Tuesday 30 August 2011

The rest of my life

Today, I had a realisation. What with everyone being seemingly concerned about how I'm coping with the "long-term implications" of having either Crohn's Disease or Ulcerative Colitis, I've found my inner-introspective anticipating a continuous, downwards spiral. Worse than that, I felt oddly alone (oddly, because I've never felt so cared for as I have over the past five months) and scared at what the future holds; all the more, because my symptoms have completely disappeared since having my operation: my disease seems to be a silent stalker, ready to pounce unexpectedly and cause all manner of chaos. Even though I know that most people who get IBD first get symptoms between the ages of 15 and 30, I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was alone in my experience.

Then, this afternoon, whilst I was walking home from work, I was mid-prayer, mid-contemplation, when a mental image of my parents came into my head. They were definitely my parents, but they were younger than I've ever seen them, and I was focusing on my dad.

Then it came to me and all made sense: I'm so silly for feeling lost and alone. When my father was younger, before either me or my brother were born, he had cancer. I often forget this, because I didn't know about it for ages. It's not the sort of thing that just comes up in conversation between parents and children, not if it happened before they were born, but today was the day that I really appreciated that my parents went through similar and undoubtedly more difficult times just after they were married than me & my husband have been through this past six months. Times of worry, hospitals, crazy terminology and treatments. Times when they had to lean on one another and times when they had to fight. After the cancer, they were told that they probably wouldn't be able to have children (obviously proven wrong shortly after, when I was born!); another hurdle that I'm already dreading having to face.

More than all of this, I realised that although those hard times obviously shaped my parents' lives, they still had the rest of their lives ahead of them; they didn't just give up, give in to worry about what if the disease returned, what about complications, what if...? They kept living their lives, being strong, being who they were.

I mentioned only the other day to my husband that one of the most important lessons that my parents have taught me is to be happy and content. Not unambitious, but content with who you are and where you are on your journey today. By all means, plan where you're going to go tomorrow, but don't waste time being upset with things that you cannot change today.

For now, I think I've done enough reading on UC and CD for this week. Now I'm going to stop worrying about flare-ups and my bag, and start thinking about the rest of my life.

Thank you so much, Mum & Dad; I love you xx

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