I thought about writing the day before my appointment about my nervousness/anticipation. I didn’t.
I thought about writing the day of. I didn’t.
I thought about writing the day after about my disappointment and fear and depression. I didn’t.
I am writing today. Still not quite sure what I want to say, but these are the moments I dont want to forget, and just maybe, these are the moments that could possibly help someone else.
I’m calling the surgeon today to schedule my first of 3 surgeries. More than likely I’ll be going through a 3 stage process of a total colectomy , which will take a total of 9 months. They will be removing my entire large intestine, and creating a new one out of my small intestine. I’ll have what I’m referring to as my osto-baby for the entirety of those 9 months. A.K.A…..a fucking ostomy bag.
Remember when I asked if it could get worse?
I knew this was a very large possibility but confirmation of it monday was just a lot to take. I cried. A lot. I threw a pity party all day though my only party guest was myself and I didn’t even get cake.
My mind is swirling a bit. There is a whole lot going on up there right now. Weighing odds, and percentages vs. living life how I do now. The idea of “getting my life back” even though I’m not totally sure that it’s completely lost. But the idea of having one less ailment to fight, about 10 less pills to take, 1 less injection, and regaining a sense of who I am….that does seem pretty appealing.
I’m still not sure how I’ll go about telling people about this, but I’ve learned through my life that when you’re ready to tell people it means you’re ready to accept it. I gave this stupid colitis the best fight that I could, and tried to hide it as best as I could. Clearly, I lost…and I’ll be spending the next flippin year of my life losing, at least in my book. But hopefully….just hopefully 2011 might be my effing year. I said that about 2010, but even though its the first week of feb…it appears as though that will not be the case. I spent a lot of time being embarrassed…instead of realizing this is a real disease and its really messed me up.
Am I optimistic?…nope. Am I pessimistic?…nope. I don’t really know where I am right now. I’m stuck in this limbo, of “this is what I have to do even though I would rather remove my own eyeballs with a plastic baby spoon”.
I will be crawling under a rock for a while. I will be hiding out.