My "Gut" Feeling...Celebrating the Absence of Crohn's

I'm writing this blog post on a very important day—the 12th anniversary of the surgery that saved my life from Crohn's disease. It's tough to know where to start, so in the interest of time, I'll give you the Reader’s Digest version.


I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease 2 years prior to my surgery, and 2 years prior to my diagnosis, I had contracted the H-Pylori bacteria while living in Ontario for a few years—I was 29. That bacteria is nasty—it burrows a hole in your stomach (ulcer) and it takes three sets of the heavy-duty antibiotics to kill it. Antibiotics killed it alright, and everything else in my gut. However, at the time, I was naive to how this all worked, and simply did as I was told by the doctors. The reason I mention this bacteria is that I believe this was the root of the cause of the Crohn’s (and my GI specialist concurred). My gut was wide open to any and all pathogens, and probiotics were not even mentioned as an after-treatment to replace all the lovely good bacteria that was obliterated alongside the bad.


Fast forward 2 years, and I’m now back in Vancouver and decide it’s time for a divorce. It was my doing to end the marriage—our daughter’s diagnosis of autism whilst in Ontario took a weak marriage and broke it. It was a very difficult time, our lives were in turmoil, and weren’t a happy pair. The stress was at an all time high, and back then, I had no idea how to manage it, nor did I seek out help—I just dealt with it. In the midst of all this, I started having stomach issues—first I just chalked it up to a bad meal or two. Then it turned into wanting to be sick within a few hours of eating, and then finally into actually being sick. It turned from a rarity, to once in awhile, to more often, and finally into a regular occurrence, with the diagnosis in amongst there somewhere.


Crohn’s is a inflammatory bowel disease that can arrive anywhere along the digestive system, starting at the mouth and ending, well, you know where. For me, the disease had taken hold in my small intestine, as determined by a test called a small-bowel follow through. It’s lovely—you drink a delicious cup of barium (not sure that stuff was meant for human consumption) to highlight the digestive tract for the x-ray machine. Parts of my small intestine where extremely inflamed, to the point where when I was at my worst (just before surgery), the damaged parts were the width of a piece of string (they are usually an inch in diameter).


The pain just kept getting worse and worse, to the point where I had planned special places on my commute home (West Vancouver to Steveston) where I could safely stop and keel over in pain in my car without alerting the public. My GI guy said they use a pain scale in the medical field, with childbirth being about a 5, and terminal cancer being 10. Based on my condition, I was at an 8. It was so horrific near the end, that I just wanted it all to go away. It was only for a fleeting moment that I felt that way—until I was able to get a grip and remember I had a beautiful daughter who needed me.


My GI guy had me on a few different anti-inflammatory medications, but the only one that worked was prednisone. I was in love with it—why? Because it took the pain away. I went on it three times within a year and a half—I was able to eat again, and without being sick. After round three, my GI guy finally said no more, and warned me that any more, and I would be getting hip-replacement surgery in 5 years time. The drug let me eat, but it was eating my bone marrow.


During this time, aside from severe hair loss and issues with my teeth from all the stomach acid, I had obviously lost a considerable amount of weight. I was a healthy size 10 and just kept moving down the scale. Initially, it was interesting because it was neat to be shrinking and buying smaller sizes, and my stupid boyfriend at the time thought it was great because I was really slim and looked fantastic (what idiot is happy his girlfriend has a chronic illness?). The defining moment came when I was in the American Eagle dressing room and tried on a size 4 pair of jeans and they were too big. The sales girl was all “Oh my god, that’s so awesome, I’ll go get you a size 2!”. And then I lost it—I had a full-on breakdown in the dressing room while waiting for my size 2 jeans. When you can’t control what your body is doing anymore, it is a sick and horrible feeling. I was beside myself and knew that something big was coming. It was called surgery.


Hearing the words, “Your body is shutting down, you will be dead in two weeks if we don’t get you into surgery” is terribly sobering. Death is something that was supposed to happen when I was old, not at 33 years of age. I was at the point now where I hadn’t eaten anything solid in over 3 months, and was even throwing up water.


