Changing things up a bit…

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably already noticed that the name of my blog is “assume the position.”

If you have inflammatory bowel disease, you can probably accurately guess what I mean. If you’re still scratching your head, it’s totally understandable. How else would you know?

When you’re chronically ill, your life takes unexpected turns and suddenly the embarrassing becomes the norm. For example: rectal exams. Every time I end up in the emergency room and I tell the doctors I’m having GI bleeding of any kind, they want to do a rectal exam.

If you’ve never had a rectal exam, let me illustrate the situation you’re put in as a patient.

If the doctor performing the exam is an ER resident/attending, you can be fairly certain that they will be gentle – well, as gentle as it can be when a grown man’s finger is in your rectum. When a surgery resident/attending is performing the exam, you can expect to be in more pain than usual. Non-surgery residents are mainly double-checking that the red that is in the toilet is in fact blood. They put on a glove, completely cover their pointer finger with rectal jelly and they gently put their finger inside your rectum. They might twist their finger once and then pull it out. The exam is done. They take the finger they used and wipe it on a special piece of paper that will change color when it comes in contact with blood. Surgical residents are brutal. In my case, they aren’t just checking for blood; they are feeling around my J-pouch for any deformities that could be causing the bleeding.

Either way, the protocol is the same. You are given a sheet to cover up with and are instructed to remove any bottoms you are wearing. You are told to lay on your side with your knees tucked up toward your chest. While I understand why they do it this way, it doesn’t make it any less mortifying.

When I created my blog a few years ago, I distinctly remember being fed up with rectal exams. “assume the position” was in reference to how your positioned during the oh-so-common rectal exam.

As my story started to drift from disease to surgery, it took on a slightly different meaning. I had read the dictations from my surgeries and the amount of positions I was put in on the table were comical. One of them was exactly what I put on my first banner for my blog:

The name makes a bit more sense now that you can see the old banner.

Unfortunately, there are vague and unintentional dirty meanings that a lot of people seem to think my blog stands for. (I can see the exact search terms that have lead viewers to my blog and some of them are just plain disturbing.)

At first, my blog was mostly about inflammatory bowel disease, but I think it’s more important that it’s just about my life as a young person with a chronic illness. It connects me to other people and having this online family that can relate makes a world of difference.

For this reason, I am changing my blog up a bit — including the name. It shouldn’t be too different in terms of navigation, but I think it’s necessary so that I can convey the right message.

Thank you so much for hanging around these past few years. Having my blog has given me my sanity back and your comments have turned terrible days into great ones.

The next time I post, my blog will be different. I couldn’t be more excited!

-Liesl

Ticking time bomb…

Dating is difficult.

I understand that this is a topic that I write about frequently. However, each time, I bring it up for a different reason.

I’ve talked about dating and seeing how a guy may take my condition in the beginning. If they know from the getgo, I won’t be too attached only to later find out that he’s a shallow asshole.

I’ve talked about being in a relationship and how it’s trying for my boyfriend more than it is for me.

What I haven’t encountered yet is what I feel like I am going through right now. But first, let me give you a little background…

My last boyfriend was a doozy. We all know that. I am 100% over him and I hope I never see his smug face again. I can say I don’t give a damn about him anymore but I cannot say that what happened hasn’t had an effect on me. I didn’t realize any of this until I really started to get to know my current boyfriend and he started to get to know me.

We have had a few small conversations concerning my medical history and he actually did research on his own to “have a better understanding of what I was going through.” We had been texting and were friends on Facebook before we had physically met and after looking at my photos, he saw one with an ostomy. He met up with me thinking that I still had one. I know this is how it should be, but this meant so much to me as an ostomy has potential to be off-putting at first.

My health (or lack thereof) is a large part of my life, but I don’t want it to define me. I also don’t want other people to see that as my defining characteristic. I’d much rather be remembered for my personality or my smile and not so much as “the sick girl.”

Rewind to April 18th: I had a scope scheduled to check out bleeding I was still having from my surgery over a month ago. Fortunately, my surgeon was able to find a problem – meaning I’m not crazy and there is most likely a way to fix it. A few of my stitches had busted and there was an ulcer. Along with that, there were a few veins that were exposed and when irritated, they bled. I got those veins cauterized and a few more stitches put in and was sent home later that afternoon.

