As Boston College students, it can be tempting to hide our struggles in the constant quest to appear perfect. Embracing our truths can help us to understand ourselves and experience the world around us as genuinely as possible. Authentic Eagles is a series that gives a voice to the people who have experienced firsthand the trials and tribulations of being one’s authentic self at BC.
Anne Flick, A&S ’16
“You have never how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.”
More than eight years ago, I started to feel really sick. I was always tired and lost 15 pounds off of my tiny 4 foot 8 frame. I was 11 years old. I remember feeling too sick to go to school, walk the stairs in my house, and eat all the foods I enjoyed less than a month earlier. I had never been this sick before and my doctors always said I had a lucky immune system. In the winter of 2006, I didn’t feel lucky. I felt alone and scared as my body wasted away no matter what I did.
I couldn’t eat without feeling a horrible pain in my stomach. A few days went by and as my symptoms got worse, my mom noticed. I was an energetic happy child, and suddenly I didn’t have the energy to go to school. I remember sitting in a doctor’s office, my mom assuring me that they’d know what was wrong and make me all better. Being 11, I can only describe it as feeling like I was dying.
The nurses came in and gave me stickers trying to cheer me up. After the normal check up procedures, the doctor walked in and she said, “I have to send you to a specialist.” I didn’t have an answer and I was terrified. My mom hugged me and made me plain pasta for dinner because it was one of a few things I could eat. The next week, I went to a specialist who sent me to get blood samples taken. The next day, the doctor got the results and I got my answer: Ulcerative Colitis.
Ulcerative Colitis is an irritable bowel disease in the colon or large intestine. Basically, my immune system had mistaken food for a foreign substance. Increased white blood cell count to fight a nonexistent infection in my body causes inflammation and ulcers in my colon which prevents the absorption of vital nutrients. There was medicine I could take and my life would return back to normal, sort of. Ulcerative Colitis is a chronic condition, meaning I will most likely have it for the rest of my life. I couldn’t spell it, I couldn’t pronounce it, but now I had to live with it.
I went through three different medicine regiments before I found one that worked. I had blood drawn weekly for a month, and every month for the rest of that year. I was put on steroids that made me gain weight, mostly in my face which destroyed my confidence in middle school. I remember lying on my bathroom floor one night because the pain was unbearable and heat was the only thing that would instantly help. I was told that now my immune system was weak and the steroids made my bones brittle. I still had to watch what I ate and took vitamins, but life returned to normal.
For the next six years, I had good times and bad times. When things are bad, I have a “flare-up” where I rapidly lose weight and energy. I can’t go to class and spend most of my days in bed clutching a heating pad. When things are good, I can forget it exists. Traveling was difficult because I could feel sick at any moment. Long car rides were the worst because I felt so trapped. I developed anxiety for a few years, something I’m still working through today. I made progress through high school; driving to Colorado for spring break, taking a bus to Nebraska to perform at International Thespian Festival, and driving to an amusement park 5 hours away with my best friends one summer. Many of these accomplishments seem simple, but for someone who still struggles with long-distance drives, they might as well be a medal. They were a sign of what I could do and how normal I could be. As I mentioned, though, I had flare-ups and problems between the healthy times. The worst incident I had since my diagnosis was the day I moved into Boston College freshman year in the fall of 2012.
My mom and I drove 12 hours from Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan to Boston. I felt sick the whole car ride there. I was constantly cold despite the warm August day, and pain came in waves. My mom said I was nervous and I needed to relax. I told myself I wasn’t nervous, I was just excited. I was ready to move somewhere new like I did as a child. I wanted a new adventure outside of my very typical suburb. I had pictures of my best friends, new bedding, and an absolutely amazing pink desk chair. I was ready for college, I told myself.
My body disagreed. I was scheduled to move into Duchesne East Hall in the morning and an hour before that, I was vomiting the only thing I had eaten for the past day: my medicine. This had never happened before and much like in 2006, I was terrified. My mom called the doctor in Michigan and had them send a steroids prescription to the Newton CVS. By this time, the worst thing that could’ve happened had happened at the worst possible time.
I was in a completely unfamiliar environment. I didn’t know where my room was, the bathrooms were, or where the infirmary was. I didn’t know what food they had at the dining hall or if I could eat any of it. My mom and I unpacked a little and then she left to catch a ferry. I was actually alone. I set up the rest of my room and put on a brave face for my roommate. I felt better the more people I met, but getting dinner that night with my new friends that night was a reality check. I ordered a chicken quesadilla, something I ate at home all the time. Three bites in I felt sick. I stopped eating, drank some water, and continued on with the conversation. One girl thought her chicken was raw so I said mine tasted strange and got a salad. I survived my first public UC college crisis, and no on thought I was anything other than a normal girl who wasn’t adjusted to dorm food. I loved talking to people I had had just met; learning about where everyone came from, sharing worries about the first day of classes, and expressing confusion over what exactly a mod party was. It took a few weeks before I was off steroids and feeling normal. The worst had passed, but I knew that to stay healthy in college going to the Plex wasn’t enough.
I started running outside for a half hour every day to clear my head. I watched what I ate and avoided stressing like the plague. There were still days I felt sick and people would always relate their past stomach pains to mine; however, that only made me feel more alone. People know what makes them sick: bad food, allergies, or too much sugar. I don’t. I have a name but no real cause. I have medicine but no guarantee.
People always tell me I’m lucky when I say I don’t stress about class, but it does come at a price. Yes, I don’t feel the need to spend all night worrying, and I don’t get overwhelmed during tests easily, which is good. The seemingly trivial things I do worry about are things other college students sometimes forget about. I still worry about long car rides. I don’t eat before I travel on an airplane. I always have a strategy in the back of my mind for what to do if I ever feel sick. I take medicine every morning and night. I know that my body can reject that medicine and throw my entire life into a tailspin in a day. I know that the infirmary can do basically nothing for me if I get sick because I need different medicine. I know all that and I know how strong I am.
I was an energetic, happy 11-year-old girl. For a few years, I lost that. I was uncertain and scared and alone. In the years following my diagnosis, I had to rebuild my confidence and my identity. I had to remind myself that I was stronger than a disease which no one has ever heard of, stronger than the fear of a new road trip, and stronger than I was before.
Illness is never easy, especially chronic illness. I can’t remember a time without Ulcerative Colitis but I still can’t say I’m used to it. I’m used to the medicine, the doctor’s appointments and the blood tests, but I don’t think I’ll ever be accustomed to the spontaneous stomach pains, the uncertainty, and constantly trying to explain a disease that no one knows.
I started this off with an quote because if you told me at age 11 that this is what I was going to experience, I don’t know if I would’ve believed I could survive it. Ulcerative colitis will be with me for a long time, and that’s something I’ve come to accept. While it can feel frustrating, disheartening, and hopeless to fight a disease that will never go away, I wouldn’t be who I am without it.
I grew up fighting my brothers in the backyard, my mom about eating vegetables, and this disease inside me. I know how strong I am and I can only imagine how strong I can be in the future. Until then, I have dreams that I’m planning on chasing and a life I plan on living. A life with Ulcerative Colitis, but a great life nonetheless with some amazing friends, a pretty great family, and a limitless future.
