Zac 
Zac's Story
Age 20
Unlike most of those on this site, I didn't really grow up IBD, but as everyone on this site can tell you, IBD in any form is not an easy thing to deal with. IBD is not a disorder that everyone that you meet on the street instantly recognizes and those that do can't usually relate to the painful and sometimes life threatening qualities of Crohn's or UC. While IBD isn't a disorder that is terminal, the degree of despair and hopelessness that we feel is no less than if it were. It can be extremely hard at times and feel almost impossible to continue, but stories like these really inspire and give hope, and I think any story is worth sharing.
I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis in June of 2007 after a month of increasingly frequent and often bloody diarrhea. At first, I thought I was just experiencing the after effects of a "wing night" at the local bar and grill. After a few days of diarrhea, I saw blood in my stool and was prescribed an anti-inflammatory called Asacol by my primary care physician before seeing a gastroenterologist. He performed a full colonoscopy and took biopsies of both my colon and small intestine and told me that I had Ulcerative Colitis.
Right from the beginning I knew I had a stronger form of the disease because I experienced no relief from the Asacol--the drug that supposedly gave 90 percent of UC patients relief. I saw my gastro doctor regularly that month and after losing 15 pounds the hard way, he put me on high doses of prednisone. At first, this was the miracle drug. I felt energized, my bowel movements were becoming less frequent and less bloody and I was gaining weight. However, the benefits quickly faded after only a week and before I knew it, I was seeing blood and getting up 15 times through the night. The next few months were pretty rough. I had to quit my job helping on a construction company because I couldn't hold my bowel movements for more than a few minutes at best--a few seconds at worst. I also was losing more weight: I was now 40 pounds lighter than I had been three months earlier.
I then started up with my third semester at PSU. I even tried out for the prestigious Blue Band and made it onto the baritone line. I was so excited for the upcoming year. In the background though, my symptoms were getting much worse. I grew up in a house that never quit anything. Even with the mounting symptoms I pressed on. I would go to 7:00 A.M. band practices after waking up 15 times in the night to go. I wore adult diapers on the practice field to protect from my unstoppable urges. I would practice 8 hours a day in the blazing sun with only a banana as fuel, because anything more would cause me to double over in pain from the cramping. It really was hell.
School started and I still continued. In classes, I had to pick the seat closest to the door because I would sometimes have to go 2 or 3 times in a one hour and fifteen minute lecture. I carried an extra change of underwear and diapers in my backpack because as I had found out, I really couldn't control what this disease was doing to me. I made it one week before I woke up one morning too weak to go on. My parents, who luckily only lived 40 minutes from campus rushed up to the campus and took me to the hospital and took me to the ER. I was severely dehydrated and completely malnourished. I had lost 70 pounds over the course of only 3 months. Looking back, I really think that if I had continued that week, I would have died.
The decision to drop out of school and quit the Blue Band was a hard one to make. I was admitted to the hospital then and put on Remicade infusions. Again, at first, this was the miracle drug. The one I thought would really give me back my life. It even worked wonderfully for the next month. I never thought that I wouldn't go back to school for the next semester. But again, the benefits soon faded, and by December I was forced to choose whether to trust the remicade, which was now being double dosed to contain my symptoms or take the final step into surgery. I weighed the risks of surgery against the risks of continuing taking three drugs--Prednisone, Asacol and Remicade--for the rest of my life, and decided it was time to end all of this.
I went in for surgery at the Pittsburgh University Medical Center and was to have a full colectomy with an ileostomy at the recommendation of the doctors there. At first it was hard to accept spending even any time with part of my small intestine peeping out my stomach, constantly spilling fecal matter into a bag, but my parents convinced me that it couldn't be worse than my situation. So I had the surgery done and after four hard weeks of getting used to living with my ileostomy, I can really see my life finally returning to normalcy. My surgeon even says he'll be able to reattach the small intestine to my rectum after a year of healing time. Everyday I feel stronger and happier. I really feel like this is my new beginning and I have so much hope for the future.