The Background - Initial Diagnosis

In early January 1992, my parents took me to our local physician who noted blood (unseen) in my rectum. That's all it took and off to the ER we went. That was a Thursday. On Friday, I had my first colonoscopy: To this day, the 2nd worst preparation I've ever had. Back then, they were still using Colyte (damn the manufacturer who thought that was a good product.) I merely remember reading on the toilet (again, why bother running back and forth between bed and the toilet) and forcing this salt water down my throat. I had drank heavily in the past, but this was something completely different.

With the scope, they confirmed Ulcerative Colitis. On Monday, they proceeded to do an endoscope to rule out stomach ulcers (like they didn't find enough in the colon.) Nothing seemed to be awry with the upper GI, but the lower GI was in bad shape. While the bleeding was no longer substantial or noticeable, the ulcers on the ascending side were still active but digestion was making it difficult to see with the naked eye. It is possible, I found over the following years, that it still has a distinctive smell: This would actually lend itself to knowing when it wasn't just bad food or beer causing me to be frequenting the toilet.

One upside to that week was I was able to read the entire first David Eddings series (which I had putting off for a year).

I was just about to turn 19 years old, supposedly the prime of my life, and was being lectured on an "incurable disease" and all that came with it. The one solution they could offer was to take the entire colon and live with an ostomy. That wasn't in play then, but would become apparent in the next few years, when things just weren't getting any better.

This outlook gave me an interesting way of viewing the world from that point forward: The thought that I may not live that long and if so, with any quality of life. It gave me the opportunity to not take things for granted and take things for what they really are: The realist in me (no longer the optimist that disappeared that week.) At the same time, on came a disdainful attitude (sardonic as named later in life) that would cause issues with not only myself, but those around me (most notably my parents.)