by @AlexandraIngold
Hi! It’s been awhile. If you haven’t read Part One to my story, you may want to do that before reading Part Two, otherwise things might not make much sense.
Remember when I told you that healing takes time?
I really meant it.
It’s been exactly two years since I was hospitalized for Mono, Pneumonia, and a sinus infection--the result for having taken immune suppressing medication that was keeping my Ulcerative Colitis in check. But it’s been within this second year of recovery that I feel as if I’ve become a new person.
Newsflash: Opportunities to change yourself can happen overnight--if you allow them to.
As the months passed after I had shared my first update with you, I began walking down a very fine line in regards to my health. I felt myself fighting for the life I had before getting sick. Fighting for a life that didn’t even exist anymore. I began slipping back into old coping mechanisms--over eating, over exercising and going on copious amounts of dates to distract myself. I looked left and right for validation from other people, and ignored the nagging voice in my head that was desperately telling me to rest.
Iin late February of 2019, I did what I thought was going to “fix me.” I bought a ticket, hopped on a plane, and flew to Vancouver for a week on my own-because surely, running to a completely different place would help me, right? And all while battling the negativity running through my head, I was battling the symptoms of a very serious medical condition. By that point, I had been off my medication for my Ulcerative Colitis for one year, and all my former symptoms were coming back quicker than ever.
For anyone with IBS/IBD, you’ll know the havoc this disease can cause on your body. My body began rejecting everything I put in my mouth. My stomach constantly hurt and became bloated, sometimes by just drinking water.
But I ignored it.
I ignored everything. Because I didn’t want to admit to myself or anyone around me that I was sick.
Sick again.
I’m good at ignoring reality, so I did what I knew best. I ignored. For that week in Vancouver, I ate whatever I wanted, kissed a lot of boys to help me ignore my body more, and continued to do whatever I wanted. And though I do not regret taking the trip, I look back on that week now and honestly don’t know how I made it home alive. Out of all the risky things I’ve done, that was the most dangerous and careless week of my whole life.
Somehow, I made it back to Ontario. Somehow, here I am. But after that week, my health plummeted to an all-time low. I was going to the bathroom 5-7 times every day. I started losing weight quickly, and my body felt weak. I ended up having to get a blood transfusion because my iron levels dropped to a dangerous level. I began getting regular iron infusions after that, and continued getting them on a weekly basis for the next three months. But, I told everyone I was fine.
“I’m fine!” I screamed, mostly to myself.
My GI doctor started to worry, informing me that we had to find an alternative medication to get me back on track-and find one that wouldn’t suppress my immune system. Except I told him that I wanted to try a more holistic approach--which he didn’t like. I can tell you that no doctor wants to hear their patients say they’d like to try taking herbs instead of Western medication.
Since it felt right for me to go down that route, I found a holistic healer to help me and I began her protocol. I began a new diet, started getting weekly reiki treatments and began taking a whole new whack of supplements. Within the first month, I started seeing improvements. I felt like I was getting stronger. Until- I went off track again. I’d like to point out that the outcome was in no way at the fault of my healer. Unfortunately, I could not stick to the plan. Even after reaping the benefits, after feeling and seeing improvement in the way I felt, I couldn’t seem to do it.
The reason? Truthfully, I don’t think I was ready to heal at that point (and if deep down inside, you’re not ready to heal, I don’t think any method will work for you).
The work always begins with you. You have to be 100% all in and ready. And I just wasn’t.
By May of 2019, I was in trouble, and by the end of June and into July, I was bedridden and going to the bathroom 7-10 times a day. My stomach was so uncomfortably distended, I couldn’t even lay down without feeling like my belly was about to burst. It felt as if someone was going at my organs with a dull chainsaw. It was an indescribable amount of pain.
I’m unclear as to why I waited so long to get help. But that’s what happens when you avoid the unavoidable. I was so painfully in denial that I was somehow even able to ignore intense pain.
By the end of July, I had an appointment to see my GI doctor. I knew things were really bad. I knew that I couldn’t avoid things any longer. My doctor took one look at my extended stomach and sent me by wheelchair down to the ER. He was concerned that I had an obstruction (and if I had, I would need emergency surgery that night to remove my colon and have a bag attached to my body which would become my new method of pooping. Yup!)
