Celebrating Black History Month in the IBD Community

“Representation creates trust, so why aren’t there more people who look like me included in research and education?” This quote by Melodie Narain-Blackwell brilliantly describes the feelings that so many Black and brown IBD patients have. In recognition of Black History Month, what can we as a chronic illness community do to support our fellow Black IBD patients this month? Standing in solidarity with this marginalized community, helping amplify their voices, and acknowledging their experiences are ways to starting bridging those gaps. 

It is important to support BIPOC patients by recognizing the additional barriers that minorities, especially those in the Black community, face when navigating medical care and public health. Historically, Black people have been marginalized, abused, experimented on, and underrepresented in medical trials and research. Being seen as easily disposable, Black people have had to endure the systemic injustices of medical discrimination and medical racism. Crohn’s and ulcerative colitis are chronic diseases that statistically occur less frequently in African-Amercian populations. Statistics also show that Black people are more likely to not have their symptoms believed or validated, which has ushered a crisis of misdiagnoses. It is clear that implicit bias and antiquated medical beliefs are factors in the hesitation that Black people experience in the medical field. This phenomenon has led to an inherent distrust of medical institutions and treatment in the black community. As IBD patients we understand that having the right diagnosis and starting treatment is vital for healing and longevity. This concern is magnified in the Black community due to the systemic injustices previously mentioned.

 When I first started to become ill in 2019, I did have some internal generational trauma that made me hesitant when seeking medical care. After months and months of pain I finally decided to go to the hospital to get some answers. When speaking to the doctor about symptoms, I vividly remember feeling an overwhelming sense of unease rattle through my bones. What happens if my experiences and symptoms aren't taken seriously? How can I truly convey the severity of how I feel? Although I did not receive a proper diagnosis from the hospital, I was lucky enough to have the staff members at the hospital believe and validate me. I was privileged that this was not an overtly terrible experience, but it does not take away from any reservations I had, as well as the reservations that countless other Black people have. 

We must acknowledge and hold space for Black people within the IBD community through advocacy. Having a diverse range of anecdotes and stories will only propel this community to further embrace the lived experiences of so many Black and brown people who are voiceless. Education and conscious activism will only lead to more positive intersectional change. 

In recognition and celebration of Black History Month, here are a few black pioneers in the IBD community as well as Gastroenterology:

Sadye Beatryce Curry was the first female African-American gastroenterologist in the United States. On top of her endless list of accomplishments, she was a founding member of the Leonidas Berry Society for Digestive Disease as well as the first woman to be elected chair for the Internal Medicine Section of the National Medical Association.

Leonidas Berry was the first African-American gastroenterologist in the United States as well as a pioneer for the advancement of endoscopy procedures. Dr. Berry also invented the gastroscopy scope. Leonidas Berry has a passion for bridging the gap of racial problems in public health. 

Gary Richter is a gastroenterologist and currently runs Consultative Gastroenterology in Atlanta, and has become the first African-American president of the Medical Association of Atlanta. 

Melodie Narain-Blackwell is the founder of Color of Crohn’s and Chronic Illness (COCCI) which is a nonprofit focused on increasing quality of life for minorities who battle IBD and related chronic illnesses.

Pandemic, Lockdown, Isolation and Chronic Illness

It has been almost a year now and we are still in the middle of a pandemic waiting for our lives to return to normal. However, reality may never be the same again. 

So much has changed, but it seems like nothing and it makes it difficult to feel the comfort of real security.

My return - and the return of many other patients with chronic conditions- to normality may be further away than most of you. But I know that all this is equally difficult for all of us. 

They say that only the elderly and people with underlying diseases are at risk. The vulnerable population. 

But what happens when you are the vulnerable? 

I belong to those who they call vulnerable. I never hid my illness nor was I afraid of the stigma. 

I look young and healthy, but I’m not! 

I’m immunosuppressed, which makes me vulnerable to any kind of infection. 

We have been in lockdown for months. This is certainly not easy, nor is isolation.

I understand that it is difficult to change your daily life, but do you know how many times we, the vulnerable, have changed our daily lives not because we wanted to, but because our health imposed it?

How many times have we canceled a plan at the last minute, favorite foods we stopped eating, parties we missed and much more?

For those of us who are vulnerable, it is not so foreign to stay home, since we have spent long stays in our home and before COVID-19. 

I am in quarantine for a long time. It is not easy, it dissolves your mood, your body. Staying home is unbearable for everyone. 

Isolation, despair. 

And it is now that we are all looking for ways to balance our security with our contact with the world. 

All of this is not so foreign to me. I have some chronic illnesses that require me every day to choose what to do and what not to do. Even before the pandemic, I was very careful, evaluating what was safe to do and what was not. 

