Keeping your head up!

I don't even know where to begin. I haven't written here in such a long time and everything has just built up. I figured that by now I would be feeling a million and one times better and well, I'm not.



I had my second pouchscope done on October 31 because I was having problems with my pouch. He said that everything looked great and I was okay. He did dialate it just to be on the safe side and was done. He sent me home with a perscription for tylenol with codine and said that I might be in pain for a few days. Here we are almost 2 and 1/2 weeks later and I'm still in pain. I saw the doctor last tuesday and he said it could be the beginning of an infection and put me on two antibiotics. He said that if the pain got worse or wasn't going away to give him a call. I went to school to visit friends over the weekend and was okay for the most part but when I got home Sunday night the pain brought me to tears. Monday I called the doctor and he said he wanted to see me. The nurse called back and said to pack a bag and prepare to be admitted. I was so upset and aggrivated. Wasn't the 12 nights I spent in there in the end of July, beginning of August enough?! So I packed my bag and off I went.

The doctor examined me and told me of his original plan to admit me and give me antibiotics through an IV but then said he doubted it would make a difference. The next option was surgery, surgery number two. Granted, this surgery was only minor and considered "day surgery." But regardless, who wants to have any type of surgery. The were going to drain the anal abcess that had developed due to a tear from the last pouchscope. They told me it would be on Wednesday. Well, this morning (Tuesday) I got a phone call. The nurse asked me if I had eaten or drank anything as of yet. I said no and she said "Okay, don't. I'll call you right back." And that she did. They told me to arrive at 11 and that the surgery would be at 1. They didn't actually start the surgery til 2. When I woke up my dad told me the doctor had said he was glad he drained it when he did because the puss was several teaspoons-ful. HOW GROSS!!!!! I now have a hole with a "wick" in it and a gauze pad "taped" over it on my bum. I know thats a little descriptive and probably too much information but it is what it is. I have to go back on Thursday for him to change the dressing and see how its doing.

When will it be over? I ask myself everyday. I can't take it anymore. I don't have it in me. I am drained. If I'm not working, I'm in bed. I'm excited to return to school in January because it will be a new lifestyle, and a new beginning. But at the same time I am so nervous. I want to know that I will be healthy. The doctors had told me 6 to 12 months for a full recovery and it hasn't even been 4. I feel like it has been 4 years and everyone keeps telling me "Your gunna wake up some morning and just feel like yourself again." When is that going to be? And why is it taking so long?

I hate complaining about my aches and pains because if I did it whenever I had them, I would be complaining all the time. People have other stuff to worry about, things that are more important. Don't get me wrong, I have had amazing support through all of this but sometimes it isn't enough. The worst is that I'm not asking for more. I don't know what it is I need. A good cry? A vacation? Something to release my stress and anger? Who knows? I just feel like its eating away at me. That I don't have any emotions anymore because of everything I've dealt with. That I've become like a zombie. Just there, doing my daily routine. A person who isn't affected by any type of emotion. I want to be the girl I was before I was ever sick. The problem there is that I was sick for so long that I dont remember who she is. Who knows?

I just hope things turn around from here on out. Cause I'm done!

Way to start another day . . .

I had a bad dream last night. The dream was that I screwed up my bank account. So I woke up out of the dream, grabbed my laptop and immediately checked my account. Sure enough, my dream became reality.

I had written the check for my car payment thinking that by the time they received it I would have this weeks paycheck in the bank. WRONG-O!! The check was cashed, my account was overdrawn, and then I was charged that stupid $30 fee. I'll put my check in the bank today and it won't be overdrawn anymore, but im still out $30 bucks. Thats a friggin full tank of gas for me. Not to mention, in the pending withdrawls, I was charged twice for the Cheesy breadsticks and soda I bought last night for my fat ass. What a day . . . not to mention, it is ONLY 10:34

Life . . .

So, I'm gunna state this plain and simple: Life is way too short to be anything but happy!

How many times have people told me this? Probably too many. Do I listen? No. Do any of us listen? Probably not. It is so much easier said than done; however, I wish it was as easy as people make it seem.

When I was a Senior in high school my grandfather fell in his kitchen and ended up in the hospital. It was a long battle of ups and downs but my family was there for eachother. On Valentine's Day 2006 my grandfather passed away. No one realized that this simple spill he took would end up, in the long run, taking his life from him. He lived an extremely succesful life with four children and eight grandchildren. Two months before he fell he was given the pleasure of having a great grandson, Anthony. I guess you could say he was a happy man but still, you never know when it will all come to an end. We need to live our lives for ourselves, not for others. Is it great to make others happy? Of course! But at the same time, we need to be happy ourselves.

In the same breath, as most of you know my grandmother is suffering from both Alzheimers and colon cancer. From what I knew growing up, she was happy as well. As I got older, I began to notice how aggrivated she would become with herself. She wouldn't remember things and would realize what was happening. Now that she has become more sick, she doesn't realize it but still, she isn't the same person. Her health and her happiness have both been taken from her and once again, we need to live our lives happily.