My boyfriend came over that night and watched a movie with me. He’s very sweet and consequently very cautious. He was afraid to lay with me on the couch and I had to tell him that it was okay to give me a real hug where your arms actually squeeze the person a little instead of just floating around their torso.

He seemed to do just fine with seeing me after my surgery and this made me happy. I hadn’t scared him away!

Fast-forward to the 21st: While he was at work, I decided to take a hot bath. The surgeons recommended I take a bath in water as hot as I could stand to help with the spasms in my J-pouch. I brought a glass of iced water to stay hydrated and watched an episode of Breaking Bad on my iPad.

When I finally got out of the tub, I felt a little off. A little dizzy. A little nauseated.

I took a breather and sat in front of the fan in my boyfriend’s room. This seemed to help quite a bit but not too long after I stood up, I got that feeling that I was going to be sick. Sure enough, I spent the next few minutes with my head in the toilet.

Luckily, my mom was getting off work and was going to come over to pick me up and take me home anyway. After about 15 minutes of talking with her, I got up and hurried to the bathroom – vomiting again.

By this point, it was about 1pm and she was going to go out and grab some food. I decided to try eating too. (Looking back, getting a cheddar burger from Culver’s probably wasn’t my best idea ever…) When she got back with lunch, I tried to eat. I had one bite of applesauce, a bite of my burger, and a few sips of water before I couldn’t eat anymore. Hardly a few minutes later, I was sick again.

After the fourth time I vomited, I willingly let my mother take me to the hospital. Luckily, I came prepared with a bag as I threw up in the car on the way.

I had let my boyfriend know that I was headed to the hospital and that if he wanted to come over after he got off work, he was more than welcome.

When he got to the emergency department, I was still in the waiting room. Sitting in my wheelchair covered in blankets and shivering, I smiled at him and I could tell by the look on his face that he was concerned. For me, this type of thing is normal. It often slips my mind that being in the emergency room isn’t something that happens to everyone else on a regular basis.

Another twenty minutes went by and I started to get extremely nauseated again. I had one of those green bags they give you if you get sick but I didn’t want to do that in front of him. Fortunately, I was close to the bathroom so I could spare him the scene of me violently throwing up.

This happened one more time before they took me back to a room. I got situated and laid down on the bed while I waited for the nurse to come in. Having my boyfriend with me helped tremendously. I haven’t had the best of luck with IV’s and the last two times I’ve had them, I’ve gotten closer to passing out. I can’t really control it but I didn’t want to do that with him here. I already look like death and I don’t want him to worry more about me. I stayed as calm as I could and it was the easiest IV stick that I’ve had in a long time. Just having him next to me calms me down.

Soon, I had Zofran going into my IV and the nausea started to subside – at least to where I could keep the stomach acid from coming up. They ordered an X-Ray to see if I had any obstructions; in the meantime, I continued to receive IV fluids to get me hydrated again.

Surprisingly, they actually saw something with the X-Ray. Partial ileus. The way they are able to tell is by how the folds in the intestine look; flat lines indicate ileus. This was peculiar though. How could it just now happen? I was fine on Easter and I ate a ton of food. For whatever reason, I guess my body finally reacted to the surgery. They started me on ice chips and gave me saltine crackers to see if I could keep them down.

While the three of us sat in my room, my boyfriend started to ask my mom and I different questions. We answered them as best as we could and my mom and I tried to joke and lighten the mood. “We aren’t scaring you off are we?” With his eyebrows raised and a perplexed look on his face, he always replied that he was just taking it all in.

When I was finally released, I decided to stay the night with him again. I know my body very well and I could tell that I was alright. He was a bit apprehensive and kept asking if I was okay, but after a while, he relaxed and trusted my judgement.

But something seemed different. I had leaned over to give him a kiss on the way back from the hospital and he subtly (but noticeably) turned away so that my lips just grazed his cheek. This was understandable as he had spent the last several hours watching me get violently ill. Yet, even after brushing my teeth, eating, and brushing my teeth again, he seemed to avoid any kiss that came his direction.

Everything is fine. I’m just worrying about nothing. He said he’s okay.

