Overcoming Medical Trauma with IBD

I have anxiety. 

I am afraid to speak up, almost all the time.

I press my nails hard into my palms when I think about why I said “How are you?” too quietly. 

I bring this up because about one year ago, I had an allergic reaction to an infusion. I had been on this infusion for several months, almost a year at the time. At first, I stayed quiet about the symptoms I had been feeling for a couple of weeks leading up to it.

I think a part of me genuinely thought it was in my head. When people around you are constantly telling you your illness is your fault or that you look fine or that your symptoms are just your anxiety, you start to believe it. 

It started with red, blotchy spots all over my skin. Some days were worse than others and eventually, I went to see a dermatologist who prescribed me a topical medication and I didn’t think anything of it except for the occasional feeling of shame when the spots became more visible. 

At the infusion before my reaction, I remember just thirty minutes into it, I felt so sick. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and everything felt slow. I remember trying to explain that I wasn’t feeling well and then downplayed it for just being tired because I’m used to doing that.

At my next appointment, the same thing happened. I started to cough and my lungs and throat felt itchy. I felt little ants all over me, starting at my feet all the way up to my chest. I stayed quiet still because I thought I was just making it up in my head until my nurse pointed out that I looked a little flushed. 

When I got up to go to the bathroom to check it out, with the IV machine trailing behind me, I stared at the mirror in absolute shock when I saw welts the size of quarters flooding my skin and hives spreading quickly across my chest and neck. My mother who was with me became panicked and called the nurse who immediately notified the doctor. 

I remember I started laughing hysterically because I was so afraid. The nurse quickly started Benadryl through my IV and I was just shaking because I felt so cold. The doctor was asking clarifying questions but they just sounded like echoes in my head. Eventually, the reaction subsided and I just layed there, stiff, with anxiety. 

What I didn’t know was that ever since that day, anytime I go to an infusion or take one of my medications I am so afraid of it happening again. I got lucky that my nurse noticed something was wrong before it was too late, but I can’t help but wonder if I had just spoken up earlier I could have avoided all of this in the first place.

But I want to stress that it is not your fault for not speaking up. Sometimes it can feel like anxiety is taking control over your life but every day you struggle with anxiety and still choose life, you are the one taking control of your life. 

I don’t feel guilty anymore for not speaking up then but now I understand that I deserve to speak up for myself now. I deserve to be heard. When it comes to your health, it is never just in your head. What I mean by that is whatever symptom you are feeling-- whether it be a physical manifestation of anxiety, racing thoughts, pain, discomfort-- those are all valid and not imaginative. 

The next time you feel too anxious to speak up, just remember that you deserve to be heard. 

This article is sponsored by Lyfebulb.

Lyfebulb is a patient empowerment platform, which centers around improving the lives of those impacted by chronic disease.

How My Mental Health Was Affected by IBD

Mental health has been on my mind a lot lately. From hearing it in relation to the COVID-19 pandemic, to having conversations about the need for more resources for IBD patients, to dealing with my own experiences with depression and anxiety - mental health resources are perhaps one of the most underrated and underfunded sectors of healthcare. I realize this as I’ve gotten older, immersed myself in the medical field, and as I have utilized it for my own mental health after being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis (UC) in 2016. 

I bet many of you have also dealt with IBD affecting your mental health whether you realize it or not. For most of us, we were the only person we knew who had IBD at the time we were diagnosed. Some of us may not have even heard of it until we were told after our colonoscopy or endoscopy. The world around you suddenly feels a lot busier and bigger, and you feel very small and alone. Alone, wrapped up in your thoughts, your pain, your exhaustion, your fear. None of us asked for this. What did we do to deserve this?! In the days after my colonoscopy, this thought permeated my mind and I wanted to curl up in a ball and wish it all away. 

But, you can’t do that when you are a busy pre-med student working full time and taking classes! We are expected to stay strong and keep up our front that says “Everything’s fine,” when, in fact, we’re not. I had great people to talk to and that would listen to me, but I still went through a mourning process. I mourned my life before when I thought I “just had a sensitive stomach.” I mourned that fact that my diet would probably change and change again and that I maybe would have to be on immunosuppressive medication. I dreaded the future conversations that would come up when someone would ask why I had to go to the bathroom so much or why I couldn’t eat or drink something. Really, everything’s fine…

But, it’s not. CHRONIC is a word that I hoped never to hear in regard to my medical history. We now have a new label that we must carry for the rest of our lives, and it’s anything but predictable. We have to explain this diagnosis so many times we feel like it might actually define us. The reality of my UC diagnosis began to truly sink in and anxiety began to seep into my daily life. My energy and concentration was poured into reading about UC, finding a better “diet”, looking for tips on how to achieve and stay in remission, and finding some kind of outlet for my anger and frustration.

