#chrons disease
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Me desperately trying to project all of my disorders on my fictional blorbos: um… Sebastian Debeste…um,,,he-he has uhhhhhhhh Crohn’s disease
#strawb rambles#chronic illness#ibd#chrons disease#chronically ill girlies make some noise#I think Edgeworth would have it too he has the under eye bags ibd gives you#I love projecting!!!#ace attorney#ace attorney investigations#aai2#sebastian debeste#miles edgeworth#eustace winner#tmi I know but too bad
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oooh I just hate when my disability is disabling
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Autoimmune - 3
#cam.txt#anti endo#anti endo userboxes#anti endogenic#disabled system#system punk#system userbox#sys blog#system boxes#this system#system blog#disabled sysboxes#autoimmune#autoimmine disease#autoimmunity#lupus#hashimotos thyroiditis#scleroderma#psoriasis#sjogrens#sjogrens syndrome#inflammatory bowel disease#chrons disease#ulcerative colitis
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Slept through my whole infusion today that’s how tired and crappy I feel. Slapped on some makeup to feel better now off to work feeling exhausted and nauseous. Meds taken now to go work work work. I’ll rest tomorrow tho
#remicade#tumblr girls#chrons disease#ankylosing spondylitis#chonic pain#chronically ill#chronic illness#super babe
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TW ED//
to anon who asked about GI issues and EDs, i feel like ive never seen anyone else talk about it, it makes me feel alone. ive had crohns almost my entire life and its messed with my relationship w/ food tremendously.
its gotten to the point where my brain genuinely thinks that i dont deserve to eat or that food wasnt meant for me because it causes me so much pain. ive also dealt with ana on top of just avoiding eating because it pains me.
i feel like no one around me can help. i feel unable to trust myself or the food around me.
Thank you for sharing!
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It was a good day. No pain. Blood sugars in check. Nice weather. A little howling. A little woo-wooing. A nice long walk. Good meals. I miss you Little man. No greater love.
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Adenocarcinoma
Not the word you want to hear at the doctor. Cancer. The doctors spent all week basically reassuring me that it wasn't cancer--this is normal presentation of a bad Crohn's flare. Instead I spent the time crying over the section of my bowel that needs to be redirected. My biggest fear finally come to life, and at 31. Much earlier than I was thinking. Then, Friday morning, the doctor's voice, and it's changed.
He had been so sure before. But he seemed very sure of my new prognosis. Chemo and radiation to shrink the tumor, possible operation. 6 to 9 months, no more cancer. Maybe no more bowel, but definitely no more cancer. This was two days ago; I've since gotten another CT scan and an MRI, which I've gotten very little information on. Weekends at hospitals are basically useless if you're looking for answers/treatment. Thankfully the past two days have been full of visitors to keep my mind occupied. Tomorrow's gonna be the difficult one. It's just dad and me, and the doctor teams are coming. Surgery, oncology, gastroenterology. God knows who else. Having to navigate with a skeptic in the room--I already need Ativan. Maybe a 2x4 to the dome.
The assuredness I've exhibited the past few days is wearing off. I've received such an outpouring of love from friends and family--my windowsill is covered in gifts and snacks and flowers. It's a tad overwhelming. The whole thing is. Being the one with the big scary sickness, assuring people that it'll be okay. I'm gonna kick its ass. Having people give you money and discuss fundraisers. Strange, strange, strange. But there was motion and conversation and it was easier to be distracted. Now I'm alone in a hospital room with my thoughts. Well, not fully alone. I do have entertainment (currently streaming You're the Worst on the borrowed tablet, while I type on the borrowed laptop), and there's the bedtime Ativan beginning to swim in my brain. So thankfully the spiral can be held off for now.
What if, though? What if the MRI is worse? What if the tumor doesn't shrink? What if what if what if.
I've spent the last 8 months basically wishing I would die. I had no idea my body was listening to me. Now I have to save it. I don't have a choice. Part of me is optimistic; maybe this is exactly what I needed to change my life, my perspective. But part of me is the normal, pessimistic me; this is yet another shitty (pun intended) hurdle I have to deal with in this miserable life.
