It's been a year since I started what would be the worst 2 months I have ever experienced. My diverticulitis flared up and IBS was on overdrive. Add to that a very stressful job, weekly doctor visits, a myriad of medications, and hospital stays. Unfathomable pain, mental exhaustion, panic attacks, and anxiety, I was the quintessential hot mess!
Nothing worked, I was not living, merely existing. Take me to October 26, 2023, and I wake up with a colostomy and not a happy camper at all!
What a journey this has been. I fought through one of the darkest times mentally and physically. It took 3 months before I got to the point where I could go out and experience life. 6 months later, I was donning a bathing suit and heading to the pool with my grandkids.
Not an easy journey, not one I would wish on anyone, and yes, I woke up and gained what I feared most, a colostomy.
BUT
I lost so much more
I lost my self-doubt—I can make it through anything.
I lost my loathing of my body—it's keeping me alive.
I lost my inhibitions—you have to when you talk about poop and stuff.
I lost my fear of the unknown—life happens whether you worry or not.
I lost a stressful job—I have an awesome one now.
I lost pain—once healed, I am no longer doubled over crying every day.
I can honestly say life is indeed good, I just had to have mine shaken and stirred quite a bit to finally get it. I don't let a day go by that I'm not grateful for the opportunity of living.