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I Lost My Colon. Now, I'm a Surfer

Changing when illness changes you

By Cody MaherPublished 5 years ago 5 min read
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me and my surfboard

My husband recently took a surf lesson. We’ve been surfing together for three years, but he was getting frustrated with not knowing why he wasn’t catching as many waves as he thought he should be. I was in the water as well during his lesson, and overheard his instructor tell him this; “Sometimes you just have to go for it and the wave will either accept you, or it won’t.”

When I had my Total Colectomy in 2013, I had spent a decade as a professional aerialist. Extreme physical movement was my daily life. I had no concept of physical limits, the “impossible” was my playground. My surgeon knew this and she assured me that after the three step J pouch procedure was complete, I would be back in the air, good as new. I knew she was wrong. I’d been struggling for years to keep going despite the increasingly intense Ulcerative Colitis flare ups. I knew my career was over. That knowledge didn’t make it easy. My friends were aerialists and acrobats and my home was in the air. When my colon left me, so did that life; and along with it, my understanding of who I was.

About two months into my recovery from what was meant to be my final surgery, all of a sudden, I needed to learn how to surf. I didn’t just want to, I needed to. I threw myself into surfing like I was drowning and surfing would save me. I watched videos of surfing, movies about surfing, and was in the water learning as much as possible. Because, in a way, I was drowning. I was lost and desperate for my body to feel like mine again. Surfing was hard and I loved that it was hard because, although I had said goodbye to my life as an aerialist, I still craved the physical intensity. That first summer of surfing, all I wanted was to learn how to be comfortable in the water on my own, catch a wave, and not hurt anyone in the process. What I didn’t understand at the time was what surfing would bring to my recovery and my life.

Its been four summers since I took my first lesson and I’m learning a lot more than how to catch a wave and stay out-of-the-way of other surfers.

I’m learning patience. It’s easy to get eager and paddle for everything that looks somewhat decent because you are desperate for the incredible feeling of riding a wave. But all that leads to is arms that feel like noodles and frustration. Settling, tuning into the sea, smelling the beautifully salty air, seeing the clouds above you, feeling gratitude for your body that’s been through hell and still got you out to the middle of the ocean on a surfboard; this is the place to surf from. You wait, you breath, you watch and listen, and when you feel your wave coming, you pounce and give it everything you’ve got.

I’m learning acceptance. You cannot control the ocean. Storms come and go and the ocean doesn’t get upset about it. The only thing you can rely on is that storms will pass and things will change. You have to respect the ocean and respect your limits. Fighting either only brings misery. Feel the storms, feel the disappointment, talk about it and when you can, accept what is and be hopeful for the calm.

I’m learning perseverance. I have had three additional unexpected surgeries this past year that I never saw coming. In total that’s six major surgeries in four years with more than a couple of “Pouchoscopies” on the side. Some days in the water, you get tossed around like a sock in a dryer and pounded over and over again by waves as you fight to make it past the impact zone, only to be pushed back again by a wall of powerful white water. You don’t give up. You stay calm, wait for the moment when there is a break, and then paddle like hell to make it past the breaking point to a place where you can rest.

At this point you may be wondering what the heck all of this has to do with recovering after a Colectomy and living life with an ostomy or J pouch? Everything. Life finds arenas to teach what we need to learn in ways we can understand. I couldn’t conceive of finding a way to live again after loosing my colon and all the surgeries. I felt like the tide would never turn. Everything was big and messy, and I was a stranger in my body, unsure and afraid. But learning an extreme sport despite adversity? I’d done that as an aerialist, I knew how to do that. So life gave me the burning desire to learn how to surf and learning how to surf is slowly giving me the lessons I need to learn how to live this new life.

“Sometimes you just have to go for it and the wave will either accept you, or it won’t.”

Go for it, whatever it is. The situation, the person, the circumstance, will either accept you and your body as you are, or it won’t. When it doesn’t, you may get tossed and pulled under by emotion, but you will surface.

I once was an aerialist, then I lost my colon. Now, I’m a surfer.

healing
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