I wanted to start a blog while I was feeling positive (currently I am neither positive nor negative, just floating); documenting this seems important to me. I do want to stick with it, I do. I had planned on just a new blog, but stumbled upon this one that I started well over 5 years ago, and for some reason it felt right to continue it. Ominous? Possibly. But here we are. I really do hope I maintain the willlpower.
February 18, 2024
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a different type of transformation tuesday
On December 7, 2015, I said aloha to my colon. It was a long time coming. 11 years of misery where I told Doctors I felt like I was slowly dying inside even though I did not look like I was on the outside. A lot of mental lessons learned along my #ulcerativecolitis journey… I was diagnosed when I was a twenty-something woman, self-conscious and insecure, chasing self-worth and love in all the…
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#autoimmunedisease#autoimmunity#chrons disease#chronsdisease#Fitover40#fitover40mom#fitover40women#fitover45#fitover45mom#fitover45women#fitover50#fitover50mom#fitover50women#fitover55#fitover55mom#fitover55women#fitover60#fitover60mom#fitover60women#fitover65#fixedmindset#growthmindset#honolulupersonaltrainer#ileostomy#invisibleillness#macrosmadeeasy#Ostomy#Transformationtuesday#twwbabes#ulcerative colitis
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Someone I know got me a sticker that said Tummy Ache Survivor on it recently but with every new tummy ache it’s like. Am I really going to survive this one
#I’ve got I’m gonna fucking die disease#and the cause is my tummy HURTS#personal#the Crohn’s is chrons-ing today
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the pains of genetically inherited diseases
so basically, i found out about 2 years ago my mom has chrons. it didn’t seem super important, cause i had no idea what it really was. basically it means your stomach can be really sensitive to certain things and can cause you to have severe stomach aches, diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, etc.
Well earlier in 2022, my brother got hit with his first chrons-type reaction, and he lost a shit ton of weight (because occasionally with chrons/uc you get malabsorption where your body takes little to no nutrients from the food you eat) and he was throwing up and was really sick. that’s how he found out he had chrons.
Skipping ahead a few months, i was in italy on a trip with my family when i started to get severe stomach aches and nausea after eating meat, drinking milk, and sometimes even just plain old pasta. i was so goddamn confused. then i started to loose weight (which is weird for me because i don’t really gain or loose weight cause i’m generally fit). The stomach aches only got worse, i started throwing up after certain meals, and sometimes couldn’t eat from the fear of the pain.
that’s when everything clicked. basically, i found out i ALSO have chrons. so there are some things i can eat that won’t kill me, and others that will put me in bed for 2 days straight.
long story short, if your parents have hereditary disease, please don’t ignore the signs that you might have it as well.
also for those who might be worried about me, i’m fine, im still feeling out what i can and can’t eat (because it’s different for everyone) but generally i’m doing pretty great and am back to a normal healthy life.
#chronsdisease#uc#chrons#genetic diseases#pls guys be safe and don’t go through what i did#GET TESTED!!!#medical issues#malabsorption#stomach issues#not me originally thinking i was lactose intolerant and tried to stop drinking milk#only to have the same reaction to plain fucking pasta
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The last exam for my entire degree is on Friday but I have no more motivation to study.
This degree has taken 6 years. I've completed over 16 months of full-time job-specific work experience (on top of regular part-time customer service jobs) during my degree. I am TIRED.
I just want to hyperfixate on Leverage and Christmas.
Oh and my Mom and my Uncle are both getting major surgery in the beginning of January so I'm a little nervous about that.
I don't want to study anymore.
But I need to pass this exam. Ugh.
#My mom's surgery is low-risk and long-scheduled (intestinal surgery related to her Chron's disease)#my uncle on the other hand needs a 5x emergency heart bypass surgery#3 of his main arteries are 100% blocked#the other 2 are 60-70% blocked#the doctors don't know how he's alive
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Uuuuugh.