As morbid as it sounds, we could be robbed of our lives within minutes and that will be it. What good will it be to be mad, upset, or angry. It will not benefit anyone, not even you.

With my ulcerative colitis, my happiness came and went constantly; usually with remissions and flare ups. It was hard to have a positive outlook on life when I was constantly in pain, or worrying when the next trip to the bathroom was going to be. When I made the decision to have my colon removed my parents and I looked forward for me to have the ability to have a positive outlook on life. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't the poor me kind of girl when I was sick. But it got tough to keep my head up. We figured that after the surgery I would be able to live my life like a "normal" human being. Here is it a little over two months after my surgery and slowly but surely I'm getting there. I've gone through a lot, both physically and emotionally, in these months.

A lot has gone on in the past few weeks and my trust and friendships have been tried repeatedly,if that makes any sense. I have been forced to choose between believeing those I care about and those who I've considered friends for years. Let me tell you, it was difficult. And instead of choosing the easy way out I, or course, had to choose the more difficult situation. Its gotten me a little upset but I'm working to being happier. Like I said, life's too short. Its not worth my tears, not anymore.

I hope that with this, you all try to make each day the happiest yet. And I will try to do the same, its a promise!

=)

Me, A TEACHER?!

Well okay, so technically I'm still not a teacher. I was hired yesterday as an ISS in a town close to home. I had submitted my resume two, or three, weeks ago and hadn't heard anything. Then yesturday morning I woke up to my mom telling me there was someone from this particular school on the phone looking to speak to me.

When I answered the phone, she asked if I was still interested in the position and wanted to come in for an interview at 12:45. I said that was fine but was wondering if I could do anything earlier. She told me to come in any time in the morning and then asked if I was willing to start that morning for a trial day. She asked me to arrive at the school by 8:30. Let me remind you that to answer this phone call my mom had to wake me up and that was at 8:00.

So I arrived at the school and spent the day substituting a 4th grade classroom. It went really well until "Brief Break." On the teachers lesson plan for the day it said "Brief Break - you take the students outside with the other 4th graders." So at 2:00 I lined up my classroom and we filed outside. When I was in the hall way one of the teachers came up to me and thanked me. It wasn't until I got outside that I understood why I was being thanked. I had the ENTIRE 4th grade outside by myself. Not to mention, no one told me that the doors locked when they closed. Therefore, not only was I outside with the entire 4th grade BY MYSELF; but we were LOCKED OUT!!! WONDERFUL!

All in all, the day went really well and I had a blast. I can't wait to go back on Friday.

"These are a few of my favorite things . . . "

Man, I didn't realize how long it has been since I last posted. Things have been crazy and I've been lazy. I feel like so much has gone on in the time in between that I'm not even sure where to start.

In my last post I talked about being able to eat whatever I want. I've started to eat a variety of foods but this past weekend I went to Assumption and ate something my stomach didn't like too much. The only problem is that I was so caught up in seeing my friends that I wasn't paying attention and I have NO IDEA what it was that bothered my stomach. I have tried different types of meat, including my favorite . . . STEAK!! That seemed to go over fairly well. I'm still recovering and can't wait until all this recovery sh*t is over.

I'm heading back to work on Monday. I'll be working Monday to Friday from 4-6 and every other Saturday from 8-5. It pays pretty well, and seeing as though I haven't worked in . . . 2 months I NEED the MONEY! Also, I'm sick of sitting around the house. I try to keep myself busy but there is only so much I can do on my own before I get bored. I was working 3 jobs up until the day before my surgery. And then I was ripped of my sanity, and my colon!! :-/. I'm the type of girl that needs to stay busy. I hate just sitting around the house doing nothing; hence why I can't wait to start working.

Also in my last post, I mentioned that my Nana was doing well. I have since gotten to visit her twice. I saw her once last week with my mom and my aunt. While we were there, there was a sing-a-long being played on the tv. My Nana sang right along. She loves to sing and she has a gorgeous voice. While she was singing my mom took me to her room to show it to me and my aunt stayed with her. When we got back my aunt was laughing so hard, I asked why and apparently when one of the songs came on my Nana explained that "This song makes me want to strip." I wonder why she would ever come up with something like that. She sang "Bicycle Built for Two" and I cried. That was her, she always loved singing and to hear her do it made me feel so much better.

Then I went to visit her yesturday. When we got there she was eating lunch so we brought her some new clothes and put them in her room. Then when she came out the nurse had a pair of sneakers for her to try on that we had brought. He told her to walk around on them and that we would go with her. So we did and while we were walking she put her arm down and grabbed onto my hand. I'm not sure why but it meant a lot to me. My nana who supported her five children and all of her grandkids now needs all of us for support. Granted she doesn't know what is going on - and never will. But she does, she needs all of our love and support. After doing one "lap" of her floor we brought her back and then nurse cut the tags off the shoes and wrote her name on them. We then took her into the little common room. When we went in there there was a CD playing and it was playing the musical version of "These are a few of my favorite things." She began humming to the music and then I, even though I can't sing for crap, began to sing the words. She picked right up and sang the entire rest of the song. It was almost amazing.