I do not understand big differences in my own life now with quarantine; that I am not allowed to be touched, that I can not go to the hospital and maybe two or three more things.

And recently I made a finding that has a lot in common with today's reality. 

I realized that my illnesses will never leave me, while a cure seems like a distant dream for now. 

Yes, I can take steps to improve every day, but what I thought as “normal” in previous years may never come again. For many years I waited for the cure to continue my life. Now that I accepted that I would carry my diseases with me, I gained freedom. My goal now is not to be cured, but to live better. 

So as I realized that it is not realistic to wait for the cure to live, so is the pause we have entered because of COVID-19 until our life is “normal” again. 

And this is the real challenge: how to move on and stop waiting to get back to normal.

Stay safe! 

Challenges as a Crohn's Warrior in Malaysia

In Malaysia, Crohn’s disease is also known as “Western Disease” or “Rich People Disease.” The reason behind this is mainly because Crohn’s is a rare disease in Asia,  particularly in Malaysia, as compared to Western countries. Many in Malaysia have never heard of this disease. Therefore, they are not aware of the Crohn’s and colitis patients’ struggles with their pain, medical procedures and psychological issues. 

At the beginning stage, I had no one to guide me. I had no idea on how to handle my newly diagnosed disease. With no medical background, no one in the family or friends with similar conditions, I struggled to cope with this disease and my normal life. Can you imagine the struggles I faced as a first year university student with my condition? I was  alone and I didn’t even understand what was going on and my normal was no longer a  normal. The internet was my only resource for information other than my doctor. By reading  everything I could find in the internet, I slowly started to understand this disease. Back then,  there wasn’t even a support group for Crohn’s in Malaysia as the disease is relatively unknown to Malaysians. In fact, I didn’t even known about any other Crohn’s patients until I  met one almost a year later after my diagnosis. My gastro doctors encouraged me and other patients to start a group so we could create a support system to each other. Now,  newly diagnosed Crohn’s patients or caregivers in Malaysia have access to few channels  that they could use to discuss, ask, guide and support each other going through this painful disease. 

Living with chronic disease, I had to adjust and adopt to new diet and lifestyle.  Changes in diet were mostly trial and error in the beginning. I had to monitor my  consumption and take note of any changes. Why did I have to monitor those changes? It is simply because I wanted to avoid flare ups that were caused by certain food that I consume.  For me, I found that my Crohn’s is mostly under control when I avoid foods that contain eggs. So I have to ensure my daily food consumption is egg free. If I didn’t, I’d have to visit toilet frequently the whole day. Precaution is needed for Crohn’s patients because flare ups can happen in any situations, therefore any heads up is a good one to have. 

Apart from my diet, I had made some massive changes to my daily activities too. Since I’m an Ostomate, I have to ensure that I don’t partake often in hardcore sports in order to avoid stoma prolapse. 

The understanding and acceptance of IBD in society is still a challenge for me. Most of them, as  I mentioned above, do not know about Crohn’s disease. I remember one of my friends asking me “Sara, is your disease infectious?”. At that time, I just laughed and say “No, it  doesn’t”. The lack of awareness, although understandable, is a huge disappointment when  someone I confided in is not taking any initiative to understand it.

Stress is another thing that I started to consciously manage. What is the connection  between Crohn’s and stress? Well, stress generally affects a person emotionally and mentally as it damages a person’s emotional equilibrium. But it also affects the person’s health. Even a person without chronic disease can feel their health being affected by high stress levels. So, anyone with chronic health issues, such as IBD patients, have higher  chances of having a relapse and flare when they are stressed. It is imperative that I  recognize my stress inducers, my stress level, my tolerance level and ways to reduce stress  so that I do not have chronic flare ups. Although it is impossible to live stress free all the time, I  believe that I should try to manage stressful situations to the best of my abilities.

Navigating relationship with Crohn’s is complicated and challenging. Crohn’s has created ups and downs in my relationships with my family, friends and loved ones. In the beginning it was really hard to explain to them my condition. They did not understand the condition or why and how I got this disease in the first place at all. It took a while for my  family to accept my condition and now they are slowly getting used to it. They are a great  support for me at the moment, and my heartfelt thanks. 

Dealing with Crohn’s is tough enough and unfortunately, Crohn’s is not something  that we can ignore or that it will disappear one day. Every single day is a challenge for me because I go through physical and psychological pain. I have to survive, improve my quality of life and live my life as normal as possible; I hope more people will become aware of  Crohn’s disease, of patients’ struggles, and accept their conditions. Be kind even if you don’t see someone’s struggle, their pain or their decreasing health.

Reflections: The Importance of Advocacy for IBD

It’s a little strange to title this article ‘Reflections,’ because IBD is unique in that it’s always ongoing, with nothing to really jump over and look back on to reflect; with the journey still very much running, our reflections are inbuilt into it.

