I wasn't going to write about this but I realized I'd already gone so far as to share some details about my personal dating experiences so I figured I should follow up on it. Unfortunately this entry might backtrack a bit on the optimism of my previous post, as my wound is still fairly fresh. Yes, last Saturday I decided to have "the talk" with a guy I had been dating for about two months. Seeing as how he turned out to be a complete asshole, I don't mind talking about it openly.
One of the negative aspects of having an ostomy is that I sometimes feel the need to date down. I'm sure even without it I would probably do this as a result of the normal insecurities of being a woman. But, I think I put my blinders on and date guys that have some major deficiency in their persona because I feel like this will make up for the fact that I have an ostomy. Like somehow they will overlook it because they know I'm otherwise too good for them.
But then I met said boy I mentioned in the first paragraph. All was going well for a while. I honestly didn't expect him to actually call me when I gave him my number because he was attractive, had ambition, and had a good personality. Usually I don't get all three. To my surprise we went out the first time and things went smoothly. He opened doors, paid for everything, and did a lot of talking about all the things he thought we would have fun doing together. So we went out again a week later and then started doing more lame things together more frequently; cooking, walking outside, etc etc.
Now last year I had gotten to this point with someone and then dropped the bomb on him that I needed to talk to him about something important. I more-so dropped the bomb via phone because I wanted to make sure I wouldn't chicken out and I would actually tell him. It wasn't exactly my idea way of doing it but I think it was okay because of what I was going through and how hard i knew it would be to initiate that conversation on my own. This particular boy decided that whatever "important" thing I had to talk to him about was too serious and I basically never spoke to him again even though he assured me we could talk about it soon. Blah. Whatever. Even though that was a fucked up thing to do, I am glad that in some way he recognized that whatever it is I had to say was too serious for what he expected out of our relationship.
Okay, so back to current boy (I am calling them all boys because they are certainly not men). So I made plans to meet up with him and drop the ostomy bomb. I was quite nervous all week but after realizing I was prepared to speak about it in the most positive, confident way, I knew there was no reason to worry. I just had to be honest. And I was. I was actually quite proud of myself, although it did feel quite like an out of body experience because I was way too composed for my normal nature. But after talking about it, he changed completely. At first I thought he was just shocked and didn't know what to say so I overlooked it. He was certainly sympathetic but something wasn't right. I was glad we had no plans to hang out for the rest of the night because honestly I just wanted him to be able to think about it and process everything without me there. I pretty much left the ball in his court and told him that regardless of how he felt, I just wanted him to feel comfortable telling me what he really thought, even if that meant he didn't want to date me anymore. When we left, he said he would call me the next day.
And that was the last I spoke to him. No phone call, no douche bag text message rejecting me. NOTHING. When I thought about it after I left him, the thought didn't cross my mind that I would never hear from him again. I knew there was a possibility he would have trouble grasping what I had said, but I still figured that our time together had been worth the decency and respect of a fucking phone call. I think that's the least someone deserves when they pour their heart out to you and share a huge piece of their life. He knew about my past with Crohn's and he overlooked that. Yet somehow he couldn't overlook the ostomy, nor feel like he needed to give some recognition of the emotions involved in opening up to him. What. An. Asshole.
I was certainly upset about it this week. I knew he wasn't someone I connected with on some ridiculous level and I wasn't ruined by the whole experience. But it certainly left me sad and wondering if my friends are all just lying to me when they tell me my ostomy "isn't a big deal". I mean I think about the fact that this boy couldn't even make any contact with me at all and I can't help but think it actually is a big deal, if just that knowledge alone was enough to make him never want to speak to me again. It has also forced me to question that I may have to settle for something less than I normally would deserve. Maybe I will never be able to have it all, because I have an ostomy. It's a sad thought to consider.
I think one more week of hearing the "fuck him if it's a big deal to him" encouragements from my friends and I'll be back on track. It just sucks to feel vulnerable. That's how I feel right now and I don't like it one bit.
Oh well, here's to the Phillies playing a good Sunday night game and the Flyers pulling their shit together and winning tomorrow night. Those are the only men I should focus on for a while. Happy May!