I will yada yada over the surgery and all the details of time spent in the hospital—but when I woke up from my surgery, four and a half feet of my small intestine was removed in 3 different places. I no longer had a terminal ilium (where the small and large intestine meet) so I have to have B12 shot into my arm muscle every three weeks for the rest of my life (B12 is absorbed by the terminal ilium). But that is a small price to pay for being alive. When they brought me my first solid food while I was in the hospital, I just starred at the sandwich for 2 hours, afraid to eat it because it might be painful. The radiologist’s report cited that upon inspection of what was removed from me, he couldn’t believe I had survived. The surgeon did an amazing job—internally and externally (you can’t even see the 6 inch incision anymore). He tried to tell me I would be on medication for the rest of my life, and would be back in for more surgery in a 3 to 5 years, and I said no to both.


I haven’t taken a stitch of modern medicine since that day. I use peppermint oil on my forehead if I get a headache. I drink chamomile tea if I feel a bit of heartburn. I take probiotics religiously every day. I meditate every morning and every night and I am grateful every day that I am here. My diet and exercise program is improving all the time, and I have learned various stress-relieving techniques that I practice daily. I live in the moment as much as I can, and truly enjoy my life. I literally have nothing to complain about and I savour what this beautiful world, even in amongst the not-so-great situations, has to offer.


There is much, much more to my story by way of what I do to keep myself (and my gut) healthy, which will be saved for a further post. The important thing to me is, I have internalized the concept that I no longer have the disease, and I no longer identify with it. I have altered my destiny by denying that there is no cure. And I wish that empowered thinking for everyone.

Positive Healing Energy - For Everyone

This is a bit of an unusual blog post for me.  This one is not about my travels or neat experiences. It's about what has been going through my head in the wake of the last few months and years for that matter, from terrorism to climate change, and everything in between.  It's about the simple regard for human life, and the quality and dignity that each and every person deserves.  It's about cherishing our beautiful planet and the creatures on it with us, and creating harmony so we may all live a joyful existence.  It's about each person having the capability to really make a difference when you feel so helpless, lost and confused about what to do or what to think.

Every morning when I wake up, I meditate for about 30 minutes--I have been doing this for a long time now. During that time, I radiate only healthy, healing, positive thoughts for our planet and all living creatures on it, including myself and everyone I love and care about. I would like to start a world-wide trend where everyone does this. You visualize happy, healthy people everywhere in the world, who are safe and free; living in harmony with all creatures on the planet; and our Earth is slowly being healed. Sound crazy? Fine. If you need science to back this up, because sometimes seeing is believing to some people, then read about the vibrational energy of thought and you'll see how real it is--everyone from the ancient Egyptians to Einstein knew about it. Look at the world and what is happening--social media is now more than ever a conduit for so much negativity--where do all those negative thoughts go? They create our reality. I intend on using social media not to stick my head in the sand; rather, I want to use it to spread as much positive, light energy as possible. I hope my fellow humans can help do the same--the rewards are deeply intrinsic and altruistic both personally and globally.

#positivehealingenergy

TU-MI or not TU-MI...That Is the Carry-On Question

I left today for a three and a half week trip to Italy, all on my own, that covers five different Italian cities and a whole lot of train rides. Needless to say, I am crazy excited right now. I fly into Rome and will use the rail to take me around, which then made me wonder amidst my planning, what I was going to do for luggage. Since I'm going solo, I will be the one lugging the case on and off the trains, which then made using my big hard case not a viable option (I think I could easily fit an actual person in there if I tried, that's how big it is).



When I was researching travelling through Italy, I have to say that Rick Steves, travel guru extraordinaire, was a life-saver. That guy is just awesome--he's so nice and friendly looking AND he knows his stuff thanks to all the travelling he has done (he also replies to Tweets). All his little tips and tricks to help you have the best vacation ever are so useful and practical and his website contains all his shows and talks. I downloaded his books on Rome, Florence and Tuscany, and Venice through iBooks, which then goes on to both my iPad and my iPhone. The iPad is for the planning, and the iPhone is out in the field with me. The cool thing is you can look at his books that have walking tours, maps and pretty much any other information you need to know, all off-line on your iPhone--it's absolutely fabulous!

