On Turning 30

I turned 30 right before the new decade. What happened next, was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. 

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve written anything. I never really wanted to stop writing, it just happened. But if the past few months have taught me anything, it’s that you never know when life is going to send you a really big, clear message. A message that has led me here, back to this blog. 

I turned 30 on December 4th, 2019. I celebrated the usual way- dinner and drinks with friends followed by karaoke. Initially, the idea of beginning my 30s to scared me, honestly. But once it happened, I didn’t feel any worse. If anything, being at the cusp of a new era had me feeling thrilled. I had enjoyed my 20s, but I was ready to leave them behind. 

A week or so after my birthday, the pain came. 

Back in my early 20s, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, after a few episodes of intense, blinding pain kept me up all night and in the emergency room. For the next 8 years, I was able to mostly manage my disease with medication. I felt lucky that my case was mild, and that I was able to, with daily meds, live a normal life with the exception of a few flare-ups here and there. 

So when I started feeling pain at work, about a week before Christmas Break, I wasn’t too worried. I recognized the pain as being from my Crohn’s right away. I had recently ran out of meds and lapsed about a week, so served me right, I thought. This had happened before. Once I got back on my meds, I’d be back to normal in a few weeks. 

But that isn’t what happened. 

A week back on meds, yet each day the pain becomes more intense. The pain had me eating less, doing less, and sleeping less. I dreaded night, because that's when the pain absolutely consumed me. Sleep was a long lost friend. 

Every day I woke up and thought, "Okay, today will be better. I'm on the mend." I wanted to will it into existence. But this pain was stronger than my ability to manifest. 

Christmas eve comes, and I am not better. I am a lousy participant in my family's holiday party. I'm concentrating so hard on not feeling pain that I cannot concentrate on conversations. I can't eat. I alternate between sitting on the couch, trying to look like I'm fine and curling up in bed away from everyone. Still, I think, I'll be better tomorrow. 

Christmas comes, and I am not better. I can just manage to sit on the couch and open presents, but that's about it. I couldn't even make it to my grandmother's house for Christmas dinner.

Finally, after a night of extreme pain and no sleep at all, and a morning of throwing up, my parents take me to the ER on the day after Christmas. After a day of tests and calling my GI doctor in the city, I'm put on steroids and sent home. Finally, I think, I'll be better tomorrow. 

But I don't get better. Each day gets worse and worse. But insanely, I still wake up each morning and think, "I'm getting better," even though I'm definitely not. 

My parents throw me a 30th birthday party, I take painkillers just to get through it. 

Each day is worse than the last. The pain is debilitating. I go on to miss New Years. Still, I think, "I'll be better when school starts up again."

But I'm not better. I miss two days of school. I think, "Okay, I just need the weekend to recover. Then I can go back to work." 

But Sunday night rolls around and it's the same old story. Intense, blinding pain stealing sleep away from me. Finally, I turn to my boyfriend and say, "I need to go to the ER."

At the ER, I am pumped full of painkillers and anti-nausea medication. By the next morning, I'm told I need to be admitted. Astonishingly, this surprises me. Even after the harrowing past few weeks I still manage to diminish this pain, and everything I've experienced. I quickly flashback to two days before when I walked to the pharmacy to get yet another prescription, and almost passed out multiple times on the walk there and back. How even then, I still thought this wasn't that serious, and that "I just needed a few more days to get through it."

I am admitted for about a week. After multiple tests, it's determined that my Crohn's Disease has advanced significantly. It had nothing to do with me missing medication, it's just something that happened. When the doctor's saw how badly damaged my insides were, they were shocked. I was even told I might need surgery. 

First, though, they wanted to try a new medication through infusion. Thankfully, it worked. Now, every 8 weeks for the foreseeable future, I go in to an infusion center to have this medication infused throughout my body. 

It took time, but I'm feeling a lot better. I still look back on this whole experience and almost cannot believe what I allowed myself to go through. My days and nights were filled with pain, and I still insisted that things weren't that bad. By not wanting to complain or make a big deal out of things, I almost faced much more serious consequences. 

Besides the pain though, was the missing. I missed out on Christmas, my birthday party, New Years. I felt like those few weeks were just a daze. By the time I left the hospital, 20 lbs lighter, anemic, and weak, I felt like I hadn't lived in a month. I missed date nights with my boyfriend, drinks with my friends, being at school with my students, even just being able to go outside and walk around. I had such a new appreciation for all of these things because they were taken away from me for a whole month. 

It's taken me quite a while to get this written down and published, but interestingly, I finally got around to it at such a poignant time. I didn't do this on purpose, I was truly just so busy getting back to my life that this kept getting knocked down the to-do list. But now here we are, in a situation where our normal, every day lives have been unexpectedly interrupted. Now, we're forced to take a look at our lives almost as if it were behind a glass display case. Our everyday routines are now starting to feel more like a memory. 

I know that, for me, having an unexpected break in the routine of my life forced me to appreciate it so much more. When I was finally able to start living normally again, each and every moment was loved and appreciated. I felt so much gratitude for the smallest things- walks with my boyfriend, dinner with friends, waking up early to go to work, SLEEP!

These are scary times for all of us. But, as I learned from my scary time, there are lessons to be learned here. There are changes to be made, and things to be appreciated.