FUCK CHRON'S DISEASE!!!!!!!!!
That is all.
#fuck chronic illness#chronic illness#chron's disease#i just really needed to scream into the void for a moment.
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I would like to read it.
All I'm saying is Ridley Scott went out and hired the giant mutant genitals artist to design the Alien, and H.R. Giger delivered a monster with a giant penis head, a vulva-outline space ship, a birthing egg with an opening made of two crossed vaginas, a facefucking vagina monster fertilizer and a lil baby dick form that kills the host - the man 100% delivered on his artistic principles.
And because of this, it is just a little bit funny how the penis and vagina designs are enshrined in pop culture, forever being passed between creators who seem to less and less think for a minute that they're working with genital monsters and it turns most of the movie franchise and comics into an exercise in unintentional absurdity where a character can be fleeing from a rolling vulva like the boulder from Indiana Jones without a single shred of awareness or subtext.
#also i am going to be snarky in the tags about a different comment#someone else complaining I'm talking shit about Prometheus without seeing it or dont know Ridley Scott directed#I have seen it twice and I know fully well its the same director#trying to pretend there's some cohesive metaphor in Prometheus is absurd on so many levels#from the movie itself being internally inconsistent to not a single biomechanical element cohesive with Gigers artistic vision#Alien is a cohesive story where Gigers aesthetic is a contributor but includes other influences such as writer OBannons Chrons disease#the elements are woven into the text of a complete and thoughtful story with well rounded complex characters#Prometheus is an incoherent mess trying to yoke characters and story to some vague metaphor of birth and christianity#it puts its woefully banal Big Questions out front as if that alone lends gravitas to the rest#lost writer Lindelhof once again coyly pretending the vagueness is hiding depth which isnt there#Ridley Scott somehow completely forgetting that other people contributed to the original#acting as if the film is so singularly his vision that rewriting a different film idea into an Alien prequel is not a bald faced cash grab#Prometheus is a movie made by self important children playing with human emotions and body horror like cheap dolls#smashing them together and yelling that they're kissing#my off the cuff remark is only scratching the surface of the amount of shit i can talk about Prometheus#and i am the girl who loves horror metaphors and horror as a genre that says things about society#I'm the target audience for scifi horror to speak in the language of metaphor#Prometheus fuckin ain't it#what little metaphorical value it has got is so trite#the protag having this heavily cgi defanged abortion metaphor then getting chased by the vagina boulder is not particularly interesting#Alien has layers of meaning woven together about disease and birth and capitalism and feminism#it works as a movie because it is so grounded in multiple real human experiences#Prometheus has none of this and comes first from a place of profit margins second from abstraction detached from real experience#humanity and the relationship of the movie to recognizable aspects of life are a distant third or fourth
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Against All Odds
“Catch me, Dad!” I squealed as I leapt from the banister of the stairs. He caught me in his arms and twirled me around till the room got fuzzy and my stomach hurt from laughter.
My mother glowered at him from the glass door of her home office.
“Throw her around like that and she’ll be at the hospital in seconds!”
Dad’s sweet chortling always brought me to my senses. If I were ever comatosed, the sound would jolt me awake like a lightning bolt.
“That’s if she fell. She’ll never fall, because I’ll never let her go.”
~~~
The immediate jerk of the plane woke me up from my reminiscence straight away. I cracked my neck to one side and groaned at the splitting sound.
When the pilot announced take-off, I didn’t think my heart could pound any louder than it already was. I picked at the skin around my thumb, and when that got too marred, I toyed with the hem of my athletic shirt.
Did I want to spend my Saturday morning on an aircraft with a parachute strapped to my back? Not really. In hindsight, did I have a choice?
Well, yes. I did.
You chose to be here, and you aren’t getting off of this plane until you jump off from it at twelve thousand feet.
That didn’t necessarily mean I wasn’t allowed to let my anxiety take over as we bounced against the rough gravel while the jet accelerated.
