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Showing posts with label urgency. Show all posts
Showing posts with label urgency. Show all posts

Tuesday, 26 March 2019

Dignity

How do you describe dignity?

Many people view illnesses as stripping a person of his/her dignity. Specific symptoms, especially ones like incontinence, weakness to the point of requiring help in the washroom, shaking hands that prevent someone from dressing/feeding themselves, and major loss of memory, are all lumped into this idea that there is a loss of dignity that comes with these symptoms.

We hear all the time about 'dying with dignity'. About choosing how we suffer before death.

So what is dignity to you?

Two of the definitions of dignity include:

the state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect.

a sense of pride in oneself; self-respect.

What makes us 'worthy of honor or respect'?
Is it being able to go to the washroom by ourselves? Is it knowing the faces around us? Is it being able to talk, walk, dress, or exist independently? Does one case of incontinence determine our worth?

While many symptoms can be embarrassing, and while there is judgement from some individuals about allowing our bodies to fail (like there is a way we can prevent that entirely?), being worthy of honor or respect has nothing to do with bodily functions.

I have had issues, on and off, with incontinence since I was 14 years old. Already bullied in junior high and then in high school (moderately), then diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis, which forced me to race to the washroom 15 or more times every day, I had accidents. I missed school. My stomach made awful noises that couldn't be muffled. Then I had an ileostomy bag in my senior year - a bag that leaked frequently because I was allergic to the adhesive. I could not shower or bathe properly more than once every 5 days. Again, I had accidents. I was dating someone and leaked on him various times. I required help changing my bag once in a while. I was in theatre and did quick-changes in front of the entire cast. Sometimes it would smell awful and I was stuck somewhere and could not deal with it.
I have taken ambulance rides, blood spewing out of every orifice. I have had vomiting fits, incontinence, and I have required help from family or friends to get through these situations.
I have required help to shower. I have required help to get dressed. I have had to send friends, family, and even my husband, to go find or buy me new underwear if I had had an issue in public. I require help walking, or need someone to push me in my wheelchair. I have been cleaned up by nurses, examined everywhere by doctors, and have had strange symptoms.
I have needed help knowing if what I was seeing or hearing was real or a hallucination. I have had several episodes of hallucinating in front of friends and loved ones.

I have had so many embarrassing symptoms it is tough to keep track. When strangers say the words:
"I would want to die with dignity before ever experiencing _______________", you can bet some of those phrases include symptoms I have had since I was a teenager.

So have I lost all dignity?
Not. even. close.

Yes, I become embarrassed a lot of the time. I would rather be more independent and not require so much help. I would rather not have to worry about specific medical issues, but it is not in my control. What IS in my control is how I carry myself regardless of what my body is doing. I can control my attitude, my smile, my general outlook on life, and how I treat people. While we all falter at times on those qualifications, they are far more important.

It is not dignified to be 100% healthy.
That is simply a mixture of hard work, good genes, and luck.
Having a body that does not do anything embarrassing is not having dignity. How would anyone grow old?
Going through life in a proud and grateful manner while also experiencing embarrassing symptoms is what I would call dignity.

I understand the desire for dying 'early' in extraordinary cases. I understand wanting to die as yourself, and not as this fraction of who you were because a disease has taken everything. I understand wanting to skip the most torturous parts of terminal illness, to choose to die peacefully rather than writhing in pain.
I simply would not call that dying with dignity. I would call it dying with peace.

Living with dignity is the true goal.

To live with dignity and to die with peace.
That is something to strive and to hope for.

Monday, 14 January 2019

Surprise Dinner

Want to know what happens when we are out and I suddenly need an immediate washroom?
We were out picking up Rj's truck from the shop, and I required a bathroom break - quite abruptly.
We looked around the area and saw a fast food place nearby (which are a great source of suddenly required bathrooms), so we went in to a Quizno's... which turned into our surprise dinner stop.

Surprise dinner was awesome.

Sometimes the body steers you in an unexpected direction - like surprise Quizno's.
No complaints here! I got a tasty dinner after making it to a washroom.
Total win-win.

Monday, 8 October 2018

Tricks to Deal with IBD as a Bride

Being a Bride often includes an amazing Groom (or Bride), a wonderful group of friends, a jaw-dropping location, and a Wedding Gown.

When choosing a wedding gown, there are many issues to consider. Bathroom breaks are not always on that list of considerations. For many brides, a handful of bathroom breaks does not warrant any say in choosing a wedding gown.
But what if the gown-wearing individual has a 'bathroom disease'??
Being a Bride with Crohn's Disease, Chronic Pouchitis, and just general inflammation throughout the intestines, bathrooms are an essential part of my existence. So, when choosing a wedding gown, bathroom breaks become part of the conversation.
On bad days, really good days, really stressful days, really exciting days, my bathroom breaks will be anywhere between 12 and 25 times throughout the day. So - that's what I need to prepare for.

