Major Life Transitions: IBD and Starting Graduate School

As a young adult who lives with IBD, feeling safe and secure is almost as necessary as breathing air. Navigating the endlessly winding path of chronic illness has caused me to be more aware of my environment and how it affects me. Through this, I have come to find solace in my environment. After getting accustomed to this sense of safety, I finally found comfort. But, what happens when that sense of comfort and stability is challenged?

Recently, I just moved 500 miles away from home to attend grad school. This was probably one of the most impactful decisions I’ve ever had the privilege of making. While the process of moving for grad school is difficult for everyone, I want to emphasize the added barriers that chronically ill people face. After I received my acceptance letter from the University of Pittsburgh, I was overcome with joy. Finally seeing the fruits of my hard work, determination, and labor was extremely validating. Shortly after this period of elation, I immediately became overwhelmed with intrusive thoughts such as “Well, can I really move away from home with ulcerative colitis?”, “What happens if I flare again?”, “I don’t want to leave my doctor.” I tried to give myself space to feel my emotions, but it was still difficult. Ultimately, the decision to move was clouded by, what I like to call, health hesitation.

Not only did I have to deal with the social pressure of applying to grad school, I also had to cope with the idea of being away from my established support system. I’ve worked so hard to build meaningful relationships with my medical team, so how on earth would I manage to completely restart? Something that I found beneficial was being open and communicative with my doctors throughout the entirety of the grad school process. My GI doctor knew the second I was accepted, she knew when I took my first flight to visit campus, and she knew about every important date leading up to my departure. Being transparent allowed her to assist me with navigating insurance, finding new doctors, and recommendations. This significantly helped with my transition and it helped relieve some of my health related anxiety. For myself, stress and anxiety are triggers for my symptoms, so mitigation is salient. This emphasizes the importance of advocating for yourself and being open and honest with your doctor(s).

An important tip I would give someone moving for grad school is to be proactive about setting up doctors appointments before you move. Prior to moving, I made sure that I had the basics down, like dentist and eye doctor visits. Getting the lower priority appointments out of the way definitely eased some of my anxiety. This also extends to being proactive about finding doctors once you arrive. The process is very overwhelming, but I found that taking these steps helped mitigate some of that stress and anxiety. A second tip I would give is to check to see if the school you're attending has an on-campus pharmacy. I, like many others, have quite a few necessary medications and transferring to a new pharmacy can be a bit of an undertaking, especially when it’s out of state. For example, The University of Pittsburgh has an on campus pharmacy that takes care of insurance and the medication transfer process in a quick and efficient manner. Never hesitate to seek out local resources, especially through your campus disability resources center.

In summation, no one experience is going to be universal. We will all experience our own set of unique trials, anxieties, and stressors. With that being said, moving for grad school is a decision I will never regret. If I ever feel like second guessing myself or I get discouraged about having to restart everything, I always like to remember that this experience is an investment for my future, both professionally and personally. Always be vocal and advocate for yourself, especially when seeing new providers, give yourself space, try to quiet that health hesitancy, and enjoy your experience. If I can do it, anyone with IBD can do it. We are all capable of withstanding hardship!

This article is sponsored by Connecting to Cure.

Connecting to Cure Crohn’s and Colitis is a grassroots, volunteer organization that brings together the IBD community with a focus on caregivers and families. Connecting to Cure Crohn’s & Colitis provides community and support for those coping with these chronic illnesses, while raising awareness and funds for research as well.

LEARN MORE ABOUT CONNECTING TO CURE

Starting a New Treatment: My Experience with Humira and Stelara

This article is by Jennifer Lee from the United States.

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Here’s a picture of me before my treatment! A bit nervous, but hanging in there.

This past week, I received my very first dose of Stelara, my latest biologics treatment, at Mount Sinai in New York City! Unfortunately, even after a year on Humira subcutaneous injections, my Crohn’s symptoms have not subsided as we had originally hoped. After having seton drain placement done back in December 2020, along with another operation in June 2021, my healthcare team at Mount Sinai’s IBD Center decided that it may be best to try a new method of attack with a new set of biologics treatment.

Before starting the treatment, I had multiple healthcare workers stop by my room to explain what exactly Stelara was. I’m grateful that my mom was there to be by my side during this transition, but I also know what a blessing this is. When I was first diagnosed back in June 2020, I was completely alone in the hospital while COVID-19 infection and hospitalization rates were through the roof. The simple comfort of being surrounded by a loved one went a long way. 

Here’s me while receiving my first dose of Stelara intravenously! The next dose will be done via injection, hopefully on my college campus.

While I originally had a bit of trouble breathing in the first few minutes, my nurses assured me that this was not an allergic reaction to Stelara and that I was reacting well to the medication. It only took about an hour for the entire round of Stelara to be infused, but I did wait an additional 30 minutes to ensure that I would not experience any additional side effects. Truth be told, I was surprised at how efficient and fast-paced the entire infusion center at Mount Sinai was; I felt completely safe and well taken care of in their midst. Shoutout to the tireless effort of the amazing healthcare workers at Mount Sinai!

The day immediately after my first dosage of Stelara, my chronic fatigue kicked in, leaving me completely knocked out the morning after. Even after a year of living with Crohn’s disease, I’m still surprised by the ways that chronic fatigue manifests in my life. Although self-care admittedly goes a long way in understanding my body’s signals, I was most definitely caught off guard by how exhausted I was after the first dosage. 

Moving forward, it’s a bit terrifying knowing that my treatment plan may or may not work. However, I feel so grateful to have access to doctors that specialize in IBD care and surgery; all IBD patients deserve access to the most effective treatments for their specific condition. My first dose of Stelara was a reminder of not only how fortunate I was to have a second chance at a biologics treatment, but also of how much more work needs to be done to ensure that healthcare becomes equitable for all.

"But You Don't Look Sick" - A Photo Journal

By Vasiliki-Rafaela Vakouftsi from Greece.

“But you don’t look sick”. How many times I have heard this? Maybe I don’t look sick to you but I am sick and my daily life is far from what you may think. 

I tried to captures in pictures my daily routine as a chronic patient and I’m going to share them with you. 

First of all, let me tell you some things about me. My name is Vasiliki-Rafaela, I’m a musician and I have Crohn’s Disease, Adrenal Insufficiency, Psoriasis and Psoriatic Arthritis. I have written a book about my journey with Crohn’s and a book about my life with Adrenal Insufficiency. Also, I really like traveling and I really miss it with the pandemic. 

Now let’s start with the hospital visits…

...the hospital stays and therapies…

...the hospital stays and therapies…

...take the pills, medicines and supplements…

...and maybe today is the day of the week for the injection for Crohn’s…

...or maybe I need the emergency shot for Adrenal Insufficiency…

And now it’s time for a walk.. Don’t forget to carry the pills with me...

