It was one of those moments when you’ve exhausted all options for comfort and feel the need to turn to pain medication. As an IBD mom, taking pain medication is now my last resort, because it makes me feel less present and capable of taking care of my children. Luckily, this time around my Crohn’s symptoms decided to peak on Labor Day weekend while my husband was home.

I casually took a Tylenol with Codeine, expecting for the pill to take the edge off the gnawing pain in my abdomen that had been bothering me all day. Thirty minutes went by, then an hour, then a few hours, no relief. My mind started racing as to why I was feeling this way. Was it the fact I went out the night before and had a drink with friends? Was it because I had Starbucks hours before? Was it the rice cakes I ate that sometimes cause my stomach to hurt?

As the pain persisted and my little guy snuggled me on the couch, I was losing patience with the pain that was drowning out everything around me. I wanted relief and I wanted it quickly.

So, I went in my medicine cabinet and saw I had Oxycodone left over from my c-section six months ago. I grabbed a glass of water before bed and popped the pill without thinking twice. I assumed that little white pill would help me sleep and help the pain subside.

What happened was the opposite. What happened is something that still sticks with me now. I crawled into bed next to my husband and could tell something was off. I traded in my abdominal pain for much worse. It was a nightmare of a night filled with anxiety, nausea, and dizziness. I laid awake in bed for nearly six hours. I had to keep my hand on top of my chest because I was so anxious about not being able to breathe. I felt like I was suffocating. My mouth felt so dry, yet when I would try and drink water I would almost throw up. My thoughts raced. I felt so scared. So alone. Despite Bobby being right next to me. He held my hand, he tickled my back, he did everything he could to help calm me down.

Sure, I couldn’t feel the abdominal pain, I couldn’t really feel much below my neck, which added to my anxiety. My body felt like Jell-O. I felt like I was living an out of body experience. I was whimpering and whining at 3 in the morning that I just wanted it to be the next day.

These are the behind-the-scenes IBD moments that people often don’t hear about. These are the difficult experiences as patients and as parents that we often keep behind closed doors. Both my kids were under the weather, I felt so guilty that if they woke up, I wouldn’t be capable to take care of them, let alone hold them. Poor Bobby had to be all three of our caretakers that night.

The morning came and I woke up at almost 9 a.m. I had been dead to the world for about five hours. Never heard my baby on the monitor. Never heard my toddler across the hall. Never heard my husband get up to take care of them. When I walked into the family room, I felt the aftereffects of my stomach pain from the day before. I felt like I was still in a cloud. My head pounded. The headache persisted until dinner time.

This is not to say pain medication is always a no-go. I’m of the mindset that those of us in the IBD community should have access to opioids. At the same time, this is more of warning for patients to be mindful that the medication you take to calm your pain, may bring about side effects that are even worse than what you are dealing with in the first place. Personally, I’ll never take oxycodone again. You live and you learn. Sometimes with IBD unfortunately it has to be the hard way.