Showing posts with label world series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label world series. Show all posts
5.01.2011
2.21.2011
The Real Me
One of the consequences of Crohn’s disease has been my constantly shifting body. Throughout my entire adult life, there have been fleeting moments of control. In the rare occasions where I pieced together months of continuity, I still lived with the fear that at any minute the hard work I invested into keeping myself healthy would go to waste. The cycle of flare-ups took a toll on my body and mind that left me thinking, “Why do I even bother?”
My self-image has too often taken a hit because I have never had a sense of myself. I have been sick my entire adult life. I don’t know if my body type is the lean, skinny teenager I was before my diagnosis, or the slightly curvier woman I became during my last year on Remicade. I don’t know if the reality of my twenties will creep up as I continue my life disease-free. Whatever the case turns out to be, I can take comfort knowing that the cycle of dead ends, ends now. For once in my life, I have control.
I have told myself that as my body changes I am going to rid my closet of my old “sick” clothes. Last week I said goodbye to jeans I had from high school, not only because they are tiny, but also because they are in no way a representation of whom I am now. I also gave away the size 10 jeans I wore when I was on steroids. I know I could be that size one day, but having them in my closet just reminds me of where I was in my life when I wore them. I know that never again in my life will my weight fluctuations be dramatic and unhealthy. If nature wills me to progress to a larger size, it will be gradual and un-dramatic.
In the past it was always a struggle for me to appreciate the process of gaining weight when it meant I was healthy. Because I have never really known what my natural size is, I have often thought that having no ass and looking “sick” was how I was supposed to look. Every time I gained weight it felt like once again I was being punished. I have only recently come to understand that I wasn’t mad to be gaining weight. I was mad that the sense of self I had attained from being a certain size for more than a month was being taken away once again. The loss of that certainty, of knowing who I was and what looked good on my body--losing that was what made me angry.
As I regain control of my life, I will also regain control of my body. As my appearance changes I will understand that it is only because nature is taking its course. I have reached a point in my recovery where I am imagining the excitement ahead and I have allowed myself to consider that this happiness is permanent. Everything I embark on from now on is only limited by me. If I fail, it is because I did not try hard enough, not because Crohn’s stopped me. This is both the most frightening and amazing thought I can imagine.
This entry veered off what I was trying to say about body image but maybe that's a good thing. I do want to say that today while being with my nephew I felt a sense of happiness I haven’t felt in a long time. Each of his giggles made me cognizant of the fact that for the first time since surgery I could lift him into the air with ease. I was happy, too, because I knew he would never know a day when I wasn’t present at a birthday, graduation, or swim meet. Maybe one day when he is older I will offer stories of his first months of life and how they coincided with my own new beginnings but for now he will know this version of his Aunt. He will know me as a presence in his life because my illness will never relegate me to my previous life of emotionlessly moving through the days just to pass the time.
Finally. I am present. And it feels good.
My self-image has too often taken a hit because I have never had a sense of myself. I have been sick my entire adult life. I don’t know if my body type is the lean, skinny teenager I was before my diagnosis, or the slightly curvier woman I became during my last year on Remicade. I don’t know if the reality of my twenties will creep up as I continue my life disease-free. Whatever the case turns out to be, I can take comfort knowing that the cycle of dead ends, ends now. For once in my life, I have control.
I have told myself that as my body changes I am going to rid my closet of my old “sick” clothes. Last week I said goodbye to jeans I had from high school, not only because they are tiny, but also because they are in no way a representation of whom I am now. I also gave away the size 10 jeans I wore when I was on steroids. I know I could be that size one day, but having them in my closet just reminds me of where I was in my life when I wore them. I know that never again in my life will my weight fluctuations be dramatic and unhealthy. If nature wills me to progress to a larger size, it will be gradual and un-dramatic.
In the past it was always a struggle for me to appreciate the process of gaining weight when it meant I was healthy. Because I have never really known what my natural size is, I have often thought that having no ass and looking “sick” was how I was supposed to look. Every time I gained weight it felt like once again I was being punished. I have only recently come to understand that I wasn’t mad to be gaining weight. I was mad that the sense of self I had attained from being a certain size for more than a month was being taken away once again. The loss of that certainty, of knowing who I was and what looked good on my body--losing that was what made me angry.
