Overcoming Silence: My Victory Against Ulcerative Colitis
“I admire your enthusiasm for a good conversation.” “Wait…can you repeat that?” “I like your stories!” “Oh, you were expecting me to still be listening?” The intrigued, the nonchalant, the unfazed, the amused — I’ve heard it all when it comes to what others think of my chattiness. But the reaction I least expected was the spiral of silence that occurred as my so-called friends slipped away one by one. Yet, that’s exactly the situation I was facing in fifth grade, when on New Year’s Eve, I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis.
My ensuing battle against this disease was one that I seemed to be losing hard and fast. My extreme weight loss, plethora of medication, and befuddled emotional state all seemed to fight over the trophy of what could wreak the most havoc on my life. If those three factors were the knights of this war, my insensitive classmates were their foot-soldiers. My peers made it clear that no one wanted to be associated with my sickly-looking self. Although not a direct attack, my classmates’ invasive stares and catty comments tempted me to wave the white flag of surrender.
But relinquish I did not. Instead, I adapted, and soon, the nurses became my confidants; parents, my best friends; and doctor, my savior. Despite the rocky road to recovery peppered with multiple relapses and medication changes, my newfound companions saw me through till the sweet taste of health once more.
Unfortunately, my emotional scars were harder to heal. I wavered between a state of denial and ignorance as I locked my disease away in a deep corner of my mind, never to be spoken of again. Years went by as I gradually began to open up to people on a superficial level again, all the while guarding my heart against further mockery.
This spiral of silence about my disease came to an abrupt halt my freshman year of high school when someone uttered the words “Ulcerative Colitis” in the midst of class. Panicked, I frantically searched the room for the speaker, until my eyes landed on a pale-looking boy. Upon asking if I had indeed heard him say “Ulcerative Colitis”, the boy shyly nodded and averted his gaze, embarrassed. With a world of understanding between us, I broke my years of silence and softly admitted, “It’s okay — I have it too.” Then, I told him my story.
Little did I know how much healing power that this conversation could have, both for him and myself. What my pills did for my disease physically, this did for me emotionally. I am no longer afraid of being ridiculed or shamed for my illness; I am no longer defined by my disease. The true healing power lies in the empathy that patients have for one another: when one is weak, another supplies him strength. I was blessed to be that boy’s strength in his time of need.
As the years went on, I began to view remission as finally climbing the mountain of victory, standing proudly as the champion, and never having to relinquish the trophy. But reflecting on that definition, I realized that isn’t entirely true. The real prize is not remission; that is simply the moment at which your body and medication cease to fight against one another. However beautiful that may be, the true trophy was won when I could finally look at myself in the mirror, and smile, not only because I’m healthy, but also because I’m happy, Ulcerative Colitis and all.
