Annemarie's Story

My story begins after the most wonderful experience of my life, the birth of my son in 1978. After having experienced what many people describe as the best thing that can happen to a woman, which it was by leaps and bounds, I began having my problems. I was so wrapped up in the awe of this beautiful little human being, that I never really thought about the problems that were beginning to appear.

It was to be my last day in the hospital, discharge day, I could bring my little one home but before this I had to satisfy the nurses by making sure I had moved my bowels. I was having some problems that I knew about. All during my childhood I had the constipation/diarehha syndrome but never really concerned myself with it. I remember my mother giving me laxatives for the constipation, but other than that, it was never something to think about.

So the night before I was to be discharged, I was given a laxative that would supposedly work fairly quickly... nothing happened. I told the nurses this and eventually ended up with 3 enemas and an extra day in the hospital. Still nothing happened, I was so "plugged" that I would sit on the toilet and pray that it would come out. It was agony since I still had stitches from my delivery. A nurse came into the bathroom to try to help. She wanted to take a look and proceeded to try to move it some to see if it would release. As it turned out she literally pulled the feces right out of me! It, to my relief, was wonderful, the rest came out naturally and I could finally go home. The nurse did tell me that I should see a doctor as this seemed not to be normal.

I went home with my beautiful son and was the happiest person on earth. This wonderful little boy had came into my life. He asked nothing of me, except to be loved, fed and hugged of which I did without reservation. He was my life, God blessed me beyond anything I could ever imagine. But then my problems began. My baby was thriving, I was getting sicker by the days. I noticed that I would have the diarehha and the constipation routine again. Then I noticed blood in my stool. I also noticed blood in the bowl. There was definately something wrong here. I called the doctor and made an appointment. After various tests, they had diagnosed the beginnings of colitis. I was given medications to take and sent home. I was also told to relax, destress, not worry so much about everything. Easily said than done at that time, my husband and I had just bought a new home and it was being built. I tried to help myself as best I could but was still not well. I continued to have the pain, the blood still showed up in the bowl. Back and forth to the doctors for more and more tests. I finally decided I would take a break from all of this. Our house was just about complete. We would travel some 50 miles to our new home to check out the progress. Continually having diarhhea I knew every single bathroom stop on the way down. Sometimes, embarrassingly, I would have to stop in the woods to go. Always carrying my little baggy full of kleenex, just in case.

We moved into our new home in 1981. It was wonderful to have a place we could call home. My husband had been working an awful lot of overtime, or so I thought, to make extra money to help with the bills. I knew in the back of my mind though, that something wasn't right. I began a friendship with a next door neighbor, she was a very nice girl and we became the best of friends. The extra hours my husband was working began to wear on me. He would never take the time to spend taking care of our son, and my being as sick as I was didn't help. We began to fight alot. I finally told him I had decided that since he had to work so much, and didn't want to help with the baby, that I had no choice than to move into my parents home for awhile until I felt better. He agreed with me, dumbfounded, I couldn't believe that he had agreed to this. It wasn't until sometime later that I had found out that he was having an affair with my next door neighbor, my so called best friend.

Off I went with my son to live at my parents home. They were the best. My mom always doted on my son. Spoiling him like every single grandmother spoils their grandbabies. My dad would just talk with me, he was such a quiet man of very few words but I could see it in his eyes that he was extremely concerned about his little girl. Constant running to the bathroom left me losing some 50 lbs in a matter of a couple of months. I was going to the bathroom some 20 times a day, sometimes more. Finally I was getting so weak, my father sat me down and said "this has got to stop, I'm bringing you to the hospital". He literally had to carry me to the car and into the ER that's how sick I was. I was passing out I was so weak.

Immediately upon arrival my dad stood there in the ER his voice cracking with emotion he walked up to the desk and said "please help my daughter, she is very very sick". With that I was whisked into a room, immediately given an IV, given xrays, and a sigmoidoscopy, and admitted to the hospital. The next day my doctors came in to discuss what the findings were. My colitis was raging. They brought in a surgeon for me to meet with. My wonderful surgeon, Dr. Anthony Dragone. He was my saviour, my friend, and a wonderful surgeon. He discussed what my options might be. He wanted to wait to build me back up before he did any exploring. So here I lay, hooked up to IV's, constant bedpans for the diarehha continued. It was Feb when he decided it was time for me to go under the knife. THe medications weren't helping, my diarehha wasn't stopping. Dr. Dragone called me "his child of Auschweitz" that's how ematiated I looked.