As I regain control of my life, I will also regain control of my body. As my appearance changes I will understand that it is only because nature is taking its course. I have reached a point in my recovery where I am imagining the excitement ahead and I have allowed myself to consider that this happiness is permanent. Everything I embark on from now on is only limited by me. If I fail, it is because I did not try hard enough, not because Crohn’s stopped me. This is both the most frightening and amazing thought I can imagine.
This entry veered off what I was trying to say about body image but maybe that's a good thing. I do want to say that today while being with my nephew I felt a sense of happiness I haven’t felt in a long time. Each of his giggles made me cognizant of the fact that for the first time since surgery I could lift him into the air with ease. I was happy, too, because I knew he would never know a day when I wasn’t present at a birthday, graduation, or swim meet. Maybe one day when he is older I will offer stories of his first months of life and how they coincided with my own new beginnings but for now he will know this version of his Aunt. He will know me as a presence in his life because my illness will never relegate me to my previous life of emotionlessly moving through the days just to pass the time.
Finally. I am present. And it feels good.
10.18.2010
Bowel Obstructions and Vodka
Oh man.
Late Wednesday night into Thursday morning I started to feel the dull, constant pain in my stomach that I know now means only one thing---I'm starting to get blocked up.
Sure enough as Thursday progressed the pain just got worse followed by an intense, thirty-six hour marathon of vomiting. Yes, I counted the hours. Basically every 15 to 20 minutes I was puking. I couldn't keep so much as a sip of water in me. And then I started getting a POUNDING headache around my temples. It was rough. I'm not sure if I actually had a fever because I never actually checked, but I'm pretty sure my temperature had to be elevated if I was feeling that shitty.
Usually I run to the hospital the second I notice pain that is alleviated when I vomit. That's pretty much one of the tell-tale signs that I am obstructed. And you can't really mess around when it comes to them because if your bowel happens to become completely blocked it could lead to much more serious issues, like perforation, which I have experienced in the past and I can tell you it is probably the only time in my life I have actually been in and out of consciousness from pain.
Due to the fact that I burned my bridges at the University of Penn by seeing my doc in Maryland, I really did not like the idea of checking into a random hospital, even though I have done so millions of times in the past. For some reason, even though I was so damn nauseated and in pain I could barely move, I thought I could handle this one on my own. And I guess I was sort of right because by Friday afternoon the pain in my stomach was subsiding even though I couldn't get rid of my damn headache.
By the time I called my doc my pain was improving so he didn't think I needed to be admitted. Basically once I could start keeping fluids down I started drinking as much as I could to get myself hydrated, but it was very hard. I was extremely dehydrated at that point and even though I knew I had to drink, the thought of eating or drinking was unpleasant. I was supposed to follow a liquid diet for a few days, progress to mushy foods, and then back into a low-residue diet for a while. But yea, I just pretty much listened to my body and by Sunday I was eating fairly normal stuff, but just conscious of keeping things simple and smooth.
As quickly as this issue came on it resolved itself. I am still sure I was partially blocked somewhere. Lately this has been happening a bit too often, albeit not as bad as this past incidence. I am going to get my blood checked tomorrow to see if my markers of inflammation are elevated or what. But honestly I feel absolutely fine again. Good enough to drink some vodka and club last night as I watched the Phillies game.
There is certainly a huge difference between bowel obstructions and actual Crohn's-flares but it is still worry-some when the obstructions start happening more often. For now I am just going to look forward to my colonoscopy on the 4th and hope that things look good. My blood tests every month have only been improving, so hopefully that is a sign of what is to come.
Oh, and by the way, I am officially steroid-free!
Late Wednesday night into Thursday morning I started to feel the dull, constant pain in my stomach that I know now means only one thing---I'm starting to get blocked up.
