How Crohn's Disease Changed My Outlook on Life and Work

When I was first diagnosed with Crohn's disease, I was 25 years old, and still thought I was immortal. I was quite sure that this problem would vanish with a dose or two of Flagyl, and my life would go on unchanged. For about 10 years, aside from an occasional minor flare, it actually did. But it caught up with me, as Crohn's generally does.

Before I started dealing with symptoms on a daily basis, I had a high-pressure job and worked 50 to 60 hours a week, whether I felt like it or not. For about two years, I flew from one coast to the other and back almost weekly. I felt I was being groomed for a higher position in my company; I felt like an up-and-comer. It scared me a little sometimes, I admit - like many women, I haven't always felt as capable as people around me assumed I was. But I always managed to make deadlines, and pull off those corporate coups when needed.

Then it hit, and it hit hard. Life became cycles of medical tests, endless doctor visits, hours of waiting in clinic and laboratory waiting rooms. I went on medications and tried to keep working, but between Crohn's disease and the other auto-immune diseases I had, it was only a matter of time for me. I had to go on disability. I should point out that this isn't always the case; many people have mostly controlled their Crohn's disease and are able to work full-time and use very little sick leave. I admire them greatly.

I think the best way to show how much I'd been doing at work is to mention that when I became disabled, it took three full-time people, and a new computer, to do the work that I'd been doing. So I had to slow down. First I fought it. I wasn't going to be a sick person. I'd been an adventurer my whole life - like Indiana Jones, I'd found archaeological treasures in remote locations; I built alternative energy power plants practically single-handed (I exaggerate, of course, but this was my threatened ego talking) - and I wasn't about to lie down for anything.

But I had to. My Crohn's disease demanded that I cut every possible bit of stress from my life, stop working, and most importantly, slow down. I still wasted precious energy fighting it, and trying to find a cure for illnesses that have no cure as yet. I fought taking the medications my doctors prescribed, and made myself feel worse as a result. I still needed to learn to accept this.

Then one morning, as my dog tried to rouse me from my bed, I had an epiphany. This was an amazing chance for me, it could actually be a gift. This was an opportunity to read the books I'd wanted to read, and learn about the subjects that had always intrigued me. This was a chance to examine myself as a person, not as an archaeologist or as someone's wife or as some company's manager - this was time to find out who I really am.

I'm still working on that. I've found slower things that I can do, a little at a time, like writing, reading and gardening. I've learned to listen to my doctors when they're at their best, and take the medications that help me to control the disease so that it doesn't always control me. I've learned to rest when I need to, although I admit that when I'm feeling better than usual, I nearly always over-estimate what I can accomplish, and pay for it with time in bed or in the bathroom.

I've learned that my core spiritual beliefs, the things that I'd ignored since entering adulthood, were still there, and that they needed nurturing. Time and attention devoted to my soul, and to trying to become the person I believe my Creator wants me to be, were things I suddenly had time for, and realized I should have always made time for. Many years ago in Sunday School, I'd read Luke 10:38-42, the story of Martha and Mary when Jesus came to visit them. Mary chose to sit with the men - what a horror that must have been to her sister, and her brother Lazarus, at that time and place, where women and men were rarely together - and listen to Jesus. Martha was "in her place" in the kitchen, but fussing about feeding all these unexpected guests, and demanded to know why Mary isn't helping her. Jesus chided her gently, telling her not to worry, and that Mary had chosen "the better part."

When I first read that story, I sympathized with Martha. I'd seen, and helped, my mother enough times when we had guests, getting together food and drink, tables and dishes, and if one of my sisters had failed in her duty, she'd have been brought around very quickly at a word from my mother. I didn't truly understand the passage. And I didn't have time, either then or as a working adult, to be still and listen.

Crohn's gave me that time. And it helped me understand that Martha's "bad" wasn't her actual work in the kitchen, it was her fretting about it. Things work out - I have to believe that for myself. I believe we can all make choices about our lives, and some of the choices I've made have been good while others have been, well, not so good. I had no choice about getting this illness, or any other. I do have a choice about how I choose to live with it. I choose to be responsible for my care to the extent I can, and be pro-active rather than reactive. I choose to live as healthy a life as I can, and to recognize when I need the help of my doctors. And most of all, I choose to be still, and listen.