...and of course my medical ID…

Back at home again.. Really exhausted...Let’s check the e-mails and read a book before going to sleep

That’s a little idea of how my daily life is. But, you’re right. So before saying “You don’t look sick” think of what is behind the image and what you cannot see…

What I Eat in a Day

TW: mention of eating disorders & disordered eating

I really didn’t want to write this article. I am pretty open about how I have a lot of dietary restrictions. When I go out to eat with friends, I usually tell them that I follow a strict diet for my Crohn’s Disease. Then they’ll ask if I can have anything on the menu, and I will say No. The inevitable next question is always: So, what can you eat? I’ll list off a few foods like oats, bananas, blueberries, broccoli, chicken, and buckwheat, and that's usually the end of that conversation. I’ve had it so many times; honestly pretty much any time I meet somebody new.

I tend to think that when I give people that list that they just assume I stop listing things because it would get excessive if I named every food I could eat. I imagine that they might think I am going through a typical day, and maybe other days look different than the short food record I have given. I don’t think that anybody really considers what it feels like to eat the same 5-10 foods over and over and over and over again. But I do. I do because that has been my life since January of 2019 when I entered “remission”.

Remission for me has always been rocky. I noticed really quickly that while I felt better overall (you know, my body wasn’t trying to set records for lowest hemoglobin and highest CRP simultaneously), I still had some symptoms. I decided to take the advice I give a lot of my IBD patients these days and start a food journal to try to find my trigger foods. Slowly I started feeling better as I cut back on the foods that I noticed were giving me hives, acne, bowel cramps, diarrhea, and a whole host of other symptoms. 

So I got to a baseline diet with some foods I knew I felt good on and did that for a bit. It was wonderful, as long as I ate these foods, I felt pretty much “normal” and could do all the activities I wanted. But I wanted to find more things I could eat, so I started to do food reintroduction. I would try a new food for one meal and see how I felt afterwards. If I felt worse, I knew that food wasn’t a good fit and I’d mark it as a trigger food.

Fast forward to 2+ years of trying a new food every weekend and you’d expect my diet to be all normal and varied with only a few restrictions. Haha I wish. I’m pretty sure after all this time it has gotten worse. I guess the problem really is that my body thinks pretty much everything other humans call edible is unfit for consumption, and it lets me know that loud and clear.

That all is the much needed background to my current diet. I guess I should share what it looks like at some point as that is the main reason I wrote this article, so here goes:

Breakfast

• 3 cups of cooked rolled oats with ½ sliced banana and ½ cup blueberries.

• 1 Orgain Nutritional Shake

Snack

• 1 Orgain Nutritional Shake

Lunch

• 2 cups of cooked buckwheat, ½ sliced banana, and ½ cup blueberries

• 1 Orgain Nutritional Shake

Dinner

• 2 cups of cooked buckwheat, 1 ½ cups cooked broccoli, ½ a cooked chicken breast.

So…..yeah. I’ve pretty much been eating that or some slight variation (I used to eat a lot of plantains too) day in and day out for a few years now. Pretty messed up right? I am pretty sure from the outside this looks like at least disordered eating if not a full blown eating disorder. But, like, what am I supposed to do? It's not like I am not trying to expand my diet, I just can’t without Crohn's kicking my butt. Also I promise I’ve told every GI doc I’ve had about this and unfortunately there hasn’t been anything they have been able to do to help.

I decided to write this article because during the few years I’ve had these issues with all these trigger foods I’ve never really found anything online that mirrors what has happened to me. My hope is that if there are more people with IBD out there who struggle with these food issues as much as I do, that you at least feel validated that you aren’t the only one going through this. It sucks, and maybe one day we will have an answer as to why it happens. 

Until then, if you are having issues with foods triggering your disease, bring it up to your doctor or dietitian. Spread the word. Even if, like in my case, the doctors or dietitian isn’t able to fix the problem, at least we are fostering awareness and discussions that will bring about solutions in the future.

Growing Pains: IBD Lessons Learned from the COVID-19 Pandemic

In March 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic turned the world upside-down as we knew it -- that, in and of itself, is already the understatement of the year. Disability activist Alice Wong spoke of how the nation’s need for ventilators in hospitals directly conflicted with her needs as a disabled patient; Tiffany Yu, founder of Diversability, used her platform to raise awareness of transparent masks for easy lipreading access. Already, at-risk patients suffered from a lack of attention and space, only for this to be exacerbated by a public health crisis. 

However, the pandemic also offered a chance for those with disabilities, and specifically IBD, to rethink our routines and lives. For example, in my own experience with Crohn’s disease, I’ve found that staying at home during the school semester had me re-thinking all my prior decisions in my relationship with food. It was, in fact, possible to regulate my diet and work in my medications without compromising my education -- the flexibility of virtual classes in university had opened up a new way of life for myself, one where I could sneak off to the bathroom during lecture without worrying about missing key points or bumping into desks. 

Living with Crohn’s, it often feels as though my time is not my own. This phenomenon of constantly running on other people’s schedules is not exactly unique to Crohn’s or IBD as a whole -- in fact, it refers to a concept known as ‘crip time,’ in which society and its timetables ought to bend to meet the needs of disabled bodies and minds. It’s a community-inspired term that essentially encourages us all to work on our own time, taking up space as necessary to meet our individual body and mind’s requisites. 

Whether it’s knowing where the nearest bathroom is, or having accommodations to turn the Zoom camera off, accessibility is an essential cornerstone of working with IBD. As a college student, I’ve found that communication with professors and administrators has become easier in a virtual setting, allowing for flexible office hours and minimal commute to buildings. In all workplaces, key lessons should be taken and continuously applied from the pandemic, particularly in regards to accessibility for disabled folks. 

With this being said, a major caveat is that we as a society are almost always ‘plugged in’ or online -- being available on Zoom has made it near impossible to draw the (much-needed) line between home and the office, allowing professionals to work around the clock. As the world shifts back to a new state of burgeoning normalcy, may we all remember the importance of accommodating disabled folks in the workplace, in-person and virtually. 

For those with IBD or any chronic illness, it is of the utmost importance that we too learn where to place boundaries in our work lives, prioritizing our physical and mental health above all. 

Diversity in IBD: Being Disabled and Asian American

Almost exactly one year ago, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease after a grueling few months of trial-and-error diagnoses by my medical team. Truth be told, the news was a shock to my family, but not for the reasons you may first think of. 

