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For as long as I could remember, daily discomfort in my abdomen following a meal was routine. Approximately around the age of 25, the irritation after ingesting food had intensified and was no longer merely an annoyance, but a significant problem. The pain had become so profound and regular, that between customers, (being self-employed) and on a tight budget, the expense of an employee was out of the question) I frequently took refuge in the storage room, doubled over in agony. If a client was in the store when the throbbing began, I would lean over the counter and put on a false, frozen smile in an effort to conceal my suffering.
After several months of consistent, daily, intolerable anguish, it became apparent. (I was a person that up until that point in life had been in excellent health) that something was seriously wrong and that the problem wasn't going to resolve itself. Fear overwhelmed me in those days prior to the appointment, although I understood that it was a necessity and could not be avoided. Unsure of what the doctor might discover, I secretly hoped that it was an ulcer and not any of those terrible diseases, the names of which kept surging through my brain. The exact line of events remain much of a blur for me so many years later, but do remember the day that the real trauma began with the ordinary ringing of the telephone. Realising that something was amiss with my health upon hearing the doctor on the other end of the line, thoughts flashed through my mind like lightening. It seemed like a dream hearing him explain that he suspected I had contracted Crohn's Disease, a chronic, inflammatory disease of the intestine. This disorder was not a stranger to me, as two former colleagues had suffered with it for years. Having worked with them, I was aware that they were constantly ill and in perpetual pain, which necessitated powerful medication. I was devastated to hear this news.
The shock was enormous that a disease may be inhabiting my body, but I also had difficulty with the conception that I was not immortal. Meanwhile, during my storm of deliberations, the doctor informed me that in order for a proper diagnosis, a barium enema was in order, followed by an appointment with an internist. Tests concluded that I had indeed contracted the disease in my lower or small bowel. While at the specialist's office, the disease was explained to me in minor detail and then advised that the only possibility to control the inflammation was ingestion of prednisone, a form of cortisone. So, after a very brief counselling, I was shipped out of the office with prescriptions for prednisone and pain killers, with the recommendation to make a follow up consultation in one month.
Staggering out of the office trembling and confused due to the lack of information from the doctor, I mechanically headed to the pharmacy. Neither the doctor nor the pharmacist informed me of possible long term side effects or implications from the drugs and it was only through my own investigating years later that I became aware of the terrible side effects of prednisone. Walking out of the pharmacy that day, I thought that there was no alternative than to expect to lead a life similar to the ones that my former colleagues led. Oh, joyfully, I was wrong! Reflecting back on that period, it now seems as if I was lost in a fog for two or three years of my life. During that hazy spell, I faithfully took the drugs and tried to follow the low fibre diet that the doctor had recommended, but my health continued to decline. As a matter of fact, I had gained over thirty pounds, my face was bloated, and admissions to the hospital were quite regular due to the pain. It felt as if I was in a cyclone, whirling out of control, and much toosick to discover a means of escape. What does one do when one finds oneself complying with the doctor's orders, but continues to see a steady decline in health? To make matters worse, I looked like hell from the weight gain, which helped destroy my morale, an important factor in conquering an illness. Knowing that it was imperative to find a solution to my problem, or else waste away in a sick bed, I began my quest for health. My first move was to become a member of a group for people that had Crohn's Disease. After approximately four depressing sessions, I ceased attending the meetings as it seemed they met only to debate who was the sickest. Wrongly assuming that the group met for support,education and exchange of ideas, I was a tad disappointed.
One of the first positive steps that I took, as I now look back on the whole situation, was to discontinue the low fibre diet the doctor had advocated. Being repeatedly constipated from the diet, I concluded that this obviously wasn't healthy for my inflamed intestines. Some may call me reckless for not consulting with the doctor first, but I really was at wits end, and from previous conversations with him realised that it was "his way or no way". Believing that healthy eating is the basis for good health, I began to eat more fruit and vegetables, less meat, chew my food thoroughly and made a conscious effort to cut out junk food. Although I was strict with my regime, I found myself again in the hospital. Frustrated, but determined to beat the disease, I went home to continue the struggle.One day after another hospital episode, I stared at myself in the mirror and saw a stranger with a massive, oval, swollen face. It really impacted me as to how large I had become when photographs came back from my friend's wedding, where I had been maid of honour. As I surveyed the pictures, I realised that I was 175 pounds, which was much too heavy for my 5'4" frame. Being over weight from a drug that makes a person well is one thing, but I was taking a medication that was adding unwanted weight plus not removing the health problem. At that moment I had arevelation and resolved to investigate what exactly it was that I had been swallowing.