She seems to be doing much better in the nursing home than she ever was at the assisted living. I almost wish we avoided the assissted living completely.

On Sunday, my family and I will participate in the Memory Walk. The walk is to raise money and awareness for alzheimers. Unfortunately, I haven't raised any money yet. I should probably get on that.

Thats really been it. I hope to post again in a few days. So check back!!

Relaxation is key . . .

Today has been one of the best days in awhile.

I was up really late last night watching The Secret Life of an American Teenager with one of my friends. I usually watch it at 8pm but he had called me and asked me to wait and watch it at midnight with him. So I did! I love that show. But it was the season finale, and they ended it quite rediculously. I was surprised with this show though. I thought it would have a lot of people against it because although there are many teenage pregnancies in today's society no every teenager gets pregnant while in high school. Regardless, its a good show.

Because I was up so late I slept in and it was FABULOUS! I don't do much during the day anyway but man was it nice to just lay in bed all morning. I finally got up and did the dishes then got back into bed. I had to pick up my little sister at school so around 12:15 I got in the shower. I got ready and picked her up. Then we went to Subway and had lunch, then to the grocery store so that I could get groceries to make tonight's dinner.

My exciting news this week came from my NP last night. I had sent her an e-mail because she wants to keep up on how I was feeling. In the e-mail I told her how I was feeling, asked her a few questions about my meds, and then asked her about my diet. She replied with what seemed like a to-do list and the last thing said to call my dad and have him make reservations at my favorite local steakhouse, so that I could have the Prime Rib I was craving in the hospital because: I CAN EAT WHATEVER I WANT. To be honest, I always had to draw a line at specific foods and now I have no idea what my limits are. I'm a little nervous but from here on out it is trail and error.

Even better news is that my aunt who works at the nursing home we recently moved Nana into said she is doing well. It was so good to here.

Anyway, I know this blog was shorter than normal but I was bored and wanted to let you know about my food news =) I'm so excited

And the beat goes on . . .

Oh man! So it's been a few days since I blogged and I guess you could say a lot has gone in those five days.

On Friday, I went into the hospital for a "pouch-scope" to try to help figure out why I was still in so much pain. When I got to the hospital, they had me change into a Johnny - it felt like the good 'ole days again . . . NOT! They brought me in to do my vitals and a little while later I was brought down to the OR. My Dad was with me because I was going to be put to sleep and with anesthesia they don't allow you to drive. Because my surgery was pediatric they allowed him to come down to the prep room, after "scrubbing up," and stay with me until I was wheeled across the hall to the OR. What I found funny was that, I was only having a pouch-scope. I have had 9 colonoscopies - it was nothing. I felt like they were blowing it way out of proportion. However, when I was having MAJOR surgery they made my parents leave me way ahead of time. Regardless, I was given an IV, which for me is no big thing anymore, and brought into the OR. My doctor was sitting against the wall yawning - that was comforting. They put the cold stickies on my chest and gave me and oxygen mask. They put a "seat-belt" around my legs and gave me the first doasge of the anesthesia. They explain everything to you, step-by-step. The nurse told me they were going to give me the complete dosage of anesthesia and that I should dose off shortly. After a few minutes she asked me if I was feeling sleepy, when I said no the anesthesia doctor started screaming "I NEED A FLUSH, I NEED A FLUSH." Anyone who is not a regular for these procedures probably would have been concerned. I knew a flush was just saline solution they put in through the IV to make sure it is working properly. Within minutes I had a burning feeling in my hand and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the recovery room. Although, I did ask the nurse why my hand was burning before I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up the muscles in my legs were killing me. The nurse explained that it was probably because of the position they had me in for the procedure. She said it was probably like a frog, on it's back. HOW ATTRACTIVE!! Anyway, they brought my dad in and he had already spoken with the doctor. There was no news, and as they say: No news, is good news. He said that the pain was probably just my body's rediculous way of healing. He did, however, say that at one of the spots where they had to sew was narrowing and therefore he dialated it. All I know was that I was a little sore, but by Saturday felt a world of difference. Here it is Tuesday, September 9 - 41 days after my surgery and I am FINALLY feeling better.

Saturday I had to move some furniture that I had bought for my apartment with hopes I was returning to school. I am letting the girls have it seeing as though A: I'll be there in January and B: It won't do me any good in a box in my basement. So, T, one of my best friends, moved it for me. I, more or less, went for the ride and to visit friends. It was so good to be back at that school and I was really sad to have to leave.

Sunday I washed my sheets. I know that sounds a little rediculous but because I was bed ridden for so long they were disgusting. Once they were in the wash I attacked the rest of my rooom. It's amazing what a difference having a clean room makes.

