6 months. Only 6 months is how long my remission lasted. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering my journey, but that’s a bit ridiculous.
Before I dive into that news, in my effort to put some positivity into this post, I will list some good things.
- When you have a doctor for 12 years and an appointment like I had Tuesday, things get done immediately. The awesome GI pharmacist quickly got through hoops to get a med for me, I had an ostomy nurse evaluate me within 48 hours, and Dr. G’s nurse has been working behind the scenes getting some other annoying things taken care of- such as a soft catheter(more on that later).
- When you have a million MOH’s surgeries and are on your doctors family Christmas card list, a simple message to her gets you an appointment with a top dermatologist in the area in 3 days vs 3 months.
- I don’t really know what the 3rd thing is, but in my opinion lists should have at least 3 items.
I wrote in my last post about the mouth ulcers I’ve been dealing with, and unfortunately they’ve only gotten worse. After a failed attempt with an ENT so useless that Dr. G literally fired him, I ended up having scopes and we are hopefully on the road to treatment. The ENT gave me something that didn’t work- or as Dr. G put it, “a homeopathic joke.” He also said he couldn’t biopsy because it was too complicated and decided to blame everything on my oral medication. It is not my medication. I’ve been down the drug-reaction road before, and that mess was everywhere in my mouth, scalp and skin. This is not that. This is a few very specific angry spots in my mouth.
I’ll come back to the mouth in a minute, but first: the scopes. There was some good news. My disease in the duodenum is still in remission, which is something. Unfortunately, as the scope moved further into the upper small bowel, that good news ended. There was inflammation and ulceration, officially ending my very brief remission. Biopsies confirmed moderate activity and erosion.
He also scoped through my stoma, Liza. There isn’t active disease there, but it’s not exactly a good situation either. There’s significant scar tissue, and when he put the scope in, he had to take a very sharp angle just to see anything. His said my intestine is basically kinked and stuck to my abdominal wall. This would explain the pain and why, when things back up and can’t make that turn, pressure builds until my bag gives up and leaks.
After procedures you just get a report, so I was glad I had a follow-up a few days later to actually talk things through. In that appointment, Dr. G also fired my dermatologist. This is the second time he’s done that in a year, which feels like some kind of record. He said he has no idea why Anschutz can’t keep decent dermatologists, so he’s been sending patients outside the system. Interestingly, the dermatologist he sent me to works out of my MOH’s surgeon’s office which my connection to allowed for that fast appointment time.
While we’re both fairly convinced my mouth sores are Crohn’s-related, he wants to rule out Oral Lichen Planus, another autoimmune condition that can overlap with Crohn’s. Apparently he has a patient with it. I’ll see what the dermatologist thinks on Monday. In the meantime, he prescribed a new oral medication that we’re hoping will calm things down. I’ve reached the point where I need lidocaine just to eat, which is fun in the sense that food then tastes like absolutely nothing.
As for the bowel Crohn’s, we need to move quickly. I technically have two options. One is doubling my current medication, which isn’t FDA-approved at that dose. Some of his colleagues are doing it successfully, but there’s been an increase in PJP pneumonia. Since I had that last year, which was terrifying, that option is off the table. He doesn’t want to risk it.
So instead, we’re trying Vancomycin. It’s typically used in pediatric IBD-PSC patients. PSC is my liver disease, and this treatment is usually for people with severe colon disease, which I obviously don’t have anymore. He’s never tried it in someone without a colon, but our toolbox is getting pretty empty, so here we are. The goal is to calm the gut, help the mouth, and stop the weight loss. He was clearly concerned when he examined me and doesn’t want to lose any more ground.
The stoma situation, unfortunately, is never going to improve. He had hoped he might see narrowing that he could open up with the scope, but that wasn’t the case. My output just has a very difficult corner to turn, and unless I want surgery, management is the only option. He asked his nurse to track down a soft catheter for me in case I obstruct. She confirmed today that a straight catheter would never work as it wouldn’t be flexible enough. I did meet with an ostomy nurse, though, and she gave me some helpful tips on preventing leaks, so at least I feel a little more supported there.
I am incredibly lucky to have Dr. G’s nurse in my corner. The last time he had someone like her was probably eight years ago. She’s kind, relentless, and somehow managed to get Ryan all the medications he needed for his study-abroad semester in Italy—which honestly tells you everything you need to know. She’s been just as amazing to me, and I really hope she sticks around.
My only real complain aside from the remission ending and my mouth being on fire is that if I had gotten in front of Dr. G a month earlier, my mouth might not be in such bad shape. He was working with the information he had from me, ENT, and derm, and I don’t think the full picture clicked until he actually saw me. Going forward, we’re shortening the gap between appointments. His nurse told me they always make room for me, and I know they do, but it really matters that he lays eyes on me regularly.