I know people are probably getting sick of hearing me complain about my Crohn’s Disease, but today when I was applying for jobs, it really hit me: this disease will hold me back and be a factor of every decision I make until the day I die.
Sometimes, I just wish I could forget I have Crohn’s. I know it wouldn’t do me any good; I’d just keep getting sicker. But…I was a lot happier before I found out I had it. I may be healthier than I was a year ago, but when I didn’t know, it was just bellyaches. Now, it controls me - every goddamn move I make I have to think, “Will I be in the bathroom later regretting this?”
I’ve had a whole year to get myself used to this disease, and yet, I still haven’t.
- I still have a hard time remembering when I have to take all 7 of my medicines and how much time I should have in between each dose and remembering what pills counteract one another if taken too quickly.
- It’s still overwhelmingly embarrassing how one second I’ll be fine and the next I’ll be clammy, weak, and short of breath while crawling to a bathroom. It’s even more embarrassing when it takes more than 10 minutes and people feel the need to comment on how long I took.
- I still have a hard time holding back tears when people see my 5 surgery scars on my belly and ask me what happened.
- I’m still afraid of letting my boyfriend of 2 years explore my body because I’m afraid of an uncontrollable “accident.”
- I still hate myself over the fact I have to keep adult diapers around, just in case.
- I’m still grasping the fact that this will be my life. Every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every year for the rest of my life. I’m still accepting the fact that one day, this disease may be the reason I take my last breath.
But you know what will forever really get to me? It’s not the frequent bathroom trips. It’s not the pills. It’s not the diapers. No.
It’s the fact that this is all invisible to everyone around me; the fact that this is a demon that nobody can see. It’s my own personal villain that lives only on the inside of me. It taunts me, laughs at my misery, and kicks me even more when I’m already down. It’s already pushed my friends away from me to the point I can count my current friends with less than 5 fingers. It makes sure I know that I’m not normal, and that I’ll never be considered that again. My life will never be easygoing and simple again.
And no matter how many times I tell those around me how much I’m suffering…
They don’t believe me.
They never have.
And I’m certain that they never will.