Maybe I can do this. Maybe I am cut out for this.
All diverting thoughts flew away from my brain as soon as I felt the plane lift from the ground and into the air.
Ican’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothis-
“Miss? Are…are you okay?”
I didn’t even bother checking where the voice came from, or even confirming if the comment was directed towards me.
“Just peachy,” I breathed.
The voice laughed. “It’s not that bad, trust me. I’ve-”
I lurched forward when the aircraft suddenly plummeted towards the ground. I felt sharp nails digging into my forearm to keep me from shooting straight across the six feet of space we had between the benches.
All I heard over the speaker was “minor” and “turbulence”. Only one of them made sense to me, and it definitely wasn’t minor.
When the plane came to a stop on the runway, I turned to my right. The “voice” came from a tall(er) woman. Her swirly brown hair was pulled back into a braid and her eyes were warm and friendly. They reminded me of freshly baked cookies near a fireplace with cozy blankets.
“I’m Kahani. Aani for short. You?” She asked with her outstretched and perfectly manicured hand.
“Kiele. Nice to meet you.” She smiled and her nose ring glinted in the sunlight shining through the windows.
“We should likely be back in the air by… an hour tops?” She looked out the window and nodded her head. “No more aircrafts available for today.”
“How are you so sure?”
She tapped at the embroidery on her shirt. “I’m your instructor. The pilot’s my dad. I come over here to volunteer once a month or so. Even have my own license! Well, obviously, or else I couldn’t qualify to be your instructor,” she laughed. She leaned forward on her hand. “So, what are you doing here? I mean, you’re probably here to skydive, but by the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like you enjoy heights very much. No offense.”
I shrugged. “None taken. I’m fine with heights, but I think the thought of jumping to my doom from twelve thousand feet in the air is enough to nauseate a lot of people.”
She grinned. “Interesting, but you didn’t answer the question. Why are you here, then?”
“If I really had to elaborate, it would be a long story. I’ll run it down--”
“Ah--stop right there,” she said, her finger moving side to side. “We’ve got an hour.” She crossed her legs. “Hit me with it.”
I thought about it. Did I really want to share my entire life story with someone I just met two minutes ago? Aani seemed like a nice person, and my priority voice in my head kept nagging at me.
Kiele, you run an awareness program. So, spread awareness!
I smiled and drummed my fingers against my phone case.
“Where should I start?”
~~~
The day I was diagnosed with stage three leukemia was, needless to say, the most god awful day of my life.
I’d been sitting there at my kitchen countertop. I was seventeen and was doing what most normal teenagers would be doing in March: scouring college websites, tours, and program offers. I didn’t think my life could even get more infuriating after I’d learned my dad wouldn’t be coming home for another week. It didn’t really warrant me to sulk like a three-year-old and refuse to eat dinner, but I was too upset to care.
After a few hours of trying to get me to eat, even my own mother had given up and crashed on her desk in her office. No matter how hungry I was, I spurned away the plate she’d set in front of me.
Thinking back, maybe I should’ve eaten. Maybe I would’ve allowed myself a few more weeks of what I thought to be peace and what I called calmness.
I remember slamming open the door to her office and violently shaking my mom so she’d wake up. Even at four in the morning, she was still pretty vigilant and on her guard.
Blood was dripping in splotches all over the floor and various documents from my nose, and no matter how much pressure she put on it, she couldn’t get it to stop.
Half an hour later, she was running the speed limit with the GPS blaring directions out to the nearest hospital. My hands were trembling and I was cowering in trepidation as tears started pooling in my eyes.
“Kiele Iokua, get yourself together. It’s one nosebleed that I drove you all the way over here for, nothing is going to happen. It’s nothing serious. It’s just like the rest,” she sighed.
The rest were never this bad. The rest never sanctioned a trip to the hospital.
I don’t remember when we’d entered the hospital, checking in, or even the doctor telling my mom to leave the room. I don’t even remember when they took my blood to the lab or the moments I sat there with waves of unease crashing over my body.
