On the nature of illness by Nina, not Thoreau

Since I have been ill for the better part of a year now with my Crohn's disease, surgeons, and hospitals, I thought I'd add a few words on illness.

Certain family members will think this is too much of a downer to include in a blog; nevertheless, it's my blog and certainly my illness, though I couldn't have gotten though it without tons of help from Bill.

In June 2007 I had emergency surgery to remove a stricture in my colon that had been there for years. Long story that we won't go into. This led to abscesses to leaks to fistulas to painful drains to 6 months off work (some of that not so painful - I got a lot of reading done). That led to the final resort: literally trying to glue me back together.

When that failed, we were left with no other option but more surgery at the end of Jan, 2008. The surgeon removed the problematic fistula once, then twice (???), then an emergency surgery (no kissing Bill goodbye for that one) to pop some intestines back into place. Altogether 3 major surgeries with general anesthesias in 8 days. I just thank God that I'm "only" 60 and could stand all that fooling around. However, for reasons that only other Crohn's patients can guess at, the 2 weeks I spent in the hospital were a total nightmare.

The nurses were all great except 1, and that can make for a long couple of 12-hour shifts. Please nurses: compassion and no dirty looks about the pain shots. The residents (it was a teaching hospital) were all great except the new chief resident (female who really could have been cast for the TV show in looks and personality as the new hard-nose chief trying to find her way - please, just not on me). We locked horns until I finally just fell apart and cried and she eased up. I don't know if that is advice or not. I keep hating to be a bawl baby at 60.

I am now stuck with a big wound (as a result of the 1st or 2nd surgery this time) that was infected, but the wound vac and my wonderful home health care nurse Tina have pretty much taken care of that. I was liberated from the wound vac Mar. 7 and was told I would need to see a plastic surgeon for a skin graft next. Appt. scheduled for Mar. 27.

Hmmm. When I was sprung in Feb., I promised myself never to step foot into that particular hospital again. Stay tuned . . .