Background

Well, you know my name, age and that I lead a frustrating life--it's only fair that I give you some more background.

I graduated from high school in 2008, and then from Simpson College in 2012. Yes, I am a recent college graduate, and I'm one of the lucky few who got a job (almost) right after graduation. Sometimes I wonder how I manage a full-time job with my health. Hell, who am I kidding? Most days I wonder how I manage this job with my health.

I was 16 when the stomach pain started. I'm not talking the pain where I didn't want to go to school for a couple of days. I'm talking pain where I was doubled over, crawling because I couldn't walk, bleeding so bad there were toilet bowls full of blood, bad kind of pain. It was around this time that my depression got bad. I had to quit show choir and dance team because my body just physically couldn't handle it anymore.

I had been dancing since I was five, and now I couldn't anymore. Even now, all I can really do is Wii "Just Dance" and Zumba, and even that is in extreme moderation. Dancing was my life, my way of expressing myself, and my body just says no because it's too much.

Eventually, one doctor led to another, which led to another, and another and surgery and I received the diagnosis of endometriosis. I've had two surgeries for my endometriosis now, which has led to me having scar tissue on both the front and back of my uterus, and I've been told that it's going to be difficult for me to conceive children. All of this before the age of 18. 

I also infected my high school with whooping cough and the mumps. But I bet you're thinking "but we're vaccinated for those!" Ah, yes, you're vaccinated for the strain of the disease that the country that you live in. For example, I was vaccinated for the American strain of the mumps. My dad travels a lot for work, and ended up being the disease carrier of the European strain of the mumps...so that's what I got. And if you're curious, my dad didn't get it. Just me. That put me in the isolation ward of the hospital for awhile, gave me such a bad kidney infection (because my throat was so swollen, I couldn't swallow anything), I was almost in kidney failure, and my temp topped out at 103.6. On the bright side, I didn't have to take a couple of my finals my junior year of high school because my teachers were afraid that they would catch the mumps.

Let's just summarize my life for you: I've had tissue lasered off my uterus twice. One sinus surgery. I broke my leg and I have a screw in my ankle. I've had five colonoscopies. Two upper endoscopies. I've had my tonsils removed. I've had my wisdom teeth removed. That brings the grand total to 13 times that I've had to be put under, and I feel like I'm forgetting something. Take the number of times I've been put under, times it by two or three, and that's probably the number of times I've been in the hospital. I dehydrate really easily, I catch everything (see above mumps example if you don't believe me) and I'm allergic to a lot of antibiotics, so my body is stubborn when it comes to fighting off infections.

So that's my story, in a very small nutshell.

I fight because there's no other choice. I cry because I get frustrated. I laugh because if I don't laugh, I'd spend all my time crying. And I live because I'm not ready to die. 

“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.” 

― Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum LP 

I would give anything for perfect attendance

My name is Katie. I'm almost 23 years old. I have asthma. I also have endometriosis. Migraines. A wheat/gluten intolerance. Permanent tendonitis in my ankles. I've struggled with depression and anxiety. Some of my doctor's think I have Crohn's Disease...some think I'm just unlucky. Some think I'm just a head case. Most just have no clue what's wrong with me.

By the age of 18, two close friends and another I considered a brother committed suicide.

I was uprooted to another state when I was 12.

For the last seven years, I have endured medical hell. I have been scoped, poked and prodded by more doctors than most people endure in an lifetime. In seven years, I have seen 16 different doctors, 15 of those being specialists. Only a handful of them have come up with answers.

I endured this through the last two and a half years of high school and all four years of college. I graduated college with honors. I have a full-time job now. While in college, I wrote for the school newspaper and during my senior year, I ran that newspaper (with a ridiculous amount of help and support from my mentors, best friends and peers mind you).

Two weeks ago, I had my second upper endoscopy because I'm currently force feeding myself, unable to go one day without being extremely nauseous.

Some days, I wake up hoping it's all been a dream. But when I open my eyes every morning, I realize that I'm facing my medical hell for another day.

I started this blog because in the last few months, people have been reaching out for one question: How do you do it? 

How do I survive? The simple answer is I have to. I love my family, friends and life (most days on that last one) too much to just throw in the towel. My family and friends believe in me, so I have to believe in me, too.

I'm here to provide support, to help you understand that you are not alone.

When you are being pushed to your limit because of your health, especially when it's a disease that cannot visibly be seen, it's the most lonely feeling in the world. People frequently question whether you're faking it, and there's no way to make them understand your pain, frustration, anger and sadness.

I understand. I understand what it's like to wake up in the morning and want to cry because the pain isn't gone. I understand what it's like to hear doctor's say "well, this isn't working...I'm not sure what else we can do for you," and to leave their office empty handed.

You're not alone. Not anymore.