I just remember those words that turned my life a full one-eighty degrees.
“I’m…extremely sorry to deliver this news, but… we…we’ve diagnosed you with stage three leukemia. Now, we know this may be…”
I wasn’t listening to whatever the doctor was saying, likely about how things would be okay. And maybe, if I’d truly listened, they would’ve been.
But all I could think about was how things would never be okay. How was it possible to tell a seventeen year old that their life was being threatened by a fatal disease?
Nothing could have ever prepared me for that day, even if I had more time to be a normal person before I found out.
My dad was called in from his week-long business trip, and I thought about how a few hours ago, it would’ve made me the happiest person in the entire world. I didn’t think anything could ever achieve that again.
I hadn’t moved for over six hours, and the doctors had started to get worried. Even Mom went out and had gotten cupcakes from Crumble Bliss to “cheer” me up. How were you supposed to cheer someone up after that?
I didn’t even budge when Dad’s arms were wrapped around me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.
It was only when my parents had discussed chemo treatment with the doctors and everyone had left the room, the tears started rolling. I must’ve sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for hours that night based on how swollen my eyes were the next morning.
My parents sent an email to my high school about the situation. My entire future that I had planned was practically gone. Forget about deciding on a college-- I wouldn’t even be able to go to college.
I thought that maybe after the chemo, I’d feel better. It only got worse.
After every appointment, I didn’t feel any different. The doctors reassured me that my body was fighting and it would take time to see those results pay off, but I grew more bitter and angrier every second I spent in that hospital.
I was rude to the nurses and all the physicians who tried to help me. I screamed at them, cried at them, and even kicked at them when they tried to help me. The only person that could manage two words with me on good days was Dad.
My Dad visited the hospital whenever he could. He cut all his meetings short just to see me and always brought a cupcake or a snack that he knew I loved.
He held my hand and said that it would be okay, but even he knew it wouldn’t.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the hair fall started.
Everytime I ran my hands through the dark locks of my scalp, clumps of hair threaded between my fingers and easily slipped out. By the end of the month, my once thick and long hair was as thin as a twig.
My dad came on the first weekend in April and held my hands.
“Kiele, it’s okay, it’ll grow back before you know it, alright? You’ll be-”
I snapped. I didn’t know what it was that made me lose my temper that day, but I couldn’t take it anymore.
“No! No, it won’t be okay! Stop pretending like it is, alright? You don’t know what it’s like-- you’ll never know what it’s like. Do you know how hard it is to deal with the fact that I have cancer? Just leave me alone!” My voice cracked near the end of my words and I shoved Dad away until he left.
He still visited whenever he could after my meltdown, and my mom came by with him to try to get me out of my gloom.
My embittered attitude only made the cancer worse as months went by. I was rude to anyone who even tried to speak to me, not realizing how much pain I’d been causing them-- and more importantly, how much pain I was causing myself.
The doctors didn’t know if I’d ever recover, but they’d said it was unlikely after a few months, and I soon might’ve entered stage four.
They hadn’t told me, but I’d overheard them telling my parents in the waiting room. Anger flooded through me like it did every other day, and I pitied myself day after day, wondering why I was the one stuck with cancer-- what I did so painfully wrong that landed me in this mess.
A week after that day, I was wandering around the hospital with my IV bag stand rolling next to me. Even after six months, that aftershock still didn’t wear off. I was spiraling into a whirlpool of depression and agony, and it seemed like there was no return.
I’d stopped short in my tracks right before I was about to turn the corner.
Soft sniffles came from one of the seats, and it was one of the nurses-- one the nurses who was assigned to my ward.
I looked at the room across from her and saw a young boy-- who couldn’t be more than seven-- swatting away the pills in a nurse’s hand.
“No! I don’t want it! It won’t help me, okay? Nothing will help! It’s only going to get worse!” He cried aloud. He kicked and screamed and shrieked at anyone who tried to touch him, and even kicked one nurse in the face. He threw so many hurtful insults at them that even my mind started to react to them, even when they weren’t directed at me.
