Behind the Stall Door

Living with IBD means that we spend more time than the Average Joe listening to strangers in public bathrooms.

[behindthestalldoor]

Emergency Room!

Yay! I got rushed to the ER last night!!!

Here's my deal: I am used to the ER. I have been there for everything. Last night, my fever spiked, and when I got up, I found I couldn't breathe. That was it. I was done.

I'm kind of a goofball when I'm in the ER, because I'm nervous. My 20th visit, and I'm nervous. I know what it looks like when they're going to put an IV in. He put it in my arm (baddd idea. I have never EVER successfully had an IV put in my right arm). He was moving the darn needle around so much I was shaking and Andrew's hand (which I was squeezing) was turning white. Finally I asked him to just put it in my hand. I have large veins there, and it took a much shorter time to just get it there.

I was needing a breathing treatment (I have asthma. I know that these stupid things are the best thing EVER). Asthmatics will know: there is nothing on the ENTIRE planet better than that relief of being able to breathe. I am a little short on breath today, but not as bad as yesterday.

We have no idea what is wrong with me. They prescribed me antibiotics for *maybe* treating *something*. Well, studies are starting to show that that is maybe something that makes us sick in the first place. 

OH!!!! Here was the best thing that happened last night!!!!! 

I'm checking in, hyperventilating because breathing is hard. I hear my mom talking to someone nearby, but I'm focusing on what I need to do. I turn to look at my mom afterwards, and she smirks and points at two girls next to us. 

Teacher brain immediately thinks "There are students here, probably mine, seeing me sick." Teacher mentality says "Don't let them know how sick you are!!" Hahaha. So I recognize them as kids from my old school district (still a sub, but I consider all of my students "mine.")They were two sweethearts. They were thrilled to see me (I don't think they fully understand what an emergency room is).

I always try to assert that Omaha is a big city, but then I run into students absolutely everywhere I go, and  I have to think maybe it's not that big.

[behindthestalldoor]

Hit the Wall

When I lose energy like a crazy person, I call it 'hitting the wall.'

I just hit it while trying to get pretty for my husband, who will be home any minute. I don't mean to sound whiny, because I know my case is WAY WAY WAY better than others out there. I just hate that I can't take a shower and blow dry my hair before I need to lay down for a minute. 

It's not like I have to get the job done, anyway. I'm pretty sure that we're just going out for chicken and maybe ice cream (Pwease, hubby????). 

Except this is major. I haven't eaten today. That's probably a good reason right there why I am feeling so dizzy. Ha. We really must start keeping forms of food around that I can eat when I crash. *sigh*

[behindthestalldoor]

I have been unable to update in a while because I have been sick. Kind of a weird sort of sick. My ear hurt, my throat felt pained, and I was sick to my stomach. Other than that, it stayed sort of OK. The day before last was sort of awful.

Hubby and I got new phones this week, and because hubby was able to get his phone for a third of what we thought he'd be able to do, we had money for me to get cases. My mom and I are on spring break (a teacher's favorite thing), so we went to Nebraska Furniture Mart (Living in Omaha=all of the joy of living in a bigger city with none of the cranky extra people). 

While we were there, I crashed and burned. All I could do was sit like a zombie as mom drove me home. I was horrified that I'd have to drive the 2 miles to my apartment, plus keep my dog safe that WHOLE TIME. I simply had no energy.

I got home and slept. I couldn't get back up. Finally, Blossom woke me up with frantic hugs (oh, cat), and I was able to get up. I took a bath, which wasn't hot enough. I brought out two fleece blankets, plus my quilt. Still not warm enough.

I'm not stupid. I have had fevers. By this time, I'm horrified. My doctor has me fairly convinced that fevers mean ER. Sure enough, I was reading 101. This is a high fever for me, because I'm usually at 96. 

Every time I'd start shaking, Boomers would cuddle with me. This picture is a result of 20 minutes.

I called the doctor the next day and she told me that if my fever resumed, it was the ER immediately. I got up to 99, but I don't qualify that! Ha!! 

Those of you in my situation, help me understand this. I've never gone for my fever. I feel like the ER doctors would look at me like a moron because who goes to the ER for a fever that isn't 104??? I understand WHY fevers are a thing I need to watch (what if I had an infection in my intestines??) I am only wondering: What do you say to the doctors there so they know what to do to help you? 

[behindthestalldoor]

Observation

Why do so many public bathrooms feel it is necessary to pump in their overhead music? I suppose some people like listening to music while they do their business. Some people really enjoy dancing while they wash and dry their hands. 

Someone didn't tell that older woman at Summer Kitchen Cafe that it's rude to scoff at a 20-something who chooses to dance in the bathroom to Runaway by Del Shannon. 

Look, it was your generation that made that particular jam so danceable, why you judgin'?

[behindthestalldoor]

This has less to do with my illness than what I think to be a side effect of my medication. I'm honestly too afraid to ask my doctor in fear of sounding stupid and mumbo jumbo.

