Ben Morrison blogs with an abundance of humor about Crohn's disease.See all posts »
Comic Ben Morrison explains his worries with his current symptoms and what may be coming in the future.
I will admit I haven’t been here in awhile.
For years, I’ve ridden a monorail of good-luck-Crohn’s. I’ve lived like I never had the disease. I ate, drank, and did whatever the hell I wanted because while I knew it was there, it never seemed to have a problem with my lifestyle. Traveling the country talking to far-sicker people than I, ending the night at umpteen in the morning, I tried to be a beacon of wellness for those with a darker version of my disease. It now seems to be catching up with me.
I’ll admit, this has been a very, very stressful couple of months. Having taken a gamble and moved in to a house with a dear friend, I find 6 months later that both our residence and friendship has crumbled under it’s own BS. This has manifested itself in crushing stress, poor decisions, and lack of restraint and sleep, and for the first time in eight years I feel a major flare coming on.
When I crap, my toilet looks like the muddy swamps of Dagobah, and I see blood floating in the murk and on the TP when I wipe, which feels like you’re crapping doom. Whenever I eat, I feel my guts chortle and groan and they seem to be so confused by food that everything is liquefied and ejected as soon as it’s in.
Eating rules for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that if we don’t do it, we die. As a fan of the sheer variety of tastes and flavors in the universe, there are fewer things I love than trying to sample them all. Crohn’s has robbed me of this pleasure. Grocery store aisles are now a culinary red-light district, the meats and grains undulating and twisting in their doorways, calling me with their unwise consumption. Normally I’d just dive in and wake up the next morning fully able to ignore my deviance, but not when I’m flare’n. Now when I saunter into a dimly lit archway of edible indulgence, I am violently awoken by my food’s rageful driver, insisting that it leave instantly, and not the way it came in. Where previously food was my escape from the stress of life, now the food can’t escape me quick enough.
And I don’t know what’s going to happen now. The last time I was certain that the earthworms were turning, I was in surgery two years later. As I am much older now, this would be a very unwelcome detour in an already hard-fought career, but I’m prepared to accept what happens next with crossed-fingers and a clenched bottom. The most I can say is that I’ve tried to live each day as if it was three days before my last and the last time I had a full-blown Crohn’s attack, I got intravenous Dilaudid, which for 10 blissfully-opiated minutes made it all totally worth it.
They better give me Dilaudid.
Also check out Healthline’s fundraiser for the Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation to help raise awareness for Crohn's disease.