 As I write this, I’ve been in remission from ulcerative colitis for more than a year. From the time I was accepted to be a CCYAN fellow to now, I have already been through a rollercoaster of new emotions: from immense gratitude and relief that I am finally a fellow of a network that I closely followed for several months to staggering self-doubt about whether I can truly do this opportunity justice. While poles apart, my feelings of gratitude and self-doubt and the largeness of the two do stem from the same root. After I was diagnosed with UC at the age of 19, I desperately needed to know more people who faced the same struggles. With little else to focus on in those starting years, hope would glimmer every time I found out about a famous personality or someone I knew who opened up about their chronic illnesses.

 The way an invisible chronic illness creeps up on young adults is very much like a thief breaking in your house when you’re asleep and stealing things that don’t seem so valuable at first sight but without which you can’t really survive (like all your dishes). As young adults, we are so entitled toward our bodies and organs functioning properly that there’s no way to prepare or even know you will be impacted and when you do, people have very strong opinions on what you could have done to avoid it. And if, like some organs, dishes weren’t replaceable and the upkeep of the damages was constant, the last thing anyone would want is to deal with the struggle alone and keep it private. At least that’s how I felt. As soon as I was diagnosed, I let everyone around me know mostly everything except for the “impolite” specifics. Sometimes if the gravity of my situation wasn’t acknowledged, I would push to reveal the impolite specifics too. Concurrent to my health challenges, I was still also learning aspects of a broad society I had entered just two years before I got UC. As I rushed to speak and be heard, I realized, through the fear of my family and the discomfort of peers and friends, just how closed this society is towards these things.

When there are no voices for something that drastically alters every aspect of your life, it feels as though you’ve been dropped off to a completely new city with no maps for guidance. Maps are important for not only getting you from point A to point B, but also giving you a sense of orientation to gauge where you are with respect to everything around you. No voices = no maps. By far, in India today, invisible illnesses not only lack visibility in patients' external bodies, but also in national and private datasets, policies, and advocacy. This leaves patients disorientated and vulnerable to quackery (health fraud), which results in the loss of crucial time, finances, and deterioration of mental health (with the ups and downs of new hope and disappointment).

If the silence around personal disturbances was anything to go by, then I did not do a very good job of fitting in to my society as I always took the opportunity to talk about what I was going through even when I realized with passing time that it wasn’t always welcome or understood completely. I thought I should speak up all the more, because if no one does, who will vouch for me? This casual monologue took greater form in my first experience of being at a public hospital in my city. By that time, I had scoured the internet for people like me, experiences like mine, unique symptoms like mine, etc. I had come to recognize some feelings that came as a by-product of my illness through Hank Green’s videos on YouTube, and that the illness was bigger than me and my doctors (who only focused on the strict textbook aspects of IBD). My mom and brother very supportively drove and accompanied me for my sigmoidoscopy and I even got to sit as I waited for my turn. Waiting for countless hours after the scheduled time of my appointment, I was busy drowning in my pond of self-pity. When I heard a young lady slightly older than me was invited to go before me, I was very irritated and urged my mom to leave and reschedule. My experienced mother knew better. As I waited, I could hear the conversation between the young patient and the doctors in the room next door. She was a daily wage worker and her grumbles about missing work, her stomach pain (due to which she tilted sideways when she walked) and the tedious hours she spent waiting for her turn followed her into the room. The doctors didn’t indulge her in any sympathy, but rather curtly started the process. I wondered out loud why they hadn’t offered her a sedative – whenever I was asked, I always thought what a preposterous thing to ask when the process was so intrusive and uncomfortable. It was because she was alone and needed to hear the doctor’s findings and, of course, had to head back home alone. Even in my miserable state, that struck something in me. Her yells and shouts during the process, and the surrounding patients’ aloofness painted a picture so bleak, I was forced to look beyond my situation and recognize that despair like mine was still placed high on privilege. Granted that sigmoidoscopies are not the most pleasant of processes to go through or even prepare for, her shouts seemed out of place. I gathered it was more of a release from the anxiety of being alone and in such a vulnerable position with no emotional support. It took me back to a brief, mostly one-sided exchange she and I had before she was called in. From the little I understood as she spoke rapidly in her dialect, she had absolutely no understanding of the formalities of the prep that had to be taken and, more worryingly, the seriousness of her illness. She had two kids she had to care for, and she came alone because her husband was a daily wage worker who could not miss work especially since she was missing work that day too. She complained to me about the high prices of prep, all the days she had missed getting tests done and scheduling and rescheduling appointments in a government hospital, her appetite loss due to nausea and how she couldn’t perform her labor-intensive work as efficiently. After she limped out of her session, I thought of the sheer population of people like her in India.

