Kevin Gibson - Crohns Disease: A Memoir From the Toilet

Copyright 2014 by Kevin Gibson

All rights reserved

eISBN: 9780989266185

This book is dedicated to the memory of Joseph F. Pappaw McMahan, Maerene Mammaw McMahan and Toby.

Acknowledgements

T his book wasnt a terribly easy one to write. I had to revisit a time of my life that I had buried deep within. In fact, I had planned to simply leave that part of my life there, forever hidden. But in the years since my early battles with Crohns Disease and the associated complications, people have been telling me, You should write a book.

The latest person to insist on this book becoming a reality was my girlfriend, Cynthia Bard. I would randomly tell her some snippet of a story during my battle for life in 1990 or mention my ongoing pain and frustration with my disease, and she would inevitably tell me, You should write a book. Finally, I did. I want to thank her for that.

But mostly I want to thank my parents, Ron and Jula Gibson, for the support they showed me during that first year and since. It was arguably harder on them than it was on me because, lets face it, no parent wants to see his or her child suffer.

I also want to thank the rest of my family, from grandparents to aunts, uncles, cousins and more, who also were there to help and support. I owe special thnks to the late Joe Pappaw McMahan, who was one of the greatest men I ever knew and was a constant source of support and comfort during my illness, along with the late Maerene Mammaw McMahan. Of course, my friends were strong for me during that time as well, and there are far too many to name. In fact, you learn a lot about who your friends are when youre down. I am no different.

I want to send out a special thanks to the late, great Toby, the little Lhasa apso that helped me survive my harrowing Crohns ordeal. He was special, and then some. I will miss him forever.

I also want to thank Cynthia, Fred Minnick and Kirk Kiefer for saving me from myself and editing this book for me (checks in the mail, everyone!), and I want to thank Butch Bays for putting together the cover. I would also like to thank the model in the photo, whoever he is. (No, those are not my legs.)

Finally, I want to thank myself for surviving when I wasnt sure I could. For surviving when I wasnt sure I had any more fight left in me. Turns out Im one tough son of a bitch.

Preface

I ll never forget when my surgeon told me Id not get back to normal ever again. This was in the weeks following my 1990 diagnosis of Crohns Disease. I vaguely remember hearing the words Crohns Disease for the first time as I lay in a hospital bed. Whats that mean? I thought. How do we cure it? And when will I be well?

And it was later that I found out about my new normal. When you develop Crohns, the old normal is out the window for good. And my surgeon was quick to tell me as much. As I moved forward and began to realize what I faced for the rest of my life, he often told me, Once a Crohns patient, always a Crohns patient.

Blunt, sure. For the record, though, hes absolutely right. Another unforgettable statement he made to me during my early months of dealing with Crohns was, Youll become familiar with the public restroom everywhere you go from now on.

Oh boy. But its undeniable: Crohnies always know where the nearest toilet is. Heres an example, something that happened during a visit to England in 2005: As Im walking through Liverpool City Centre with my friends, I announce, I need to find a restroom. Like, soon.

Fortunately, a McDonalds appears about a block ahead of us. When we approach, my friends say theyll wait outside while I go in. Theres a 20-something man mopping the floor and wearing a McDonalds uniform just a few feet away from the entrance, so I approach him.

Excuse me, I say, can you please tell me where I can find a restroom?

He looks around the place, appearing somewhat confused by my question. Um, youre in a restaurant, mate.

Im sorry, I say. Restroom. I need to find a bathroom.

Ohhhh, he says, his voice filling with sudden recognition. You need a toilet. Upstairs and to the right, mate. Cheers.

Note to self: When on holiday in the U.K., always ask for a toilet, not a restroom. Otherwise, theyll just think youre hungry.

And on and on it goes.

I think what was worst for me when I was first diagnosed with Crohns Disease was the reaction I got from friends, acquaintances and such. In those days, so few people knew what Crohns was that it was easy for them to be taken aback, perhaps thinking you carried some dreaded exotic malady that came here by way of infected rats on a Viking ship.

Hi, Im Kevin Gibson, and I have Crohns Disease. Interestingly, for someone who was thoroughly unpopular and mostly invisible in middle school and high school, it was almost like having yet another social black mark. It was painful, and not in the way Crohns is physically painful I truly feared I would forever be an outcast because of this disease that had been thrust upon me.

But this book isnt about any sort of complaint or self-pity over my life with Crohns Disease. What I hope to do is share an often humorous and always honest chronicle of this journey. Yes, it has at times been devastating, but Im nearly a quarter of a century removed from my Crohns diagnosis, and I lead an active and relatively healthy lifestyle. The point of my story is this: You can survive it, you can manage it, and you can lead the life you want to lead. You just have to believe in all those three things and not let go of that belief, no matter how much you may feel compelled to at times. You also have to buy lots of toilet paper.

But best of all, you can ultimately get to a place where you can have a sense of humor about Crohns Disease. I believe that is a big part of what has gotten me this far into my journey with Inflammatory Bowel Disease, which encompasses Crohns as well as Colitis. My philosophy has always been, well, since there is no definitive cause for Crohns, and there is no known cure, so you might as well just make the best of it and have fun with the poop jokes.

That said, this is my Crohns Disease story, and Im sticking to it.

Leukemia?

D r. George Wolverton was a family practitioner, but he actually could have passed as a mad scientist. He had a halting manner of speaking, and he tended to draw out the last word of each phrase: OK, nooow, open wiiiiiiide. All this, combined with the silver hair slicked tight to his head and wire-framed glasses pushed to the end of his nose, nearly made him a Golden-Age horror movie clich. Nearly. In reality, he was a hyper-intelligent, politically savvy and good-natured man. On this Saturday in May 1990, Dr. Wolverton is examining me with a concerned, even perplexed, look on his face.

What do you think is wrong with you? he finally says, slumping onto a metal stool in the exam room and showing a measure of defeat Ive never seen in the man.

Youre the doctor, I counter with a shrug. You tell me.

He laughs heartily at this. He has attacked my lymph nodes with his fingers during the exam, as well as the usual assault on my chest and back with the ice-cold stethoscope bell. I now sit, slumped and skinny, on a 1950s-era examination table covered with a strip of paper that was replaced after each patient exam by way of a huge, seemingly endless roll attached to the end of the vinyl-covered, steel behemoth.