Therapy – Does it Work? Part 1

For years, I struggled to figure out what went wrong with my surgeries. Why did I spend over a year fighting for my life, while many were successful right off the bat? I remember the first time my gastroenterologist sent a psychologist into my hospital room. I had been in there for about eight months at that point and was starting to lose my mind. The first time he walked into my room, I literally kicked him out. At that point of my life, my stomach was exposed, with bile burning my skin every time, so as you can imagine, I really did not want to talk to anybody.

I gave in

So this guy walked into my room and expected me to just be a cheery twenty-one year old. I will tell you that he was wrong. He tried to come back the next day and I did the same exact thing. I really did not want anybody around me. By the third day, I had enough of this so-called “therapist.” 

I gave in and when he asked me to draw him a picture of my family, I gave him a smart remark along the lines of: “Are you willing to go buy me oil pastels and a paint set?” So as you can see, I was not in any  mood to play “Mr. Nice Guy.” I did make him his picture. He did ask me a few questions, and then he left. I remember my mother asking him, “How did he do doctor.” He said, “He is going to be just fine!”

I needed someone to listen

After I came home from the hospital and started to put my life together again, I decided to go to speak to somebody. I wasn’t having any bad thoughts. I just needed somebody to listen. I needed somebody who didn’t know me, didn’t know my background and didn’t know what I was going through. Since I was not on any insurance (because I was not working), it was very hard to get to speak to somebody without paying. When I was finally put on Health Partners, an insurance that helps the unemployed, I was able to talk to my first psychologist.

It was helpful, but I stopped

She was very nice and kind. She understood the points I was trying to make. I was stressing to her that I understood that people have diseases worse than me. But I couldn’t stand that I fought for my life, and spend so much time in the hospital. She did help. She really did, but I did stop going…

I stopped for a variety of reasons. I was lazy and life got busy. I actually started a new job. I didn’t have time to go.

I should have gone back because I started to think about the hospital almost every day. I started to go down that road of depression. I had Crohn’s and I needed help. I didn’t know how to accept it, and it started to seem like my friends were having trouble listening to the same stories all the time. I had to go back to the doctor soon!

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