Ever since that episode, I started thinking beyond my illness and what I could do to help the numberless amount of people in the same boat as the young woman. To start helping, the first step is to get a clear picture of how many people are impacted by IBD, which is frustratingly not available nor acknowledged anywhere in India. I am grateful, therefore, that I found CCYAN as an international platform for advocacy. Advocacy would hopefully enable data collection somewhere down the line. However, sometimes the mountain looks too big to climb; at this moment, we are right at the bottom and there are many things to do. Sometimes I think of all the people suffering from IBD in India, and how many struggles go undiscovered due to health illiteracy, digital gaps, doctor unavailability, and expensive medication, etc. Now more than ever, as cases of autoimmune disease rise across the world, there needs to be a prominent force of advocacy for IBD in India, so that datasets can be recorded and informed policies can be formed. The innumerable people who struggle already for a living should not be further hindered in their struggle for support, information or resources in this regard.

How Toxic Productivity Can Affect Chronic Illness

“The grind never stops” is a quote I’m sure all older gen-z and younger millennials have heard. Hustle culture is like the monster hiding under our beds just waiting to attack us the moment we dangle our foot off the bed. It’s the scary email we try to avoid, but eventually have to acknowledge is there. Our society places a great amount of pressure, on our generation specifically, to work hard and constantly strive for a lifestyle in which we are operating at an “optimal level”. This is deemed as success and this version of success should always be at the forefront of our minds and influence all decision making. Participating in this hyper productive hustle culture is difficult enough for the average person to achieve, but what does it look like for people that live with chronic illness? 

To put it simply, living with chronic illness(es) is hard. Personally, it is the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. With symptoms like chronic fatigue, anemia, and anxiety etc., paired with frequent doctor's appointments and stigma, one could imagine that it is virtually impossible for chronically ill people to participate in hustle culture. Unfortunately, being in this generation makes escaping from the plague of toxic productivity quite difficult. Growing up we have all heard the stories of the business person working 60+ hours a week to bring his dreams to fruition. This mentality has influenced our entire generation. Working hard should always produce tangible results, right? Well, not exactly. As someone that lives with IBD, overworking myself can have dire consequences. Stress and anxiety are common triggers for people living with IBD, so it can be exhausting to focus on extracurriculars, staying social, maintaining good grades, and overall performing “optimally” while you’re inches away from a flare up. Our culture’s ingrained toxic productivity can be seen as the genesis of this behavior. I regularly catch myself being filled with disappointment that my illness prevents me from working at the capacity that I deem as optimal. Blaming myself for the pressures that our society puts on this generation only adds fuel to the fire, but never addresses the true issue, which is our ingrained idea of hustle culture. 

As young chronically ill people, we must stay aware about never pushing our boundaries and our illnesses in the name of productivity. Productivity is a wolf in sheep’s clothing; it seems innocent enough until it comes and bites us, and that bite for many of us is a flare. It is never a moral failing if you aren't able to operate at the same capacity as your pre-diagnosed self or other able bodied individuals. As chronically ill people, we have so many unique challenges that we must acknowledge and honor. Here is a metaphor that I often remind myself of: 

“We are all running a race, and some people are completing laps in 7 minutes, and others are completing laps in 20 minutes. Some may have to stop to breathe, sit and take a brief rest, or even leave to grab water, but the timing doesn't matter, the effort and intention does. All effort is valid.”

In the metaphor above, the race represents toxic productivity and the one’s completing the laps in 20 minutes who have to frequently stop represents chronically ill people. Giving into the pressures of hustle culture and toxic productivity will only reinforce the cycle. So, for the college student that lives with IBD or other chronic illnesses, such as myself, who is putting excess amounts of pressure on themselves to excel in every facet of life, try to be conscious of allowing yourself the space to rest and recharge. “Rise and grind'' is hard to do when the rising part is the issue. Glamorizing and internalizing the generational curse that is hustle culture and toxic productivity can cause irreparable harm to ourselves. Remember, work does not equal self worth. 

So, when you’re in bed trying to get rest and all of your responsibilities and the ghosts of toxic productivity are whispering in your ear, try your hardest to ignore those voices, turn the other direction, and get that well deserved rest. 

A Capital Mistake

Disclaimer: These are my views and observations, based on my experience with online Inflammatory Bowel Disease support groups in India.

 “It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.” 

~ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes

When I began my fellowship at CCYAN, I was a stranger to patient advocacy. I had a very vague idea of what the word meant. A couple of months later, I began a local initiative to explore the possibility of building a patient advocacy group for the Indian IBD (Inflammatory Bowel Disease) population. I started by imitating and trying to replicate the actions of existing advocacy groups in the US and the UK. However, it didn’t work. I soon realized that there is a larger fundamental problem that has to be addressed before I speak up for anything. It is the problem of patient education and health information. 