Here's the problem.
I can also be a bit of a princess.
I wanted the poofy gown. I wanted to feel like a Queen. So I tried to figure out what the best option would be:
• A big enough skirt to fit a massive hoop skirt underneath to be easily lifted over my gown?
• The Bathroom Buddy under-skirt?
• Wearing Depends under my wedding dress (like I did for my Grad dress) just in case I couldn't make it to the washroom?
• A dress that is easy to get in and out of and a dedicated bathroom stall so I could get dressed and undressed every time?

I fell in love with a Mikado Silk gown from a designer I love. I had dreamed of that dress for a few years already. It was an A-Line dress with straps and a low back, buttons, and pockets! 
So I had to come up with a system.
A beautiful friend gifted me a gorgeous kimono at my Bridal Shower that I brought with me throughout the day and at the reception (packed with extra medications, my Epipen, my medical information, some hair pins, flats for dancing; essentially an emergency kit).
Each time I needed to go to the washroom, I brought that emergency kit bag with me. I undid the back of my gown (which was a zipper hidden by buttons), slid off the straps, and put on my kimono. As I stepped out of the gown, I was covered enough (for the women's washroom), I hung the dress on a hook above a locked fire exit door beside the last bathroom stall and went to the washroom. I didn't even need help each time!! Then, when I needed to get back into the gown, I crawled in from underneath with my kimono still on, then replaced each sleeve with the gown's strap one at a time, then got zipped back up (or zipped myself back up).
It was a modest way to make sure that
A ) No one saw anything they did not need to see.
B ) No one else HAD to be there (since I went a dozen times or more throughout the reception).
C ) I didn't have to try and fit a big dress in a little stall.
D ) I did not need to wear Depends.
E ) I did not have to try and lift an entire dress over my head... and then try to freshen up with all of that material still drowning me.

So - ladies with IBD - if you are looking for ways to make the bathroom breaks easier and less conspicuous (instead of having all of your bridesmaids in the stall with you to help), find a dress you can easily step in and out of, bring yourself a lovely kimono to cover up, and take your necessary bathroom breaks in peace and relative comfort.

Friday, 24 August 2018

Effing Cabbage

Working so hard on wedding planning (we are in crunch time now - 29 days), cooking at home has been a little more sparse. We have had to resort to some convenient solutions - and there are lots of healthy-ish options - but last night we just threw some egg rolls into the oven.

Egg rolls nearly always have cabbage in them, so I am cautious eating them, but a few of them don't often cause much of a problem.
Well... turns out these particular ones had quite a bit of cabbage in them.
My Crohn's and Pouchitis both don't respond well to more than a little bit of cabbage.

I ate a few eggs rolls and my intestines said NOPE.

It said NOPE a lot overnight.

20 minutes after eating - NOPE.
Every 30 minutes or so after that - NOPE.
Explosive and urgent trips to the bathroom approximately every 30-60 minutes over night, and about every 1-2 hours since I actually got up for today. Nope nope nope nope nope.

Effing cabbage.

This was not fun. Not expected. Not helpful.

Although now I don't have to worry too much about dropping any weight before the wedding. One night and BAM, a few pounds lost. Effing cabbage.

I've learned my lesson. Rj gets the rest of those!

Tuesday, 17 July 2018

Letting it All Go

After this past weekend, I realized something that I felt was pretty profound.

There have been a lot of decisions I have had to make over the years for the benefit of my health; decisions I fought against. They were hard choices I felt I had no option anymore but to make.

Then suddenly, after I made each decision, I realized how much it actually helped my situation.
While I don't regret taking so long to give in to certain aspects of these diseases, I am glad that I finally came to my senses. I wouldn't change anything, because if I had made the decisions any sooner than I did, that feeling of failure would have crept up a lot faster and would have permeated my thoughts.

Let's go back to when I was 14.
My Ulcerative Colitis had gotten so severe that my doctors wanted to remove my large intestine. I fought this so hard that even when they booked me an appointment to discuss ileostomy bags and paraphernalia for a stoma, I completely tuned out and refused to take in any information. I was so reluctant. Three years later, only when I had tried every possible medication and treatment available, and when my large intestine was very seriously killing me, did it finally happen through an emergency surgery.
Of course, I developed Crohn's and chronic inflammation in the J-Pouch they eventually created, and my time with the ileostomy was kind of awful at times, my inflamed intestines are better without my large colon.

