3 A.M. Crisis: My 18-Month Journey to Health, Humor, and Sel

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It was late Sunday night, and the usual peace before the Monday grind settled over the house. I was getting ready for my normal routine when a tremendous pain shot through my stomach. It was blinding. I tried every position imaginable—left, right, back—but no matter how I turned, the agony was unrelenting. Then came the frantic trip to the bathroom. In 66 years, throwing up was something that practically never happened to me, so I knew something was profoundly wrong.

When I stumbled back to the bedroom at 3 a.m., I had reached my limit. I woke up my husband, explaining the unbelievable pain and the chaos in the bathroom. It was time for the emergency room

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What I didn’t know was that years of taking low-dose aspirin had begun to erode my colon, making it weak and causing little pockets to develop. Over time, food particles had lodged in these newly formed pockets—a condition called diverticulitis. They became infected, poisoning my blood. The doctor’s words were a cold slap of reality: had I not come in that night, I might not have woken up on Monday morning.

They pumped me full of countless antibiotics, but the damage was done. I needed surgery to remove the infected part of the colon. My mind immediately panicked, then quickly rationalized. The intestines are miles long; I just needed to trust the surgeons. And trust I did. I had one of the best on staff—a woman who actually taught surgery. I knew then that God and his angels were with me.

The surgeons found something else, too: ulcers. Me? With ulcers? How could that be? I thought I was strong. But my body finally told the truth: years of carrying the burdens of life—family, friends, jobs, mortgages, utility costs, and all the stress of caring about a fragile world—had taken a toll on my physical health. 

We somehow convince ourselves that dealing with endless stress won't affect us. Surprise. Our bodies manifest that stress as ulcers, high blood pressure, and poor diets.

The surgery lasted four hours. Afterward, I experienced pain I had never felt before, even compared to natural childbirth. I had staples running from top to bottom, and any movement without being heavily medicated was something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

Then came the ostomy bag.

For 18 months, my life funneled into that bag. I was scared to venture anywhere beyond another room. But like anything else, I slowly got used to it. I learned how to manage it, stocked up on deodorants and perfumes, and figured out how to discreetly carry what I needed. After those initial months, I started to laugh again. I realized I now understood what the doctor meant when he said some people choose to keep the colostomy—no fuss, no mess. I even joked, “Hey, my butt smells great!” (The bag itself, not so much, but I cleaned my little 'button' and was back to it.) That humor was my lifeline.

Time went by, and I went through two more surgeries: one for bleeding ulcers and the final one to re-structure my colon and remove the ostomy bag. It felt strange—that bag had become a part of me! But the reconstruction went well, and I was back to being a normal human who poops in a toilet and wipes my butt.

After weeks in the hospital, home health care, and going through three major surgeries, I made a vow. A solemn promise to myself: I would never worry about anything or anyone again. I would give it all to God, get on a better diet, start exercising, and finally complete the projects I’d started.

My self-research confirmed the lesson the doctors had taught me: the things we claim we don't care about break our hearts and give us physical ailments. Most people aren't thinking about you; you’re nowhere on their radar. So, you must take care of yourself—mentally, physically, and most importantly, spiritually. We don't have much time on Earth, and it goes quick.

I am healthy again. I check in with myself: Am I getting enough sunshine? Why am I doing this? Is this important enough to put myself in this situation? I take organic supplements because our food simply isn't cutting it in this country. I watch less news and more comedy. I keep people out of my life who cause stress, regardless of who they are.

Don't run after likes, followers, or someone to love you. Let go, let God. Find a great project to work on, listen to good music, dance around, and be around people who embrace you, not those who feel they have to put up with you.

Create your own peaceful place and Stay prayed up...namaste.

 (peace be you) ...