In September 1986 I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, and today I realized that I recently missed my 20th anniversary. As I realized that, I was walking into an x-ray room with Claire who was getting an Upper GI, something I am all too familiar with from my last two decades of testing. I remember the first time I got sick. I was walking along the creek at Eleven-Mile Run in Potter County near the New York State border, and a fine mist of rain poured down on us. By the time we walked to the car and drove three hours to Pittsburgh, I was hot and fluish; it took mere months until I was diagnosed. At first they thought I had Leukemia, which now scares the heck out of me since people die all of the time from that.

Now it’s 20 years later and my daughter has had cylic vomiting and who knows why. So we took her to the pediatric gastroenterologist, and I had these nightmare flashbacks of when I use to see a ped GI myself. I hated it, and I use to run out of his office and lock myself in my parent’s car. My mother actually brought that up to me today.

So now Claire is doing some of the tests I did when I was younger. Of course I was way sicker and a bit older. It freaked me out because I was a teenager and dealt with all of that concurrently. All we know for sure is she has some reflux problems. And the white poopies we had tonight were really fun.

Snowball fight! You’re it.