Before my first surgery just after college, the fear of having a Crohns attack stopped me from spending a semester abroad, and pretty much had me living in fear of going anywhere that I didnt have ready access to a bathroom.  Surgery was life-changing for me.

After my first surgery, I realized how compromised my life had been - and I promised myself never to let that happen again. I went abroad for the first time a year later, and since then Ive been to India, Brazil, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Switzerland, Germany, France, the UK, Jordan, Tunisia, Israel, and other places, and spent 3 years in a sales job that took me all over the US.

In 2004, I was on a business trip to Heidelberg, Germany, where my company is based when I awoke in the night with terrible pain in my stomach. By morning I was throwing up and delirious with pain. I kept thinking it would get better - I was terrified to be hospitalized in a foreign country! But by 9am I couldnt stand it and called the front desk, managing to whisper "I need to go to the hospital immediately."

Ten minutes later, I crawled out of the bathroom in my sweat-soaked pyjamas to answer a knock at the door. A very tall, very blond German woman wearing a red teeshirt with a white plus sign on it stood there with two guys and asked me - the only person in the room - "Whos the patient here?" I wouldve laughed if I wasnt in so much pain - but protocol is protocol... 

After a short examination, they loaded me into a wheelchair and took me through the lobby of the hotel to a waiting ambulance. I was in too much pain to be too mortified - but I also didnt look up or around to see people staring at me. At that point all I cared about was sleep and pain relief. 

The ambulance dropped me off, and next thing I remember is having an IV drip of Buscopan hooked up and within minutes... blessed relief! For the first time in hours, I closed my eyes and slept.

German doctors are very familiar with the disease they call "Mobius Crohns", and immediately sent me for a CT scan which determined that my small intestine was inflamed and nearly closed. I was admitted and given a room with a young Turkish woman with a heart condition.

Im lucky that the German doctors take their medical school program in English, and most Germans under the age of 40 speak some English anyway, so language wasnt a problem, - but I did pick up quite a bit of German trying to communicate with my room-mates. How else to pass the time?    

My work colleagues came to visit, brought me English-language books and newspapers.  The local manager at my company arranged for me to have a temporary company cell phone so I didnt have to use a calling card for local calls.  My teammates back home sent me care packages with awful teenage "hearthrob" magazines - but also books and messages of encouragement. The outpouring of support was humbling and to this day Im moved to tears thinking about their kindness and compassion during that time.

In fact, the only time my blood pressure was high was after I got off the phone convincing my mother not to make her first-ever trip overseas one to visit me in the hospital! I love her dearly, but there was nothing to be done, and my life was in no way in danger, and I certainly wasnt alone or lonely.

German hospitals are amazing... They leave you alone from around 7pm until 7am, believing uninterrupted sleep is the best medicine, and once your doctor has cleared you to walk around, even with an IV pole I was allowed to walk anywhere I wanted in the hospital, including to the cafeteria! When I had the IV taken out and was started on a liquid diet, I was also allowed to take a walk OUTSIDE on the hospital grounds, accompanied by my visiting work colleagues and friends. Can you imagine that here in the US? It kept me sane, kept my muscles from atrophying, and gave me something to look forward to each day. (By contrast, in US hospitals they routinely woke me up in the middle of the night to give me a sleeping pill! LOL)

After three weeks, they made the decision I was well enough to fly home instead of doing surgery there. I was so relieved! They were fearful that the change in air pressure for an 8 hour flight would worsen the inflammation, but they released me when my wonderful company agree to fly me Business Class so I could rest comfortably.

It was embarassing to need to be taken through the airport at home in a wheelchair, but I was still very weak and tired and afraid to pass out in the airport somewhere and be MORE embarassed!

This was August of 2004. I recuperated at home, and went through a series of diagnostics and was referred to a surgeon. As I had already made plans to go to Thailand in December, I was eager to have the surgery and needed no convincing... my surgeon was ready for a fight, but having had surgery once before that restored my quality of life, there was no question what I wanted to do. I was grateful this happened in Germany and NOT in Thailand, which has a wonderful medical system and English-speaking doctors, but would have been a greater logistical challenge for sure!

My only comment to him was "Im going to Thailand in December, so how soon can we do this?"  It was mid-September. He said "Well, welll see about that..." But I was determined that this disease would not control my life more than it already does. "I have the tickets, the trip is planned, and I am going. So when are we doing this? Tomorrow? Next week?"

I had my second resection the first week in October, removing another 15 cm of terminal illium (previously they removed 30cm).  And with the minor concessions of promising to use a rolling suitcase instead of carrying a heavy backpack, and a avoiding strenuous hikes, I boarded my flight to Thailand 8 weeks later and spent a fabulous three weeks touring one of my favorite destinations.

I returned to Bangkok on December 24th, and while I was in the air on my way home for Christmas, an earthquake was wrecking havoc on the ocean floor, sending the now-infamous tsunami hurling onto the shores of southern Thailand, including the beach where I had watched the sunset less than 48 hours before.

Life is short. Every day is precious. My worst fear had come true, but in the end I realized that I am more resilient than I give myself credit for - and that is one of the positive things thats come from having Crohns... if I wake up in the morning and am not in pain, its a good day. Everything else is just cream on top. Its a mantra I try to live by.

Next up: "Madrid to Marrakesh"... my first organized trip abroad. I cant wait!