July 27, 2012. The opening ceremony to the London Olympic Games, and also my first experience with being hospitalized for a serious reason. I have had unexplained internal bleeding of my stomach for the last week, and they were determined to figure me out, however it never happened, and I seemed to have a giant question mark labeled on my medical records. They know I have a blockage, but they cannot find where it starts or ends, and so began one of the most exhausting test trials of my life, to get a clue. I was miserable, depressed and alone. Everyone thought I was full of it, but the signs were there even when the test results weren't.
Fast forward one year, eleven months and three days. June 30, 2014. I was hospitalized for the placement of my Cecostomy tube, their last case scenario for my chronic stomach issues. It wasn't anyone's first or best choice, however they needed to make a temporary fix to a long-term problem as they struggled to figure out what was happening to me internally. I am going to be totally blunt here, this has been the most strenuous, exhausting and mind boggling two years of my entire life. Nobody quite understands what I am going through, and I have yet to meet anyone who understands the purpose of my tube (which is totally understanding, I'll admit that).
Now, going on two years with my Cecostomy, and four years since the attempted diagnosis, there has been a breakthrough with my health, which was initiated by a breakdown. For six months, I fought for my independence, refusing that I was going to be this sick and fighting my illness single-handedly. That was my beloved downfall, and I am grateful that it happened. This April, I was noticing my lack of hunger—which is the complete opposite of my human garbage disposable-like appetite, and masses of skin tissue were clumping towards my tube. I was scared, but ignored it. The pain became unbearable, and I cracked and went to see my GI team.
I saw my team, and something clicked—I was suffering. I have kept them out of the loop for months, and I think that is when they realized I am not my tube, my tube is not my diagnosis, I wasn't born with this plastic hunk on my side and there is a greater issue that they are missing. They put their heads together when I mentioned my constant nausea and fullness within two bites of food. Finally, after two years there has been a step in the right direction. Pulling all of my symptoms together, I am a current mystery. With the same stomach problems since I was one and a half, and new ones coming together piece by piece, they have finally had a break on what has been going so wrong, but what has made them snap into it? I am grateful my pain and determination has never died down for more than five minutes, always sparking to the next idea.
2016, the year of The Rio Olympics. Four years ago, I was a blank slate, and now here I am with visible progress. Yes, I have scars, stretch marks, IV markups and the look of fatigue, however nobody can see the pride I have internally. I have been fighting this now for about seven years, and I haven't given up completely. I have been fighting so hard for the moments where they finally understand what I am going through. These are the moments I live for, my pure happiness where I maybe one day will be able to function fully without the help of stimulants of my intestines or medication to help me coat my symptoms.
These last four years, I have been training. Training to become a better, healthier me. Just like an Olympic athlete, there are good days and bad, battles I believe I can never overcome, overwhelming stress, but amazing results. Every experience has lead me to this point, and even if there are days I want to raise my white flag, I haven't and that is what matters the most.
When you suffer with a chronic illness, you never want to give up. Even when I am at my lowest, I keep pushing. I push to see another day, even if I am not 100 percent—I am fine with that 50 percent. My health has been in turmoil for a very long time, and even with my tube being my sidekick for the last two years, I have never been happier. I like to call this my Stomach Olympic Games, every four years to have improvement, and I believe I have a mental gold metal, and have trained harder than ever for the last few years to get this far.