Sure enough as Thursday progressed the pain just got worse followed by an intense, thirty-six hour marathon of vomiting. Yes, I counted the hours. Basically every 15 to 20 minutes I was puking. I couldn't keep so much as a sip of water in me. And then I started getting a POUNDING headache around my temples. It was rough. I'm not sure if I actually had a fever because I never actually checked, but I'm pretty sure my temperature had to be elevated if I was feeling that shitty.
Usually I run to the hospital the second I notice pain that is alleviated when I vomit. That's pretty much one of the tell-tale signs that I am obstructed. And you can't really mess around when it comes to them because if your bowel happens to become completely blocked it could lead to much more serious issues, like perforation, which I have experienced in the past and I can tell you it is probably the only time in my life I have actually been in and out of consciousness from pain.
Due to the fact that I burned my bridges at the University of Penn by seeing my doc in Maryland, I really did not like the idea of checking into a random hospital, even though I have done so millions of times in the past. For some reason, even though I was so damn nauseated and in pain I could barely move, I thought I could handle this one on my own. And I guess I was sort of right because by Friday afternoon the pain in my stomach was subsiding even though I couldn't get rid of my damn headache.
By the time I called my doc my pain was improving so he didn't think I needed to be admitted. Basically once I could start keeping fluids down I started drinking as much as I could to get myself hydrated, but it was very hard. I was extremely dehydrated at that point and even though I knew I had to drink, the thought of eating or drinking was unpleasant. I was supposed to follow a liquid diet for a few days, progress to mushy foods, and then back into a low-residue diet for a while. But yea, I just pretty much listened to my body and by Sunday I was eating fairly normal stuff, but just conscious of keeping things simple and smooth.
As quickly as this issue came on it resolved itself. I am still sure I was partially blocked somewhere. Lately this has been happening a bit too often, albeit not as bad as this past incidence. I am going to get my blood checked tomorrow to see if my markers of inflammation are elevated or what. But honestly I feel absolutely fine again. Good enough to drink some vodka and club last night as I watched the Phillies game.
There is certainly a huge difference between bowel obstructions and actual Crohn's-flares but it is still worry-some when the obstructions start happening more often. For now I am just going to look forward to my colonoscopy on the 4th and hope that things look good. My blood tests every month have only been improving, so hopefully that is a sign of what is to come.
Oh, and by the way, I am officially steroid-free!
10.11.2010
Baseball and Babies
I was extremely spoiled last week. My family has had a couple of Phillies ticket packages dating back to the last couple of seasons at Veterans stadium. So through the years at Citizens Bank Park we've always had the opportunity to purchase playoff tickets before they go on sale to the general public. Now, my sister being the responsible, positive person she is has always believed the Phillies were bound to go to the playoffs each year. And trust me, we were all happy she believed in them come the 2007 season and particularly, 2008 when everyone wondered how we got suck great seats without paying an arm and a leg for them.
As if that wasn't enough, I got to go with my brother on Friday and witness the Reds collapse from right field again. The misplayed ball by Jay Bruce occurred right in front of us. I kinda felt bad for him but the crowd reaction was pretty hilarious. And I gotta post this pic because of my shirt, taken at McFaddens before the game.
And this picture, just because my nephew is the cutest man in the world!
So throughout the 2007 and 2008 seasons I saw some remarkable games and even more remarkable playoff appearances. Unfortunately last year I was too sick to attend so you can imagine how excited I was this year. I probably attended over twenty games this season, which I will shamefully admit, isn't as fun as it sounds. I love baseball, but going to two games a week gets old, and expensive.
And then last week happened. My sister and her husband were supposed to take Wednesday's game, while my brother and I would attend Friday. But being that my nephew is only a month old, my sister decided to lend me her hubby for the night and let me go to the game. And we all know what happened. It was truly an amazing thing to witness and I am so glad I got to experience something so incredible. Here is a shot from our seats after everyone was going to rush Roy on the field and the fireworks were going off. Amazing.
As if that wasn't enough, I got to go with my brother on Friday and witness the Reds collapse from right field again. The misplayed ball by Jay Bruce occurred right in front of us. I kinda felt bad for him but the crowd reaction was pretty hilarious. And I gotta post this pic because of my shirt, taken at McFaddens before the game.
And this picture, just because my nephew is the cutest man in the world!
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