Then let's go to the buckets, the Depends, and the camping toilet.
In high school, I didn't want to admit to anyone (not even myself) what I could and could not handle. The only reason I finally quit basketball is because of my chronically inflamed pancreas that could kill me if I got one bad jab. Then every activity I had to quit, I would add two more of a different kind. I was the definition of stubborn.
But who wants to buy something that is a full admission that something is a problem. If you buy Depends, that means you have admitted that it isn't a once-in-a-while random occurrence caused by a specific activity. No, buying Depends, putting buckets & toilet paper & hand sanitizer in every vehicle, and having a camping toilet in the main vehicle - this is the acceptance of something truly embarrassing. It took me a few years to finally give in to buying these items.
And yet, once I did, my life was so much easier!!! I wasn't racing to the nearest business or suffering exponentially if a business would not allow me to use their washroom. I had to throw out a lot less clothing. I could actually go on road trips. I felt much less 'stuck' at home with the comfort of my own washroom. I had less laundry to do and fewer blankets ruined. The mattress stayed cleaner and driving to school across the bridge wasn't as paralyzing.
When things like this happen, it's not like it's easy. It is humbling, embarrassing, numbing, and makes me feel even more ill. But at least using the tools I finally allowed myself to own made things easier.

Fast-forward to the Handicap Permit.
Again, for the longest time I did not want this distinction. I fought hard against it. I didn't feel I was ill enough.
When I ended up with a heart issue, I finally gave in to a temporary placard. By that point, if I could not find parking within about 100m from the front door of the University, I wouldn't be making it to class. Our parking situation was pretty good, but not if you consider serious illness. Most of us usually parked several blocks away.
Then my heart went kinda crazy and I couldn't do that anymore. So I applied for a handicap parking placard.
This saved me on SO many occasions! Not only did it help with my heart, but I could actually park near an entrance with a washroom directly inside. This permit, which I have renewed every 5 years, has made the difference between actually going somewhere or just going home because I can't actually walk across an entire parking lot on most days anymore.

Applying for a government program specifically for those with disabilities was one of the most difficult realities to face.
I needed to come to the realization that I needed help, and help that was too much for my family to provide.
This was one of the toughest decisions. I pushed away the idea of the label, the designation, because I didn't feel it. I was still attending school and working and playing sports and doing all sorts of things... but I needed a safety net. It was obvious that I wouldn't be able to keep up that kind of lifestyle with the diseases that I suffer from. It was inevitable that I would deteriorate, unless a miraculous cure was found, so I needed to ensure that if/when that happened, I would be ok.
So I applied.
Then, getting the good news of being immediately accepted was a bittersweet moment (I get a lot of those). It meant that I didn't have to appeal or re-apply, which could have been stressful, but it also meant that my situation was bad enough health-wise to be considered Severely Handicapped. That was a hard pill to swallow. But that designation has now made my life so much easier - and it has helped take the pressure off of family and friends. I HAVE help. I am entirely grateful for it and part of me wishes I had applied sooner. Of course now with my current situation with Rj, I am no longer in that program, but it was there when I desperately needed it. I could not have stayed in this city had I not been a part of it - I would have been back in the basement of my parents' house if not for these kinds of programs.

Following that was the decision to go on Short-Term Disability.
Wow was this one ever hard.
It wasn't even my idea.
I knew that things had gotten bad, I knew that I was suddenly calling in sick and I was leaving early on certain days and I was spending 3 out of my 6 hours of work per day in the washroom. I was still productive, but not enough. Rather than crashing every three months, I was completely crashing every month. I was in the ER almost monthly, and I could never fully recuperate. I became more of a burden.
My boss - my manager - who was amazing really, she suggested I go on Short-Term. At first I tried to convince her that I didn't need it... but eventually relented when I realized it wasn't exactly just a suggestion. I was to go home that day, try and recover, and then come back.
This felt like a completely failure. It took me probably a year to get over that feeling for the most part, although the guilt still gets to me. Short-Term slid into Long-Term, and I have never been capable of going back. My health got worse. I deteriorated in several areas, got diagnosed with new severe illnesses, and I have a hard time with everything.
Being off of work is exactly what I needed though. The reduction in stress alone has helped me spend less time in the hospital. I can be on all of the medications I require without worrying if it will affect my ability to work with numbers. I can focus on my health instead of working.
It was one of the best decisions that I didn't make.
It is exactly what I needed, and although I was fighting against being on disability at age 26, it was the right choice.

