I feel like I constantly am asking myself throughout the day…what if I don’t make it?
What if I don’t make it to the bathroom?
What if I don’t make it to work on time?
What if I don’t make it here or there?
Colitis has constantly made me assess the “what if’s” of my day and my future. Before the confirmation of this surgery I felt like UC didn’t really have a strong effect on my life, but then I started really thinking about it.
I started thinking about what has become “normal” in my day that just plain and simple shouldn’t be normal to anyone.
I haven’t slept in my own bed in easily 4 months because its on the second level of my house. Too many times I had close calls…or just plain didn’t make it in time when trying to get down the stairs. So now I sleep on my couch every night of every week. I wake up easily an hour before I actually have to in order to make it to work on time because I have insane morning bowel issues…and sometimes I’m still late.
I’ll find myself driving home from work, breathing like I’m going into labor to try to subside my abdominal pains and keep myself from having an accident.
Flushing a toilet filled with excessive amounts of toilet paper all covered in blood (pardon my graphic nature) and thinking nothing of it.
Or the simple fact that I never ever actually button my pants because the pressure hurts too much so I’m constantly pulling them up all day.
These things….are not…normal.
But I have just learned to accept them. This is my life. This is my reality. This is how I live and I make exceptions and modifications in my life to accommodate for this stupid disease.
Lately, though…things have not been so easy to accommodate. I’m in far more pain than I ever was…the possibility of accidents has sky rocketed. The last week since seeing Dr. Remzi at Cleveland Clinic it seems as though my “normal” has been highlighted more so than usual. It seems like the universe is trying to tell me something…have the surgery…get over the colostomy bag…get back to normal. Real normal.
So back to the “what if’s”.
What if the recovery is WAY harder than I expect?
What if my pouch fails and I’m stuck with a permanent bag?
What if I regret my decision?
Why is it never…”what if this is the best decision I’ll ever make?”
I’m hoping that this will be the best thing I do for myself, because I can’t picture a lifetime of my “normal”. Its just getting to be too much to take.