I can remember the relief I felt when I finally found out what was wrong with my body. Hearing the words “You have Crohn’s Disease” felt sickly satisfying. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I had hope in my doctor to help me through this. Months previously, I had experienced some pretty embarrassing symptoms that prevented me from wanting to see anyone about it, but it got to the point where I couldn’t handle getting up every 10 minutes to go to the bathroom. I woke up every morning, covered in bruises just from sleeping with my knees touching or my hand on my face. I would need someone to hold me up while walking up or down a flight of stairs. Enough was enough, and I went to a pediatric gastroenterologist. Over the next couple of months, I started to feel tremendously better, so I stopped taking my medicine. My doctor never told me when to stop, so I figured when I felt better, I wouldn’t have to take medicine anymore. Clearly, I was very wrong. At first, the disease was only in a portion of my colon. February of 2014, I had my second colonoscopy, and my Crohn’s was found to have spread to my entire colon. As disappointed in myself as I was that I didn’t continue my medication, I knew I had to keep going or this problem would turn into cancer. Now I go in for a treatment of Remicade every eight weeks to manage my symptoms until I will eventually get my colon removed. As much as it sucks knowing this, I know that I will be so vastly better off without this colon.
The informational content of this article is intended to convey a personal experience and, because every person’s experience is unique, should not be relied upon as a substitute for professional healthcare advice.
This story is intended to convey a personal experience and, because every person’s experience is unique, should not be relied upon as a substitute for professional healthcare advice.