Patients in India are far less aware and informed about their condition than patients in the developed nations. A higher rate of illiteracy, language barriers, lack of counselors, and short consultation times are major reasons. While it may seem that this problem can be rectified easily by disseminating educational materials among patients in various ways, the reality is that the void created by a lack of information is not a void at all. My observation is that the void has been occupied by incorrect and unsubstantiated information that prejudice a patient’s mind when it comes to learning and accepting correct, evidence-based information about their condition. This “defect” in the knowledge that a patient has about their condition can lead to deterioration of their condition and, in some cases, prove to be fatal. 

The lack of patient education itself is a mechanism through which misinformation spreads. Existing patients with defective knowledge pass it on to the newly diagnosed. In the absence of rectifying sources/agents, such information can propagate and spread among groups of patients - very much like a virus. One of the places where things go “viral” is social media. The networks that connect us all are one of the pathways through which information that has no factual basis propagates.

In India, we have a small, but a fair number of Facebook and WhatsApp groups of patients suffering from Inflammatory Bowel Disease. Members of these groups exchange information daily on various topics - meds, diets, exercise, doctors, etc. I observed that there is a small subset of people, not always, but usually the creators of these groups that influence these discussions. This subset of people also acts as a source of “information” and “knowledge” for the other members.

In my experience, the majority of the discussions revolve around food and alternative treatments. Sporadically, there might be a discussion on the unaffordability of biologics, the struggle of young adults with the condition to get a job, study, or get into a relationship. However, these discussions are limited to a few comments, and that’s it. Several topics are not discussed out of shame. Erectile dysfunction because of IBD/surgery, anal dilation, rectovaginal fistulas, marital problems, reproductive issues - these are just some of the few issues that people seldom discuss in these forums. A support group is supposed to be a safe space, but these groups don’t feel like one to me. Nobody feels safe about opening up on problems that affect them very much because of fear of judgment and shame. The “advocates” too, rarely take any initiative to remove the stigma and taboo. We, the patients of India, with our ignorance, play a major role in keeping the taboo and stigma associated with IBD intact. The creators and moderators of such groups rarely take care to protect the newly diagnosed from misinformation. Many even float their own theories and post uncorroborated information. 

A year ago, the mother of a 31-year old patient called me. She was crying. She asked me to visit her son and counsel him. I received her call a couple of weeks after I had moved to Bangalore for my graduate studies. I was unsure, but I went to her home and visited her son. He was lying down on the bed, with a heavily bloated stomach and a hot pack on his abdomen. I started talking to him. He told me that he had been diagnosed with Crohn’s disease 7 years ago. Initially, he was prescribed Pentasa, which he took for two weeks only. He did not feel that he was responding to the drugs, and hence, he stopped taking the medication without consulting his doctor. He never visited his doctor again.

On the advice of “advocates” and “experts” on the internet, he began buying and consuming naturopathy products, special brands of water with a certain pH, and many other products that he claimed were alternative medicine. He was importing many of these items. When he ran out of money, he borrowed money from people on the pretence of treatment and bought the products. He hadn’t seen a GI in 6 years! He showed me the results of a 3-year-old imaging test. It mentioned internal fistulas. He could not even stand up. His old mother was caring for him. Sometimes, when he would be in a lot of pain, his relatives would take him to the emergency room where he would be advised immediate surgery. He had been refusing the option of surgery every time. I spent an hour trying to talk him into surgery and explaining that an ostomy is not the end of the world. He wouldn’t budge. I returned - disappointed and angry. A few days later, I received a message from him. It said that he did get a temporary ostomy, but he’ll be going back to naturopathy to save his colon. I wished him all the best and urged him to act responsibly. I never heard from him again.

This person was ready to die instead of accepting treatment from a doctor in a structured and safe manner. He spent his time lurking on the internet in such “support groups,” where he learned various expensive and ineffective remedies for his condition and went on to irrationally and blindly pursue them. He could have avoided the surgery, had these very “advocates” told him to get back to his doctor. 

Let me clarify here that I’m not speaking against the use of alternative therapies, some of which in recent times have been supported by some studies as a good supplementary treatment option. I object to disseminating unsubstantiated information in a manner that evades judgment, analysis, and scrutiny. Science, rational thinking, reason, is how humanity has come so far. It’s the gift we have—our capacity for reason and imagination. 

Modern medicine does not fully understand inflammatory bowel disease and many other conditions. This, in turn, has become an opportunity for some people to form and present their theories which are either completely unscientific or based on some science, but completely opaque to scrutiny. These baseless theories and cures are dangerous. Desperate patients often end up losing a significant amount of money, time, and health. Such theories and their preachers often evade accountability. 