Honestly, I should have given myself a little more time to process and try to seek the help of a mental health professional. Now, I think, I should’ve thought about my IBD and mental health together rather than separately. I let myself have a little time to mourn my UC diagnosis, but I thought I needed to be strong and keep my diagnosis to myself, much like others had before me. If we don’t look sick, perhaps no one will know. Even when we try our best to be strong and adapt to this normal, our mental health often still ends up suffering. 

I think it would make such a positive difference in the lives of so many if we are all equipped with a medical and mental health treatment plan after being diagnosed with IBD, because the fact of the matter is that the mental health symptoms are just as debilitating as the physical symptoms of IBD, and they’re often intertwined. We need this kind of support as we manage our diagnosis - which sometimes can land us in the hospital or needing major surgery. I can’t speak to these kinds of experiences, but they can be traumatic in their own ways. How many failed medications or pain does one endure until they receive a potentially life-changing surgery? Thinking of the mental health hurdles that my co-fellows have dealt with and shared so vulnerably leaves me in awe of their strength. When they share what they have lived through, it also makes me sad that there was not adequate mental health services available to some of them when it could have offered an outlet for some of their pain.

Even now, almost 5 years out from my diagnosis, I take medication for my depression/anxiety and have re-established a relationship with a counselor that has experience in treating clients with chronic illnesses. I still go through the peaks and valleys of life and IBD, but, now, I’m better equipped to handle the lows when they hit or when a flare affects my mood and interest in doing things. I want the mental health support that has been so instrumental to some of my healing to be more accessible and affordable for those with IBD in the near future. 

I hope speaking candidly about mental health and sharing some of these reflections helps you feel less alone and more validated in what you’ve been going through. The process of untangling all of these emotions is normal when grappling with a chronic illness diagnosis and what that means for you and those you love. Everyone processes major life changes and trauma differently, but don’t be afraid to ask about mental health services when you see your GI or primary care provider. Finding the right mental health support could be the treatment you never knew you needed. 

IBD and Anxiety

When you are first diagnosed with Inflammatory Bowel Disease you learn quickly that the brain and gut function as one. They are deeply connected. Even if you don’t have IBD, you can look to feelings like butterflies in your stomach when you are nervous, excited, or in love. IBD has given me the superpower of identifying an instinctual trust of my gut. One thing you commonly hear when talking about how to manage your IBD is that you have to manage your stress levels. Since the brain and gut are so connected, the chances that a flare up will occur when you’re stressed are high. Truthfully, being able to manage your stress is a very privileged thing to be able to do and that’s a conversation that needs to be had. Outside forces and systems of oppression exist heavily in our world today. We are not functioning in a world that allows you to thrive and prioritize both your mental and physical health. For most people, there is always a tremendous amount of stressors that you cannot escape. Things like finances, unstable households, going to school, and working all cause a great deal of stress. 

Today, I want to specifically talk about how managing stress levels and IBD feels increasingly impossible when you have clinical anxiety and/or PTSD, as these are so often linked with IBD. 

I was diagnosed with IBD at a young age. My physical health was always prioritized over my mental health. This was more pronounced, I think, because mental health is not a thing that is necessarily often invested in for young children. As a child, it was very difficult for me to identify what I was feeling and what triggered these feelings. Specifically, with my anxiety, I did not know what a neutral state of mind meant. I didn’t know what my anxiety looked or felt like till around my sophomore year of college. After going on anxiety medication for a bit, I was able to understand what intrusive thoughts were and how they occupied my life. 

The baseline for my anxiety is intrusive thoughts, but it can also manifest itself in different ways just based on the things I am doing in my life at the time. For example, my anxiety can manifest itself in ways such as crying in social settings, having an obsession with time (i.e. constantly looking at the clock or leaving hours early for events), and, when things are more extreme, staying in my room for days on end. For me, it is so important to specifically state how my anxiety manifests because for so long I did not know what it meant. I think it is important that we normalize talking about everything that anxiety can bring with it, not just generalizing or downplaying it. So often, I think anxiety is talked about in very loose terms and given very simple fixes for how to “handle it.” This, in return, can oftentimes belittle the situation. 

