Who are you?

"In this response I want you to answer the question: Who are you?"

That, my friends was the assignment my ancient history teacher gave us in our first class. It wasn't the first class I had of high school, (unfortunately), because that would have made for the most perfect cliche'd high school moment. However, it was the first class of my second semester of high school, just when I thought I had begun to figure it all out. 

I didn't know how to answer it. I knew my peers would answer by saying things like "My name is So and so, I am x years old, I'm in grade whatever." The bolder ones may have talked about their personal lives: "My parents got divorced when I was x year old....." etc. I remember looking around my class room and noting that everyone was hunched over their binders, scribbling away on their looseleaf. I wondered if they thought that the more they said, the better. That way at least if they didn't know who they were, they gave my teacher enough clues that he could figure it out.

I remember writing something, that I thought was profound. Give me a break, I was 15. But I remember writing: "I don't know who I am, I think that will be for you to decide as I get you get to know me, I could tell you things that I do, titles I hold, even perhaps what I am, but, I do not know who I am. I hope I will soon discover it".

It has been almost 6 years since I wrote that response. I remember what I answered, distinctly, but I do not know what grade I received. I don't think I kept it. 

It has been almost 6 years since I wrote that response and I think I know even less who I am then when I was 15. 

However, I am loving the journey.

A Public Affair

"Do you want us to call you an ambulance?" "No, I'll be fine"

Voila, my triumphant return to the blog. 

I've been getting acquainted with my

I've as someone who isnt constantly in the hospital. However, now that I feel better, I've come down with a pretty bad case of delayed adolescent invincibility. Yup, I think that nothing will affect me and last weekend, I was very abruptly humbled out of this attitude. 

Now about a month into the university term, the germs are out. I'm sure the students that travel from afar are actually just walking incubuses of viral plague, plague that I have no immunity against. This is evident in the fact that I already caught some sort of cold like sickness that feels more like death warmed up. I blame the big city Petrie dish students who dragged in the foreign germs that have destroyed my ignorant bliss 

Late Saturday night I started to feel unwell, only to wake up on Sunday feeling as bough I had been hit by a truck full of blizzards and congestion. Despite my fatigue, I journeyed to the grocery store to fetch my creature comforts oF soup and honey (not together). As I was aimlessly wandering the aisles, overwhelmed by the fast pace of the store I felt progressively unwell, and I wanted to get, out. 

I made my way to the checkout and pulled out my card to pay, and I felt it. It was happening. As soon as I recognized the feeling, I knew I was already past the point of no return. "I'm going to faint" I said matter of factly to the unfortunate cashier I chose to purchase from. "What?" She said, but before she had even had time to compute what was going on, it was over.

I'm not great at fainting subtly, quietly, privately, or gracefully. No. It's always a public affair. Where everyone can see. So there I was, I woke up and I was lying on the grocery store floor, everyone staring. The cashier's supervisor was standing over me and asked "do you want us to call an ambulance?" "No I'll be fine"  (my standardized answer). The last thing I wanted was for paramedics to come, learn my medical history, and drag me to the ER for a long wait and multiple needle pokes. 

After a few minutes I attempted to sit up but was racked with dizziness once again. I rolled my eyes. This was NOT how I pictured my trip to the store going. And then the paramedics came in. Yup. They called them anyway, and they carted me off to the ER. After a short stay of only 3 hours in the ER, an EKG, about 500ml of IV fluid and an extra dose of Cortef, I was on my way.

And behind on my studying.

Decisions...Decisions...

"I thought maybe you'd had your fill" "I just can't give it up. I've tried"

Hey everyone. Long time no post. I've had less than motivation to share witty understandings of my illness and life on the internet up until now.

I've had a lot of time to think. Ever since I could remember I wanted to be a doctor. As a young child (maybe between 4 and 6) I would deny it. Saying "Ewww sick people" but it couldn't stop me from spending hours examining my mother's Emergency New Mom's medical handbook (complete with pictures of course). I had memorized childhood rashes, fever symptoms and even birthing positions before I even knew how conception was possible. I did think it was gross. And, I was scared. But I couldn't stop learning about it. 