So I have a cat. Her name is Blossom.

Background: As far as I know, until about a year ago, I was DEATHLY allergic to cats. This doesn't come from any uncertainty. I know there are a lot of people out there who never interact with cats, so it's a "maybe" factor. No, I love furry things, so I've had plenty of interactions with cats. I honestly told myself I hated cats because they were an animal I couldn't even be in the same room with. 

It was kind of sad, because cats are kind of adorable. Not as cute as dogs, but still pretty darn cute.

One day, after a great interview where I hadn't been hired (my luck: Probably one of the best teachers I've ever subbed for was my competition for this job. Was told I would have been hired if not for her). I was devastated. I want a classroom. My self-medication involves petting furry animals. We had NO intention of adopting. Not advised, as any humane society will tell you.

We went through the dogs, and I was feeling better, but I like LOOKING at the cats. At our Humane Society, you can play with cats in special rooms. I saw my beautiful Blossom sitting on a perch and I had to touch her. She and I fell in love, and I was waiting for That Moment when my allergies would murder me. 

I told Andrew I wanted her to be my cat. He was surprised, because I'd been saying how much I hated cats for YEARS. We'd never thought we would adopt a cat. The agreement was we could get her the next day, but if my allergies started up over the next few hours, we'd have to forget it.

They never started up. It was my first encounter with a cat since getting diagnosed. So we adopted my cat right after church(who now responds to "Boomer," though her Christian name is Blossom Elizabeth). She is warming up to Andrew, but she is my cat. She and I have bonded, which is weird for a dog person who never thought she'd own a cat.

So, my question is, have any of you experienced this??? Is it possible that my medication made it so I wouldn't have my cat allergy anymore?

[behindthestalldoor]

A lot of Crohnnies who aren't already married or highly committed worry about what a significant other will think of their illness.

Andrew was ridiculously supportive. Literally, from the day we met, I've been unwell in one way or another. From crazy depression, kidney stones, the flu, random bouts of asthma that won't go away, joint pains, and now Crohn's, he's been super amazing. 

My husband has heard EVERYTHING. I don't keep the doors open, but there's only so much you can do. I had very little choice, because it started while we were dating. 

He goes to almost all of the appointments he can attend. During the one where I was put on Humira, he had his phone out. I was horrified that he was texting while the doctor was explaining the different medications. Afterwards, he showed me that he'd been taking notes as well as he could.. He knows more about the meds than I do.

One of the sweetest things he does is being aware of my pain. He'll let me rest my feet on his lap. He'll run around town doing the chores I'd otherwise be helping him do if I have a bad day. He'll come home, see that I'm dead tired, and he'll make dinner without complaint, and usually without comment. 

The picture above was when I had kidney stones. He had work at 7am the next day, and he stayed with me until 2am, even though morphine knocks me out, and I wasn't awake much after 9.

So I guess my advice to us sickies is that it's not our fault that we're sick. We need mates that totally understand that we're more than our illness. 

[behindthestalldoor]

It's kind of funny to see Fat Bear pictures. She has lost a lot of weight since May because she isn't eating my mom's dog's food anymore. Ha! You're going to live FOREVER now, dog!

Bear is my 7-year-old Idunno. I have no idea what she is. Cute, for sure, but as for breed, I don't know.

I have to write a blog before I permit myself to go get lunch at my neighborhood's gas station (Pizza=safe!! yay for me!)

So I have decided to post my Methods of Pain Management.

Stage 1: Sit down. Sometimes my pain just comes from overdoing things. Sitting down helps a lot.

Stage 2: Ice water. They say to avoid this, but it's my biggest savior when I'm teaching and I get sick. Many many many lessons were saved by just drinking cold water. 

Stage 3: Acetaminophen. Oh, man, I just spelled that right without looking it up...I can't taken Ibuprofen or almost anything else. When I was having the joint pain in 2011, I tried those things, but they made me break out in hives and have problems breathing. My mom-in-law told me to go to the ER. Well, Andrew was with me in Lincoln, so we drove all the way back to "my" hospital in Omaha. This is the week I also found out that me+Oxycontin= Cassidy Hulk.

Stage 4: Heating pad. In my brain, this helps speed up the effect of the meds I've already taken, and it soothes. Hot+cold water=good. Before we adopted our cat, Bear would lay her head on mommy's tummy and SHE'D be my heating pad. Now cat does it. Or, if she's mad, that was one of the first things I bought myself after the wedding, because mom wouldn't let me have hers.

Stage 5: Hot bath. By the time I reach this stage, I'm generally very frustrated. I used to have to do this EVERY SINGLE DAY, with mixed success. It would relax every part of my body, but not the parts that mattered.

Stage 6: Endocet. I hate this medication. I love it. It almost always 100% fixes everything. Except it also makes me loopy and stupid. I'm not good on painkillers or muscle relaxers. 

