Regardless of the what you celebrate, the holidays are a good time to slow down, take inventory of what is going on, and look forward to what's on the horizon. And although I'll keep some of my reflection to myself, I figured I'd throw together a "Year in Review" to take a look at what 2012 was all about.
When I began writing on the blog, I shared some thoughts around a framework I used to define health. I essentially "chunked" life into major components (my physical health, my career, my finances, my hobbies, and my relationships) and set some goals about what it would look like to be "healthy" in each component of life. My thinking was that if I could objectively define what "success" or "happy" looks like in each of these areas, I could focus my time, resources, and efforts on those activities that I believe will translate to a 'better' state. For example, if financial health meant saving $X in a certain time period, I could set up a savings plan to save that dollar amount. If physical health meant working out a certain number of times each month, then I'd track how many times I went to the gym, and so on and so forth. I even took it so far as to set goals and track the number of books I read, concerts I attended, and rounds of golf I played.
Over time, I've gotten a little less objective about how I'd define happiness but I still find value in shining a spotlight at each area of life as I think about where I'm at and how things are going. The last few months have been very intense and at times dramatic on the "physical health" side of things, so we'll start there and see where this "year in review" takes us.
Its no secret to regular readers of ADW (Adventures of Delta Whiskey) that I've had a long history with health challenges. Around age 12, I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease, which is a not so fun gastrointestinal ailment. Throughout my teens, into my 20's, and eventually my 30's, Crohn's cast a shadow over life; and at times that shadow got pretty dark. Back in 2006, after years of fighting with my gut, I had the bulk of my plumbing removed, with a small portion left behind in case I decided to 'reconnect' things at some point down the road. After that initial surgery, I went through adjustments both physically and mentally, and got more comfortable with having a body that was different than other 30-somethings. Although I wasn't crazy about my "little buddy" (my ostomy), it allowed me to be active and live a life that did not revolve around a toilet, doctor's office, or pharmacy.
In the years since my initial surgery, my doctors in both Seattle and Chicago advised against "reconnecting" my parts, and after consulting with Romeo, my doctors, my family, my friends, and my conscience, I decided to have the remaining parts of my colon removed. The risks of keeping those parts around (Cancer, Infection, etc.) were far greater than the benefits of attempting a very risky reconnection and the longer I kept those parts around, the greater the risk became. So on October 22, I had the remaining parts taken out for good.
I wish I could tie a nice bow around this story, and say it all ended perfectly, but that is not the case. I was hospitalized for five days following my surgery and went home later in the week feeling "OK" despite the incisions in my belly and other parts of the body. I probably underestimated the impact the surgery was going to have on my day-to-day life, and the first week or so out of the hospital was rough. Getting in and out of showers, bed, cars, and even chairs had its challenges, and although I was able to walk I was pretty 'home bound' during that first week of recovery.
About a week after coming home from the hospital, I was enjoying a Fontano's Sub Sandwich with Juliet Mike (a prior ADW guest) when I began to feel "not so good." After spending about 24 hours praying to the Kohler Gods, Romeo and I ventured back to the hospital's Emergency Department to see what was wrong. After running me through a few tests, they determined I had a blockage (obstruction) keeping me from digesting foods and they'd need to set me up to an NG tube to help 'move things through or move things out.' This tube would run out of my stomach and through a tube in my nose to the wall, so that suction and pressure could relieve whatever was stuck.
For three days, I laid in a bed, attached to the wall while my body's pipes were emptied--no food, no drink, no moving, and no fun. Those were among the three most miserable days I had in 2012, and as you can imagine those days were mentally grueling as I relied on others to take care of me while I counted down the minutes until the tube was removed. Eventually, that tube (and others) was yanked, and I went home to continue my recovery. I joked afterwards, but if they're looking for new terrorist interrogation tactics, NG tubes would be a good alternative to waterboarding.
Since the second hospitalization, I've been on a steady, incremental trend upwards. My strength and muscle is returning, the areas where I've had surgery aren't as sore, and I'm gradually getting back into the activities I did prior to October 22. Most importantly, I'm thankful to be without Crohn's for the first time in 20+ years. This past few months has given me a humbling reminder about how delicate our health can be, and how important it is to everything we do--from our relationships at home to our success at work.
You might expect, with all that time in the bed, alone with my thoughts that I'd have some deep, profound epiphany on life, health, and how all of these setbacks or challenges with my health are tied to some 'greater purpose.' But the only insight I can think of came from my aunt who said, "sometimes shitty stuff just happens." Plenty of shitty stuff happened to me, and as much as I want to try to piece together the underlying cause and reason for it all; I find myself a heck of a lot happier taking the "acceptance" road and enjoying what I've got rather than complaining or griping about what I don't.
So in conclusion, my holiday message would be this: we're all lucky to some degree to be alive, healthy, and surrounded by people who bring joy into our lives. I hope the coming year allows you to spend your time and effort enjoying those things, rather than dwelling on some of the "shit that happens."
Happy Holidays!