Then Monday arrived. It was moving day for Nana. I offered to help knowing that I couldn't do any lifting but figured that while everyone else moved the heavy stuff and took care of paperwork, etc. I could pack up the small stuff. At about 9:00-9:15 my two uncles and my aunt arrived at my house. Nana was being picked up at the assissted living at 10 am and we didn't want to be there when she was leaving. The 5 of us, my mom came too, left at 9:47 to head to the assissted living. When we got there, the ambulance that wasw transporting her was parked at the front door. We decided to wait to go in so that we wouldn't run into her. That would have been a huge mess of a scene. Sitting there, in the car, with the ambulance in full view upset me. My Nana shouldn't have to go through this. Why her?! Granted, as I said in my last post, she has no idea what going on; but still: I do and I know she wouldn't like it. I cried a little but the tears really started to come when they wheeled her out on the stretcher. She was strapped down by two "seat-belts" and was in more of a sitting up position. She didn't seem upset but she seemed like she had no clue what was going on. It was miserable. Regardless, the ambulance left and we invaded her room. We got everything and headed to Grandpa's. With everything that has gone on with Nana, my Grandpa has gone from an upbeat man to a wreck. Him, like her, is not the same person I knew growing up. That was the end of my deed for the day. My mom took Grandpa up to the nursing home and they did all the paperwork. They said that she seemed okay but like always, wasn't talkative.

I hope that this place is a little better for her. And that, even though at this point we don't know how long it will be, she is comfortable until the very end. I love her to death and it eats me up inside that I can't prevent her from going through this. Like my aunt had said, I've known so many people that have suffered from cancer but none of them have been so close in realtion to me. I hate it.

With that, the week continues. I have the typical 67 million doctor appointments this week and with each new day look forward to feeling better and better.

Until next time,
Kate ;-)

Thankss

So I feel as though the past few weeks have been an extremely depressing, difficult time for both me and my family - in more ways then one.

If you have kept up with my blog, you all know that I, both physically and mentally, have been through a lot. In addition, my Nana, who is suffering from Alzheimers, has also been spending time in and out of the hospital. We have known she has had Alzheimers for quite some time but in February it reached the point where she couldn't live at home anymore. The day before Valentine's Day we moved her into an assissted living facility. At first, whenever we went to visit her she would ask to come home. It came to the point where we needed to lie and tell her we were going to doctor appts, etc., and that she couldn't come with us. It was sad, but we knew she didn't know what we were doing. Anyway, Nana has gone down hill a lot, and at a rapid speed. In addition to the Alzheimers, we have always known she has had some gastrointestinal problems but wouldn't go to the doctor and be diagnosed or treated. With the Alzheimers taking over her body, her gastrointestinal issues have been more evident. This past week, or so, she was sent to the hospital because of rectal bleeding. The assissted living doesn't want to keep her, and we were convinced that they weren't ever going to let her back in. That the hospital would have to keep her until we found a place for her to go. How fair is that?! Anyway, the doctors wanted to do a colonoscopy but we knew she would refuse, so they didn't tell her. They stopped feeding her and brought her the prep drink. She didn't know what she was drinking but because she was so hungry/thirsty she drank it without a problem. They did the colonoscopy and she had no idea.

With a colonoscopy, they do a biopsy. Her's showed she had colon cancer. Colon cancer and Alzheimers, WONDERFUL! When my mom sat me down to tell me, I knew it was coming. She didn't even need to finish her sentence. Ulcerative colitis is hereditary and eventually develops into colon cancer, its almost guarenteed. When I heard she had a biopsy and knew that something was wrong based on my mom's expression, I knew it was colon cancer. We all knew, as I said before, that Nana had SOME form of gastrointestinal issue. And where I had ulcerative colitis, and knew it was hereditary - I put it all together.

I was upset because I knew the pain that I felt with the U.C. and that colon cancer could only be worse. I don't want to see my Nana suffer, but at the same time I don't know that she knows she is. I know, I know! Its really complicated but its the truth. She doesn't know she has cancer. She never will - and thats probably better off. The family decided not to treat it because it would just prolong the inevitable. My Nana isn't the Nana I knew growing up and she never will be again. Am I mad? Of course! Sad? Like you wouldn't believe. But I'm also lucky. I am the second oldest grandchild on that side of the family. I had a good 18, or so, years knowing my Nana and will keep all the good memories close to my heart. However, I have three cousins that will NEVER know her the way I did. Yeah, they knew her when she was better but they were too young to be able to remember it. They won't have the memories of sitting around the kitchen table on any given family get together singing songs, or putting a tape in the tape deck that hangs below the cabinets to the left of the back door and dancing around the kitchen floor being lead by Nana. They don't have the memory of sitting on her couch watching "Jack Frost" and the two of us completley balling. I don't know that they know of her unbelieveable skills at Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy or her undying love for Cryptograms. One thing that they can all be sure of, is she loved us. Toward the end, she had a hard time being at family gatherings because she would get irritated. The noise was way to much. But that never destroyed her love for us. I can't provide these memories for my little cousins but maybe someday I can share them with them, and they can live vicariously through me to get to know my Nana.

Anyway, like I said to C last night: If my Nana could see the way she was living her life now, she would be pissed. Nana was always on the go, full of energy, laughter, and her beautiful smile. She wasn't this "zombie" that we see when we go to visit her. And even if we are sitting there with her, she forgets we are there after just a few minutes. The way I see it is the Alzheimers is killing her, it has been killing her. But there was no deadline. Although there still isn't a deadline, we know that the cancer will take her away from us before the Alzheimers will. It is the way she would want it. I, personally, wish I could keep Nana around forever; but, not the Nana I know now - rather, the Nana I grew up knowing. I love her to death, and I hope she knows that.