….Did it seem like he didn’t hug me quite as tightly? That was the third kiss he’s dodged. He asked if I wanted to sleep by myself. Is he asking that because he wants to be alone? Shit. I have to relax or I am only going to make it worse…

The last thing I want to do is push him away. One of my really good girlfriends actually warned me about that early on. She had told me to relax and if he was as good of a guy as I thought, he won’t hurt me. She also said to try not to push him away.

I don’t want to be a cliché: i.e. “I end up pushing men away because I’ve been hurt before.” However, I now have a tendency to do just that. Fortunately, my boyfriend and I know each other pretty well and he could tell that something was wrong.

“I don’t know how I expected you to react to everything at the hospital,” I started, “but I’m sorry. It’s a lot to take in and I forget that it isn’t something you are used to.”

He looked a bit confused, so I continued.

“I don’t want you to look at me as a ticking time bomb and I feel like since we left the emergency room, that is how you see me. You won’t kiss me or really hug me and I feel like you don’t really want to be around me at the moment. I understand if you need some time to process or to be alone but please tell me so I know what’s going on.”

Of course, tears are streaming down my face and his confused look turns into concern. He tells me that his main concern is hurting me so he is giving me space. He reassures me that everything is alright and that nothing like this is going to scare him off or make him care about me any less. I know that he is being sincere and I believe him. But this is a familiar conversation.

“It means a lot to me that you say that, but it’s easier to say when things are going well.”

He waits a minute before saying, “I take it this has happened to you before.”

And it has. Eventually it gets to be a bit much to handle. It always has. My ex didn’t do that – he lived 900 miles away so it’s not like he had to deal with much. The part that keeps me guarded is that no matter how many times that asshole reassured me that everything was okay, it was all bullshit. I was strung along – and for no reason.

I am a little guarded but also nervous. Things are going so well with my boyfriend right now. He seems to be just as into me as I am into him. So I don’t know why I am so nervous. He’s been “taking it all in” and so far, it seems like it has only made him care more. Actually, he’s “babysitting” me at the moment. I was released from the hospital yesterday and my parents are both at work so my mom asked him to stay with me today just in case.

Well, I think I am going to go watch a movie with my man and since I am on house arrest (under my parents’ authority), I will be posting another update tonight. The last few days have been a rollercoaster.

– Liesl

 

8th Time’s the Charm? 9th? 10th? 11th?!

I love writing in this blog. I have free reign to type whatever I want. So today tonight I’m feeling a little more personal. Most of this blog is about my life with my disease but writing in this blog is also cathartic. This particular post may not have a lot to do with IBD, but it’s something we can all relate to……

Love.

In my high school career I’ve “dated” seven people. I use that term loosely. Spending time with a guy that doesn’t want to waste the gas in his car by taking you to dinner isn’t exactly a boyfriend. High school relationships are silly. Very few people date in high school and spend the rest of their lives together. Looking back on it, I was foolish to date these guys. Think about it. High School is where you discover yourself. How can you really date someone if you’re not even sure who you are? As you mature, you may find that you aren’t so alike after all. Needless to say, my relationships didn’t last. Out of those seven, there was only one I really could have seen myself with for the rest of my life; yet that didn’t work out either. He’s still important to me though. He had the chance to bail when I got sick and instead he stayed by my bedside every single day. There will never be another opportunity to share that with anyone else. No one will ever understand it like he does. He lived through it with me. And for that, he will always have a special place in my heart.

(Every time I write or even think about him staying with me through it all, I can’t help but cry; so, of course, now I’m a mess.)

Personally, this dating thing is getting kinda old and I’m only 18. Something is wrong with this picture. I guess I’m tired of opening up to people. Each person I date takes with them a piece of my heart and I don’t want to keep giving pieces to people that don’t care.

When I’m in a relationship, I jump in with both feet. I’m dedicated and loyal. I may say “I love you” a little soon, but I mean it. I don’t see why everyone is so careful about saying it. What do you call it if you don’t call it love? Should I say “I like you?” If you’re in a serious relationship, that’s a little insulting. You use the L word. If I say I love you, it means that I care a lot about you -more than just a like. It does NOT mean I want to have your baby and get married.

(And I don’t care who you are, you do NOT reply with “thanks.” Anything is better than “thanks.”)