Years later, post Crohn's diagnosis, when the internet was accessible, I found myself googling, researching and instantly internally logging cases, conditions, symptoms and treatments of diseases that appeared on my favourite TV shows like Grey's Anatomy and House MD. It wasn't that I remembered, it was that I couldn't forget. All my medical knowledge I had stored came pouring out when a friend or acquaintance mentioned a symptom or complaint. "I have a pinched nerve and don't know what to do" a friend would say. "Have you tried chiropractory, massage, acupuncture, or GABApentin?" i would inquire before I could stop myself. Before I was over halfway done my undergrad people would assume I was in medschool. Not to mention the teachings I gave to med students when I was a patient in my young teens they would drop their jaws and exclaim that I should be in their class or surpass them in the professional medical field. 

I don't know if this gave me false confidence, or if I just have the right type of brain. 

But it took me almost a year in hospital, being subjected to torturous test and procedures, surgeries and medications and most of all pain. Emotional and physical to realize that I can't give up this dream. I at least have to try.

All of you should try. Don't give up your dreams because of your illness, or the false belief that you don't have the right qualifications, training, education, or even brain type to pursue what will make you happy.

Don't risk living your life with the regret of knowing you never even tried. 

Love you all. Stay healthy and happy. 

My Medical Therapy Report Card

Medical Therapy	Grade	Comments
Immuran	D	·          Student consistently took the medication, however did not seem to benefit much from it ·        Student complained of hair loss ·         She could improve by being increasingly patient waiting for results that will never come
Prednisone	B-	·       Student was successful in eating her parents out of house and home ·       She successfully stayed up very late and lived on little sleep ·       Student showed fantastic improvement in energy levels and bowel symptoms ·       However, due to mania induced by this medication the student was an absolute nutter
Cirpro/Flagyl	D	·       Student’s body failed to meet the criteria of success on this therapy ·       In this area she showed little improvement in her bowels and energy levels ·       We advise she drop this course.
Naso-Gastric Tube Feeding	A+	·       Student was successful in achieving weight gain ·       She also successfully completed a musical while on this therapy, singing despite the tube in her throat ·       For this we congratulate her.
Salofalk	C-	·       Student failed to show much improvement ·       Our standards are that the student improves and takes every dose of medication ·       The student said that the huge number of horse pills were “too difficult” to keep up with ·       Maybe you as a parent can talk to her
Remmicade	A	·       Student showed excellent performance with this treatment. ·         Bowels and energy levels became normalized and on par with her peers ·       She is no longer behind her class in this section
Humira	A-	·       Student showed a continuation of already established strengths. ·       Keep up the good work.
FK-506	A-	·       Student maintained already decent status. ·       However, our concern is that if not every assignment is completed, student will fall behind after only one.

"Are you hungry?" "No"

In December I had an encounter with the rarely found, but very effective zinc deficiency. This caused me to have a raccoon like rash around my eyes, nausea, altered taste perception, and above all else, reduced appetite. Because of this I was brought in and hospitalized, due to my nutrition markers being so low. In the hospital, alongside nocturnal tube feeding, I was encouraged to eat, well, as much as I could. Awesome right? Nah. I was disgusted by food. I’m not saying I wasn’t hungry, I’m saying I was REPULSED by food. The thought of it made me queasy, the sight made me gag and I just couldn’t eat. The hospital food, did NOT make it any easier. Here is the menu that I would typically follow in the hospital, and let me make it clear, that in terms of choice and selection, I had one of the best available.

Breakfast: Breakfast would consist of a mini container of cheerios (exactly 80 calories worth) a half a cup of soymilk, half a cup of diced, canned peaches in water (not syrup) and one sugar packet on my cereal.