In my mother tongue, there is no widely accepted translation for “Crohn’s disease,” not to mention “Inflammatory Bowel Disease.” In a way, my Asian American identity is one reason why it took so long for me to receive my diagnosis of Crohn’s disease in the first place; my gastroenterologist had not previously thought to test for a condition that was thought to be more common in Caucasians or Ashkenazi Jews. Even amidst official resources from various foundations, it is admittedly difficult to find Asian representation within the IBD community.

As a disabled Korean American woman, I experience IBD through the lens of multiple marginalized identities. At the intersection of ability, ethnicity, and gender lies an incredibly complex set of conversations that society has yet to fully parse out and create space for. 

While chronically ill and disabled folks found themselves facing a morphing status quo that was being overturned by a worldwide pandemic, their fight for accessibility and accommodations was simultaneously accompanied by embroiled racial justice initiatives. The Health Advocacy Summit has written extensively on how racism is a public health crisis, underscoring the need to include all marginalized communities in our activism efforts.

Personally speaking, I came face-to-face with the inevitable intersectionality of advocacy in the fight against anti-Asian hate. In the wake of 2020, the United States began to witness an alarming surge in anti-Asian racism that quickly escalated to violence and hate crimes. As a chronically ill patient, I knew exactly how it felt for an entire community to be marginalized, vulnerable, and at-risk, making it all the more urgent for me and my fellow student leaders to speak up against these acts of hate.

The intersectionality of these two identities is rarely discussed, yet they both mold and inform the other. My diet, my language, and my roots are so intimately tied to my Korean heritage, and in turn, my Asian American identity shapes the way I understand my chronic illness. As Sandy Ho wrote in Alice Wong’s Disability Visibility, “taking up space as a disabled person is always revolutionary,” but especially in the ways in which traditional East Asian attitudes often conflict with the mindset of the evolving American immigrant. 

The same goes for the ways in which Asian culture influences food options for those with IBD. Nandani Bhanot, another 2021 CCYAN Fellow, wrote about how IBD diets and treatments are rarely created with people of color (POC) in mind, alluding to the lack of content on modified diets with traditionally Asian dishes.

Moving forward, I believe that my journey with Crohn’s disease and Asian American advocacy are not unrelated, but in fact, closely tied. Perhaps the best next step our IBD community can take is to create space for disabled POC, uplifting their stories and amplifying their voices. 

Young, Nice, and Chronic Patient

Growing up is a process that we will all inevitably go through. We tend to live our lives with a sense that we are immortal. We learn to walk, we fall, we get up, we continue. Yes, life is pretty good. You learn a lot, you see new things, you spend a lot, you enjoy it. It is something that everyone does - living their life. It looks pretty simple until we start growing up.

In adolescence we begin to feel "older.” We go to school, we work for the coming of our adulthood. I looked like an ordinary teenager, I felt like an ordinary teenager - I thought everything was fine.

It was not exactly like that inside me. The reality was a little different. I was always the petite one of the class and I got sick often. The first symptoms of Crohn's disease began, which soon brought the psoriasis, then arthritis, and, recently, adrenal insufficiency.

New and full of life as I was, I was already setting goals for the future and dreaming. Yes, I was sure I would become an artist, I had decided.

Apart from some minor health issues, such as abdominal discomfort and lack of appetite, there was nothing wrong with me. That is, as far as I knew. I did not live in them, I was new. I was full of ambition!

I was about 15 years old when I began to realize that I should not take my health for granted.

I was at home relaxing listening to music when I suddenly collapsed in pain. I could not stand up.

A little later I was in the emergency room of a provincial hospital. Examinations, medications, but it seemed something temporary - it was not, as it turned out later. I was young, nothing could hurt me - or so I thought.

Then, I got some gastroenteritis (!) and it took me over a month to "recover" - obviously, since it was not gastroenteritis. Suddenly I started to get sick quite often. It had become difficult for me to live like an ordinary teenager, yet I was trying to go to school, the conservatory, and the orchestra.

I did not care much then, though. I was probably used to it. That was what I knew. I think my attitude started to change about a year later, when the visits to doctors and hospitals had increased significantly and I started to have more problems.

It was hard for me, as I suddenly had to struggle with things I had never imagined. I could no longer do what normal teens did.

As time went on, the "mysterious" disease then dissolved me more and more.

And life was moving on. I had to make brave decisions - it was not easy at the age I was then - as my health was deteriorating. I had to stop several things I liked or adjust them to the rhythms my body could handle.

I didn't do many things anymore. The only thing that kept me going was the music; it was becoming an increasingly important part of my life. I went to concerts very often because it was one of the few things I could do during that time. This made me face some of the difficulties I was going through.

After several years passed, I was then diagnosed with Crohn's Disease, psoriasis and arthritis. With the treatment I was receiving I was in remission and I had started to do everything. I was in university, I went on many trips, I went out and had fun, I went to concerts , I played in concerts. I no longer had almost any restrictions.

Until I began to feel very tired, nauseous, have a lack of appetite, and dealt with some other symptoms. I spent months looking for what had "broken" and why I felt that way. My examinations did not show any exacerbation of my known diseases. And then the day came when my rheumatologist told me to visit an endocrinologist and get tested for adrenal insufficiency, as the symptoms I mentioned made her believe that this diagnosis was very likely.

I could not make it to visit an endocrinologist because it was in the first wave of the pandemic, when everything was frozen around us, until I ended up in the hospital. A little later we had the results of my exams. My cortisol was very low, marginally detectable. My rheumatologist was right.

I was -again- newly diagnosed with something I knew absolutely nothing about and with a prescription for drugs I had never taken before.

In the following weeks I made the mental and physical adjustments to live with this new diagnosis that had just been added to my list of diagnoses.

Self-Care and IBD: Tips for a Healthy Post-Surgery Routine

Just this past June, I was rushed into the emergency room for examination under anesthesia (EUA) to address internal fistula and abscess formation. As life would have it, this was the same week that I was to start my D.C. internship in the Senate; with the new intern orientation ticking around the corner, I found myself drowning in anxiety just sitting in the emergency room. 

In a short amount of time, I had to manage my stress levels while planning for what my new summer life would look like post-surgery. With that being said, here are three tips to handle your post-surgery: 

1.  It is your choice on how you tell your immediate circles about your surgery. 

Sharing news about going into the operating room, especially under short notice, can be harrowing. In today’s age of social media, it often begs the question of how much is appropriate to share with our followers or our close friends. Remember that it is ultimately your decision as to when and how you tell your friends and close relations about your situation. 

Do not feel pressured in any way, especially regarding confidential medical details. With that being said, it can be comforting to know that caretakers and family will be there for you after your operation -- make sure you have the support you need to the extent to which you feel comfortable.