When I was being Christened, she wrote me a poem. One of the stanzas said:

The years will go so quickly

I'll watch you as you grow

The pride I'll have within my heart

Is more than you will know

She was always wonderful at writing. And that one part of that one poem "gets me everytime." I know that even though she isn't "herself" she still loves all of us.

With that, she is always in my thoughts and prayers.

I love you Nana, I always will.

Summer getaways . . .

Its been a longg summer for my whole family. We all took vacations, with the exception of my father, in June to Florida. C and myself went to Florida with my cousin and a friend. We had an absolute blast and I miss it like crazy. Just a few weeks later my mom and sister K took a trip with their friends to a different part of Florida. It was while they were down there that I decided to have my surgery. And since then it seems as though the summer has been thrown into fast forward.

After my return home from the hospital I begged and begged my parents to go down the Cape. My grandmother owns a house down here and I've been coming every summer since I was only a month old. If we didn't make it down this weekend I wouldn't have come and spent a weekend all summer. We came down Saturday afternoon but the weather was a little crappy so we hung around the house, had dinner, and then went for ice cream. Yesturday, my aunt and uncle came down for the day. We went out to breakfast, to the beach, out to dinner, and then to my other aunt's house. Today I'm planning on lying around the house and reading my book. I just want to relax! Lately, whenever I try to relax, I end up thinking about WAY too much. Atleast today, I'll have a book in front of me to keep my mind busy.

I'm still in pain from my surgery and it's getting rediculous. They told me that recovery would take up to 2 weeks and my surgery was a MONTH ago yesturday. It's about time I start feeling back to normal. Doc said that if I'm not better by Tuesday (tomorrow) he wants to do a "pouch-scope." It doesn't sound too exciting but, I'll be honest, I want it done. I want to know why the 20 pills I'm taking, the 2 tbsps of salt water I'm drinking, and the 3 suppositorys I'm doing ARE NOT WORKING. I want the pain to go AWAY. I'm done with it. I know it sounds gross, but going the bathroom is literally exhausting for me. I just want to crawl in bed after. Atleast while I'm asleep I don't feel as much pain. Although, it's a pain in the ass itself for me to fall asleep lately. So, I'm crossing my fingers and hoping my body rids itself of all this pain.

Along with dealing with this pain, I feel like I've been in a state of depression. Like I said in my last post, I'm not returning to school this fall. If I was, I would be moving in to school right now, instead of sitting in my Cape house typing here. Anyway, C is having a blast at school and I'm extremely jealous. It doesn't help that she throws things in my face. Here is what happened:

C came down with us on Saturday but went home with my aunt and uncle last night. Last night was the first night I would have ever slept in our room down here without her - it was weird but she wanted to go back to school. I can't blame her but I must say, I'm extremely envious of her. I had a really tough time adapting to the college life my freshman year and we all expected her to be the same way, if not worse. Well, she wasn't!! And believe me, I am so happy for her but a part of me gets aggrivated with it. I'm not really sure why and it drives me up a wall. C tends to throw a lot of things in my face. And when she came home Friday night, just like I expected, she threw it in my face that I had a rough time adapting and she hadn't. Keep in mind that I was twice as far from home as she is, I went to school not knowing anyone where as she does know some people, and I was forced to stay at school for the first two weeks and didn't have any guests. She moved to school last Saturday and: A: my mom went to bring her stuff on her third day there. B: She has already had friends up to see her twice, if not more. and C: my mom let her come home because "we haven't been to the Cape all summer and she will be mad if we don't let her come!" WHATEVER!

I still wish I was going back to school, and I can't wait until January!!!


I'm still believing in that stupid Jonas Brothers song:

"Just a little bit longer, and I'll be fine . . . "

All I have to say is a little bit longer better come, and come FAST!

And so it begins . . .

I've never written a blog before; but I have kept a journal. I was introduced to the "blogging world" through my aunt who wrote a blog about me in the end of July. I thought it was cool but had no interest in doing it myself. I have had it pretty rough the past couple months and have had a lot of decisions thrown in my path where I had to choose what I thought was right for me. These times of trial got me really down in the dumps and I haven't been able to really get back. I thought about journaling again but I hate it because I begin to write and I feel like I could write forever . . . until my hand feels like its going to fall off that is. So I figured, seeing as though I am on the computer ALL THE TIME why not give blogging a shot?!

So here goes . . .