Remember when I said very few people date in high school and get married? Well my parents were one of those few. My mom started dating my dad when she was 15. I don’t know why I expected to have that same thing happen to me. I’ve dated seven people. With each one, I realized what I wanted in a man and what I didn’t want. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason; but if God could send the right man my way sooner than later, that’d be dandy.

Now being in love…… that is totally different. I love a lot of people. I’ve loved every guy I’ve dated. I deeply cared for them, hence, “I love you.” But I’ve never been in love with anyone. I guess I’ll have to patiently wait for that day to come.

*****

If you’ve read my other posts, you know by now that I don’t name names. I would never want to humiliate anyone by something I wrote. If you are reading this and you realize I’m talking about you, you either know you really pissed me off or you’re special to me.

Speaking of someone special…. I’ve been talking to this guy recently; and if this guy happens to be reading this, you are infinitely cuter than Ryan the med student. We’ve been talking for a couple months and we seem to get along pretty well. We text all day, we talk on the phone, and we try to Skype when possible. For the record, I HATE talking on the phone. But with him, I feel at ease. The other night he stayed up talking to me for four hours until 3:30am even though he had to wake up for work around 7am just because he promised me he would. I felt really awful when he told me he had work in the morning. I assumed an all-nighter meant no work the next day. Oops!

This guy is about as close to perfect as any man could be. Granted, I don’t know everything about him, but I can’t wait to learn more. When we started talking, I made sure to tell him about my disease. I didn’t want to develop feelings for him if there was a possibility that the whole disease thing would bother him. I was terrified that me having an ileostomy would ruin everything. I’ve been rejected because of the ostomy and I wasn’t ready for that again. His only response? “Oh my dad had one. :)” He reassured me countless times that my ileostomy didn’t bother him any and I was beautiful either way. He gave me some of my confidence back. Thanks babe. :] 

I couldn’t be happier that I mustered up enough courage to talk to him in the first place. Truthfully, he’s way out of my league. I still can’t fathom that I’m the girl he’s been talking to. Me.

I could ramble on about all of the qualities I love about him, but that would take days. Aside from having a wonderful personality, he’s absolutely gorgeous. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m bullshitting him when I tell him he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known or even seen. But he really is. Even so, he’s very down to earth. One of my favorite things about him? He’s a momma’s boy. I love that. He’s a total gentleman and it’s about time I started having an interest in a truly nice guy.

Okay this is too perfect. Where’s the catch? The catch is that we don’t get to see each other very often. It’s hard to try having a relationship with someone you don’t see often enough. And even though we talk all the time, and he knows me well, I feel like he’s a thousand miles away.

If you’re reading this, I really hope you’re not embarrassed.

*****

All I want is to be able to really get to know someone. I’m tired of trivial games and having to convince myself that a guy cares for me the way I’d care for him. Maybe the 8th time’s the charm. Who knows. I guess I’ll just have to pray on it and wait patiently.

-Liesl ♥

IBD is NOT sexy. AT ALL.

*DISCLAIMER*

If you are an ex boyfriend and you happen to read this, I NEVER mention any names. So please don’t be upset. And anything I have to say is definitely going to be nice.. Obviously, if we dated since my diagnosis, you had to be a pretty decent person. Just sayin’! :]

_________________________________________

Thank God for support from friends, family, and my boyfriend.

WAIT. Boyfriend? Who wants to date a girl with a poop disease? Apparently my current boyfriend.

I’m gonna backtrack a bit here….

When I first got sick a little over a year ago, I was already dating this one guy. He was super sweet and supportive when I was in the hospital for over a month and I looked like I had a fat suit on from all of the steroids that were pumped in me. And I can’t imagine what it must have been like to go through that when someone you care about is in pain. (I’ve come to realize that my disease is most harmful to everyone I love.) I have to give that kid props. He stuck it out with me through it all. But eventually, things didn’t work out anymore. He liked that I relied on him for support and when I started feeling better and wanted to see friends and go to school, he wasn’t the center of my attention all the time. It became too much for me and we ended things. Now he has a girlfriend that he seems to be very happy with and I’m genuinely happy for him.

In between that guy and my current boyfriend there was one other guy… I actually met him at my hospital and we have the same disease. You would have thought it’d work out great but it didn’t. We still talk occasionally and we’re civil so that’s nice. (((Prayers for his upcoming surgery)))

That brings me to my current boyfriend. We started out as friends but it started turning into more and we started dating. I knew that we would have some sort of relationship whether it be as friends or more than friends. Why? When we started talking about what was wrong with me, the first thing he said was, “GIRLS CAN POOP?!” Although odd, this meant more to me than I think he realizes.