2. Treat your energy and capacity as if they were spoons.

Allow me to explain. One mentality that has radically changed the way I approached self care was the spoon theory: if one were to imagine their energy supply as a finite number of clean spoons they had to use throughout the day, then it is a matter of strategy on how one should distribute their spoons for the day. 

This tip can be applied to all aspects of life with a chronic illness, but especially after surgery. Don’t be afraid to prioritize yourself and your health during your postoperative recovery period. Those of us with IBD and chronic illnesses already have fewer ‘spoons’ to last throughout the day; as a result, we must be more mindful with our energy supply. Especially after surgery, we should focus on physical recovery and pain management above all.

3. Be kind to yourself. 

Sometimes, getting out of bed is the most you can do. Or, you might not even have the energy to sit up. What I’ve learned this past month is: you’re doing your best, and that’s enough. Every IBD patient is different; there truly is no one-size-fits-all answer. What I’ve learned is that living with Crohn’s disease looks drastically different from one patient to the next, creating what can be a very isolating and lonely experience. 

Nevertheless, with all these tips in mind, I would be remiss not to highlight how fortunate I feel to even have access to surgery and healthcare in the midst of the pandemic. I must also note that many of these tips are contingent upon the assumptions of having caretakers and a flexible routine, luxuries not afforded to many patients in more stringent economic conditions. As patient advocates, we should all be aware of the varying circumstances in which we all receive treatment. 

Undergoing surgery never gets easier, no matter how many times one heads into the operating room. However, I hope these tips can make your post-surgery transition a bit easier! Let me know what your self-care routine is like below!

"You Don't Look Disabled"

“ You don’t look disabled. 

“You don’t look disabled” but some days I couldn’t go to school because I couldn’t leave my bathroom.

“You don’t look disabled” but I have to go to the hospital every two months for the rest of my life. 

“You don’t look disabled” but I have tried seven different medications for the same disability within three years. 

“You don’t look disabled” but some days my joint pain was so bad I couldn’t even pick up a pencil. 

“You don’t look disabled” but every time I walk into a hospital I am comforted and terrified at the same time.

“You don’t look disabled” but I used to sleep only three hours every single day for weeks because my steroids made it impossible to sleep.

“You don’t look disabled” but some days I can feel my throat close up from suppressing my anxiety.

“You don’t look disabled” but I have sat on my bathroom floor feeling like I couldn’t breathe because the nausea from my medications was so overwhelming.

“You don’t look disabled” but I am. ”

I have never understood why people tell me I don’t look disabled or that I don’t look sick. What is disability supposed to look like? Disability is not singular. Disability does not look one way. Disability is diverse. 

I do not want to prove I am disabled to strangers or people I know.

Though the intention behind this phrase may be to compliment me, I never feel complimented. I feel small. I feel like a fraud. I feel like I am faking my disability in some way. I feel like I do not know my identity. 

It is time for people with invisible disabilities to stop being doubted for being disabled. It is time for everyone to change their perspective of what disability looks like. We must listen to others’ stories. We must stop being bystanders when people with disabilities are doubted. 

Disability is not a bad word. It is not offensive. We should not be afraid of it. 

I am disabled and I am proud. 

This article is sponsored by Lyfebulb.

Lyfebulb is a patient empowerment platform, which centers around improving the lives of those impacted by chronic disease.

Communicating IBD

“‘Inflammatory bowel disease’ (IBD) sounds like a straightforward term — a disease of inflammation in the bowel. However, the history of IBD reveals a story of a nefariously complex set of idiopathic conditions. IBD defies definition, in part because its pathophysiology is not completely understood. For the same reason and despite substantial advances in research, IBD also defies cure. At best, IBD can be defined as a disease of disruption — disrupted physiology, microbiology, immunology and genetics.”1

Repeatedly, one of the challenges I face in having IBD is being able to effectively communicate the severity and uniqueness of the disease to my friends, broader society, and, at times, even myself. The quoted part above from the paper ‘A tale of two diseases: The history of inflammatory bowel disease’ articulates the complexity and vagueness perfectly.

I distinctly remember a time at school when my understanding of the world shifted from ‘adults know everything and humans have control over everything in this universe,’ to teachers starting to draw lines around exactly what is known to us. What’s left out were things even the biggest scientists who got us to the moon couldn’t decipher. During this mind shift, we learned about the limitless scope of space, the depths of the oceans, the uncertainty of what causes psychopaths, and having no cure for cancerous cells, among other things. I remember the fear but also a naïve invincibility that while these uncertainties exist, they will not be applicable to me or my loved ones. But IBD is unpredictable; it can hit almost anyone, at any age. And all the videos I saw on Facebook celebrating the new reaches of technology in healthcare – like that one video of a microcamera in a dissolvable pill helping doctors to see inside the digestive tract without invasive procedures – were just that, videos of research trials. The reality was always so much more ~simple~ with burdensome invasive procedures, like colonoscopies. 

 Medications to “manage,” not cure, IBD, are also primitive in the domain of medication, not outstanding. They always come with trade-offs – like ‘Get your colon back, but lose your bones!’ or ‘Stop bleeding, but eat like a garden rabbit for the rest of your life!’ or my personal fav, ‘Manage your illness in the gut, but leave with debilitating fatigue, brain fog, anxiety and depression! Bonus: It’s all in your head, even your doc won’t believe you.’

Living with IBD can be especially difficult due to you having to explain yourself and your situation so much. People may think you have a variant of food poisoning, or you somehow brought it on to yourself with unhealthy eating habits. The stigma about the ways in which IBD exists gives little leeway to understand the severity of it. IBD is both a hidden blessing (maybe blessing is reaching too far) and a curse, as it forces you to learn to be compassionate with yourself (that’s a big part of the closest thing we have to a cure), but shows you the irresponsibility, ignorance and pure apathy of the society around you. With cancer, for example, the pain and trauma are duly acknowledged by society. There is a sense of responsibility the society (whether that’s friends, school, work, strangers) feels to stand in solidarity and be helpful in those moments. In having a chronic illness, granted it is not cancer but still a very traumatic on-going experience, there is no assumed empathy-net provided in those dark moments.

For people like me, with social anxiety and people-pleasing tendencies, explaining the gravity of what you’re going through can be an impossibly difficult task. As I’m nearing my 5th year of having IBD, I confess I still go back and forth between playing it down to not take away from anyone or carrying resentment for people who could not understand in the past. On my best days – enjoying my iced coffee and spicy Indian food - I invalidate myself and ponder, did I really have it that bad or was it all in my head? On my worst days - on my knees, clutching my abdomen or sweating with AC at full blast at 3AM at night - I bitterly revisit the hurtful comments I’ve received over the years. Life has to go on, and in going forward, IBD patients need to build a society that holds space for them. 