I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis when I was 13 years old. If you don't know what it is, I hate to sound rude; but, look it up. I went through times of flare-ups and remission and now at the age of 20 have had a total of 8 colonoscopys and 2 endoscopys. Nothing to write home about. I moved away to school 2 years ago, August of 2006 and did okay but without a doubt I was sick by 2nd semester. It was luckily controllable and I went through the summer and returned to school in the Fall for my Sophomore year. 1st semester was all right but I began getting sick sometime before Halloween. I finished out the semester and ended up being hospitalized for 2 nights over Christmas vacation. I had to take time out of work and stay home to rest. I attempted to give school a shot, even though I wasn't feeling well but after two weeks gave up. I went and saw my doctor who gave me my last two options. He said I could try IV Infusion treatments or have my colon removed. Instantly, I said the treatments: What 20 year old wants to go through "major surgery" when there are still medications available. I began the Remicade sometime around Valentine's Day 2008 and in the beginning they worked wonders . . . by July, they weren't working at all. BUMMER! During a phone conversation with my mother I said, "Can't I just have it removed, I'm sick of going through this ALL THE TIME, I want to be healthy." She wasn't too "keen" (sp?) on the idea but told me to talk to my doctor. That following Monday I had an appoitment to have my Remicade Infusion and because I still wasn't doing well, the doctor wanted to see me first. I went in and he said he was going to double the dose of the medication in the Infusion and if I wasn't feeling better in a week he wanted to "scope" me again. 10 COLONOSCOPYS - I DON'T THINK SO!! I turned to him and asked what having my colon out entailed, fully expecting him to tell me that I would need an ostomy bag for atleast 3 months. When he told me I didn't and we talked about it for a bit - I was sold! I wanted it out. I was sick of fighting this colitis. Like my dad said, "It was like a dog chasing its tail." I would flare up, be put on medication, begin to go into remission and then start to get worse again, he would change the meds, up dosages, etc. etc. It usually involved a yearly colonoscopy and well I was DONE!! He gave me the names of two surgeons and two days later I had a consultation. The first thing the surgeon said to me was "I'm gunna put it to you as simple as possible, no colon, no colitis." Sounded good to me!!! We went home and weighed the pros and cons of having and not having the surgery and just by what the surgeon told me, the pros won. That afternoon my father called and had the surgery booked for two weeks later.

I'm not kidding, when I say it felt like it came and went so quickly it did. I remember sitting in the doctor's office getting the surgeons names and the next thing I new I was in the hospital waiting to be put in my room. I had to go in the night before so that I could do I clean out prep. They brought me a gallon of "Go Lightly." All I have to say is it doesn't make you "go lightly!!" That's for sure. Anyway they told me to drink half of the gallon. I took one 4 oz glass of it and almost puked. They gave me nausea medicine and adavan (sp?), to relax me. But regardless of the drugs they put in me, I wasn't drinking that. I was even bribed by my father . . . it just wasn't happening. They switched the stuff I needed to drink with something that was only 10 oz and bubbly so it didn't taste too bad. I drank that no problem. The next morning the doctors came in and told me when I was going to be brought down. It was going to be early so I called my parents to let them know. The next thing I knew they walked in the room to stay with me until I was brought down. My mom lied in bed with me and I just felt hopeless. I knew this was what I wanted to do but the whole time leading up to the surgery I was looking forward to no longer having the colitis, I wasn't thinking about the surgery itself. I was nervous and scared, hoping that this wouldn't be something I regretted later on. Transport came and got me and my parents came down stairs with me. I was BALLING! I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't want to leave my mom. But it was all too late. The woman pushing the gurney stopped in the middle of a basement hall, it was creepy, and told my parents this was where they needed to leave me. They both kissed me good-bye and told me they loved me. I couldn't stop crying. I was brought into Prep room 36 where a nurse came in. She tried to calm me down but told me she didn't know why they wouldn't let my parents come with me further. Come to find out it was because I was going to be getting an epidural as soon as I got in there. They gave me the epidural which KILLED. I just remember being hunched over a pillow that was on top of a table and crying because it hurt so much. I was then wheeled into the OR where a million, or so it seemed, nurses were waiting for me. They prepped me and put my hair in a hair net. I looked to my right and behind all the commotion was my surgeon, sitting in the corner. He smiled at me and said, "Hello Kate" but in a completely creepy way. The rest is history. I fell asleep and remember waking up to my father saying that our hometown baseball team traded one of their players. My response way, "Well, I just traded my colon for no colitis." My dad laughed, and off I went back to sleep. I do remember them wheeling me back into my room, with my parents sitting there waiting for me, and then them sliding me on to my bed. The next few days I don't remember at all. The Wednesday following my surgery the doctors told me that I was doing so well that I should be able to go home Friday. However, the Thursday following my surgery I woke up really nauseous. That afternoon I was vomitting and they didn't know what was wrong. I was shaking uncontrollably; to the point where Thursday night they had to put up the rails on the sides of my bed because they were afraid I was going to fall out. Before the shaking got that bad they had sent me down for X-Rays, when the doctor came in she explained that I had an ileus, which is when your small intestine shuts down due to shock. With that I had bile backing up into my stomach which was why I was nauseous. She explained that I needed an NG tube, not knowing what that was I asked. I never should have asked. She made a face and said that it was a tube that would go up my nose, down the back of my throat and into my stomach. It would be connected to a bucket that was on the wall that had a vacuum in it. It sucked the bile out of my stomach and I started feeling a little better. The only problem was that every time I tried to talk I would gag and throw up. My mom stayed with me until I fell asleep and then headed home. I woke up in the middle of the night, noticed she was gone, and called her to come back. My Dad drove her over and she spent the rest of the night rubbing my back while I threw up into those stupid kidney shaped basins, which by the way I never want to see EVER AGAIN! Then the uncontrollable shaking began. I barely remember that night! Friday I woke up and barely spoke because it hurt too much. By Saturday, I was more use to it and was finally able to talk. I wasn't allowed to eat or drink ANYTHING. As a matter of fact, my mother gave me like 3 sips of ice water and I got yelled at by a nurse for drinking it. Sunday afternoon my nurse wanted me to go outside. Looking like a FREAK with that stupid tube I fought it. Until she brought me a wheel chair that she labeled "Katelyn's BMW." Where she had put so much work into it I couldn't turn it down. My mom wheeled me downstairs and outside, it was the first time in 12 days I had been outside. It deffinately made me feel much better seeing as though I was REALLY down in the dumps because of this setback. When I got back to my room the doctor came in and pulled the tube out. I positioned my throat so that I couldn't feel it come up. It burned a little but I could talk again, and it didn't hurt. I asked him when I was going to be able to go home and he told me either Tuesday or Wednesday but probably Tuesday. I waited and waited and Tuesday was finally here. They still weren't sure and at about 4:00 they called him and asked him what was going on. He came up and examined me and allowed me to be discharged.

