My GI issues have been one of the most unpredictable, exhausting, and confusing chapters of my life. It didn’t start with a dramatic moment or a sudden diagnosis, it crept in slowly, quietly, progressing toward a major problem. I bounced between symptoms that didn’t make sense, appointments that led to more questions than answers, and the realization that my body wasn’t accepting something as basic, and essential, as eating. This was tough for me because it was so different from CRPS and the effects on my body were vast.

My Gastroparesis journey began in 2013 after months of symptoms that no one could explain. It felt like my stomach had stopped working, paralyzed in a way that made eating difficult and painful. I was constantly nauseous, vomiting, bloated, in pain, dealing with acid reflux, feeling full after a few bites, regurgitating food, belching nonstop…the list kept growing, and my quality of life kept shrinking.

I bounced between doctors who couldn’t figure it out until I finally found the GI specialist I still see today. He never dismissed me and had every intention to figure it out. After dozens of tests, a gastric emptying scan revealed what was happening: food was taking hours to move, and even when it did, it was never complete. Gastroparesis was officially confirmed and I was relieved he knew so much about it and had treatment options ready to try.

Gastroparesis is a chronic condition where the stomach muscles don’t work the way they’re supposed to. Instead of contracting and pushing food through the digestive system at a normal speed, the stomach slows down or stops altogether. This delay is caused by a problem with how the stomach muscles and nerves communicate, which controls the process of digestion. When your stomach doesn’t empty properly, food sits there for too long, causing symptoms like nausea, vomiting, early fullness, bloating, abdominal pain, acid reflux, regurgitation, and more. Some people digest a meal in 2 hours; for others, like me, it can take over 3 times that to move food into the small intestine. 

Gastroparesis can be linked to several conditions, including diabetes, viral infections, nervous system disorders, and, in my case, complex nerve dysfunction and possible connective tissue disorders. It’s a rare, lifelong condition that requires ongoing management, and symptoms can fluctuate from day to day without warning. Again, this was a diagnosis that would change the course of my life, but I was hopeful it was something more easily managed. 

We started with the simplest tools we had, medication and dramatically modifying my diet, over and over again, trying to find something my stomach could tolerate. Most people with Gastroparesis must eat smaller, more frequent meals, low fat and low fiber foods, and avoid anything else that could exacerbate symptoms. The new medications I started focused on nausea control and increasing motility within the muscles. Unfortunately, the FDA hadn’t approved many options for gastroparesis, so I was filling medications in Canada and having them shipped here. 

I had success with these medications and was feeling better, until I wasn’t. My symptoms weren’t responding to the motility medications and my modified diet was causing just as much discomfort that I was having before. Eventually, we chose to try Botox injections into my pylorus (muscle at the bottom of your stomach) to relax the muscle and help food pass through. For the first time, eating didn’t feel like a battle and I was able to eat better.

The connection between CRPS, nerve dysfunction, and the way my brain communicates with my body became painfully obvious. I still had flare-ups and difficult days, but for a long stretch, my symptoms were manageable and I wasn’t living in constant suffering the way I had been.

Over time, the Botox injections slowly became less effective, and we had to acknowledge the possibility of side effects and potential ineffectiveness. My body wasn’t responding the way it once did, and the relief I had found started slipping away. It became clear that we needed to explore other treatment options; something stronger, something more lasting, something that could keep up with a nervous system that has its own unique (and often dysfunctional) way of functioning.

My doctor informed me surgery would be the next step. That’s when I first learned about the G-POEM, an endoscopic procedure that cuts the pyloric muscle from the inside to help the stomach stay open and empty more effectively. Because it’s done through the mouth with no external incisions, recovery tends to be quicker and the risks are lower than traditional surgery, which felt like a huge relief to me. The weeks leading up to it were filled with special, liquid diets, prep instructions, and nerves, but also a sense of hope. This procedure has a high success rate for gastroparesis and it felt like we had a treatment option that would have a great outcome.

I had my G-POEM in February 2024. The procedure itself was fairly simple, and my surgeon also stretched my esophagus to address symptoms that resembled achalasia, a condition where the esophagus has trouble moving food down into the stomach (shocker!). When I woke up, I actually felt surprisingly good, but I knew the real challenge would come during recovery. I started with clear liquids for a full 2 weeks, then slowly added soft, bland foods for the next few weeks: mashed potatoes, broth, blended smoothies, Jell-O — basically anything gentle enough that my stomach wouldn’t reject it.

What I didn’t realize was that this surgery is “supposed to get worse before it gets better,” and the pain proved that. My nausea was intense, even tiny sips of water felt difficult, and I began losing weight rapidly because I just couldn’t get enough nutrition in. Progress was painfully slow… but it was happening. And finally, on Easter 2024, I ate my first real breakfast without nausea, without fullness, without pain, without food coming back up. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel anything after eating. It was one of the best feelings I’ve ever had.