Here are short notes on how I hold space for myself, and ask people around me to do the same:

1. On Badtameezi

In South Asian families, roles in a family are decided according to the age and relation. For example, a younger person, even if more experienced in a certain field, is not allowed to voice his/her opinion on some subjects; it's called badtameezi.

Badtameezi is the South Asian society’s way of manipulating you to exist in a way they deem fit. Practicing privacy, setting boundaries, cutting off from anxiety-inducing family members, and decision autonomy are just a few examples of being a “bad” person. All of the above are obviously necessary for a person with a chronic, stress-related illness, so it becomes important to choose whether you want the badtameez label and health, or tameezdar label and continuously deteriorating health.   

2. On Comparison

In the South Asian diaspora, the competitive spirit is a prominent aspect of life. India is the second most populated country on Earth, soon to be first, and resources are low, perhaps that’s why competition is high. While healthy competition is important in bringing out qualities like hard work and ambition, competition about health crosses lines over to absurdity. Yet, this is quite common. A simple “No, it’s not the same,” or “No, I feel like you’re not understanding what I am dealing with,” or “I’m very sorry you had to go through that. My illness however is very different because…” can suffice. If they’re open to it, you can open up about it more.

3. On Self-Invalidation,

It’s useful to journal during flares, not only for the benefit of your mental health, but also to keep track of your feelings on the worst days. To check in with yourself during those times makes it easier to not invalidate your experiences later on. I don’t have the discipline to keep journaling daily, but every time I am in physical pain, I do grab a pen and notebook to jot down my mental state and thoughts, and I refer back to it in times I forget what my experiences have been like. It’s also helpful to engage with a support group; the conversations around other’s experiences with triggers, symptoms, tests, doctor’s visits, work, friends and family can help you understand and navigate your own. Disclaimer though, everyone’s experiences are different in all the dimensions of the disease; your lived experiences will always be unique. Lastly, I like talking to someone who’s seen me at my worst to remind me how it really was, and that it was not all in my head. This could be a close friend or family member.

4. On Unsolicited Comments,

Just call them out on these. It’s 2021, people need to stop commenting on your weight gain/weight loss and any other changes they see in you, irrespective of whether it's due to your illness. A simple but firm statement like “If I need your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” or “I like it this way,” can help establish a boundary. 

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1 https://academic.oup.com/ecco-jcc/article/8/5/341/616781

Friendship and IBD

“Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It’s not something you learn in school. But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven’t learned anything.” – Muhammad Ali

I started with this beautiful friendship quote because I’m going to talk about Friendship in this article. Friendship is a very unique relationship. Friends are not related to us by blood, even though they won’t have any expectation in the relationship they are always with us to support, to help, and to find purpose and meaning in our life. For me, they’re one of my major pillars in my life. The emotional bond between my friends and I helped me to recover back my strength, especially during pre and post-surgery. In this article, I would like to share how my friends helped me to build back my strength during my early days of being diagnosed with Crohn’s.

My friends have been good listeners. Whenever I have problems, the first group of people that I look for are my friends, not even my family, because my friends are willing spend their time to listen to my problems and my feelings. They’re fully present when I start to talk. There are no distraction such as phones, people, or work, and they give their 100% focus to what I’m saying. I was in campus during the time I was officially diagnosed with Crohn’s. I was depressed, and they were the ones l looked for to talk to and to share of my health condition with. Once I uttered everything I wanted to say, they kept silent for a moment and then they started to give their suggestions. The point is, they listened and digested my problem before giving their best solution. I think this is the best part of friendship because they didn’t jump to conclusions. Instead, they listened to me first.

They cheer me up with great humor. My friends do understand laughter is one of best medicines to keep me healthy. My friends, unlike myself, are funny and their sense of humor always bring me happiness. In our conversations, there are always some funny jokes that make me laugh. Even when I’m in a bad mood, they are able to make me laugh and refresh my mood and cheer me up. In fact, friends with a good sense of humor can make our world feel good. Whenever I spend time with them, I never have a thought of pains, depression, or that I have Crohn’s.

Another great quality of my friends is that they care about my daily activities. This is an important quality that my friends show toward me that I really appreciate in them. Caring friends take a lot of dedication and love to keep the relationship always warm. My friends often call me to ensure I’m doing fine. They accompany me for my endoscopy appointment every year. They take extra caution on my food intake whenever we go out to eat. There are many more things that they do for me. And, most importantly, they also like to use positive words to keep encouraging me. They’re say encouraging words such as “you can do it Sara”, “you must be strong” to motivate me so that I can keep moving on in my life. Their words give me more confidence and strength whenever I need it. Their words lead my thoughts and emotions to positive ways.

Friends provides a place for us to share and to discuss our feelings. In fact, friends are the best emotional medicine for people like us to overcome from depression and lift us up and encourage us to take a leap of faith to change our life into something better.

World IBD Day: What's Something You Wish People Knew About Living With IBD As a Young Adult?

"What’s something you wish people knew about living with IBD as a young adult?"

Savannah:

As a young adult with IBD, I wish others knew how hard it is to balance nurturing our health while also taking part in classic twenty something year old activities. Not only do we have to focus on our health everyday but we are also navigating the world, discovering who we are and what we want to be. IBD doesn’t define us and our goals, but it sure does impact us on a daily basis and creates significant barriers. 

Andre:

Having IBD as a young adult robs you of fully experiencing your youth. Most of us are diagnosed between the ages of 18-26. These are formative years that will influence the rest of our lives, but we are not afforded the opportunity to experience the same highs as our healthy peers. This does produce a high level of perseverance, but the isolation and FOMO will always be present. 

David Gardinier: 

I wish people knew how much energy is at a premium for us. I feel like with IBD, I have a set amount of energy each day. If I use all that energy up during the day in my internship, I don't have any left for the rest of the day. This is especially true when I go out and play ultimate frisbee. I wish everyone else knew that I am not just being lazy halfway through the game, but that I actually get tired twice as fast as everyone else even though I am doing the same amount of work. It can be frustrating knowing that my disease will hold me back from performing the same as other people the same age I am. The more people that know how much fatigue impacts young adults with IBD, the more empathy will exist surrounding this disease in our population.

Jennifer:

Tackling a chronic illness as a young adult is overwhelming, to say the least. To fight a disease that can neve be cured, while simultaneously trying to figure out who you are and what you want to do with your life -- well, that’s hard enough as it is. I hope people can be compassionate towards young adults with IBD, realizing that we are battling a fight they may not always see.

