I developed Crohn’s Disease in 2008. I started experiencing strange symptoms at the end of my sophomore year in high school, when I was 16 years old. The symptoms I first felt were nothing like what I endure on a daily basis now. Randomly, one day, I began feeling pain in my chest and had trouble swallowing, almost as if there wasn’t enough room in my esophagus. This later transitioned to pain somewhere in my abdomin. I’ll be completely honest, I don’t remember much because the symptoms later transformed to what I know now, but the next couple of months would be a series of doctor visits and medical tests.

I wasn’t diagnosed with Crohn’s till probably seven months later, after going from one doctor the next, struggling to even understand what was causing me so much physical distress. My mother worked her magic and managed to convince a gastroenterologist (digestion doctor) who normally only takes patients over 18 to actually see me. Thank goodness. He quickly became my favorite doctor (kind of a sad thing to have honestly). Not only because he possessed the power to make me feel better, but the guy really did display great bedside manner.

The tests were a unique torture of their own. I joke that I could honestly swallow anything if absolutely necessary because I’ve participated in a Barium Swallow. The experience still haunts me to this day. If you don’t know what that is, you stand for an x-ray while periodically ingesting what can best be described as liquid chalk. Or at least that is what it looks like. In a normal sized cup, it felt like it weighed about five pounds. The purpose of this torment is to observe how it passes through your throat and stomach. I enjoyed it even less when the doctors required me to drink an even more watered down version in a larger quantity for an MRI. The final test entailed a colonoscopy, during which my doctor took some blood samples. If you haven’t had one, colonoscopies are not that bad. You’re essentially unconscious for the entire thing. The prep work is the worst part. Your diet consists of nothing solid, only liquids, and laxatives mixed in with those liquids. I call this “The Cleansing,” and because of the ritual, I can no longer consume grape Propel.

After my diagnosis, the doctor prescribed me a steroid called Prednisone. The benefits barely outweigh the side-effects. It reduced my symptoms and helped me put on weight, but I had mood swings and pain in my stomach that felt like it was someone’s job to stab me with a hot knife repeatedly and relentlessly. Sometimes, I would be incapacitated on the floor, resorting to the fetal position, just waiting for it to subside enough for me to function even at a minimal level again. If I was lucky, these waves of pain would only last for a minute or two, but some of the worst lasted for five or ten minutes, if not longer. You are also more susceptible to infection and contracting illness when taking it. I vowed to get off of the medicine as quickly as possible, especially after I researched it more and realized I legitimately could not just quit if I wanted to. After seven days, your body develops a dependence on the medication because it’s a steroid, and causes adrenal suppression. Basically, keep taking it, taper off, or end up in the hospital. At this point, I only take the medicine when needed and at a significantly smaller dose than what was originally prescribed.

Okay. I deliberately held off on the symptoms till now so if my readers really want to bail, I gave them the opportunity. Fair warning, this will be gross. What exactly IS Crohn’s Disease? It is an inflammatory bowel disease that up until recently was described as an autoimmune disease, but is now closer associated with an immune dificiency state. The disease is still a huge mystery, with little known on what causes it, other than genetics playing a role. People contract the disease in different areas of their digestive system, and at different levels of intensity. My inflammation occurs in my stomach and large intestine, and thankfully, only at moderate levels compared to what other people suffer through.

The main symptom is diarrhea, and sporadic bowel movements. Imagine living every day like the day after indulging those drunchies at Taco Bell, except instead of one or two violent bowel movements, you experience anywhere from four or five to a dozen or more. It sounds ridiculous, but I don’t exaggerate here. Some of the worst days of my life have been spent in a bathroom more than anywhere else. Whoever I marry has to come to terms with the fact that my first love will always be triple-ply toilet paper.

I also belch. A lot. I honestly can’t help it. Like I said, my Crohn’s resides in my stomach. This means I deal with a lot of gas there. I hate it even more if people complain. I’ll do my best to keep it under control, but sometimes, it comes out, louder and stronger than I intended. Trust me, however unpleasant you find it, I hate it even more. It doesn’t exactly feel good, and since most of the belching occurs after I eat (I rarely consume anything with carbonation), I have to taste everything I just consumed. You know what tastes great the second time around? Literally. Nothing. Some things taste so gross afterward that I dry heave and have to expend actual effort to keep my food down. Oddly enough, I belch when I’m hungry. Which hurts. A lot. I don’t really remember what just the sensation of hunger feels like. When I’m hungry, it’s also physical pain from aggravating the area, and periodic belching.

Other symptoms include anemia, loss of appetite, random fatigue, heat flashes, chills, skin rashes, flatulence, weight loss, ulcers and abdominal pain. I would say the worst point I encountered was July of 2010, right before my freshman year in college. I developed something my doctor called a “Food Fear,” an eating disorder in which the person would prefer going hungry to consuming food if it means not being in pain. I lost so much weight. The worst of it was probably at my freshman orientation, when it all started. I frankly don’t know how I managed to stay for the entire thing considering how much pain I was in, and how little I ate.

