Stem Cell Transplant Numero Dos

Back in December when they told me that I was on my way to Eau Claire to have an emergency surgery on a new abscess, I knew this day would eventually come.

I’m beyond *thankful* that this day would come.

When I did my first stem cell transplant - from stem cells grown from my own belly fat! - I was one of 28 subjects that signed up to put themselves through a serious, 2-year commitment (possibly lifetime, if you’re down with it) to be humiliated in ways that you haven’t even imagined. I’ve had my behind taken pictures of like it was Lady Gaga - I’m not kidding. HUGE paparazzi type cameras, that have the added bonus of popping up *immediately* on the computer screen which I can see clearly.

SMILE! You haven't learned to smile with that muscle yet?! C'mon!!

I’m not sure many humans are quite so aware of what that part of their anatomy looks like - in multiple forms of healing, mind you - as much as I do. And if they do, I don’t really think I want to hear about it. Thanks.

So anyway - they indeed placed another seton (if you’re not aware what that is, go back and read my damn blog! Or look it up, lazy ass, educate yourself!), and when I went to Rochester to have the EUA (Exam Under Anaesthesia) they ended up finding *another* damn abscess - luckily right along side of the one that is currently existing, so they were able to essentially drain it and things were hunky dory.

Seton. Small size.

Until I couldn’t move the next day, but I digress.

The surgeon determined that both I am healthy enough to withstand trial #2, and that my stem cells are both still on file (which I knew) and that they are indeed viable.

And then here comes the super fun parts.

When you have crohn’s disease, a yearly colonoscopy (or more) is almost as regular as blood work or hell, even breathing. When they tell you it’s time, you just...deal. I have a huge sense of humor about the whole thing and love picking out the newbies when I’m in the waiting room for mine (if I’m not too hangry). I am unfortunately overdue for my checkup this year (I don’t know how my team missed this, they’re dropping the scope on this one!), but the first date that they had open was - NO SHIT - the Friday before my stem cell transplant.

Are. You. Kidding. Me.

I don’t know what happens to me when I’m under sedation, but I wake up every time with every muscle in my body aching like I’ve never experienced in my life. I’ve been told before that I fought with everything that I had, and that they had to give me a significant amount of anaesthesia to knock me out, but this happens all the time. I’m going to spend days in excruciating pain, on top of the pain that I already experience.

But this time, I’m one of ten. There are only TEN participants in this phase of the study.

Brought to you by the number ten. Also the Count.

I don’t even know how to handle that. I’m so thankful that no matter how crappy I feel every single day, that I *know* that there are crohn’s patients that are so incredibly far worse off than I am, and that if anything that I’m doing will help them in any way, I’m so happy that I’m strong enough to be doing this. I don’t know if I’ll make any sort of drop in this ocean, but if I can help just one person, I did what I set out to do.

I don’t want to get off on a tangent here, but I cannot ever donate blood because of me being a stem cell transplant patient (even though they are my own) and all of the different prescriptions that I’m on, and if by being a test patient kind of balances that out I feel better. I have another plan for later, which my family and close ones are aware of, but I don’t feel I should really bring it up until I have ink on paper, and it’s not just a pipe dream y’know?

So the stem cell research date is set for Monday June 24 (colonoscopfun the Friday before) and then I need to go back the day after - the 25th - for an immediate check-up with my Rochester gastroenterologist. I can’t afford a hotel, so that means 12 hours of driving in two days, 9 of it on a freshly operated-on bum. I have no idea how I’m going to do all of this.

Send halp.

Fuck crohns.