy. Today it has increased. I've had pain there on and off since my surgery, and within the last year I discovered that my small bowel has adhered to my abdominal wall; however, my understanding is that this isn't something to worry about until it causes problems.

>Today, I'm not sure what is causing the pain. I did decided that unknown abdominal pain, plus unknown area, plus husband out to sea and unreachable for several hours, equaled a high probability of me ending up in the emergency room. So instead I wandered around Fishtown.

I have to admit walking around Fishtownincreased my anxiety level. There are NO public restrooms. The historic fish building do not have bathrooms, which is historically accurate, but there are no other bathrooms, even in the shopping district. The only public restroom is under demolition, and rumor has it when the construction is done the bathrooms will only be open to marina members. The restaurant where we ate actually locked the bathroom and you had to ask for the key-- at least McDonald's has an open door policy!

ANXIETY!

One of the most frustrating changes to my life has been the constant need to know the location of all bathrooms. I know all the best roadside bathrooms along I-75, plus the ones that I need to bring my own T.P. and hand sanitizer. For road tripsI plan extra travel time for bathroom breaks.

The State of Michigan did take steps this year to help relieve bathroom anxiety for Crohn's, colitis and other IBS patients by passing the Restroom Access Act.

Effective March 31, 2009 retail businesses must provide access to an employee restroom for Crohn's, colitis, IBS or ostomy patients. You do need a note from your doctor stating your condition, and there are a few provisions, but in general if you gotta go, they gotta let you.

Visit http://www.legislature.mi.gov/documents/2007-2008/publicact/pdf/2008-PA-0469.pdf for a copy of the bill.

How to Mess Up Your Post-Colectomy Reversal Recovery

Training: Week 2, Day 5

Time: 2 hours

Distance: 23.76 miles

Power Song: Lights by Editors

I know the picture on the right hand side isn't the best-- my eyes are closed, and well it does look like I'm squatting, which I'm not, I may be open about my colitis, but only within legal limits. Like my Dad I carry a camera with me a lot. However, as you can see from his other work on this blog, D.W.B. is a true artist and captures the good, the bad and the ugly- mostly the ugly when I'm the topic.

Myself, I'm more commercial and prefer pretty things, or at least not bad looking poses. This was the best self portrait I managed on this trip, as a side note it is incredibly challenging to balance a camera on your bike helmet. Periodically I'll post photos that I take while I'm training. I stopped for these photos because the roses growing on the side of the trail were, well... pretty.

January 5, 2004--After my take down surgery I did a lot of pigheaded things. The first was taking a student teaching position. I wasn't even suppose to student teach until the following fall-- I still had one education class and two history classes for my minor left to take. But exceptions are made everyday, and this was huge exception that had a lot of political force behind it with me as the head mast. While the placement was ideal for me-- working with at-risk youth-- and the condition one I flourished in-- my advising teacher said 'see you later' after week one-- in no way should I have been there. Between classes I was be in the bathroom vomiting. My students, most of who were recovering addicts, looked better than I did.

On top of that, a condition to my early placement was that I had to take my remaining education class, while I was student teaching. Oh yeah, I was also still finishing up one class from the fall semester-- I'd managed to finish 14 of my 18 credit load before I left for surgery, but I still had that pesky four credits left to finish up.

My second biggest mistake began the day I went into school really not feeling well--- I mean super not well. I went home before classes even began. I barely got myself home before the pain was throbbing through me so strongly it knocked me to my knees. I don't remember calling my best friend, or her 110 pound body pulling my 200 pound one to the car. I don't remember her screaming at the nurses to let her into my room. I don't remember seeing my three other friends, who were also in the waiting room, all of them asking to see me.

I do remember feeling like something had exploded inside of me. I remember the doctor telling me not to scream, I was upsetting people. I told him I'd stop screaming, if he'd stop poking me. I remember telling the ER over and over again that it wasn't my colitis-- I didn't have colitis anymore because I didn't have a colon.

I said over and over again to call my surgeon in Grand Rapids. Instead, they called their surgeon who told me that if he cut me open, he'd be remove more intestine. That's when panic overtook me-- Was my pouch failing? Was something leaking? Would I have to have a permanent colostomy bag? This is the point when the ER decided it was time for me to have more drugs.

Very few memories stick with me after that extra dose of feel good juice. My dad on the phone telling me they were going to fly me to Grand Rapids, even in a drug haze I could tell from his tone I was in trouble-- not medically speaking either. Seeing my parents at the end of the hallway as the aero-med team rolled me into Spectrum Health hospital.