Sara:

Many people have the wrong conception about young adults who live with IBD. They think having IBD is karma, especially for those from Asian countries because their life is filled immensely with strong cultural and religious beliefs. This thought that IBD is caused by Karma is unacceptable and should not be entertained. Living with IBD is not karma; in fact IBD patients are warriors. Young adults with IBD are brave and super strong people. In today's world, they face so many challenges in their daily life, such as family, relationships, finances, and social pressure. But still they never give up in overcoming those challenges and prove their life is beautiful.

Nathalie:

I wish people knew that living with IBD as a young adult does not make me too weak to handle things. Sometimes people keep things from me to protect me or because they think I’m going through too much to hear about someone else’s life. I believe these intentions are honestly kind, but it’s okay to ask for my support. My normal is different from a lot of other people’s normal and that's okay. I don’t feel like I’m going through too much and I don’t feel weak, my IBD isn’t tragic, it is just a part of my life. 

Kumudini:

I just wish that people knew it's normal for any human being to use washroom the number of times one wishes. Moreover, nobody is voluntarily willing or would like to time pass there. Its absolutely normal to miss appointments and give us the space of silence. We did not invite this disease by unhealthy eating habits. We never would like to refuse any yummy food, it's just that we love our intestine so much and we do not want to dump it with something which doesn't suit it.

Vasiliki:

Getting diagnosed with a chronic illness such as IBD is always a difficult condition. It is even more difficult when you receive this diagnosis at a young age. You suddenly find yourself dealing with issues that have to do with your health; you try to find ways to improve your health and balance the daily life of a young person with the life of a chronic patient. This is not always a straight line, sometimes you encounter obstacles and difficulties, but with will and effort you overcome them and move forward. The most important thing for me in this whole journey is to find allies who can support you and help you effectively. Αnd of course in no case do not give up your dreams. Τhe difficult days will come and go, but life is in front of you even if sometimes it is cloudy. Remember that you are more than your illness! 

Disability Makes Me Feel Colorful

When I was first diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, I remember hating myself. For so long, I was so angry at the world. I was angry because I couldn’t run anymore. I was angry because I was in pain. I was angry because I felt like I wasn’t capable of anything. 

The stigma of disability is often composed of beliefs that people with disabilities are too sick to do anything, are not capable, and weak. 

Years later I realized the only reason I hated myself and hated my disability was because society made me believe that having a disability was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. 

People would frequently tell me things like I should reconsider what I wanted to do with my life because of how my illness would impact me. I have been told that it was surprising I could even do what I have done in my life. I have been told that I would be in pain forever.

I have had doctors not believe in me. I have been blamed for my illness. I have been shamed for my weight, for not eating enough, for not trying hard enough, for being too tired, for eating too much “fast food” and an endless stream of hateful and hurtful words.

Sometimes even members of my own family would shame me and suggest I caused my own illness. I think that hurt the most. 

But they could not have been any more wrong. 

Living with a disability allowed me to see my black and white world in color for the very first time. 

My disability gave me inspiration for my future career. It allowed me to realize what my true passions and dreams were. It allowed me to appreciate the smallest, tiniest things that no non-disabled person would ever be able to notice. It opened up the door for new hobbies. It empowered me to focus on my mental health. More than anything, it gave me a second chance at life. 

I live for myself now.

I started painting which is weird because I used to only be able to draw little doodles on the bottom of my notebooks. 

I do yoga when before I would over-exercise and tire out my body. 

I found out about Trader Joe’s vegan chocolate chip oatmeal cookies with coconut (only after the very serious hunt to find snacks that were IBD friendly for me).

The air tastes better. Songs are not even songs anymore; they are seven different melodies and sounds happening at the same time and I can appreciate every bit of it. Every time I take a step without pain, it makes me feel like I am walking on clouds. The sun feels warmer.

I feel colorful. 

Personally, my disability was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. It is difficult. It is painful. It is exhausting. 

But it does not make me weaker than anybody else, less capable than anybody else, and I do the same things anybody else does, and I do it while I’m sick too. 

This article is sponsored by Lyfebulb.

Lyfebulb is a patient empowerment platform, which centers around improving the lives of those impacted by chronic disease.

Tribute to Khichdi - A South Asian IBD Comfort Food

Note: While Khichdi is regarded by many as a nutritious, can-do-no-harm food, and has existed in ancient ayurvedic literature (ancient Indian medicinal journals) as a food that cleanses and heals the digestive system, the food is not a one-stop solution to IBD, and there is always the chance that it does not suit everyone’s bodies. My views are not medically backed, as I am not a nutritionist, dietician or doctor; I talk about my journey of IBD with a food that has become dear to my heart (and tract).

Khichdi has a soft spot in the hearts of many South Asian people, not limited to just the IBD folks. It’s appeal to such a diverse diaspora over a varied amount of time is amazing but not surprising, due to its flexibility in becoming anything it’s fans desire. In India, a country with many inequalities, khichdi is a dish that can both dress up fancily as a wholesome comfort food for some, and strip down to a humble meal that provides a day of nutrition for others, becoming a unique thread that ties the polar opposite lifestyles of the rich and poor of India. It simultaneously also acts as a thread connecting the ill and healthy, with Ayurveda texts prescribing it as a staple meal as part of a larger lifestyle free from illness and pain, but is also a very popular meal outside of Ayurveda. It has its place in popular literature1, journals of travellers2, was chosen to be the main showcased food for World Food India 20173, has a dedicated restaurant to capture its varieties4, and is used widely as holy offerings in Hindu temples5. The meal has countless variations in all the states across the country, retaining its quality of being a trusty comfort food at its core, a pretty big feat considering all the various ways the states of India differ so widely.

When I first started showing symptoms of Ulcerative Colitis, among my many concerns, one big one was how my diet was going to be constricted to only khichdi. For a lot of the South Asian community, this restriction to their diet as they were diagnosed/even now when they show symptoms, is very relatable. I had observed a few years of my brother’s diet with UC before I started showing symptoms myself, and I cringed at how disciplined he was expected to be in eating bland khichdi, oftentimes for multiple meals, for days, weeks, even months at a time. My first few years of having UC, I followed the same path for the first couple of years, following treatment only in the Ayurvedic realm, which required many bland bowls of the rice meal. It’s safe to say I was sick (not the IBD way) and tired of it. It wasn’t until I was out on my own, in rural India for the first time, that I realized my need and dependence on the food I had come to rely on so much after learning to listen to my body. During my first few weeks of being in a remote village managing my flare ups, I was uncomfortable on many levels, and yet my memories shine with gratitude for the few times I was able to successfully find and/or be invited for a warm and simple meal of khichdi. It had effectively found a place in my heart as the one and only food that I could rely on, even in the remotest of places. 

