Ooooooooh, I'm Gonna Eat and Eat and Eat and Eat and Eat until I Die

Thoughts going through my mind as I prepared to write this:

  • I can literally eat anything I want and still lose weight. Some people would kill for that ability. Can that be a superpower?

  • Six weeks ago I could run for more than three hours. Now, if I stand for more than five minutes I get light-headed. That’s pretty humbling.

  • Whoa, that’s a little bit dramatic. It’s not like I’m dying. Then again, if I lived a hundred years ago, I would be.

  • (I actually posted this on Facebook) I feel like I swallowed a tiny karate class, and they've been pummeling my insides for the last two days.

Well, it appears that the moment I have dreaded for the past six years has finally come. The infamous Crohn’s disease has apparently decided to rear its ugly head again in my life. I know I’m far luckier than most people who have had to deal with it, since I went so long with no symptoms. For the first couple years I was worried if I ever had even the tiniest pain in the gut, but then I took my recovery for granted. I started running after I recovered, and I thought that might have been helping to keep me healthy. I thought that maybe I wouldn’t ever get sick again (from this, I mean—duh).

The first time I got sick was early in 2006. I was in my last semester at school, working two jobs, and Sam was just a few months old. In the midst of trying to get things wrapped up for graduation, I was trying to figure out how to be a dad, and find a grownup job out in the real world. I first went to the BYU health center, by which point I weighed 118 lbs (though to be fair, I only weighed 130 to begin with at the time). The first doctor made a preliminary diagnosis of celiac disease (but being a bit of a pretentious prick, he called it “gluten-sensitive enteropathy, or non-tropical sprue”). He referred me to another doc for further testing. Doctors’ schedules being what they are, it took almost two months and a couple more doctors to nail down a diagnosis and begin treatment. In the meantime, I was very blessed. I finished school, found a job, and made preparations for us to move up to Salt Lake. I got better within a couple months, and things were good.

Then a couple months ago I started feeling some minor symptoms again, while I was training for the marathon. I hadn’t been taking my maintenance medicine very well (after all, I had never been sick again, and it’s hard to spend over $100 a month on something you can’t be absolutely sure is necessary). I started taking it again, but I messed up my knee and missed the race anyway. Then, just as I was getting back into the running and started thinking about a possible September marathon instead, this hit me suddenly last weekend. We’re still waiting for some test results to be sure, but I’m pretty sure it’s my old arch-nemesis come back. I imagine this is a similar (but a million times less intense) feeling to what cancer survivors feel. Again: I am not claiming I understand what it is like to have cancer. But it is a feeling of having a disease stalking you that could strike again at any time. Then again, that’s really possible for all of us, isn’t it? At least my monster has a face.

*Bonus point if you recognize the quote in the title.


Ann said…
So sorry to hear this. :( Hope you feel much better soon.

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