Sometimes, determination gets you eaten by a bear.

Have you ever been proud of yourself for overcoming an obstacle and having a decidedly good day? It takes a great deal of determination to conquer such a feat. Sometimes, though, determination gets you eaten by a bear.

Today, I was the little fish making a leap of faith...straight into that bear's mouth.

As my readers know, I have Crohn's Disease. Yesterday, I could tell by the pain radiating from my intestines, that a flare was coming on. "Oh no!" I thought to myself, "I don't have time for this!" I worked through the pain and fatigue, then went home to rest. I fasted for two days to give my intestines a break and slept an epically long 16 hours, waking up this morning well rested. Despite my diligence, the flare still hit! Constant pain and endless trips to the bathroom [counting 12 within the first hour and a half of waking]. I considered just calling it a day and crawling into bed and letting my bowels win this one; after all, they were being very persistent. However, I have grown tired of being owned by my disease, and decided that I would make the effort to proceed with my evening as planned. I packed my bags into the car and took off for the evening!

As I was driving down the freeway, I was proud that I was persevering through this little flare and winning! Then, suddenly, it hits. Sharp pain. My insides twist. Intestines wrench. 'uh oh' My foot hits the gas, eyes looking for the next exit. "I hope I can make it!" "Why don't they make toilets built into drivers' seats?" Blue and red lights flash behind, "Oops, I'm in the way." I move to the right to make way for the state trooper, who continues to follow suit behind me. "UH OH!!" "Are you kidding me? I can't pull over now, I'll never make it!" "I also don't want to go to jail." Tears well up in my eyes as I carefully pull to the side of the road. I engage my emergency flashers, roll down the window, and prepare my license and registration. Gripping my abdomen, the trooper appears at my window. "You were going pretty fast there miss." The tears keep building, I cannot even look him in the eyes, "Morgan, do not fall apart" I think to myself. "How how fast was I going?" "78, and this here's a 60." I cringe; it still felt like I had been going so slowly; I knew I didn't have much time to get to a bathroom. Offering me no chance to explain or ask why I was speeding, the officer takes my license and registration back to his squad car. Beads of sweat begin to form at my hair line, armpits feel damp. My bowels are taunting me. "I'm not going to make it." Ten minutes pass, an eternity in a crohnie's world. I am gripping my abdomen, tears streaming down my cheeks, as the trooper comes to the window. "Miss, are you alright?" "I have crohn's disease," I mumble. "I can't hear what your'e saying." "I have crohn's disease, I need to get to a bathroom as soon as possible. That's why I was speeding." "Are you going to be okay? Do you need me to call you aid?" "No, I just need to get to the nearest bathroom, NOW." The trooper points to the nearest exit, hands me my ticket, and wishes me luck. I roll up the window. It's too late. My bowels are beyond my control, the pain severe. Before I know it, I'm creating a scene only infants and the elderly can contend with, except I'm in my 20's and this is mortifying! Immediately I imagine this scene from the movie Bridesmaids:

In that moment, I'd been eaten by the bear.  What kind of patrolman issues a $200 ticket to a young woman who is speeding and crying from pain and an urgent need to use a bathroom, ANY BATHROOM and then makes her wait until she can no longer hold her bowels. Sometimes life is unfair but this was ridiculous! 

For the past two hours I've laid in bed, trying to process what happened this evening. The day I decide to try to be tenacious instead of debilitated, I am punished. And yet, I would try again. I have not lost until I give up. 

Wishing you all a better day than mine, and hoping we can all make it to the restroom before it's too late!