Two days ago I celebrated eight years of being hospital-free. As I wrote on my Facebook status update:
On May 3, 2003, I walked out of Georgetown University Hospital with a determination never to be admitted again as an IBD patient. I had been a “frequent flyer” at that hospital for almost 3 years due to severe Crohn’s colitis flares. Today I celebrate 8 years of being hospital-free. To my Crohn’s buddies and friends with health challenges: “Nothing is impossible” ~ Christopher Reeve
It is amazing to me that I actually was never admitted again to the hospital for IBD (inflammatory bowel disease). I was so terribly sick! I’ve written about the different causes and conditions that I believe helped me to recover, but the truth is, I really don’t know for sure. I found some combination of health habits that worked for me. And for almost exactly six years now I have been free of Crohn’s colitis. There are other milestones too: for almost three years I have been free of sciatica pain; for more than three years I have been free of migraine headaches; and for almost one month I have been free of chronic UTIs (gotta start somewhere!).
How do I celebrate such milestones? By eating lots of vegetables, fruits, and high-fiber foods! By thanking everyone who has been with me on my healing journeys. By appreciating the present moment. And by reflecting, at least a little bit, on what illness and pain have taught me.
I read through some of my past journal entries and almost exactly six years ago, I wrote the following in my journal:
Kitten Snickers (the pet name my sister gave to Crohn’s colitis) has taught me about life and death, as I have almost died from severe episodes. But Kitten Snickers has also taught me about love. When there was nothing else for me to hold onto — when I was floating in the moment to moment uncertainty of whether I would survive — when I was overwhelmed by pain and discomfort and feeling trapped — I kept coming back to the experience of love. It was something of a calling. A calling to be right there in the thick of the suffering and to make space within it. And the more I could rest there the more space there was. Sometimes I would close my eyes and feel like there was so much space in my body that I had expanded past the outskirts of the galaxy into nebulae. Only it no longer felt like me. It was the more than me that is love.