I’ve had my life flash before my eyes before, but nothing compares to how I felt that night.
I started thinking about all the horrible things I had done to my body that year, and all the actions that I DIDN’T take. Everything was about to blow up in my face, and now I’d lose my colon over it.
After multiple scans and a series of blood tests, it was concluded that there was no obstruction. I didn’t need emergency surgery. But I was still clearly very ill, so I was promptly admitted to the hospital, and I found myself back in an all too familiar spot. Lying in a hospital bed, with one of those scratchy blue gowns, chained to an IV post. Back where I started. Or so I thought. And test after test, doctors stood by my bed, telling me they were very confused. I had all these symptoms, yet nothing was really wrong? How could this be? My doctor even approached me with questions about whether or not I was dealing with an eating disorder. He told me I was extremely malnourished. Yes. And I can admit to struggling with body image dysmorphia, I can admit to having dealt with binge eating, but I can confidently tell you that I have never experienced a full blown eating disorder.
I was malnourished because I was going to the bathroom upwards of TEN times a day.
I was malnourished because my body rejected everything I put in my mouth.
I started feeling like no one was listening to me. I had fallen into this deep, dark hole with no way out. I began questioning everything I had done in the past.
How did I let myself get this sick again?
How come the doctors couldn’t tell me why I was feeling the way I was feeling?
And so a week into my stay at the hospital, my doctor told me we had to do a scope, so we could see what was really happening inside.
Sidenote: I need to go a bit off topic here, because this next bit is very important. Over the course of my hospital stay, I believe I experienced a whole lot of magic. And if you’re not into the woohoo stuff or you struggle with understanding spirituality, you may have a hard time with this next part. But it’s the most important part of this whole story, and I can’t leave it out. I believe that I had to experience staying in a hospital again. You know, I thought I was back where I started, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t at all. During my second stay in hospital, I wasn’t intubated, and I wasn’t fighting for my life in the intensive care unit like I was a year and a half ago. I had a voice this time, and I was able to communicate how I felt to my doctors. Which I did, especially after being accused of having an eating disorder.
For the first time in my life, I started advocating for myself, and standing up for my health.
I stopped ignoring what I was feeling.
And on top of all that, I was receiving the most love from the people around me that I’ve ever received before. And I was embracing it, which I had never been able to do before. I had no idea just how many people cared. I started getting phone calls, text messages, and surprise visits from people I hadn’t talked to in a year. Not only did my family 100% show up for me--as they always do, my friends and complete strangers showed up for me. And seeing other people show up forced me to show up for myself.
So here’s where things get spiritual. The night before my scope, I placed my two hands over my stomach and I repeated these words to myself, over, and over again:
“I’m healing, I’m healthy, I’m loved.”
I didn’t allow any negative thoughts in. Anytime I felt negativity knocking, I visualized myself politely shutting and locking a door.
“I’m healing, I’m healthy, I’m loved.”
And before I knew it, I was waking up after the scope, with my doctor standing by my bed looking nothing less than dumbfounded. He informed me that my scope showed significant improvement than the scope I had six months prior. He told me that my Ulcerative Colitis went from severe to mild. I started on a course of antibiotics, and in one weeks time, I was released from the hospital with minimal symptoms.
Magic, I tell you.
That night was pure magic.
And since that night, I have improved every single day. My stomach flattened out, I started being able to eat food without experiencing pain, and I’m no longer running to the bathroom ten times a day. My doctor chalked it all up to a very bad “stomach bug.”
;All the while I have chalked it up to avoidance, fear and a lack of self love.
I left the hospital that summer with a fresh mindset. And I’ll be honest, these past few months haven’t been easy for me.
I continually remind myself every day to slow down, to rest, to love myself, and to love others around me.
I’m still healing. But these days, I’m healing more than my physical body, I’m healing my mind, my belief system, and my values. The story isn’t over, but today, I’m able to recognize my strength and my resilience. I won’t give up on myself this time around.
I know I’m capable of achieving the life I deserve.