Lunch: I somehow managed to get myself assigned the same diet as the patients that were in the rehab hospital, so my lunch options were usually pretty good. I guess if you’re in rehab, you’re in for a while, so you get better lunches. Go figure. My lunch usually consisted of a fruit plate, which I got solely for the grapes, French fries (Mmm! They were a lot like the fries from KFC), a cup of soup that was usually vegetable or chicken noodle and a sort of vegetable that varied from carrot sticks to coleslaw. Lunch overall was pretty decent and I can’t complain about it.

Dinner: Dinner. Oh dinner, how is possible for a meal to go so wrong? The meat options were always terrible, beyond terrible, so I usually opted for the sandwich provided it wasn’t a salmon sandwich. I made that mistake once, it was nasty. Alongside my sandwich I would get about a half a cup of plain, white rice. It was the cheap stuff with no flavor. I would also get about a half a cup of boiled to death wax beans….tasty. I’d also get some sort of dessert, either jello, banana

Other: I’m sure this category is the main reason I didn’t starve in the hospital. I would eat soda crackers and Cracker barrel individual cheese. I would eat small individual ice creams at really weird times, like before breakfast or right before I went to sleep. I ate a LOT of baked chips. Nurses would share food with me at night so I ate a lot of fruit from fruit trays (melon <3), I also drank a lot of hot chocolate. I loved hot chocolate in there.

Thank you all for returning to my blog despite my disgustingly long hiatus. I promise there will be more posts very soon! Muah!

Itsy Bitsy Quitsy

Itsy Bitsy Quitsy

Itsy Bitsy had a hard life, it started out though much more light.

From 1-11 Itsy was Bitsy and she stayed so from morning til night.

But Itsy Bitsy turned Gutsy Wutsy on the eve of number 12

And suddenly Itsy wasn’t just Bitsy she was Quitsy as well.

Itsy liked to munch and crunch but then that started to hurt

Because the Quitsy was so strong it got the heart the worst.

No more munch and no more crunch, just swallows and slurps and beads.

Sometimes even slurps did hurt, and Itsy was put on feeds.

Although the beads looked like little pearls, it was hard to hide, that

Itsy’s pearls whirled her world into a bigger size. 

At numbers 12-13 she sat on a weighty throne

Of 15 higher than her friends and 20 of her foes.

At 14 Itsy wasn’t as bitsy as she used to be,

She took matters into her own hands to be a teeny weeny.

The problem is, the heart goes quitsy when you’re too teeny weeny

And Itsy Bitsy didn’t let it happen, even to be leany.

So Itsy had to stop her head heart from going quitsy.

So she swallowed and slurped and beaded and pearled her way back up to bitsy.

Number 16-19 were the time when Biggie went and quitsied,

Slowly, slowly like a slug so lowly, Biggie had turned to shitsy.

But Itsy Bitsy was a fighter now, so she took the leap

She let go of biggie, and did the baggie boogie beep.

The problem was with Biggie gone, Glurpie reared its’ head.

Glurpie like to be the boss, but “No!” Itsy said!

With Glurpie around, Itsy’s breathers and weavers and filters alike,

Started to go Quitsy a little more each night.

But Itsy knew just to hold on a few more days or so,

And then she’d go to the chamber where they cut and sew.

The took her out and put her in and turned her inside up,

They tweaked the bleak and thankfully, Itsy had some luck.

A few more minutes went and passed and Bitsy thought she was fine

She walked and talked and smiled, but couldn’t wine or dine.

In she went to get fixed “once more” she said.

Because Itsy was Bitsy and still she wasn’t dead.

But, this time she fell, the lowest fall to date

This was a new one, a scary new one, a new Quitsy fate.

The little beans on top of Biggers had decided to go Quitsy,

As sad as Itsy was, she had faith in that she was bitsy.

The little broken beans inside her, on her face put a grin.

Because despite the Quitsy Biggie and Beans,

She would climb a mountain.

To be continued…