A big part of my life right now is being sick. I make more trips to the ER in a month than you probably will in your entire life. In having any sort of relationship whatsoever, that needs to be understood. And although it may be hard to deal with sometimes, my current BF is doing great. He tries his hardest to understand and he doesn’t think I’m gross. It’s pretty nice!

Funny Story.

Ask anyone with IBD and you’ll learn it’s inevitable that you’ll have an accident at some point in your life. Especially after surgeries when your butt has been retracted to the circumference of an orange. Or even so called “normal” days when you still have constant diarrhea. When you have days like this, nothing can fix it except a little Immodium and LOTS of Depends. You know those old people diapers? Yea. I was absolutely mortified when I knew that after surgery I’d have to wear them. Mainly, I was afraid of what my boyfriend would think. When I told him why I was so embarrassed, I got the best response. He says, “awwwh,” with an ornery smile on his face….. then proceeds to ask if he could wear one too! He also referred to me as his little “diaper bandit.” This kid makes me smile. :]

IBD is NOT sexy. AT ALL. But it’s nice when you have supportive people around you who could care less about it. Thank you to everyone who has loved me just the same whether I have a bag on my stomach or I’m running to the bathroom 10 times a day.

*TO CURRENT BOYFRIEND: If you would let me add a few of the pictures of me and you in the ER the other day, I’d be so grateful! They are pretty stinkin’ awesome.*

– Liesl Marie ♥

IBD is NOT sexy. AT ALL.

Thank God for support from friends, family, and my boyfriend.

WAIT. Boyfriend? Who wants to date a girl with a poop disease? Apparently my current boyfriend.

I’m gonna backtrack a bit here….

When I first got sick a little over a year ago, I was already dating this one guy. He was super sweet and supportive when I was in the hospital for over a month and I looked like I had a fat suit on from all of the steroids that were pumped in me. And I can’t imagine what it must have been like to go through that when someone you care about is in pain. (I’ve come to realize that my disease is most harmful to everyone I love.) I have to give that kid props. He stuck it out with me through it all. But eventually, things didn’t work out anymore. He liked that I relied on him for support and when I started feeling better and wanted to see friends and go to school, he wasn’t the center of my attention all the time. It became too much for me and we ended things. Now he has a girlfriend that he seems to be very happy with and I’m genuinely happy for him.

In between that guy and my current boyfriend there was one other guy… I actually met him at my hospital and we have the same disease. You would have thought it’d work out great but it didn’t. We still talk occasionally and we’re civil so that’s nice. (((Prayers for his upcoming surgery)))

That brings me to my current boyfriend. We started out as friends but it started turning into more and we started dating. I knew that we would have some sort of relationship whether it be as friends or more than friends. Why? When we started talking about what was wrong with me, the first thing he said was, “GIRLS CAN POOP?!” Although odd, this meant more to me than I think he realizes.

A big part of my life right now is being sick. I make more trips to the ER in a month than you probably will in your entire life. In having any sort of relationship whatsoever, that needs to be understood. And although it may be hard to deal with sometimes, my current BF is doing great. He tries his hardest to understand and he doesn’t think I’m gross. It’s pretty nice!

Funny Story.

Ask anyone with IBD and you’ll learn it’s inevitable that you’ll have an accident at some point in your life. Especially after surgeries when your butt has been retracted to the circumference of an orange. Or even so called “normal” days when you still have constant diarrhea. When you have days like this, nothing can fix it except a little Immodium and LOTS of Depends. You know those old people diapers? Yea. I was absolutely mortified when I knew that after surgery I’d have to wear them. Mainly, I was afraid of what my boyfriend would think. When I told him why I was so embarrassed, I got the best response. He says, “awwwh,” with an ornery smile on his face….. then proceeds to ask if he could wear one too. HA!  This kid makes me smile. :]

IBD is NOT sexy. AT ALL. But it’s nice when you have supportive people around you who could care less about it. Thank you to everyone who has loved me just the same whether I have a bag on my stomach or I’m running to the bathroom 10 times a day.

– Liesl Marie ♥