And finally, the aero-med nurses staying with me until Spectrum's nurses took over. All the areo-med nurses wore brown bomber jackets-- or maybe I just imagined they did-- and when they left one nurse gave me a look, and I knew it was a look she reserved for the truly sick, people that she felt she could let her guard down around and show this look, because she wasn't sure the person was going to make it.

I remember that look. And thinking, "Screw you bitch. I'm not sick. I just need some extra sleep and painkillers.

**Please note that my emergency transportation that night was provided by Wings of Mercy West Michigan, Inc. Wings of Mercy is an non-profit organization of volunteer pilots, nurses and other medical professionals who serve their community by providing FREE emergency air transportation to patient with limited income. If you or someone you know could use this service, please visit http://www.wingsofmercy.org/ for more information. More importantly, you can sponsor this organization by visiting their web page.

Peace is a Fully Stocked Bathroom

Training: Week 2, Day 4
Time: 1.5 hours
Distance: 18.67 miles
Weather: 56 and sunny
Power Song: Wolf Like Me by TV on the Radio

My plan is to blog everyday that I train. It's during this time that I think the most of my life with colitis. That's why my postings fluxuate between the past and present. This window of time gives me permission to feel sorry for myself, because let's face it life with a chronic illness isn't up lifting, I don't care how positive your outlook is. Trust me, if willing yourself into health was all it took, I would be an Olympic Healer.

So when I'm on my bike I think about all these things: Why me? Why my family? Why? Why? Why?

Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with anger. And sorrow. And I grieve.


But then after I dwell on my questions, I drop them along the roadside. Because the answer to most of my questions is simple:

Because that's how my life has played out.

I could continue to carry all of my angry, resentment, and fear with me. But I have a lot of training hours to put in for Get Your Guts in Gear, and those emotions are heavy. And they are holding me back. And I'm ready to shed them along the road, because after eight years I'm ready to embrace a simple truth:

Colitis is something that happened to me, it's not who I am.

Caught in the Bathroom with No Toliet Paper

Thoughtful Dad- always there to capture the priceless moments.

November 18-27, 2003 is an opium induced haze for me. Only flashes of my time in the hospital have stuck with me.

There was a nurse that reminded me of a really bitchy Elton John.

There was a really nice nurse that wasn't very knowledgeable, but she was nice so it got her far.

And then there was a really knowledgeable nurse that figured out I was vomiting because I was allergic to morphine.

My friend Nicole came to visit and put her newborn baby on the bed next to me and I remember thinking that wasn't a good idea.

On Thanksgiving Day I was told I had to eat solid food and hold it down for eight hours before I could go home, so I choked down 5 spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and 3 bites of turkey then made myself hold it down so I could go home. I threw it all up in my parent's driveway.

My memories of my first week home aren't much clearer. My father missed my brother's college graduation because I spiked a temperature before the ceremony and someone had to stay home with me. Even though Gabe is younger than me, he still graduated from college first. He was the first to graduate from college in my family, one of my Dad's greatest desires, and he missed it because of me. To this day I wish I take back everything and give that moment back to my Dad and brother.

People came to visit, but I didn't want to see them convinced they'd ask to see my colostomy bag. Or worst yet, notice I had a colostomy bag through my clothes. I spent a lot of time vomiting.

And then something went wrong with my ostomy. The skin around it burned and my bag wouldn't attach solidly to my stoma. My ostomy nurses discovered that my stoma was leaking and digestive fluids were burning my flesh.

Normally, a total colectomy with an ileoanalpouch patient is given anywhere from four months to a year to heal before their colostomy reversal surgery. Not me. My surgeon determined that making repairs to my stoma would be just as traumatic to my body as taking it down.

Four weeks to the day after my surgery I had my "take down". That was the earliest possible date for a safe take down.

Having my take down early was a good/bad thing for me. A colostomy bag was very damaging to me mentally. It was a constant warm, mushy reminder that my body was no longer normal. I didn't want to turn 24 with a colostomy bag. It is the height of unsexy. The take down greatly improved my disposition.

The bad part about my early take down was that I didn't have that reminder pressing against my body, reminding me that, "Hey, you just put your body through hell for the last three years, and are recovering from major surgery. Take it easy!"

Without a colostomy bag, I could ignore what was really going on with my recovery. Oh, course I was sore, I had a six inch incision from my navel to my pelvis, but that's was just muscle soreness- athletes experience soreness during training. Yes, I was in the bathroom every 45 minutes while my small intestine adjusted to being the superstar of the digestion tract- but that was nothing new.

So when I got a call from my college advisor telling me there was an opening for a student teacher at a brand new alternative high school, during its opening semester, and it was mine if I wanted it-- despite that fact that I was recovering my major surgery-- I took it.

December 16, 2003- Colostomy reversal surgery

December 29, 2003- Turn 24

January 5, 2004- Begin student teaching