You have probably never been as happy as I was. It had been 13 days of ups and downs, 12 days of spongebaths, 13 days of not watching my hair, 13 days of wearing an UGLY Johnny, and more or less, 13 days of hell.

I went home and got right in the shower. I know its disgusting but it took me shampooing my hair 3 times to get the grease out. HOW GROSS?! Just the car ride home and my long awaited shower completely wiped me out. I got right into bed and cried. I was happy but depressed all at the same time. I was happy that I was home but I knew I had a long road to recovery. I wanted to be back to my normal routine: working 3 jobs, going out with my friends, and spending quality time with my family. I didn't want to spend the time I needed to lying in bed. Its not until a recovery like this that you know the true meaning of "one day at a time."

I came home on August 12th, and here it is August 28th and I'm still not completely back to normal. When I came home from the hospital I started getting a pain in my rectum. It started out small so I just assumed it was the fact that my colon had been ripped off that muscle and my "J-Pouch" had been sewn to it. I know it's gross, but this is who I am now. I went to the surgeon on Tuesday, the 19th for a follow up. He said everything looked good. I explained the pain and he said it might be the beginning stages of Pouchitis, the inflammation of the newly created pouch. He asked about pain and a fever - I had none other than what I had described to him. Walking in, around, and out of the hospital wiped me out and I felt like crap when I got home. The doctor had perscribed antibiotics to treat the pouchitis so I started them that night. My mom took my temperature that night too, and after I had told my doctor I didn't have one it was up to 101.3! The fever continued until Saturday night when it broke, but man did I feel icky all week. I also started the perks up again, so the pain was a little less but not by much. On the 25th I e-mailed my NP with my problems and she called me to ask questions. She said she would talk to the doctor and give me a call back. She called me back saying he wanted me in the following morning for a CT Scan.

That brings me to Tuesday. I went back to the hospital and had the CT Scan done. It was actually during the prep for the scan that not having a colon finally paid off in my life. Instead of having to drink two bottles of crap I only had to drink one. YEY!!! Anyway, I had to go see my doctor after the scan was done. When he came in he examined me and said that the CT Scan didn't show anything. No infection, not even inflammation to back up the pouchitis. He put me on more medicine to take three times a day with the hopes that it will take care of any rectal inflammation. That brings me to today. It's been a long month and I'm ready for this recovery bullshit to end. I'm not the type of girl that can sit in the house all day long and do nothing for weeks on end. I need to call the doctor tomorrow because he wants to see how the medicine is working. He said that if in a week or two I still have pain they will need to bring me in as an out patient, put me to sleep, and take a look inside. Honestly, as much as it sucks to have it done - I would rather them do it sooner and just figure out what the heck is going on.

With all of this surgery hospital crap there was another question posed to me: Are you returning to school in the fall?

We booked the surgery for the end of July hoping that I would be able to go to school. But at that time they were also saying that I would be in the hospital for 7 to 10 days and recovered within 2 weeks. Here we are 4 weeks after surgery and I'm still in pain; and not only that, but the doctor doesn't know what is causing the pain. So, needless to say: I'm not returning to school in the fall. I have mixed emotions about all of it. My younger sister moved away to school on Saturday as a Freshman and, surprising to all of us, is having a blast. I won't lie. Part of the reason I want to go back is because I'm jealous. I want this pain to go away. I want to be able to live in my apartment with my friends and just have fun, something I haven't done in AWHILE. I cried A LOT over the school issue, I didn't want to make a decision I was going to regret. But knowing my body the way I do, I know I need the time to rest and get back on my two feet.

