It has been a hard couple of days. I wish I could find my usually positive and hopeful self right now, but the only emotion I seem to be capable of summoning up is dread. I spent several hours last night curled up crying on the couch and probably shed enough tears to fill about three ostomy pouches (yes I was rehydrating). I tried to think on the bright side and I kept telling myself that things could be worse, but I simply could not turn off the waterworks.
One of the things I am trying to deal with are the why me thoughts. I had tried so hard to make good decisions in the course of my ulcerative colitis illness. One of the reasons I wanted my ostomy so much, and made my decision to get one rather quickly once my disease turned severe, is that I wanted to avoid possible side effects of the serious drugs. A lifetime of weak bones or joint pain sounded horrible to me and yet here I am; facing the exact thing I had tried so desperately to avoid. It almost makes me wish I could have had my colon removed the first day I heard the word ulcerative colitis.
I also can’t help blaming myself. There was a point about five months before my disease turned severe when I discussed progressing to the next tier of medications with my GI medical team. I was only experiencing mild UC symptoms at the time, but constant small-scale blood loss from my intestines had made my iron reserves low and we were having trouble managing them at the correct levels. I had been taking mesalamine and doing Rowasa enemas and they had been controlling most of my issues well. However, they were not stopping the constant intestinal bleeding. I was told about Imuran as one possibility and had bloodwork done that confirmed I could take it. I was also told about a probiotic called VSL#3. My choice was to try the VSL #3 and avoid the immunosuppressant at that time.
A short time after starting the VSL #3, I went into the most beautiful remission imaginable and had no UC symptoms whatsoever. It felt like a miracle. Unfortunately, the vacation from UC was a short one. Soon I was hit with my most severe flare ever. I was going to the bathroom 20-28 times a day and could not stay hydrated or maintain my weight. I was in rough shape and was admitted to the hospital and put on a high dose of IV steroids to try to get the flare under control.
Now I can’t help wondering if I had chosen the Imuran five months earlier: Would I have avoided those emergency high-dose steroids and the AVN mess that I now find myself in? I know these thoughts probably aren’t productive. In a way though, it feels like my brain has to chew through these questions to find peace and realize that, yes, I made the best decisions I could at the time.
Above all else though, my biggest issue and the one that had me sobbing at 2 a.m. is fear. I am absolutely terrified of what might be ahead. I was frightened by my UC diagnosis and was anxious about my ostomy surgery, but the AVN diagnosis takes things to a new extreme. I know I only have it confirmed in one shoulder now, but I am actually having a hard time finding stories of steroid-induced AVN where it only affected one joint. I am trying to stay optimistic, but the uncertainties are daunting.
When I saw a counselor to help me cope with anxiety after my ostomy surgery, she gave me some mind exercises to try. One of these was to picture myself sitting in my favorite place outdoors with clouds floating through the blue sky above. She said whenever I had a worry, I should visualize taking it and sitting it on one of the clouds. It was important to acknowledge the fears, but it was also necessary to let them go and not be weighed down—the clouds could hold the weight.
So I thought it might be good to list some of my fears and “put them on the clouds.” Some are small worries, some are larger, but all of them are weighing me down. They are listed in no particular order.
- I am afraid my joints are going to die one by one and that I am going to experience endless pain and surgeries.
- I am afraid that if the disease progresses, I will never be able to backpack, climb or snowboard again.
- I am afraid this might worsen and that I won’t get to attempt Rainier this summer.
- I am afraid that Doug is going to miss out on so many things if my AVN got really bad.
- I am afraid that someday I won’t be able to work at the park naturalist job that I absolutely love.
- I am afraid it would be hard to empty my ostomy appliance while healing from shoulder replacement surgery.
- I am afraid I will cease to have inspiration for one of my huge passions in life—my Ostomy Outdoors site—because I will no longer be able to go on adventures. Ditto for my Ostomy Outdoors column in the Phoenix magazine.
- If I couldn’t work, I am afraid I won’t be able to afford health insurance.
- Without health insurance, I am afraid I wouldn’t be able to get any necessary surgeries.
- Without the necessary surgeries, I am afraid I would be doomed to a life of pain.
Just a few tiny concerns, huh? I know that I will work through these fears in due time and that the Heidi that is so full of hope is close by. In fact, I am pretty sure I know where to find her. As soon as my schedule clears, I plan to head up to the mountains and search for my more happy and positive self. I am certain that that part of me is up there, skipping along the trails or zooming down the snow slopes and that soon we will reconnect.
Ostomy Outdoors 