One of the things I learned from him as a solo traveller is to watch your stuff when you are travelling through Italy, especially on the trains. If you can keep your bag small and light, you will just simply travel better overall, but you will also be able to put your bag in the overhead bins above your seat on the train. You then can keep an eye on it and it doesn't have to go into the communal luggage rack at the end of each car.

Perfect--I like that. Here's the thing: How light can one woman pack for a 25 day vacation? Can it all be stuffed into a carry-on size piece of luggage--that just seemed insane to me. First things first, I wanted to know what the acceptable size limit for carry-on was for British Airways (all the airlines are slightly different--BA is 22" x 18" x 10"). Then I started to research on the net because whatever I bought, I would also need it to eventually expand--there was no question about that. What I discovered in the end is that I really actually prefer to check my luggage so I don't have to babysit it before I get on the plane, so worrying about BA's size limit was a waste of time for me. I did still want a carry-on though for the sake of the train's overhead bin.




With internet research done, I had decided to go to the new outlet mall at YVR (Vancouver International Airport) to pick up my Samsonite Fiero Hardcase 20" Carry-On Spinner in a lovely rose colour (which incidentally meets BA's size requirements). I mentioned this to one of my friends who has a strong dislike for the outlet mall (I won't say why), and she suggested the Tumi store in Pacific Centre. It made sense because even though I pass by the airport every day, the outlet mall is new, and is infamous for its traffic issues, whereas I have always found it easy to make my way into Pacific Centre's parkade.




And so one day after work, I decided to do just that. I had never heard of Tumi before so I had to hunt down where the store was in the mall. When I found it, it was gleaming and bright--a shiny new store that just screamed beautiful luggage. It was so shiny that I almost walked right through the mirrors they had at the back--or I just wasn't watching where I was going--one of the two. Since I came from work, I was dressed in business attire, and as I walked into the store, I got a once over from the female sales associate. Excuse me? How odd. That's happened before to me in Louis Vuitton where I've just dropped in wearing Lululemon, but even they were more welcoming, and they sell clothing! This is a LUGGAGE store lady, so step off. She then did the "Can I help you?" in the driest voice possible while still eyeing up my wardrobe--she may or may not have rolled her eyes too. I explained what I was looking for and she pointed me directly to possibly the most beautiful piece of luggage I have ever seen, if luggage can be beautiful, that is. It was perfect--great size, nice streamlined look, expandable--awesome, I may have found my luggage! Until I asked the price.




Now keep in mind that this piece of luggage is CARRY-ON size. Yes, it's made out of some ridiculously durable material that has been trampled on by a heard of elephants or something and still survived, blah, blah, blah... Ok folks, it was $800. Yes, you read it right, $800. God only knows how much the full size ones were! She sees the look of horror on my face and with a very serious tone and without skipping a beat says, "It's an investment". I almost burst out laughing, but controlled the urge. I did let her know I was a Financial Planner and that I'm more into appreciating assets AND I could take a whole other trip somewhere for that price. I promptly called my supposed helpful friend as I turned and walked out of the shiny luggage store (almost falling because it was just that shiny) to thank her for the great suggestion.




I did eventually make it to the Samsonite shop at the outlet mall, picked up my lovely pink bag amid all the frantic luggage shoppers, for less than a quarter of the price of the shiny bag. When heading back to the car, low and behold, I see a guy with a Tumi bag and my curiosity gets the better of me. How much is the Tumi bag at the outlet? After all, they are just so beautiful, then I thought, why not, let's have a look see.




I walk into the Tumi outlet shop, with my pink bag in tow and immediately get a look of disgust shot at me for bringing in a substandard piece of luggage into their store. I take a look at the price for the same bag (an earlier model of course) and we're now down to only $565--I don't think so. The sales lady comes over before I can walk away and says, "You know, it's an investment". Right, ok, well we're done here--have heard that one before (they really need to change their sales pitch).




And off I go into the sunset (literally) with my very suitable and very durable carry-on that is gorgeous and pink and semi-shiny. It fits ALL of my fabulous wardrobe for my amazing Italian adventure that I am now about to embark on.




Ciao ciao!