I’ve removed my own staples. I’ve cut my own stitches. I’ve held clumps of dead hair in my hands. I’ve retrained my legs to walk and run again. I’ve had tubes and drains and feeding lines. I’ve seen fear in the eyes of some of the top doctors in the world because they weren’t sure if I was strong enough to make it through surgery.
Inflammatory Bowel Disease is a ruthless disease, and there is no cure. Instead, you learn that the only way out is through. You learn that even when you feel like you have no strength left, you can muster up enough to create the light that guides you through the darkness. But even something as terrible as this disease can bring some of the most beautiful moments, and I can 100% attest to that.
Each year, World Inflammatory Bowel Disease Day shines light on Crohn's Disease, ulcerative colitis, and indeterminate/Crohn's colitis around the world. I highlights the millions of men, women, and children whose lives have been forever changed by this disease. This day always brings mixed feelings for me. While I know the importance of advocating and sharing my story, especially on this day, it is also a day of many vivid memories resurfacing. It is a day when I take a trip down memory lane to remember the challening, heartbreaking, frustrating, wonderful, hopeful moments throughout my journey.
And while I have shared much of my journey online to help others in theirs, there is a lot that I have not shared from my journey because it is simply too painful to relive - and that is OK. This disease has tested every ounce of my strength, especially in the darkest moments.
But this journey has not been all terrible. I have gained SO many incredible friends, so many opportunities to educate, and so many bright memories, even in dark times. From nurses to doctors to patients to complete strangers, Inflammatory Bowel Disease has allowed me to connect with so many individuals that I may never have come to meet. It has led me down the path that has landed me exactly where I am meant to be in this world, and for that, I am incredibly thankful. I have smiled, I have laughed, I have cried the happiest tears, and I would not trade any of it. Here are a few of my most special memories:
Esther. Esther is a nurse tech on the third floor of Marburg at The Johns Hopkins Hospital and she is truly one of the most wonderful people that I have ever met. Esther was always my biggest cheerleader, even on my worst days in the hospital. She would look my directly in the face and say, "Kristen - you've got this. Do you understand me? You can do this. You are strong and brave and you can do this." Esther never allowed me to give up. She would sit on my bed with me, hold my hand, and remind me just how strong, how capable, and how special I was. I would be lying if I said that I did not bawl my eyes out when it came time to say goodbye. So, to Esther, thank you. Thank you for being my beacon of light when my world was consumed by darkness.
Attending the HOPE Conference in Las Vegas. The HOPE Conference in Las Vegas brought together a very special group of ostomates and families alike to celebrate eachother and it was such an amazing experience. I attended the HOPE Conference as an Ambassador of DripDrop, which was an incredible honor for me. I started using DripDrop early in my diagnosis to help curb the dehydration that came with my symptoms and would, no joke, buy every box I could find in my town. DripDrop was the only thing that kept me hydrated and four years later, it still is. So, it was incredible to have the opportunity to attend the conference with DripDrop. Always check with your doctor before trying something new, but if you are interested in learning more about DripDrop, visit: www.dripdrop.com. I highly, highly recommend it for combatting dehydration. So, to DripDrop - thank you for supporting me through some of my most challenging points and thank you for keeping me hydrated as an ostomate.
Our adventures around The Johns Hopkins Hospital. One of my favorite things to do when I was trapped in the hospital recovering was to go on a walk (or ride in a wheelchair) with my mom around the hospital. Johns Hopkins has a lot of history that you can still find within the hospital, so my mom and I would travel around and admire the history. This was always a nice distraction from everything going on around us.
Starting my master's degree from a hospital bed and finishing it by walking around the stage. In August 2016, right before my first surgery, I began my master's degree program from a hospital bed. Less than two years later, I walked across the stage, healthy, to receive my diploma.
These are just a few of the wonderful memories from the last four years. I truly am thankful for this experience because I whole-heartedly believe that it has shaped me into the woman that I was always meant to be. It was not the path that I envisioned for myself, but it changed my life for the better. Here's to surviving.
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