I became obsessed with the card game Hearts during my sophomore year of college. Simply put, if you have the least points when someone else reaches 100 points, you win the game. You do this by avoiding the hearts suit and the queen of spades. Each heart is one point and the mighty queen of spades is 13. However, if you end up with all of the hearts and the queen, you can shoot the moon, giving you zero points for that round and giving the other three players 26 each. And sometimes you shoot the moon after starting out with a hand that was destined to be a horrible round.
November always rolls around and I get excited about Thanksgiving with family in addition to the other things I love about fall - the leaves, hiking, cool runs, coffee on the porch, football, you name it! But, more importantly, November is a time for me to reflect more closely on my year...what’s been good, what’s been bad, and what goals do I have for myself now? It’s almost laughable to say that in 2020, but I do have much to be thankful for. I think about how, almost five years ago, I was just starting to get the hang of living life with ulcerative colitis (UC), but I was probably bitterly reflecting back on the hand I was dealt that year.
I wish I could go back and comfort 23 year-old me and let her know things would get better. That the hand of mismatches wouldn’t seem so awful in a few years. That, in time, she’d be thankful for the support that encouraged her to do something with all of her frustration, anger and sadness when she was ready. Thankful for her own grit in deciding to share her own story to educate others and provide a safe space for anyone who didn’t feel seen or heard. And that was only the beginning - listening to patient after patient while on clinical rotations as a physician assistant (PA) student, truly hearing their stories reminded me of the providers that heard me when I had mild, easily dismissable symptoms, but ones that were way out of the ordinary for me. I’m now thankful that I’ve been an IBD patient myself and that I can use this experience to truly empathize with others going through a similar diagnosis one day.
I’ve also been so thankful to learn about my CCYAN co-fellows’ experiences; if you’ve read or watched any of our content this year, you know how amazing and inspiring they are. Their stories help me grow as an advocate, but also help me reflect on some of my darker memories of my IBD journey. For some, you may not remember because you were so young, and for others it may be all you’ve ever known. Yet, for another group, the line between pre- and post-diagnosis could be so sharp that it now demarcates two distinct periods of your life. I know some have shared that it is almost too painful to look back at certain memories during life with IBD, and that’s ok. However, I think the same people would agree with me that there’s still a light brightening that darkness. There’s still a new sprout growing from those ashes. The physical and mental pain we have all lived through serves as a stepping stone for strength. Just as we can look back and see the growth that came from the positive experiences we’ve had, we wouldn’t be where we are now without our painful experiences either.
Lastly, I realize you may not be at a place where you are ready to reflect yet, but I hope you will get to a point one day where looking back on your IBD journey can be helpful and perhaps cathartic for you. I’ve learned so much in less than 5 years - about myself, about others, and from others - that I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. I will be a more empathetic PA in my career because of it and will always strive to be an advocate for IBD patients. Even though I initially looked at the hand I was dealt and my heart sunk, I think I found my own way to shoot the moon.