We can only fight something well if we know what we’re fighting against well. I feel that most IBD patients in India are fighting blindly. The larger population of IBD patients in India faces a wide variety of problems compared to the handful of patients who have the luxury to engage in comfortable discussions in closed spaces on social media. Those problems are rarely discussed and confronted. 

Inflammatory Bowel Disease is a complex disease. Good communication is the first step towards helping patients navigate the physical and emotional roller coaster that comes with having an illness like IBD. We must develop a culture of sharing medically verified and factual information amongst ourselves. It’ll help create a community where everyone is aware and informed. The newly diagnosed, who are often confused, shall receive appropriate guidance and support. Only then can we begin to speak up as a collective voice for matters that can help improve the quality of life of Indian patients with Inflammatory Bowel Disease. 

That’s all from my side this month. Stay safe :)

The Difficulty of Finding a Treatment

For the ordinary individual, health is accepted as a given. It’s a part of life that mostly runs in the background like a minimized window on a computer. It’s always running, keeping us alive, and impacting our physical and mental states. Yet again, for most people, it’s rare to directly confront it on a minute to minute, or even second to second basis. Instead, it emerges at the forefront of life either by active and deliberate personal choice, or when something goes wrong. When a previously silent computer program running in the background becomes unresponsive, what was once insignificant becomes a major issue. To a greater extent, when that disruptive program causes our computer to crash and lose all of our work, it’s catastrophic. In a similar way, the typical individual goes to the doctor only on the occasions when their health is compromised by infection, injury, or other issues. Plus, when our health is stable and we are well, the changes we make, like starting a fitness regime, new diet, or implementing mindfulness strategies to our lifestyle, are done by choice.

However, when you live with a chronic illness, health management becomes significantly more complex. For one, chronically-ill patients often do not have the benefit of having a lifestyle defined by stable health. Chronic illness is by its very nature unpredictable. Diseases like Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis revolve around periods of peaks and valleys - remission and flares. Once again, living with a chronic condition transforms the nature of managing health. The process of searching for, utilizing, and adjusting to a treatment for inflammatory bowel disease, or other chronic conditions, is one of trial and error. Unlike treating the common cold or a broken bone, the path to recovery is much less clear cut. Personally, I have tried various medications across a variety of different medication classes only to discover that they were not effective for treating my particular case of ulcerative colitis. It takes constant monitoring of your symptoms, and a commitment to embracing change to successfully navigate the healthcare system as a chronically ill patient.

It’s a difficult reality that many patients struggle through countless medications, clinics, and treatments before finding relief. Simply put, when you live with a chronic illness, your health is never certain. It’s unlike managing short-lived, common conditions, because there’s no clear timeline. Patients are forced to adjust to a new normal. This new reality is a reality where an individual must persist despite burnout, despite anxiety, and despite certainty. It involves significant sacrifices in one’s lifestyle, and even identity. Confronting health is no longer a special event or a choice, instead it’s a part of the daily routine. I believe this is part of why accepting illness is full of so many emotions, and why fatigue can easily take over. Everyday, patients are fighting a difficult, and often invisible, battle while living normal lives full of other responsibilities. The process, and the challenges, involved with finding and managing treatment do not make this balancing act any easier. Thus, it’s important to recognize the difficult, frustrating, and exhausting experience of patients worldwide. After all, despite illness, set-backs, and struggles, we persist to live lives as friends, artists, and advocates.

How My Mental Health Was Affected by IBD

Mental health has been on my mind a lot lately. From hearing it in relation to the COVID-19 pandemic, to having conversations about the need for more resources for IBD patients, to dealing with my own experiences with depression and anxiety - mental health resources are perhaps one of the most underrated and underfunded sectors of healthcare. I realize this as I’ve gotten older, immersed myself in the medical field, and as I have utilized it for my own mental health after being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis (UC) in 2016. 

I bet many of you have also dealt with IBD affecting your mental health whether you realize it or not. For most of us, we were the only person we knew who had IBD at the time we were diagnosed. Some of us may not have even heard of it until we were told after our colonoscopy or endoscopy. The world around you suddenly feels a lot busier and bigger, and you feel very small and alone. Alone, wrapped up in your thoughts, your pain, your exhaustion, your fear. None of us asked for this. What did we do to deserve this?! In the days after my colonoscopy, this thought permeated my mind and I wanted to curl up in a ball and wish it all away. 

