I would like to share the first piece I wrote for The Mighty in the spring of 2016. It is the one piece of my writing that has inspired me to share more of my stories in my own blog. My writing is from the perspective of the middle of a situation; I can usually see the not-so-good side right away but if I stay with it, I can then see the value. Not in a "Pollyanna" way, more out of curiosity and a desire to understand. Thank you for stopping by.
So the nurse asked, “Which one are you, Crohn’s or colitis?”
and without hesitation, I answered “Crohn’s”; I always answered “Crohn’s.” Though I often thought her inquiry could have
been worded different, it never bothered me much. I knew she needed to get my
vitals done quickly so she could keep the assembly line of patients
moving. The clinic was always swamped! Then one visit, this polite interchange with
the nurse prompted a revelation. I came to realize that for the past 10 years,
I had been using Crohn’s disease as a way to identify myself; I had lost Kelly
and became Crohn’s and I was crushed!
How odd is that, to become a disease? Without realizing it, I
had slowly let Crohn’s disease consume me; the doctor visits, tests, and
treatments took over my life. Crohn’s had become my badge of honor, my cross to
bear, my membership card to the Suffering Club. I studied Crohn’s, learned
everything I could in an effort to control it when in reality it was
controlling me. I hated Crohn’s, everything about it. It was hard for me to grasp
that I had become something I hated. While that was a scary thought, the next
thought was scarier, if I let go of Crohn’s as my identity, then who was I? I
cried.
By now it should be fairly clear that I had given this
quarterly exchange much more power than it probably deserved. Looking back, I am thankful it happened as it
prompted me to examine how I was living my life and stop being a victim. It prompted
me to reflect on choices I had made and realize that I have the power to react
differently. I was ready to get Kelly back.
Three months passed and I found myself back in the clinic,
ready for my dance with the nurse but this time I had new moves. As she directed me to step on the scale, she
asked her famous question, “Which one are you, Crohn’s or colitis?” and this
time I replied with conviction, “I am Kelly.” This obviously caught her off
guard as her response was “huh?” to which I exclaimed again, “I am Kelly; I
live with Crohn’s.”
