Something wasn’t right the evening of Sunday June 14th. I knew what it was. Another bowel obstruction was nigh!

It had happened before in April, and I had learned to weather the storm on my own without the help (or expense)of my local hospital and surgeon. I had a few moments where I dealt with blockages from the safety of my home. These “joyous” moments entail no food or drink for 12-24 hours – a self-imposed fasting for non-religious reasons. Pressure is relieved and the blockage works itself out. Voila! All of this can be done at home or even from work if you are so compelled.

Monday June 15th rolled up and I felt the same, but I hit the office anyways because I had appointments scheduled. By noon it had been 24 hours and I was feeling depleted, but better. The blockage, I felt, had passed. I ate some chicken caldo (soup) my wife had made the day before and everything seemed fine. “Another hospital visit dodged,” I thought to myself.

Some of you may be curious what a bowel obstruction feels like, but it’s hard to describe. I notice my bowel movements cease, and I’m not expelling gas anymore. That sends immediate alarms off with me when those two things happen. Those alarms trigger extra-hard listening to my body. Eventually, pain starts to hit you just below the lower end of your sternum, in my case. It’s a cramping pain, generally coming in intense waves that strike at intervals of five to 15 minutes. Nausea and/or vomiting follow along with a bloated, tender abdomen. I know it sounds fun, but it really isn’t. I dread these moments.

As the day progressed so did my symptoms and discomfort. That evening I asked my wife to take me to the Emergency Room. The intervals between waves of pain were coming in closer and closer like I had never experienced before. I began to wonder what it meant to my body when the intervals ceased and it was constant submersion in pain.

The nurses began to pump me with morphine which, for some reason, does not effect the pain in my torso, but it does effect my mind. Leslie and I advised the nurses and doctor that Dilaudid is what we have found works. During all of this I could hear the medical team arguing amongst themselves about what was wrong and how to proceed – this did not help my mental state and my concern for my time left on this planet.

As I lay there in pain staring at the hospital ceiling, I was certain this was it. I then resolved that the last thing I see shouldn’t be ceiling tiles, but rather my wife’s eyes. And that’s the last thing I remember. I must’ve passed out or blacked out from all the painkillers they were pumping into me.

The next thing I remember I was lying in my new hospital room. It was, in fact, a major blockage and surgery was needed. The surgeon made three incisions reusing two incision points and creating a new one. Scar tissue had wrapped around my bowels in two different points and created multiple sites of narrowing of the bowels. He also went ahead and scraped potential problem scar tissue from the underside of my abdomen and sewed me back up.

My recovery and days following this stint resulted in some of the best days I’ve had since my colectomy. I had energy, reduced bowel movements each day and I began to phase in raw fruits and vegetables. Then mid-August hit. . . but that’s for another posting.

Patient Tip: You may find that foods that are considered off limits (not low residue) are okay for you, and vice versa. It is an ongoing experiment to find what works. Additionally, hydration is key. I run every morning, and when summer hit I did not change my water intake. This sent me to the ER one evening because my system basically ceased-up (like an motor without oil). I took in two and half bags of fluids and was sent home okay. This is a balancing act – too much water results in an increase in trips to the bathroom and a loosening of stool, and if you don’t get enough then your bowels are going to yell at you. Drink water, all you upper-case G’s!