|
| Ruth & Patrick Race for Max |
|
|
 |
|
Our Honored Hero - Max Eble (with wife, Katie) |
|
|
|
I’ve been dealing with Crohn’s disease for over 10 years. The battle began when I was 13 years old. I was on the Lee Burneson Middle School Demons wrestling team in the lowest weight class of 80 lbs. I didn’t last the whole season as my nights consisted of gut-wrenching pain and frequent vomiting. No State Championship for me. I had to engage an even greater foe and I couldn’t stare him in the face before our match. He took me down without warning, he wore me out, and reminded me there was no rest from his pain. As other kids gained weight, grew taller, and increased in confidence, my development moved in the opposite direction. In the middle of the night, after a vomiting episode, I stared in the mirror being at peace with the future battle ahead of me. However, I did not know that my enemy would bring me down to Hell.
I was in eighth grade when Crohn’s disease perforated my small intestine. Since my condition was not yet diagnosed, I lay at home with what was considered a bad virus; little did I know that I was being poisoned by the very fuel I put into my body. After a week of doubling over in pain, I was driven to the hospital, my gut writhing at every road bump along the way. The doctors performed emergency reconstructive bowel surgery which was supposed to make me feel better, but my enemy had several more episodes of pain to inflict upon me. Lying in the hospital bed, heavy, exhausted, and delirious wasn’t torture enough. Unable to wiggle my toes without the movement traveling up to my gut causing me pain wasn’t enough suffering either. I couldn’t drink water for days--not even an ice chip. All I wanted was some cold water. I can still hear the whistling tube sucking fluid out of my stomach. It kept me up at night. During my stay I witnessed more tragedy on TV as Columbine students were shot dead. I wished I were dead. To die would be relief. However, it wasn’t time for me to die. Instead, I realized my role was to suffer. So I got helped out of bed and I walked the halls with my IV pole. I was supposed to get better, but the Crohn's revisited me exactly three weeks after my first surgery on April 15th 1999. It was a second taxing! Then, three weeks to the day after the second surgery, I was cut open a third time along the same tender scar. This time, when I awoke from surgery, I had an ileostomy bag. I loved my little bag for it bypassed the diseased bowel and allowed the area to heal; finally, I could once again enjoy a cheeseburger without fear of irritation. I had a fourth surgery facing me, but this time I would be ready for it. I walked everyday and drank Boost energy drinks to strengthen my body. (As a result, the recovery from the fourth surgery in December 1999 wasn’t as difficult as the first three.) So, after ten months and twenty-two days of no bowel movements, it was time for the reverse ileostomy procedure. I cried because my best friend was going back inside my body. We had good times of eating anything I wanted which contributed to my healthy weight gain and subsequent recovery.
As there is yet to be a cure, I still battle with Crohn’s each day. My joints ache, I have to use the bathroom several times a day, and I have sudden pains. I take medicine to suppress the condition, but it is always with me. This demon has caused me great affliction and the battle scars are many. He has taken some of my intestine, my appendix, gall bladder, and many tears; my soul, however, he has not been able to take for it has since belonged to Jesus. One thing is true, I feel better when I walk.
-Max Eble, age 24 |
|
|
Total Donations Collected:$1,625.00
|
| Goal: $11,000 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry.
Fundraising has ended.
|
|
|
|