I won't lie, I've cried ALOT over the past few weeks. I had no idea what I was going to feel like after surgery, I had no idea how long the full recovery was going to last, I didn't even think twice that there were even the slightest chances of "set backs" (which I have now had several of). To be honest, I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GETTING MYSELF INTO. The only thing I did know is that I made an adult decision, one that affected me greatly (so far more negatively than positively) and one that will continue to affect me for the rest of my life. When the doctor told me "No colon, No colitis" I couldn't imagine anything better. No more not knowing how you were going to feel on a given day, no more not knowing when you were going to be dealing with a flare up or be in remission, no more worrying that you weren't going to be able to make it to the bathroom when needed, no more not being able to eat corn on the cob at a summer cook out. I know, somewhere deep down, that this decision was the right decision I just need to let myself heal.

Even now I'm sitting here crying because I can't believe what I've gone through. To sit down and look back on everything my body has gone through - things I never thought I would come out of alive. When that NG tube was in, I felt like it was never coming out. I felt that I was never going to come home, and with time I did. I felt like never again was I going to be able to walk down my stairs without my legs shaking from the lack of strength. And now here I am, mobile again, beginning to drive. Yeah, I still have a little pain in the butt - but I guess it's pay back for all the times I have BEEN a pain in the butt.

My "Aunnie G" is one of my closest family members. If I wanted to be like anyone of my family members it would be her. I've always been close to her, she's my godmother, my friend, my old core member, my inspiration, and I could even go as far to say shes my hero. Not in the Batman, Superman, Spiderman kind of way but in a way I can't explain. We have a running joke that I can't read anything she writes without crying. About 5 days after I got home from the hospital I was at my Auntie D's house for both of their sons birthday parties. People clapped when I walked in, something I didn't expect. Anyway, I sat at the party and talked to everyone, I lasted the whole time and was so happy to be outside. At the end of the party, Aunnie G came out with a card. As she handed it to me I told her it better not make me cry and she told me it wouldn't. Well, IT DID! The outside the card read, "Healing is an inside out process. It begins in the heart with a glimmer of hope. The more we trust in it, the stronger is becomes until we are mended- body and soul." And on the inside the card read, "Good things happen when we believe." It was then that it hit me. No more crying that you regret the surgery, no more being upset that you have to sit in the house. You need to be in the house. You need to rest. You need to believe that you will get better, with time of course. She, being her, wrote me a little note inside. She told me that my body needed me, and its true. Since then, I've tried my hardest to just believe in myself and let God take control. That in the end this will all payoff, and it will just be a small memory that I can look back on and simply say . . . remember when . . .? I talked to Aunnie G this past Tuesday and I talked to her about me making my decision on going back to school. I cried and cried and then I realized she was crying. I didn't know why. I still don't know why. But I know that I am extremely hard on myself when I know I shouldn't be. I told her I felt as though if I didn't go back to school this semester I would be a failure. A failure? I just had my colon out. Anyway, it was after my conversation with her that I realized I couldn't return to school and that night I broke the news to my mom. She handled it A LOT better than I expected.

While I was in the hospital I ended up with 11 vases of flowers, bags and bags of gifts, and a wall full of cards. The cards and gifts continued with my return home. It is amazing how much support I have had through all of this. From my mom who ended up spending 4 of my worst nights with me in the hospital and would go home at 8 am and be back no later than 10:30, to my dad and sisters who were there everyday. To family that called and visited, sent flowers, cards, and gifts. And friends who did the same. I had people sending me things saying how proud they were of me, hoping that they would meet me someday - I had no idea who they were.

With the support and love of everyone I know I will eventually get through all of this. During my appointment the other day my doctor said that if it weren't for this minor pain in my body, I would be the poster child for this surgery. I have gotten through everything and even though I feel like the light at the end of the tunnel isn't getting any closer, it is a lot faster for me than it is for other children. I have to remind myself daily that it could be worse, and there are children out there (both my age and younger), as well as people older who have it a hell of a lot worse than I ever have.

As I said in my heading, my aunt and cousin had gone to the Jonas Brothers Concert while I was in the hospital. They heard the song "A Little Bit Longer," and when they came in to visit a few days later they told me it reminded them of what I'm going through.

The lyrics are:

Got the news today

Doctors said i had to stay

A little bit longer and i'd be fine

When i thought it'd all be done

When I thought it'd all been said

A little bit longer and I'll be fine.

But you don't know what you got 'til it's gone

And you don't know what it's like to feel so low

And everytime you smile, you laugh, you glow

You don't even know, know, know.

You don't even know.

All this time goes by

Still no reason why

A little bit longer and I'll be fine.

Waitin' on a cure

But none of them are sure

A little bit longer and I'll be fine

But you don't know what you got 'til it's gone

And you don't know what it's like to feel so low

And everytime you smile, you laugh, you glow

You dont even know, know, know

You dont even know, know, know.

You dont even know, no.

2, 3, 4!

And you don't know what you got 'til it's gone.

Don't know what it's like to feel so low, yeah!

And everytime you smile, you laugh, you glow

You dont even know! no! yeah! woah!

So I'll wait 'til kingdom come.

All the highs and lows are gone

A little bit longer and I'll be fine.

I'll be... fine

And its true: Just a little bit longer, and I'll be fine

I LOVE YOU ALL!