When these more intense and intrusive moments occur, my IBD flares up. So, I often question how I am to manage my stress when I often cannot control my anxieties. In the past, I would become stressed when I experienced my anxieties because I did not know what was wrong. Now, they still stress me out, even though I know that it is anxiety. 

For me, and I think many others, anxiety is something that I have to constantly cope with on the daily. If I am not ten steps ahead of it, it will simply swallow me whole. 

IBD and anxiety can feel overwhelming and scary, but what has helped me is knowing that I am not alone. Having these two conditions together is not uncommon, and what feels very isolating and full of despair is not the case. Medication has helped me in the past and therapy is a forever process for me. I also keep a bullet journal of coping skills I have used in the past - identifying coping mechanisms that worked and ones that did not. This list gives me a place to turn to when I feel as though nothing could help and it's easily accessible. I have also found solace in being in a community of people who understand. Explaining anxiety or IBD to someone who has not gone through it can be very exhausting and this goes for many other varying identities as well! When I do find the energy, making art is another space for me to process my anxiety, whether that be through a conceptual piece or just painting a canvas with one color over and over again.

What are ways you cope with your anxiety?

Emotions and IBD

There are a lot of emotions that come with the diagnosis of any chronic illness, or even any major life change. But laying on the operating table, under the haze and fading twilight of the anesthesia medication exiting my veins, I felt nothing. The echoing silence of the room was heavy all around me. I expected to feel an overflowing stream of emotions flow over me, but instead the most striking sensation of my diagnosis was emptiness. It could have been the drugs dulling my system and my perception of the world. Yet, over time, I’ve started to think that the cause of the void-like feeling around my diagnosis was something incredibly real, and not artificial. The feeling of change is oftentimes so big that it feels like nothing. 

In that hospital room, so much had changed with a simple test. The scale of the moment was beyond comprehension. My parents and I communicated without words, because anything that could have been said would have failed. All the periods, letters, and adjectives in the world would never be enough to frame that point in time. So, somehow and instead, I just knew that I had ulcerative colitis without being told. Shock, and the whole experience, was such a surreal feeling. To know that something has snapped, or broken, or ended, but to be unable to directly confront that realization is off-putting. It was easier to not speak the change aloud, because to speak it into the world would make it extra real. 

In the weeks after my diagnosis, it was as if a light switch had been switched back on. All of the fear, grief, and anger I had missed earlier suddenly now surrounded me. The trauma of illness is such a widespread and varied experience, but it can be difficult to describe and discuss. It’s isolating to feel different, and to feel like you’ve lost a piece of yourself. Health is something that most people take for granted or don’t think about. So when it’s taken away from you, its absence becomes the dominant part of your everyday life. The shift in my lifestyle to one focused on health had a significant impact on my mental health. I was in an environment, my freshman year of college, where everyone seems to be testing the limits of their independence. Thus, to feel completely dependent on my unstable day-to-day health felt unfair and tragic. 

It’s a challenge to have the energy to battle painful, and draining symptoms on a daily basis. I learned that adjusting to my illness, and all of the treatment that comes with it, was a major part of my healing journey. On top of that, I realized that acknowledging the emotions I was experiencing was an important part of accepting my illness. It’s normal and natural to be angry, to grieve, and even to be nostalgic for your life prior to diagnosis. In fact, for me, it was the first step towards opening up and connecting with others in the chronic illness community. My experiences, feelings, and my relationship towards my health has been full of highs and lows. Most of all, I’ve learned that the negative and positive emotions I’ve encountered from dealing with illness are all valid. They’ve helped me grow, learn, and evolve as an individual. Every journey is different, and that is perfectly okay.

7 Tips For Easing Travel Anxiety

By Erin Dunne

The weather is getting warmer, school is coming to a close and the time for traveling is here! I have been lucky to travel with my family on many road trips and am starting to go off on my own as I get older. I love traveling no matter where I go or who I am with, but I still get apprehensive when planning. Will I be able to eat out? Is there a grocery store nearby? Do I have to take my medication while I'm away? What if I get sick?

