Dear Classmates: An Open Letter from an IBD Patient
Dear classmates,
In fifth grade, I used to stay in at every recess, safely holed up within the four classroom walls. I was embarrassed, because I didn’t want it to be that way. The only reason why I didn’t go outside is because I needed to be close to the bathroom at all times. I was never able to play games during recess because I was fatigued from the illness and medications. I preferred to spend time with our teacher because only she knew what was really going on with my health. Once I finally worked up the courage to tell a few friends, they stayed in the shade with me, close to the bathrooms and where we could rest. But most of you didn’t notice, and I was okay with that; you were too busy playing, and I was too busy being sick.
In middle school, I used to spend my lunch break stretching because it was the one thing my body excelled at, and dance was the one physical activity that wasn’t a toll on my health. Being the only new girl in the class, I wasn’t part of your already-existing friend group, but to be honest, I preferred it that way. I didn’t want you to see that I was sick, that my body worked differently than yours. Because if you did notice, I would be pitied, and that would be far worse than being the recipient of any insensitive comments.
In high school, I used to immerse myself in a wide range of activities: theatre, community service, and scientific research. You quirked an eyebrow, asking how I was able to manage my time. Although I did appreciate the compliment accompanying your question, I would laugh it off and change the subject. Truthfully, the reason why I kept busy was because I knew far too well what it was like to get robbed of my time and have my choices made for me by my disease.
In college, I still like to keep busy. I’m the girl that says, “No thanks, I have too much OChem to do, but you have fun!” You shrug your shoulders and go about your plans, wondering how someone could always be so uptight. I’ve come to view my time as a tradeoff, with my free and sick time perpetually fighting for my attention. It’s never a matter of whether I want to do something, but rather if I can or should. This doesn’t make my life any less exciting or fun; it’s just different, and I’m okay with that.
This past quarter, the last of my freshman year, finals week took a turn for the worse. My Ulcerative Colitis was flaring, and this made even taking a few steps out of bed a gargantuan task. While seemingly the whole school seemed to be abuzz with the chatter of how much studying you all had accomplished in the day, I was simply proud that I was able to stomach two saltine crackers. With the stress of the quarter system and finals week, understandably, most of you didn’t notice. You were busy studying, and I was busy trying to get healthy.
In college, however, I no longer hide my illness or the impact it has on my daily life; living with you all makes hiding it impossible, but I’ve also found that I no longer want to obscure it. Admittedly, I’ve found my fair share of apathy, but I’ve also been able to find those who are understanding. Although you all had your own studies to pursue, you also took time to ask how I was holding up and whether I needed any more of those crackers. You applauded when I was able to finish a bowl of soup in “only” 2.5 hours. You slowed down to talk me through the material that would be on the exam. You nodded encouragingly and helped me see my value as a person, beyond simply my grades.
Dear classmates, despite the dark times when good health feels like a fleeting goal, you’ve supported and helped me. Sometimes you didn’t, you simply don’t and you won’t, and that’s okay too. Without all of these instances, I wouldn’t know what it was to really be there for someone. I wouldn’t truly understand the importance of being intentional and accommodating. I wouldn’t appreciate life’s little victories, like finally being able to leave my dorm and eat a bite of solid food, and how wonderful it is to share them with others. So for all that and more, I thank you.
Love always,
Amy