Stage 7: Hospital. To heck with it. There was only one time I had to go this far, and it was also the week that had me eating torillas for every single meal. The ER doesn't understand Crohn's very well, so it was mostly a matter of giving me a mountain of drugs and helping me wait out the weekend (it was Saturday, and my doctor's offices aren't open on weekends). On Monday, they upped my dose of azathioprene, gave me different kinds of meds, and before long, the agony was gone. 

So that's what I do. It's very effective for me, but I suspect we all have our own pain management methods. What do you do when the pain gets to be intolerable?

[behindthestalldoor]

During my Bachelorette party, I was at my sickest. I think it was that very week I went on glorious prednisone, but the deal was that I had a 14-year-old bridesmaid, so we had to be kind of PG-13. So we went to the Omaha Zoo (which is amazing, thank you. Omahans have the best thing in the world).

When I look at these pictures now, I think "Holy crap!" By my wedding, I was chunked up. 

Anyway, my beautiful younger cousin and my friends were pals that day. I hit my energy wall (does anyone else have this??? Like, I genuinely need to sit down or I will fall down), my three girlfriends lifted me off the ground and tried to drag me out of the monkey house. Thanks...girls... 

Oh, then it hit me. I'd had the audacity to eat a hot dog (zoo hot dogs are great. I should be wary, but I'm not). Some of my ladies are... energetic. We met in drama, so we love attention. I quietly go into the bathroom, still in the monkey house, and they charge in howling. Little girl in the stall next to me whispers to her mom "Mommy, what is wrong with those girls?" So I had to apologize between stalls for my friends, because there was no mistaking it.

Then again, my cousin and I (seen above) lost our minds on the ski lift over the zoo. We laughed for the entire ride, sometimes freaking out when it stopped at its highest. 

Look, I'm just saying that insanity is fine, just leave me alone in the bathroom.

[behindthestalldoor]

I have two new followers (one of whom is my best friend from the time I was 11, so whatever). So story time.

There is a story to the picture above, but it's too long. Short story is that I was in the South of France on my honeymoon, flaring, and had just argued with my brand new husband. The argument? I needed to either find a restroom or just sit quietly by the Rhine. We chose the river, but only after running up and down Avignon, even desperately looking the area around the damn Pope's cathedral. 14th century architecture doesn't exactly make it easy to build a toilet. The result was my posing and saying "I'M GONNA BE SEXY!!" and then he took it. I mean, sure, it wasn't maybe the clearest message of "Wait until I adjust to not look like Eurkel," but whatever.

I have a billion horror stories with the bathroom situations in the parts of Europe where we were. That's my own fault. I did research, but I didn't really do enough.

My favorite story was in my first hour of being in Europe. Now, understand, I'd spent most of the flight from Chicago both sobbing hysterically and climbing over my husband to get to the bathroom. We flew over Ireland a few minutes after the sun rose, and I didn't stop crying until we touched down in Brussels. Andrew, husband, was still being patient at that point.

Now, as soon as we got into the line for customs, I started having a flare. It was so bad that by the time we got to the customs official, Andrew had to do all the talking. That isn't his role in our marriage. I take care of the uncomfortable stuff, like talking to Belgians. 

We ran to find a bathroom (My thoughts: "My first European bathroom!! Glitzy!!") And I found one. Now, understand that a lot of the European stalls are more like tiny rooms. You have a full door that locks, and it's actually quite nice. 

I couldn't lock my door. I thought I maybe had it figured out, but then a non-English speaking woman threw open the door, and there I was. I stared at the reclosed door after locking it (correctly this time!). I got out of there as soon as I could. 

Let's just say we went to our terminal to wait for 5 hours right after that. For the rest of the week, I quadruple checked before... letting my guard down.

I never did get the nerve to use the bidet...

What about you? Do you have any public restroom horror stories?

[behindthestalldoor]

"Cassidy! Get out here! You're missing it! PEDOBEAR IS WAVING AT THE CLOSING CEREMONIES, AND CHILDREN ARE SINGING AROUND HIM!!"

-My brother-in-law

[behindthestalldoor]

What is this??

I was diagnosed with Crohn's about a year and a half ago, but I'm on year 6 of symptoms. I grew very used to public and private bathrooms over the last 6 years, and I have heard amazingly ridiculous things in that time from the other side of the door. So I'm hoping to compile a list of all of the doofussy things I've heard here. I'd love to eventually hear the weird things others have heard while they were taking care of themselves.  I'm still figuring this out... Uh... Buttons?

[behindthestalldoor]

I'm a sub, and I use the student bathroom sometimes..

Girl 1: Omigod, I can't wait for this weekend!

Girl 2: I know! I (f word ending with -ing) hate school.

(They chatter and groom at the mirrors for about 5 minutes)

Me: GET TO CLASS, GIRLS!!!

Girl 1: Shoot, a teacher!

[behindthestalldoor]

Mommy, I need one more paper towel!! He needs to be my friend, because he's Steve!!!!

Little girl at a pizzeria.