Crohn’s is an invisible illness. People struggle to sympathize with someone who displays no outwardly observable symptoms. Some comment on how thin I am, but often this comes as more of a compliment. When in reality, when someone jokes about how great I look, and how lucky I am to have a thin physique, it’s just a reminder of how much I struggle to maintain the weight I already possess. People also can’t see the internal war my organs rage against me. They can’t see I’m exerting an immense amount of effort not to lose control of my bowels in the middle of class, or a conversation or during a meeting, simply because my intestines decided that’s an appropriate time to abandon their duties and press the metaphorical eject button. It’s vulgar, but a line from the movie The Bucket List describes my life pretty well: “Never trust a fart.”

The wonderful world of science has unfortunately not yet discovered a cure. So my battle is one of symptoms management. This means I constantly monitor what foods I consume. Every person diagnosed with Crohn’s has different dietary restrictions. My options are pretty limited though. My diet consists of mostly dry, natural and organic items, such as crackers, cereal, sandwiches, bread, granola, yogurt, fruits, vegetables and most pastas. I avoid foods that are high in fat, greasy, fried, processed, cheesy, really sugary or just plain poor quality. I also stay away from carbonated and caffeinated drinks. I can still consume these things, but in moderation. There are very few things I absolutely cannot put in me. Fudge is one of them. It’s strange how quickly just a small amount will affect me. I have no idea what is in that stuff, but the second it hits my stomach, I start sweating, hyperventilating and chugging water to compensate. Also, a lot of my friends give me crap for not being able to hold my liquor. Well, alcohol irritates Crohn’s, so when I manage to keep any amount of some ridiculous proof beverage inside of me, it’s a feat. Beer (the good kind) surprisingly enough does not upset me. Perhaps because it consists of mostly water. You now better understand why it quickly became my favorite alcoholic beverage.

You may think I hate public bathrooms because of their typical unsanitary nature. While this may very well be true–I prefer toilet seats to be left down and hate urine on them even more than women do–on the contrary, the single-ply joke they call toilet paper in public restrooms feels like sandpaper on your ass after the fourth trip to the Throne of Equality. That’s what I call it because even the most powerful man in the world is at the mercy of Mother Nature.

My reliance on quick bathroom accessibility and the completely arbitrary timing of my bowel movements restricts a lot of travel. I really wanted to travel to Europe again while I was in college, but I need to get better control of my disease before that happens. I want to play more competitively in Ultimate and get in good enough shape to race in 5K’s again. But as I explain later, the stress on my body from running ends badly. For example, I once randomly called injury in the middle of a play in Ultimate, which immediately stops the game so a player, incapable of continuing, can get off the field. Usually reserved for drastic situations, my roommate, like so many others was confused by my invisible illness. He yelled across the field: “What the hell is wrong with you?” To which I responded, “I’m about to shit my pants!” He still laughs at that to this day, and I can see the humor in it to.

Believe it or not, I do manage to look at the benefits of developing this digestive disorder. Stress irritates Crohn’s immensely, and keeping myself calm and collected prevents me from curling from anguish. This can be irritating at times because your body is not capable of differentiating between stressors. Anxiety, whatever the cause, still affects your body identically. This means, your body does not discern the contrasts between enjoying a roller coaster ride, or participating in a yelling match with someone. So whether you enjoy a run on an afternoon or experience nerves from an impending test, your body reacts very similarly. The silver lining however, and the one gleaming gift from this terrible disease, comes from how you perceive these events. Running for the love of running releases endorphins. Running for your life as a wild animal or axe murderer chases after you only causes anxiety. Both stressful on the body, but one does significantly worse damage. So I have learned to perceive life in significantly different circumstances. In high school, I struggled a lot with managing my stress. Now, I honestly have no choice. I either learn to let things go and not dwell on them, or get extremely sick.

Most people are very sympathetic and I sincerely appreciate that. But I urge you not to pity me. I don’t hate my body. The best way to describe it, would be simply an annoyance or an irritant. I’ve learned to deal with it, and this is the reality I face every day. It’s just frustrating to have your dreams and goals tarnished because it feels like your body is against you, like you’re constantly at war with yourself. I’ll randomly get tired, due to lack of nutrients absorption in my digestive process, which reduces my productivity. Once in high school, this even resulted in my ignorant manager reprimanding me for my recently poor attitude, instead of just asking what bothered me at the time. So what I ask from everyone is what I would ask from my manager: simply understanding. Also, what I ask of my anorexic friend who came to me in need of motivation on multiple occasions. I told her how jealous I was of her and others with healthy bodies who don’t appreciate them. Who nitpick at their flaws and sit inside all day or simply waste their potential. There are people who would kill for perfect health. I hate having Crohn’s, but I hate it even more when people don’t realize how fortunate they are. I wake up every day, grateful, that I don’t have a terminal illness, and that I still possess all my senses, and am not bound to a wheelchair. So again. Perspective. I still love my body, and I only ask that you love yours as well.