But, you can’t do that when you are a busy pre-med student working full time and taking classes! We are expected to stay strong and keep up our front that says “Everything’s fine,” when, in fact, we’re not. I had great people to talk to and that would listen to me, but I still went through a mourning process. I mourned my life before when I thought I “just had a sensitive stomach.” I mourned that fact that my diet would probably change and change again and that I maybe would have to be on immunosuppressive medication. I dreaded the future conversations that would come up when someone would ask why I had to go to the bathroom so much or why I couldn’t eat or drink something. Really, everything’s fine…

But, it’s not. CHRONIC is a word that I hoped never to hear in regard to my medical history. We now have a new label that we must carry for the rest of our lives, and it’s anything but predictable. We have to explain this diagnosis so many times we feel like it might actually define us. The reality of my UC diagnosis began to truly sink in and anxiety began to seep into my daily life. My energy and concentration was poured into reading about UC, finding a better “diet”, looking for tips on how to achieve and stay in remission, and finding some kind of outlet for my anger and frustration.

Honestly, I should have given myself a little more time to process and try to seek the help of a mental health professional. Now, I think, I should’ve thought about my IBD and mental health together rather than separately. I let myself have a little time to mourn my UC diagnosis, but I thought I needed to be strong and keep my diagnosis to myself, much like others had before me. If we don’t look sick, perhaps no one will know. Even when we try our best to be strong and adapt to this normal, our mental health often still ends up suffering. 

I think it would make such a positive difference in the lives of so many if we are all equipped with a medical and mental health treatment plan after being diagnosed with IBD, because the fact of the matter is that the mental health symptoms are just as debilitating as the physical symptoms of IBD, and they’re often intertwined. We need this kind of support as we manage our diagnosis - which sometimes can land us in the hospital or needing major surgery. I can’t speak to these kinds of experiences, but they can be traumatic in their own ways. How many failed medications or pain does one endure until they receive a potentially life-changing surgery? Thinking of the mental health hurdles that my co-fellows have dealt with and shared so vulnerably leaves me in awe of their strength. When they share what they have lived through, it also makes me sad that there was not adequate mental health services available to some of them when it could have offered an outlet for some of their pain.

Even now, almost 5 years out from my diagnosis, I take medication for my depression/anxiety and have re-established a relationship with a counselor that has experience in treating clients with chronic illnesses. I still go through the peaks and valleys of life and IBD, but, now, I’m better equipped to handle the lows when they hit or when a flare affects my mood and interest in doing things. I want the mental health support that has been so instrumental to some of my healing to be more accessible and affordable for those with IBD in the near future. 

I hope speaking candidly about mental health and sharing some of these reflections helps you feel less alone and more validated in what you’ve been going through. The process of untangling all of these emotions is normal when grappling with a chronic illness diagnosis and what that means for you and those you love. Everyone processes major life changes and trauma differently, but don’t be afraid to ask about mental health services when you see your GI or primary care provider. Finding the right mental health support could be the treatment you never knew you needed. 

Explaining Chronic Pain

This article is sponsored by Gali Health.

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One of the most troubling and tricky feelings of the human condition is pain. It’s the body’s warning signal that something is wrong. It always seems to show up unexpectedly. It’s the world’s worst party guest. Seriously, it could at least bring a party gift, or an extra bag of chips and salsa to share. Instead, it interrupts the flow of midnight ragers and days of routine alike. Pain is the ultimate consumer. It takes, absorbs, and swells, without giving any of itself up. To make it even more complicated, pain comes in more hues, flavors, and shapes than can be counted. Pain is a universal experience, but the experience of pain is unique to each individual. 

There is round, smooth, aching pain that rolls around the body all day. There’s sharp, jagged pain that cuts, stabs, and leaves a metallic taste on the tongue. There’s pain that shapeshifts. It howls like a werewolf, then sizzles like the sting from an insect. I could go on, but the list of the types of pain is again endless. That said, living with a chronic illness like IBD means tasting an entire buffet’s worth of pain types. Despite the fact that pain is so specific, and individual, people often try to measure and compare pain. As a chronically ill individual, it can be frustrating to have your pain compared, and rationalized by others. For instance, people will often compare the abdominal pain from ulcerative colitis, or Crohn’s disease to a stomach ache. In reality, chronic pain is much different from everyday pain. 

When the pain from chronic illnesses is compared to pain from other illnesses, a large part of the context is ignored. Patients with chronic illnesses and pain have to confront pain oftentimes on a daily basis, and manage pain oftentimes without a totally effective treatment. The pain from a stomach ache, or a stubbed toe will eventually fade, and if it doesn’t, there is generally an effective treatment available. With a chronic illness, no such treatment necessarily exists. There is no timeline for recovery from the pain. Instead, it can be endless and unclear with multiple trials of various treatments required in order to find relief. In essence, chronic pain has no end deadline.

