“Stop the car!” I yelled, in frustrated anger. I bolted out of the still moving car into the pitter patter of the rainy evening, ran over the curb, onto the sidewalk, down the embankment, and leapt across the stream, the cold, muddy water seeping into my sneakers. I pulled down my sweatpants and tried to defecate, but not much came out. The pain had subsided with the release of gas. I trudged back up the embankment, shoulders slumped out of shame and discontent. This wasn’t an unusual episode, similar ones occurring almost everyday for almost two years. My girlfriend at the time, Angi, was driving and asked if I was okay. In my then usual tone of defeat, “I’m fine. Not much came out.”
I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in 2003. It happened during a very stressful time in my life- I was at a job I absolutely hated. You know that feeling of dread when you wake up, knowing you’re going somewhere you can’t stand? Yep, I had that feeling five days a week, the dread subsiding slightly as each day inched (felt more like millimetered) closer to the weekend. I was doing very good work in the non-profit sector in mid management, but the 9-5 office gig with useless meetings and people wasn’t my idea of a fulfilling career. It started with severe stomach pains, followed by bloody, mucousy, loose stool. It happened every morning and after every meal. At the time, I was consuming 6 meals a day. You can do the math. Six weeks later, the diagnosis came in. I had a chronic, incurable, auto-immune disease. Prednisone, an extremely strong and damaging steroid was the immediate medicine of choice. I was also told that I would be on lifetime medication. I wasn’t happy. Within a month, the symptoms subsided and I was on the road to remission. But the future didn’t look bright. I didn’t want colon cancer, a colostomy bag, or frequent hospitalizations.
Fast forward 9 years, symptom free, medication free (by my own choice), at two jobs I loved, firefighting and personal training. Of course, life isn’t stress free for the average individual. It certainly wasn’t for me. I was at a station that I hated going to AND going through a rough break-up. My stress levels were through the roof- no sleep, working 80-100 hrs a week between both professions. I was up for up to fifty-six hours straight, at least once a week. I would go from firefighting right to personal training, workout, then back to personal training. That was my routine for years. These weren’t exactly conducive conditions to optimal health. My body broke. It couldn’t handle the stress anymore. I had my first flare up. This one lasted two years- two years battling daily pain, two years battling bleeding ulcers, two years battling constant embarrassment, two years battling my own mind. Why so long you ask? Because I refused to goto the doctor. Two years is a long time to be an idiot. But that’s what happened, plain and simple. I went from a break-up to a new relationship, but the symptoms never subsided and I hid them well, initially. I became used to it- used to chasing a restroom every time I ate, used to basing my “going out” decisions on availability of multiple facilities, used to not eating regularly, used to constantly worrying about whether or not someone would be using the toilet when I needed, used to the pain, used to the shame, used to the misery. I never let myself miss a day of work because of it. It’s amazing what the body and mind can put up with once its used to it.
I finally had enough. After two years of “accidents,” buying new underwear, a piss poor attitude, weight loss, low energy, chronic pain and the chiding of my then girlfriend (thank you for your patience), I decided to finally see my doctor and get back on the prednisone. I did it reluctantly because its long term effects, but I needed to do something. I was back on my feet within a month and on lifetime medication, yet again. I refused to live like that. I didn’t want to take meds all my life. I realized that the trigger for me was stress- from the foods I ate to the mental stress I created myself. I wasn’t able to compensate properly. In order for me to be healthy again, to get back to being the vibrant, back slapping, perverted joke telling, “look at me!” scene stealing, hip-hop dancing, energy giving human being, I had to reduce my stress levels. Almost immediately after the symptoms subsided, I became a different person. No longer miserable, no longer a road rager, no longer a constant worrier with no ability to adapt to my negative emotions, I made the switch, altered my nutrition and my world view. My life depended on it.
Stress is a killer. It significantly reduces immune function. It is strongly linked to back pain and many other serious disease states. I know because I am living proof. Now of course, there is good stress and bad stress. But what it comes down to is perception. Do you wait for someone to cut you off in traffic so you can honk and yell? Do you walk through life completely miserable? Maybe you don’t realize it because you’re used to it. After all, it’s amazing the level of misery a human being can adapt to. You almost don’t feel like yourself if it isn’t a part of you. Any attempt to rid yourself of it is met with resistance- you grab for it like a life preserver because it’s all you know. But you have to make a conscious change. You have to tell yourself, “enough is enough!”
Whatever stressful situation you are going through right now, at least one person has dealt with and won. Many have been through much worse and triumphed. What makes them any different than you? Absolutely nothing. You have that ability to conquer, to overcome. It’s what makes us human- we can adapt to misery, but we can also overcome any situation. You have to believe that you have that same ability. Stop the misery. Stop the stress. It can kill you and it will be a miserable, unpleasant, and a looooong downfall. If you’re not careful, you’ll be up shit’s creek, pooping up a bloody storm in front of your girlfriend, defeated, lonely, and with stained underwear- or worse.
There is no telling what permanent damage I created by letting the disease run through my body for so long before seeking treatment. It feeds on itself- you want to stop stressing, but the more you try to stop, the worse it gets. It needs stress to survive. Most diseases do. Ulcerative colitis is a funny disease, once you can look back on it. The stories I have from it? Well, let’s just say I can write a book good enough for bathroom reading. Pooping in the back of a moving ambulance? Been there. Waking up in the middle of your colonoscopy twice? Done that. I’ll save those for another day. How do you deal with stress? It’s a process and takes practice- meditation, exercise, surrounding yourself with supportive people, discarding the negative ones. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.
It was hell while it happened. But I learned much from it. I’m thankful for it. I can look at people and situations and say, “it’s just not worth the aggravation.” I realize that life changes whether we want it to or not. I accept that. I don’t try to hold on to it, but let it unfold. I can only control how I view experiences and treat others. I know I can handle anything life throws at me because it’s been done before. Everything else? I would rather not buy anymore new underwear.