With the pharmaceutical book opened to "prednisone" I was floored to read the long list of side effects, and possible complications of long term use. Besides the "moon face", weight gain, etc., etc., the drug also caused brittle bones. I really don't remember all that I read that day, but do have the recollection of feeling betrayed. Why had the physician not taken the time to instruct me regarding the implications and importantly, that a person must be weaned off the drug? Well, needless to say, I undertook the task of weaning myself off prednisone. At about the same time, I was introduced to the concept of self healing and was fascinated to discover doctors had encouraged children with cancer to imagine that a "Pac Man" was eating their tumours, with successes. It appeared that "mind over matter" played a very important role in healing the children. As I read more and more on the subject, the evidence mounted in favour of self healing and this inspired me to begin healing myself. While slowly abandoning prednisone, I ushered meditation into my realm. Most times I could control my pain, and found that I was substituting meditation for pain killers. With the onset of pain, I would lay or sit quietly, close my eyes and tell myself that my mind was more powerful than my body. Occasionally swearing or cursing at the pain, I would inform it that I would not let it rule my life. In a strange way, having changed the pain to an unwanted visitor, I was convinced that it would eventually be evicted from my body.
Methodically, over time, all the little steps that I had taken towards healing myself paid off and I began to see and feel a real improvement in my health. Although the improvements to my health were not stupendous, there were enough to keep me stimulated in my drive for wellness.The most important discovery that I believe really began my healing process was that shortly after eating Chinese food, I would be in pain. This was puzzling because I always chose greens and chickenwhich should not have caused any problem. I was then told by a friend that many Chinese restaurants used immense quantities of monosodium glutamate or MSG, and possibly that was causing the problem. My confidante also suggested that I check my own cupboards at home for MSG, as it is an additive in many of the processed foods eaten daily in the world. While doing the inventory, astonishment set in as the words "monosodium glutamate" appeared on a considerable amount of articles. Realising that MSG was not required in my diet, I had no hesitation in removing it from my diet. After eliminating MSG and nitrates (also a food additive), a notable amount of pain after eating disappeared.
Dissatisfaction with the doctor intensified during an appointment. When he asked me how I was feeling, with great gusto, I let him know that I felt wonderful, and then began to recite all the things that I had been doing to try to improve my health. Ending with what I thought, was the icing on the cake, I proceeded to inform him of the MSG-pain connection. Upon examining his face to see what reaction he had from my announcement, I was dismayed to see him gazing at me as though I had three heads. Expecting, in the very least, that he would consider what I was saying, and maybe pass the information onto another poor soul with the disease, I was sadly mistaken. Leaving his office feeling a little shaken, but also very determined and convinced that I was on the right track, I discarded his negativity and vowed to continue on with my campaign.
Feeling great, (maybe a little too great) I decided to eat some fast food along with the rest of my friends after a night of dancing and later that evening ended up back at the hospital in agony. After an examination and tests, I was prescribed high doses of prednisone intravenously, which decreased the pain. When the doctor came to see me the next day it was then that I informed him that I was almost finished weaning myself off prednisone and that very soon would be no longer taking it. He became frustrated and warned me that there was no other alternative but to take the medication. I would not relent and after a heated discussion he responded that he could no longer be my doctor if I continued to refuse. That was the last time that I saw him.
I was a little unnerved realising that there was no longer a specialist caring for me, but laid my fears to rest knowing that there were other doctors if I really ended up in trouble again. One of the most difficult, but also challenging aspects to self healing was learning to listen to my body in a way that I never had before. Eating food really became a big experiment for me. First, I would try one food and see how I felt after eating it. The next day another and so on. The issue became more complicated as I added different foods to my diet, and especially so when I began to eat several at a time. It was a period of trial and error with good and bad days. Shortly after the weaning was completed, I met one of my former colleagues who was still very ill with the disease. I explained my success and the means in which I had done it, with the hope that something I said might help her deteriorating condition. I was saddened by her response, which was a little like the doctor's reply. She wanted nothing to do with what I was saying and retorted that I was just "talking myself into it", and that it wasn't real,. Yes, that's exactly what I was doing, but no, it was real! Regular exercise was now a part of my routine, which helped me lose about 40 pounds. Learning to deal with stress was also an important lesson which aided my recovery and made me realise that I almost felt better than when I had become ill. Looking back, I know now that I should have questioned every step that the doctors made concerning my treatment, but I was young and believed that "doctor always knows best". It is my idea that if Western physicians studied a little Eastern philosphy behind healing, they would be able to clearly see the correlation between not only tryingto heal the body, but also the soul.
Although I have had a couple of set backs during the years and ended up in the hospital for a week or less, I can now say that I've never felt more alive and healthy. It was over twelve years ago that I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease, and during that time I've learned some very valuable lessons, mostly about myself. I'm not advocating all the things that I've done to improve my health, or telling people to fire their doctors and go off their medications. I do recommend though, to take charge of yourself, ask questions, learn as much as you can about your health problem and most of all, listen to your body. It will tell you almost everything you need to know.
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