How could…someone say things so…hurtful?
How could that someone…be me?
At that moment, it was like a freight train hit my body.
I was a horrible person. I was so vile and churlish and so… insolent. I’d taken out all my bottled up resentment at something so out of anyone’s control and unleashed it out on everyone who’d just wanted to help me.
It was then that I decided to suck it up and start to be happy, or at least pretend to, even if I wasn’t. Going through cancer was the hardest point of my life, but that gave me no reason to be such a jerk to people who loved me.
Optimism didn’t completely get rid of that loneliness I’d always felt in the beginning, but it was the first step.
Even pretending to be happy tricked me into thinking everything was fine, sometimes. I decorated my room with pictures of my family and things I loved, and the nurses even helped me with my new change.
“We’re proud of you Kiele. Keep fighting,” one of them smiled at me.
I talked to the doctors and my nurses every chemo session to keep me distracted. They’d told me about their lives, their family, their friends, and news outside of the hospital. I’d slowly gone from pretending to be hopeful, to truly believing it.
I’d even told my Dad that I was sorry for being so difficult. That day, I shaved off all the remaining hair on my head, and looked at my Dad in the mirror with tears as he soon followed.
The positive mindset I followed did wonders to my mental health-- and maybe even my physical.
I went from waking up every morning and asking myself “why I have to be sick” or “why can’t I be like everyone else”, to appreciating everyone around me and being confident that I could fight back.
There was still one problem.
I’d forgotten where the room was, but it wasn’t hard to find it again after I followed the
shouts echoing down the hallway at night.
A nurse came out with a dejected look from the room, but quickly replaced it with a nod and a smile when she saw me. I gently grabbed her wrist.
“Could you tell me… what you were trying to get him to do? That boy in there,” I asked.
“He won’t take his medication for today. I’ve tried so much, but I just… he won’t. I-”
I smiled. “I’ll take care of it.”
With that, I rapped my knuckles softly against the door. When no one answered, I clicked open the door and walked in.
“Go away! I said I didn’t--” the boy stopped yelling when he saw me. “You’re not a nurse,” he said.
“You’re right, I’m not. I just came here to talk to you. Can I sit here?” I asked him, patting the spot at the foot of his bed. He gingerly nodded.
“Can I ask you…why are you so sad?”
“Huh?”
“You’re feeling a lot of emotions, I know. I know what it-”
Immediately, he lashed out at me. “No you don’t! Stop it! Stop saying you know what it feels like!” Tears were cascading down his cheeks and my heart cracked a little, knowing those were the words that came out of my mouth not too long ago.
I flinched a little, hurt at his sudden outburst. “You have Crohn's disease, right? That doctor told me. I can’t really say that I completely know what it feels like… but I think I have an idea,” I tentatively said, hoping he wouldn’t burst into a fit of tears again.
“How?” He glared at me.
“A few months ago, I was diagnosed with stage three leukemia. Blood cancer. It was the worst day of my life. I felt like there was nothing in the world that could make me feel like a normal person again.
Just like you, I was filled with hatred and acerbity towards everyone. I yelled at the nurses, the doctors, and even my own parents. I think I even made them cry sometimes,” I said. I didn’t like thinking about those memories-- it reminded me of the person I used to be, and I didn’t want to be that person anymore.
He blinked at me. “I don’t know who my parents are. A volunteering camp raised money for some of us to receive treatment here,” he said, his voice wavering.
“Do…do I make the nurses cry? Did I hurt their feelings?”
I decided not to sugarcoat it. “Yes, you did, but it’s okay. It’s hard to live in this world and think about why we had to be the unfortunate ones, isn’t it? I hated it, and I still dislike having cancer. I lost energy, my friends, and even my hair. It took me a while to get over that. But I like to think about something-- do you wanna know what it is?”