Below are my recipes for a flare-up version a and normal version I like to enjoy as my go-to comfort food:

Plain Khichdi (Flare-Up Version)

Ingredients:

1 cup rice (any, preferably broken)

¾ cup lentils (yellow mung split)

7-8 cups water

1-2 Tbsp ghee (clarified butter)

½ tsp turmeric

Salt to taste

Steps:

1. Wash rice and lentils in a bowl, and add to a pot on a stove.

2. Add salt and turmeric and bring to a boil.

3. Cover and put in on a medium-high heat. It will take 15-20 minutes to cook. It’s best to keep stirring occasionally and checking to get a porridge-like consistency.

4. When cooked, pour into a bowl and add ghee on top. Enjoy!

Khichdi with Vegetables (Normal Version)

Prepare Khichdi same as above.

For the Vegetables:

Ingredients:

2 inches bottlegourd, peeled and diced

1 carrot, peeled and diced

1 green bell pepper, diced

1 tomato, medium sized, diced

1 onion, medium sized, diced

1-2 Tbsp ghee

¼ tsp garam masala

¼ tsp paprika

Salt to taste

Steps:

1. While khichdi cooks, heat up a frypan with ghee.

2. Add the onion. When the onion turns translucent, add the tomato.

3. Add salt so the tomato mushes up quicker.

4. Add the carrot and cover the pan. Keep stirring occasionally. If needed, add water to fasten the cooking.

5. When the carrot is soft, add the bottlegourd. Cover the pan and let it cook, checking from time to time.

6. After the bottlegourd is cooked as well, add the bell pepper.

7. Depending on how mushy you like you bell pepper, add your spices (garam masala and paprika) and remove from heat. Keep the pan covered for some time.

8. Plate on top of the bowl of khichdi. You can add more ghee on top as per your liking. Enjoy!

9. Khichdi is generally paired with plain yogurt in India, as well as pickles and papadum (crispy lentil chip).

1 https://www.moralstories.org/birbals-khichririce/

2 https://www.thebetterindia.com/119823/khichdi-history-brand-india-food/

3 https://seachef.com/khichdi-gets-ultimate-boost-to-be-promoted-as-brand-india-food/

4 https://khichditgf.com/

5 https://metrosaga.com/indian-temples-and-their-prasadams/

The Power of Music

I still remember the first time I listened to the song Where’d You Go by Fort Minor. It was June of 2016, and I had just recently been diagnosed with Crohn’s disease and finished my last semester of high school. It had been a semester of overcoming pain and fatigue to drag the shell of my body across the high school finish line. With those less than stellar circumstances, I was overcome with emotion hearing the lyrics describe in words exactly how I was feeling: 

She said "Some days I feel like sh**,

Some days I wanna quit, and just be normal for a bit,"

 I cried then, and I still tear up occasionally listening to the song and thinking back on that period of my life. That is the power of music, the ability of the songwriter to share their feelings in a way that connects with another human. It grants the comfort of knowing that others have experienced the same things you are experiencing now. That can be powerful for those of us with IBD, because it can be so easy to feel isolated and alone in our struggles. 

Today, I want to take you through some songs I feel reflect the IBD experience for me. I encourage you to listen through the links as you read.

One song I keep going back to is Times Like These by Eden Project. The first verse starts out with what a lot of us feel sometimes:

It's been a long, long time

We've come a long, long way

No, I can't see the finish line, scared half to death, but that's okay

It's been a long, long night

After a long, long day

My body's aching, but I know somehow, my feet will find a way

I don’t know about y’all, but I can think of at least a dozen times I felt like this with my IBD. It can be so hard to try to imagine the finish line when the reality of your disease forces you to acknowledge the present instead of looking toward the future. And that is scary. When day and night you are exhausted just putting in the bare minimum effort, you can forget to look at the big picture. I don’t even have to tell you how much I relate to the body aching line. But the great part about this song is that it doesn’t end there. Near the end, the artist sings:

These are the times we will hold

In the silence, when I've given all of me

And it's alright that it's over

And I found fight, like a soldier coming home

In the silence, but I have never felt so free

The future's so bright, this is our time

And I'll live it how I dream

It is beautiful how the artist not only changes the lyrics to reflect the hope, but if you listen, the entire mood of the song changes as well. The tempo speeds up, the instruments are cheery, and there is a joy in the tone of the singer. I know when I had flares in the past, it didn’t feel like a time in my life worth remembering. But I do look back on those times in my life now and see how they shaped my future. I see how I was supported and loved by family and friends, and how it gave me a feeling of gratitude for every new day on Earth. Some days you won’t be able to see the finish line, but eventually you’ll look to the future and it will be so bright.

Another song I feel encapsulates the IBD experience is Mountain at My Gates by Foals. It starts out with this verse:

I see a mountain at my gates

I see it more and more each day

What I give, it takes away

Whether I go or when I stay

Doesn’t that just sound like the IBD experience? We have this mountain of IBD in front of us, and sometimes it feels like it takes away everything from our lives. The beautiful thing about this song is it is about overcoming that mountain. The second to last verse goes like this:

Oh, when I come to climb

Show me the mountain so far behind

Yeah, it's farther away

Its shadow gets smaller day after day

Sometimes our disease can just feel impossible to overcome. But one day we will come to climb, and we will have realized we have conquered that mountain. We will look back, and see all that we have accomplished. Whether it is overcoming a flare, graduating college, or just taking a shower this morning, we all have mountains ahead of us that are made more difficult to climb by our disease. That just makes the view that much better once we reach the top.

Please leave a comment with any song you felt has been an integral part of your IBD journey, I would love to give it a listen.

Overcoming Medical Trauma with IBD

I have anxiety. 

I am afraid to speak up, almost all the time.

I press my nails hard into my palms when I think about why I said “How are you?” too quietly. 

I bring this up because about one year ago, I had an allergic reaction to an infusion. I had been on this infusion for several months, almost a year at the time. At first, I stayed quiet about the symptoms I had been feeling for a couple of weeks leading up to it.

I think a part of me genuinely thought it was in my head. When people around you are constantly telling you your illness is your fault or that you look fine or that your symptoms are just your anxiety, you start to believe it. 

It started with red, blotchy spots all over my skin. Some days were worse than others and eventually, I went to see a dermatologist who prescribed me a topical medication and I didn’t think anything of it except for the occasional feeling of shame when the spots became more visible. 

At the infusion before my reaction, I remember just thirty minutes into it, I felt so sick. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and everything felt slow. I remember trying to explain that I wasn’t feeling well and then downplayed it for just being tired because I’m used to doing that.

At my next appointment, the same thing happened. I started to cough and my lungs and throat felt itchy. I felt little ants all over me, starting at my feet all the way up to my chest. I stayed quiet still because I thought I was just making it up in my head until my nurse pointed out that I looked a little flushed. 

