Crohn’s Disease (funky butt disorder)

Hi, I’m Andy, and I have Crohn’s Disease. I never got why someone else’s disease seems to affect me so much, or why my ailment is possessive, but it does own me at times, so I stopped caring about the name. 

Crohn’s is an auto-immune disorder where my immunity gets a lil too fired up, sees food as a foreign invader, and then attacks my own intestines (good lookin out, immunity!). The pain of a flare up will make me freeze, no matter what I’m doing. I’ve freaked quite a few people out with a mid-convo collapse. It hurts a lot. Like, a lot lot. It hurts so much that a part of me wants to throw hands when I hear someone ignorantly refer to it as a “shit-your-pants” disease. If shitting my pants was my biggest worry, I’d be on easy street with shitty pants. 

The easiest way I can describe a Crohn’s flare up is having a grade school bully perform a Native American rug burn on your intestines. So as you can imagine, not shitting my pants isn’t too much for me since I’m already pretending not to writhe in front of people. 

My Crohn’s is stress-induced, which is quite stressful, actually. My body has worked out a system of turning stress into excruciating pain and, I gotta say, it has been less than chill to deal with. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, but it wasn’t diagnosed until I was 18, and by that time it was too late for 11 inches of my intestine that had to be surgically removed. I thought I was all fixed up after that surgery and have learned since that Crohn’s will switch up where it attacks and it makes it hard to pinpoint each time it does that. 

I have just gotten past my most recent, gnarliest flare up that resulted in a fistula (fancy word for “hole”) in my lower intestine. I’ve never had that before and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone: especially me. I ate no food from the day before Thanksgiving until about 12 days later. I cried tears of joy upon eating and keeping down a cup of vanilla pudding. I had to come up with another reason why I was in such a good mood. 

Stress-induced illness has a knack for bad timing. I was unable to be a part of a comedy holiday album recording that I was honored to be asked to do. I also had to cancel a week of work in Denver, as well as make it nearly impossible to tape a half hour submission for the comedy big wigs. But I can’t stress about that unless I want a colostomy bag. 

I don’t normally talk about having Crohn’s on stage because I don’t want to be defined by a fucking disease, but now I’m thinking I could be the person to set people straight on what it is: a grown man who doesn’t shit his pants who is tougher than most and can probably beat up your dad. I’m not sure yet how much of a spokesperson I’ll actually be since I wouldn’t say anything about it if it wasn’t funny first. I just know that I’m over not bothering to go into it. 

With that said, consider this a warning: if you ask me about Crohn’s, I will tell you all about it. So if you wanna just say “hope yer doin ok,” just say that if you don’t have time for a detailed tour of my pain and misery :)