He hesitated, but then nodded. “We were chosen to carry these burdens because we’re stronger than anyone else. Fighting back isn’t something just anyone could do, you know that? Overcoming these challenges will only make us even more powerful. The only thing stopping that is yourself,” I said, pointing at him with my finger. “You have the ability to change that-- you just have to believe. Be hopeful. Be idealistic. Be optimistic.”
We shared a few minutes of silence before I spoke again.
“Will you take your meds now?”
He reached over for the glass of water next to him and firmly nodded.
“I…I’m sorry. For yelling at you,” he said, not making eye contact with me.
“Apology accepted, but I don’t think it's me that you should be apologizing to, right?”
“Right.”
~~~
After Jun expressed his regret to all the nurses, I found out that he was pretty sweet. Once I’d made a friend, the hospital didn’t feel so lonely anymore--even if my friend was a seven year old kid.
Jun and I took walks around the hospital facilities and sometimes even the central rotunda parks, when both of us were feeling up for it. I spent time in his room, and he spent time in mine. He even came to some of my chemo sessions to talk to me. His company was fresh and we found solace in each other.
He’d never learned, so sometimes, I took him to the library and taught him how to read and write. It was tough, considering he had occasional severe stomach aches and I was still battling the rapid cell growth in my body, but we made it work. Jun was a fast learner, and it made me happy to see him grow so much over a few months.
Seemingly, I started feeling better after the continuous chemotherapy, and before I knew it, almost two years had passed since I first inhabited the facilities.
Even Jun showed some change-- not a lot, but it was a start that made us happy. I introduced him to my Dad, and he was more than happy to keep Jun entertained.
He bought card games, books, and loads of activities every month to the hospital. He’d spend hours in my room with Jun curled up next to him, telling us both stories and playing games. It felt silly that I was nineteen years old and I was playing Hungry Hippos with a kid instead of being in college studying for midterms, but I didn’t care.
After a while, I was permitted to stay at my home to transition to outpatient care and continue my treatment in scheduled sessions during the week. I was elated. After so long, it was a dream come true, but I thought about Jun. As much as I didn’t want to leave him, both my parents wanted me to come home for so long, I just couldn’t deny them.
I walked into Jun’s room one day, half expecting him to throw a tantrum when I told him the news. Instead, to my surprise, he hugged me. “You taught me that positivity is the best medicine, and I want to share it with others. You deserve this after being stuck here so long. You’ll visit, right?” He looked up at me with his gray eyes and tousled brown hair. I smiled.
“All the time.”
~~~
I didn’t feel that I was ready to start going to school in person, so I finished high school online. I got my diploma, and even had a private graduation party that Jun was invited to.
My life seemed to get better from then on. I wrote my college essay about my experience, and I’d gotten into a university not too far away from the hospital. Along with visiting my parents, I visited Jun every weekend.
I didn’t have to go for a chemo session every month then, just a few routine check-ups. My hair had even started to grow back, and I felt suffocated through pure joy. Before, I thought it would never grow back, but seeing my scalp littered with dark brown hair made my heart burst.
Before cancer, I’d never known what I would truly want to do in life, but the first thing I did out of university was apply to research programs. I wanted to help people, but not just by being a scientist, or researcher.
With Jun and the hospital staff’s help, I started my volunteer center with great pride and joy, knowing that I’d discovered my calling.
Jun’s presence in my life was a constant reminder of my resilience and finding strength in each other when I’d been told that I was finally cancer-free.
~~~
“Everyone said that the survival rate at my stage was extremely low, but nothing makes me prouder to say that I beat it. I’m a cancer survivor,” I said, smiling at Aani and pointing to my wrist with the tattoo of a ribbon. I ran my hand over my curly mid-length braid. “Even have my hair to prove it.”
“That--that’s amazing! Turning your life around like that takes real courage, and if you can beat cancer, then I definitely think you can skydive. Even if that story was beautiful-- you still never answered the question. Why are you here?”
“I’m one of the supervisors at that very hospital wing as a research intern. One of the kids there didn’t think she was going to survive this autoimmune disease she had, but she’s brave. She told me skydiving was her dream, and I wanted to make it come true.”