When I got up to go to the bathroom to check it out, with the IV machine trailing behind me, I stared at the mirror in absolute shock when I saw welts the size of quarters flooding my skin and hives spreading quickly across my chest and neck. My mother who was with me became panicked and called the nurse who immediately notified the doctor. 

I remember I started laughing hysterically because I was so afraid. The nurse quickly started Benadryl through my IV and I was just shaking because I felt so cold. The doctor was asking clarifying questions but they just sounded like echoes in my head. Eventually, the reaction subsided and I just layed there, stiff, with anxiety. 

What I didn’t know was that ever since that day, anytime I go to an infusion or take one of my medications I am so afraid of it happening again. I got lucky that my nurse noticed something was wrong before it was too late, but I can’t help but wonder if I had just spoken up earlier I could have avoided all of this in the first place.

But I want to stress that it is not your fault for not speaking up. Sometimes it can feel like anxiety is taking control over your life but every day you struggle with anxiety and still choose life, you are the one taking control of your life. 

I don’t feel guilty anymore for not speaking up then but now I understand that I deserve to speak up for myself now. I deserve to be heard. When it comes to your health, it is never just in your head. What I mean by that is whatever symptom you are feeling-- whether it be a physical manifestation of anxiety, racing thoughts, pain, discomfort-- those are all valid and not imaginative. 

The next time you feel too anxious to speak up, just remember that you deserve to be heard. 

This article is sponsored by Lyfebulb.

Lyfebulb is a patient empowerment platform, which centers around improving the lives of those impacted by chronic disease.

Caregivers: Spotlit in the Shadows

Recently, one of HONY’s long (12-part) post blew up, allowing another miracle to be added to the community’s ever-growing testament to human generosity and compassion. The posts follow the journey of Cristy’s Kitchen, through Cristy’s life, roles and perspective. A mother to 5 girls, she started experimenting with food recipes only when her first daughter started showing autoimmune illness signs as a teenager. It’s been made clear from her story that she first started her recipes, which have since garnered significant attention from many people all over the world, only because she wanted to help her daughters with their illnesses. Her life and actions speak of love, grit, determination, hope and faith, and I think some of us, as patients of autoimmune diseases, can relate to having people like her in our own lives, carrying us in our darkest moments.

 Caregivers undoubtedly play an immense role in a patient’s life. It can be argued that for chronic conditions like IBD, personal relationships with family, friends and significant others can ultimately only last if the relations juggle their roles between being caregivers and their normal roles (father, mother, sibling, significant other, friend). The mix of the uncertain characteristics of chronic autoimmune conditions with the current overburdened healthcare systems across the globe, caregivers are the ultimate backbone that help people survive not only through the physical realities, but also through the psychological, emotional, and financial turmoil. Yet for all we say about invisible diseases, not much is said about this significant invisible labor. Caregivers not only help us, patients, but are the unacknowledged help to doctors and hospitals, when they help buy time for diagnosis, and take our rollercoaster up-and-down rides with us.

  Caregivers: A South Asian Context

Generally, in south Asian communities, mothers already shoulder the huge burden of bringing up children and caring for their wellbeing, oftentimes even at the cost of their own health. For young adults with IBD in India, the role of the mother as a prominent caregiver is heightened and intensified for two main reasons: (1) overburdened private and public healthcare systems, (2) lack of mental health normalization and support infrastructure. It is also important to acknowledge, however, that prominent caregivers can also be fathers, older siblings and other family members just as much as mothers. It is normalized to blame these caregivers, more often than not mothers, for any “defects” that a child may have, whether that is due to the child not adhering to the community’s rules, or because the child is unable to perform in a way that the community deems fit. IBD and autoimmune conditions from a south Asian lens is widely considered a fault, and one that cannot be tolerated to come out of nothing, leading to further the idea of blaming the mother for not doing enough and/or failing to stop the illness. However, as patients, we eventually come to accept and acknowledge the curious nature of autoimmune diseases (that they cannot be predicted, nor caused or solved), and we witness not only our grit during hopeless times, but also frequently, the origin of that: the love, grit and hope our caregivers show. To have that labor and foundational support go unwitnessed and unpaid by the world around us is one thing, but hearing negative comments that place blame and point fingers is another. 

In my personal circumstances, my mother was the first person I revealed my symptoms to, the only person to accompany me to every doctor’s appointment and lab appointment, and stayed awake with me on countless nights as I turmoiled through the pain and bathroom visits during my flare ups. She outstandingly also showed up when I took the decision to spend a year in rural India, with limited and chaotic bathroom, food and water provisions, riddled me through my bursts of insecurity, and stood as an unwavering pillar of physical and emotional support when I was hospitalized. I can say for certain that I only survived ulcerative colitis and my year in rural India because of her. In my sibling’s case, my father went above and beyond being his main caregiver, and at times, mine too. And yet, while I try to distance myself repeatedly from the guilt of having an illness that has no clear cause, I also deal with people blaming my parents, trying their hardest to find a recipient for the blame. It is heartbreaking.

 These comments not only arise from common people, but can also show up in the tone and words from well-educated and trustworthy people, like doctors. While it may seem that the above actions are on the list of expected actions that a mother/caregiver has to carry out, it is important to highlight that it is absolutely not necessary and still constitutes labor and time that could be used elsewhere in return for payment. Additionally, from a productive economy/labor perspective, IBD patients are almost only “productive” to the economy due to the invisible support of their caregivers. This is yet another reason that begs policymakers over the globe to consider the unique circumstances of patients of chronic autoimmune diseases and recognize the unbeatable power of caregivers in their fight.

The Patient-Doctor Relationship

Why is a good relationship with the doctor important for patients?

Have you ever considered how your relationship with you doctor affects your health?

“There is no cure. Only control of the disease symptoms”. How many times have you heard this? How harsh does it sound, especially the first time?  

Are you ready to build a new relationship, a completely different relationship with your doctor? This relationship will be unlike any other relationship and certainly no one has experienced it again until the time of diagnosis. 

This is a long-term relationship that will evolve over time. Your doctor will know many things about your personal life, your job, your family, etc. Above all, however, over time, he or she will learn YOU, and your personality. 

And why this is important?

As a patient you have to break down the wall around you and allow the doctor to enter your world, the world of your disease and how you experience it, even for a while. Of course, the doctor must have the empathy required for that.

This will not happen overnight. It may take years to build this relationship. As this relationship begins to build, you will feel the doctor as a member of your family, you will share with him or her important moments. 

Is always the relationship between patient and doctor like that?

Unfortunately, no - however, I deeply appreciate those doctors who patiently and carefully support patients with chronic diseases. It’s nice to see a person being 100% present.

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!