Going to new places and being confined in a single mean of transportation can be very stressful and bring out anxiety in people with #IBD. I don't know about you, but being bloated, in pain or uncomfortable is not precisely how I'd like to spend my trip. It's unpleasant enough at home but is even more so when away. Although I have a lot more traveling ahead of me, I have already learned through the years ways to ease my anxiety and make traveling as smooth as possible.

My top IBD friendly traveling tips are:

1. Set up a game plan with your travel buddies:

It's always best to make sure that you and your travel partners are on the same page and at least have a general idea of what you would like to get out of the trip. As someone with gut issues, it's important to clarify any needs that may need to be met while you're away- special diet, bathroom accommodations, etc. Explaining your concerns will not only help your partners understand better but will also put you at ease. By constructing a game plan, you'll have a better idea of what you'll need to prepare for- whether that means packing your own food for certain meals or staying somewhere with multiple bathrooms and a fridge.

2. Research restaurants you can go to:

I'm a BIG foodie so finding the best local places to eat when traveling is extremely important to me. I like to try to stay away from chain restaurants as much as I can when I'm away so I can experience more new places on my trip. By being prepared with gut-friendly places to visit, when the question of "where should we go to dinner?" comes up, you won't have to frantically search for restaurants on your phone while others wait. If you can't find a restaurant menu online, don't hesitate to call and ask if they can accommodate your needs. From experience, most places will be more than happy to work with you to create something you are comfortable having!

3. Stay somewhere with a kitchen:

Eating out for every meal can be expensive, impractical, and not always easy on the gut. With that being said, staying at a place that has a kitchen/ kitchenette can be very helpful and makes it easier to create your own meals. Being able to cook takes out the fear of getting a restaurant induced stomach ache and gives you some control as to what's being put in your body. Before traveling, make sure to search for any nearby grocery stores, so you can pick up some staples and save time.

4. Bring supplements:

Even if you think you can go a few days without supplements, bring them if they help your gut feel better! In my opinion, it's best to be over prepared than under prepared. Making sure you have your medicine and supplements (if you take any) can be stressful. If you're like me, even if you double and triple check that you have packed everything there is still a fear in the back of your mind that you forgot something. Put your medicine and supplements in a place that is both easy to remember and is accessible. I typically put mine in a pill organizer in my carry-on.

5. Pack snacks/meals:

If you have been in an airport before, you probably know that many of the items are often overpriced ($5 for a bag of trail mix that's mostly air? No, thank you). I always come prepared because it doesn't matter if I am stuck on a long car ride, a plane, or just walking around town- when hunger strikes, I need food asap. By packing some of your favorite, healthy snacks, this takes out the chance of settling for something that might upset your stomach. Some of my favorites are fresh fruit, homemade nut mix, and Larabars!

6. Pack your go-to remedies:

Bring some of your most effective remedies to help with any discomfort that may occur while you're away. Have a reusable water bottle on hand to make sure you are staying hydrated (and maintaining the environment). Some of my go-to's include: Bone Broth, Pedialyte packets, Apple Cider Vinegar, and essential oils. Having these items with me when traveling helps me feel at ease because I know that while I'm at home, they help make me feel better and if I am away, they will do the same.

7. Incorporate parts of your regular routine:

Most trips can follow a jam-packed itinerary that can leave you feeling exhausted by the end of the night and wishing for more sleep the next morning. While this may work for some people, others may function better with a flexible itinerary. Even if away, sticking to part of your daily routine can keep you more grounded and feel more comfortable when thrown into the unfamiliar. My morning and evening routines are very set in stone and help me unwind, so I always make sure to implement some of the same activities into my travels. At home, my routines are much more elaborate, but I make sure to take the simple, yet impactful things with me wherever I go. In the morning, I meditate and drink warm lemon water with Apple Cider Vinegar. Before bed, I drink a cup of tea and read or listen to an audio-book.

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Ultimately, recognizing that traveling is never going to be perfect is the biggest help. Life is unpredictable and the best of us get a headache or stomach aches at what seems like the most inconvenient of times. I know it can feel as though you are high maintenance and you may also feel bad for "inconveniencing" your travel partners, but this is very far from the truth. Know that your health comes first and you deserve to enjoy yourself just as much as anyone else- you just may have to take a few extra steps to make this happen! These steps are necessary, and over time you will become more comfortable with whipping out your pre-packaged meal while your friends have take out. A happy gut leads to a happy traveler!

Stay Lovely,

Erin