The following story was written by a dear friend of mine who wishes to remain anonymous. She suffers from Crohn’s disease, and fought a hard battle in high school. While the rest of us were worried about what we would wear to prom or who was dating whom, she was making visit after visit to the hospital. And she did it all so humbly, so silently. I don’t remember ever hearing her complain. She is a beautiful, talented, kind, and strong woman, whom I am proud to call my friend.
I found out I had Crohn’s disease two days after Christmas. I remember weighing myself that day. 89 lbs. I was 18 and 5’6” and I weighed 89 lbs. At that point, I was so incredibly sick I couldn’t eat anything; I physically couldn’t handle food in my stomach because of the pain.
For those who don’t know, Crohn’s is an auto-immune disease. It basically attacks your digestive system, making your life a living hell with frequent and urgent bowel movements, stomach pain, malnutrition, and even vomiting in extreme cases. That list isn’t exhaustive, and doesn’t begin to cover the physical symptoms, let alone all of the emotional symptoms. So, dealing with Crohn’s is very difficult, and flair-ups are debilitating.
I remember feeling sick for a really long time. It kind of came and went, so I didn’t really feel much urgency to find out what was wrong, but I knew something was wrong. In fact, I had gone so long not knowing what was wrong with me that when I was diagnosed, I was really happy. Just knowing that there was a name for what was ailing me, and having some glimmer of hope that I could get better, gave me joy!
That joy didn’t last though. Several doctor visits and a cocktail of drugs later, I realized I wasn’t going to get better right away. I ended up on a hospital bed looking at the ceiling more times than I can remember.
After months of these visits and changes to my medication, trying to find something that would work, I was told that I needed an emergency surgery. This surgery, I thought, will finally be the tipping point! I am going to get better. And although it was a stressful situation, I felt peaceful and joyous again, because I knew I was going to get better.
But a few weeks after that initial surgery, things just didn’t feel right. I wasn’t experiencing the pain and symptoms of Crohn’s, but something in my body was off. The incision made during the surgery didn’t heal, I felt awful, and my health got even worse.
Reluctantly, I returned to the hospital the night before my high school graduation. I was devastated to think that, after going through such a difficult ordeal, I would now have to miss my graduation. My mom decided to bring my dress to the hospital anyway, and she got me ready even though the doctors hadn’t said I could leave. When the doctors saw me dressed and ready to go, they really didn’t have the heart to stop me. So I walked in my graduation, and received my diploma practically tethered to an IV. I had to miss all the after-graduation festivities and ended up right back in the hospital that night.
After consultation with the doctors and surgeons, it was decided that I needed another surgery. I felt totally deflated, but obviously had no choice in the matter—I wanted to get better after all. So I agreed to having the second surgery.
I remember after I had that surgery feeling hopeless. So many times in the past I felt I would get better, and I didn’t. This time won’t be any different, I thought. I couldn’t see a future for myself. I had no hopes of ever going to college, having a career, getting married, or having a family. At that point, I didn’t feel like I could ever get better.
Ironically, this was actually the turning point in my life. This was when I began to heal myself both physically and emotionally. After this second surgery, I said this in my prayer: “How can I get better? This operation didn’t work before. How can it work now?”
At that moment of deep despair, I felt power from God and I knew without a doubt that I would get better, that I would have a future, and I that could fight this illness. Relying on God and holding onto hope is something I had to do in order to heal.
After that prayer, my attitude changed. I decided that even if I didn’t get better, I would be happy because I knew God loved me and was watching over me.
All of this is, as they say, “history”—10 years ago, to be exact. I have been in remission since.
I now have two healthy, rambunctious little boys; a loving and caring husband; and plans for my future. I am currently employed as a Certified Nursing Assistant, and plan on pursuing my education in nursing. I was so inspired by all the wonderful people who helped me in the hospital and me recover from the many procedures and surgeries, that I wanted to follow their examples.
All that being said, I recently found out that I am no longer in remission and some of the symptoms have returned. As you can imagine, the resurgence of these symptoms has been very devastating to me, and also my greatest fear. I have so much more to lose now, so many more responsibilities.
But I think back to that night after my final surgery, I lying there, feeling so hopeless, and then… that prayer and the answer that immediately followed…
This is the thing I hold onto now, and something I can share with others facing difficult trials—health or other. I know that I overcame this disease before, and I can overcome it again. I have been so blessed. I have been able to do all the things I worried I wouldn’t be able to do. I am choosing now to let go of the fear, and hold onto the hope I felt that night after my surgery.
And just like that night, when I’m feeling hopeless, I know I can kneel in prayer to a Father in Heaven who loves me and cares for me.