After that was the cane... followed by the walker.
Again, I didn't want it. I didn't want to admit that I needed it.
So I looked online for the cutest canes I could find, ordered one with bling, and started using it. Although I still get stares (mostly out of curiosity), it helps. Without it I couldn't do simple things like get a few groceries or go out for dinner once in a while. It got me out of the house. It got me out of my little box when I was living alone - it helps me get more involved.
The walker too - when my shoulders can't handle the pressure from the cane, the walker is my best option. Once I finally decided to use it, my god did my days get easier. I didn't have to fight to find a bench or a seat if I was somewhere busy. I could sit whenever I needed to! I didn't have to carry my purse the whole time. I could take my time, lean as much as I required, and had the autonomy. That was huge! I was SO reluctant and it took me so long to come to the conclusion of using one, but it has saved my energy in so many situations. It was so worth it!

And now we come to this past weekend.
The wheelchair.
This one I think was the most impactful.
I finally got to ENJOY where I was instead of being distracted by the excruciating pain of trying to walk everywhere. I wasn't thinking as much about the pain in my hips, and shoulder blades, and back, and neck. I wasn't so worried about falling over, losing my balance, getting dizzy, or having to move at the slowest pace imaginable.
I could simply enjoy my day - without making my illnesses worse.
What a novel idea!
Not only that, but when I DID want to get up and participate in something, I just took my cane out. So one or two midway games were fun instead of increasing my pain beyond comprehension. I could actually focus on what I was doing. I was less exhausted, less distracted, I didn't feel like I was about to fall over because I had pushed too hard.
And now, with how amazing that made me feel... with how much more I could participate... we are now looking into purchasing a used wheelchair. I could actually go to a concert or a game now and then if I had a wheelchair. I could enjoy a football game, or a home and garden show. I could go to the big Christmas markets. I could go to the MALL!! Places I could not fathom walking around... a wheelchair would help me do that.
A wheelchair would actually give me a little more freedom.
That concept never even crossed my mind. A wheelchair = freedom. The reason that is possible is also because I am not bound to it. I realize that my situation is far different from someone who requires one 24/7 and I am aware of my privilege. I am just thrilled that I finally see these tools for the benefits they offer.


Once I finally let it all go, once my pride was broken down by years and years of illness and pain and fatigue, once all of that was put into perspective, I could utilize these tools.
Once I saw them for items that would actually HELP me have a better life, that was when I finally saw them as positive instead of a negative; as giving up. Instead of seeing my need for it as a failure or deterioration, I view it as an opportunity to do a little bit more. I am not giving up, I am simply giving my body a break from my relentless stubbornness to do everything that I shouldn't.
These decisions were all really difficult, but each one ended up making my life easier & better, and giving me more freedom.
Who knew? 

Thursday, 22 March 2018

Dare to Dream

I had very strange dreams last night. Crazy dreams. One was kinda good, one was weird and bad but not anywhere near night terror kind of bad.

◇The good one was about football.
Not NFL though.
Recreational League.
Apparently I decided to join a league, on a team with several of the people I used to play league volleyball with, and we played in a massive year-end weekend tournament. The dream mostly took place at the wind-up banquet. My original position was wide receiver (just like my Dad in real life), and I was pretty damn good. I wound up getting 4th overall in the league for that position (out of men and women). Then, some key players didn't show up, so I had to fill in on defense as well. I got 6th overall as a defensive tackle. (This was a very specific dream). I received some cash, a prize, and then some extra raffle tickets to put in as many of the 10 raffle prize boxes I liked.
I never did get that far in the dream.
I was handed my prize and envelope for 6th overall, smiled, went back to my table, and woke up!◇

Sometimes vivid dreams become intense and frightening, especially after taking a certain medication. This one, however, turned out to be just plain fun.

I had a fairly awful sleep overnight. I was up multiple times for the washroom - my intestines are downright ticked off, despite the fact that I stuck to Boost, rice, and apple sauce all day - and I got paranoid a few times. Medication oops.
Then this morning, as my alarm went off to take my medication, I was reluctant to move. I had FINALLY found a comfortable position, and I knew that if I just simply turned off my alarm and closed my eyes, I would be back asleep immediately.
I cannot miss my medications though, otherwise my entire day is messed up.
Just as I was about to say 'screw it' and fall blissfully back into an actually solid slumber, my intestines woke up.
They woke up brutally.
One intense intestinal cramp followed by me springing out of bed and hobbling like lightning to the washroom in order to avoid a reeeeeally bad morning definitely had me far too awake to fall back asleep.

My days are usually so uneventful!! Why do my nights have to be so busy?
At least I had some good dreams sprinkled in with my usual nightmares.

The question now is, do I try and sleep for a couple more hours, or accept defeat and force myself to get up and get moving?