Despite this, the chronically ill often live normal lives everyday. Patients and pain sufferers go to college, go to work, and even to social events despite their pain. It’s especially important to remember this, because for all of its flavors, pain can be quite invisible. Dealing with pain is a challenge, and a burden, but millions of people around the world surmount the obstacle of pain everyday. Accommodations for patients make living with this weight easier, and enable us to be more active members in our communities. Still more work needs to be done to improve the quality of life for those dealing with pain. The compassionate way to treat the chronically ill, is the most inclusive way and the way that eliminates the disadvantages of the disabled. In the future, I hope all pain is treated with the utmost consideration and care for the individual. After all, if that was the case, there would be a lot less physical, and mental pain in this world.

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This article is sponsored by Gali Health

Gali Health is an AI-based personal health assistant app helping people with inflammatory bowel diseases (IBD) proactively manage their condition. Gali gathers knowledge from daily interactions and health monitors to tailor support and information to your specific IBD experience.

Thoughts on IBD in the Workplace

Please provide your most recent job history. Done. Proceed to the next page. Do you have a disability that you would voluntarily like to disclose? This can include autism, blindness, cerebral palsy, missing limbs, autoimmune conditions like lupus, gastrointestinal diseases like Crohn’s disease or IBS…I blinked, and stopped. What did I just read? 

In the past, I had always checked No, I don’t have a disability or history of disability. But now, as I start to look for Physician Assistant (PA) jobs, I can’t ignore the fact that I live with ulcerative colitis (UC) and flares can rear their ugly heads even when I take the best care of myself. I never had to sit and ponder this question before. Because of the way disabilities are viewed by most people, stigma swirls around it, leaving previously unaffected people like me unaware and uneducated about progress being made and the struggles still faced in the workplace. Disabilities are commonly viewed with negative connotations - several of my coworkers and other colleagues that live with chronic illness and/or disabilities have highlighted this and spoken powerfully against this negativity. Living with a disability doesn’t mean that you don’t have as much to offer. The people I’ve met through the chronic illness and disability community are some of the most resilient, creative leaders I know. We face our challenges and continue living and advocating against all that is physically or mentally against us - we have to draw incredible strength and grow up sooner and in ways that most others don’t. 

However, I still struggled with multiple emotions as I sat, mulling my thoughts, stuck on this page of a job application. I have never considered myself as a person “who has a disability.” I felt guilty - would those with disabilities think that I don’t support them since I don’t want to group myself with them, giving myself another label that’s often viewed as weak? Am I misrepresenting those who do have disabilities because my UC has been so mild and I am largely functional? I felt that I don’t belong in the “disability group”, but I also can’t deny that I have a chronic illness that can be disabling in a variety of ways. I definitely consider myself lucky and blessed, but I know that my UC can change throughout my life and potentially become more difficult to control. I struggled to work through these thoughts, but then thought about how my growth this year from being more involved with advocacy has given me tools to advocate for myself and to continue learning from this community. 

My options were: 

1. Yes, I have a disability, or have a history/record of having a disability

2. No, I don’t have a disability, or a history/record of having a disability

3. I don’t wish to answer

What should I choose? It had to be either #1 or #3. I couldn’t lie - I was more afraid that it would not go over well if I did get the job and had to bring up my UC later to my employer. But then, if I marked “yes”, could that jeopardize the chances of me getting interviewed or getting a job? I’ve heard awful stories about those who hid their disability from their employer because they knew it would affect them being hired or even interviewed. Luckily, I was working with another healthcare provider who had been diagnosed with lupus over the past year and was also learning how to navigate her chronic illness in the work environment. I asked her what she thought and we ended up having a candid conversation - I realized that if marking “yes” caused me to not get an interview or a job, then that job wouldn’t have been supportive enough for me anyway. Perhaps this is my stubborn streak coming through, but I hope that working in the medical field will hopefully make potential employers more understanding. However, I know that the stigma that encircles chronic illness and disability still permeates the workplace, and this fact will stay on my mind throughout my job search. 

In the end, I did mark “yes.” It is more important to me to have the chance to advocate for myself and be supported rather than hiding my diagnosis out of potential embarrassment or fear of how I would be treated because of it. Maybe this will backfire, but by being up front about my UC, I’ll feel more comfortable in my workplace. I hope that I’ll be supported enough to communicate any issues I’m having or if I do end up needing some sort of accommodation in the future. I’m very excited about applying for jobs and starting this new chapter in my life and career as a PA, but I still have much to learn about disability in the workplace. I hope by learning to navigate these waters, I can help others who may be in the same situation - questioning if they fall into the disability category or not, wondering how they should approach disclosing (or not disclosing) their condition to their employer. Since the US just hit the 30th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act, I also plan to continue to educate myself and learn more about the disability community in conjunction with chronic illness. We should never have to choose between our career and our health, and I hope I can join many others who are working to make this a reality for all who are affected by chronic illness or disability.