It was Feb. 4, into the OR I went. I was scared and didn't really know what to expect, I knew what my chances were and bravely went ahead into surgery. As I lay on the table, Dr. Dragone began his exploring, my large colon was like tissue paper, he said, it was the worse case of colitis he had ever seen. I actually made medical history at this hospital, since my case was the worst they had every seen. Not something to be very proud of I know, but non the less it was historical. As far as I know, there hasn't been another worst case scenario. So out came part of the colon, I was given a temporary colostomy because I was still so weak and was having complications under anesthesia. I awoke in my room, I remember this blue twirling thing over my face with a tube attached to it. I was in alot of pain, I couldn't talk. I was on a respirator. My parents were there loving me, as they always had. My husband, also was in the room but I don't ever remember him coming close to me.

The next day I was taken off the respirator. I remember waking up with this "thing" on my belly. This strange creature that I knew not what to do with. I was so very weak. The nurses and my surgeon came in to get me up and into a chair. They did, I was in so much pain, and so drugged that I didn't really care. It was days before I started feeling any better. The surgeon explained what had happened. My large colon perforated on the table. The reason for the colostomy. But I needed more surgery. He had seen what the colitis had been doing all of these years to my body. But he felt I needed more strength to get me through the rest. I was put on hyperalimentation. That's a 1,000+calorie liquid nourishment that is fed into one's veins. I began to feel a little better. I still hadn't eaten anything. It was like a month and nothing had passed my lips other than sips of water, boullion, and jello. I was up finally riding a stationary bike to help keep my blood from clotting after having been in bed for so long. I unfortunately did develop a blood clot in my lung. Back to bed and fitted with "booties". They were these huge yellow boots that came all the way up to my thigh with zippers all the way down to my toes. They would flow air throughout to keep things moving so as to not get another clot. I did however end up with another clot in my leg after my second surgery. It was April now, I had been hospitalized for 3 months.

The day finally arrived April 8, 1981, surgery day. I went in at 7 am and wasn't out until some 9 1/2 hours later. I was given a permanent ileostomy, my entire large colon removed, my rectum and my appendix. I came out of this surgery the same way I did with the first. That blue swirling thing above my face with the tube attached. I was really out of it for this one, I felt hardly any pain at all. The next day, same thing, up and out of bed and into my "recliner". I was feeling really out of it. Surgeons came in to let me know everything went well. I was "CURED", so they said. As the drugs began to wear off I felt alot of pain, I had tubes and wires coming out of every orifice of my little body. Drains everywhere, I stood up and was bent over like a little old lady. Every day had me standing up and moving a little closer to the door. Each day a few steps... eventually making laps in the hallway all the way to the elevator.

I spent nearly 4 months between the ICU and PCU, I can remember my craving food now. I would lay in my bed and thumb through magazines cutting out recipes. When my surgeon came in to let me know I could eat, I came right out and told him what I wanted... A PIZZA! With the look of shock on his face, he said unequivically no! I demanded yes! I asked my Dad to bring me a small cheese pizza, which he did. I proceeded to eat the whole thing. I devoured each and every single slice like it was the only food I had ever eaten in my life. It was so delicious! I never had a problem....."Rosie" worked just fine. It was some scary though watching and feeling this little "thing" deposit feces into this little bag attached to my tummy.

Everyday I grew stronger. My only other setback was an infection in my incision. Gowns and gloves for all until I got over that too. I had begun to read a little bible that a priest had given to me while I was in the hospital. I read it every single day that I could, praying that God would help me through all of this. I would cry and cry and pray that He would give me the strengh to just get through this. After all, I had a little boy to raise. I wanted so much to see my son grow up and make me proud of him.

Well finally, on April 25, 1981, I was released from the hospital. I went back to live at my parents home again til I could get back on my feet. I would continue to have visiting nurses come to see me and change my dressings. My mother was God sent, she raised my little boy all of this time. He was growing by leaps and bounds. Every day my strength picked up, it took me a good year to get back on my feet again. "Rosie" and I are now the best of friends. For it is without her, that I would not be alive today and writing this story. I have gone on with my life now, my marriage finally ended in divorce. In court my ex-husband told me and I quote " you're not the same woman I married, and I can't handle that". He has never really had a relationship with our son. Matthew is now 23 yrs old, he is and always will be the love to this girl's life. He is tall, handsome and successful and now living in Arizona. Not a day goes by that I don't miss him and we are forever on the phone or online to one another.

As for my life, I have also gone on to meet a wonderful man. Ken and I have been together almost 15 yrs this coming May. He has a daughter from a previous marriage, Katie,she is a beautiful 21 year old college student. When I met Ken, I told him exactly what had happened in my life. I was very afraid to tell him what I had attached to my tummy. But I knew that we were getting serious and I needed to let him know. I did, and his reply to all of this " I love you for the woman that you are on the inside and the outside, not for what you have hanging off your body. You are a beautiful person inside and outside and I will always love you for the lovely woman that you are." This, my friends, made me know that this was the man I would definately spend the rest of my life with. So far its been a wonderful life, I am just so thankful to be here and alive every single solitary day. I thank the good Lord above for giving me the chance to be here on this earth with all of you to tell my story. God bless all of you.

Annmarie

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