Aani stared at me in awe. “You are… truly an amazing person. Can I ask-- what happened to Jun?”
My heart raced. “I loved my Dad so much that I didn’t think it was possible to love him more, you know? Not until he showed me the adoption papers. Jun’s my younger brother now, and he’s been attending high school like a regular kid after getting discharged. He’s the one who got me to do this today, actually,” I laughed.
So much time had passed while talking, that I hadn’t even realized the plane must’ve taken off a while ago. I stared out the window and I could barely even see anything over green that stretched out for miles.
My back straightened. I went stiff, knowing that soon that time would come. Aani put her hand on my shoulder to unstrain my posture.
“My first few months at the hospital, I absolutely hated the feeling of missing out on so many things that I knew would go on during senior year,” I said, distracting myself. “But you know who stuck with me through thick and thin, even when I was such a jerk? My Dad.”
Everyone started getting up and strapping themselves up to their instructors. Aani tapped my forehead. “Breathe. Relax. I can’t tighten the straps if you're so tense! Keep going-- tell me something he said.”
I inhaled and eased my body. “The power of optimism completely altered my life and without that, I wouldn’t be where I am now,” I spoke, shutting my eyes. “When I apologized to him after I’d started my positive mindset phase, he’d told me something that I later told Jun, and now I tell all the kids in the ICU wing. If you wait to be happy until life isn’t hard anymore, then you’ll waste your whole life waiting,” I said, not even registering that we were up next to jump out.
“You must love your Dad a lot, right?”
“Yeah, I do,” my voice quivered looking down at the ground and my heart hammered against my chest.
“If you fought cancer while you were in stage three,” Aani yelled over the loud wind. “Then you can survive jumping out of a plane. Don’t waste your whole life wishing you didn’t back out! Ready?” she asked.
I looked down and smiled. “More than ever.”
And in that moment, I knew I wasn’t even lying-- against all odds, I would always triumph over anything. I welcomed the rush of the air currents against my face when Aani leapt from the platform.
Catch me, Dad.
•••
This story was written to show the journey of a cancer survivor who finds strength and resilience through the hardships she faced throughout her life. It is a constant reminder even if you aren’t struggling in life, the power of optimism brings out true resilience.
#leukemia#cancer survival#yes i did write this#cancer survival story#time to be optimistic#yay#chron's disease#i have two separate accounts hence i posted them on both haha#hope you like it#did this for a newspapwer application#thought i'd post it here
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Facts About Crohn's Disease
Crohn's disease is a type of inflammatory bowel disease that can cause a wide range of symptoms and complications. Here are some important facts everyone should know:
Crohn's can affect any part of the digestive tract from mouth to anus, but most commonly impacts the end of the small intestine and beginning of the colon.
Common symptoms include abdominal pain, diarrhea, fatigue, weight loss, malnutrition, and bleeding.
Crohn's is an autoimmune condition where the body's immune system mistakenly attacks healthy gut cells.
There's no single cause, but risk factors include genetics, environment, diet, and gut bacteria imbalances.
Complications of untreated Crohn's can be severe like intestinal strictures, fistulas, abscesses, and colon cancer.
While there's no cure yet, many medications can help induce and maintain remission by reducing inflammation.
Equally important is "Crohn's disease self-care" - practices like avoiding trigger foods, stress management, exercise, and sticking to a nutrient-rich diet.
Crohn's impacts everyone differently, so tracking symptoms and working closely with your gastroenterologist is crucial.
The more we understand this chronic condition, the better we can raise awareness and provide support for those living with Crohn's every day.
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God I really am going back to my monastic diet aren't I
#to all the bastards in hell responsible for food industrialization#may you be enjoying your fucking stay#this entire country is poisoned#it is insane that people my age and even younger have things like Chrons#everyone has an autoimmune disease and no one can digest bread#its INSANE#we are all fucking sick and we have been poisoned#WELP time for me to go back to lentils and rice for a few months#before this gets any goddamn worse
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