Tag Archive for #IBD

How I Learned How to Be Happy (90% of the time) in 2016

The holiday season means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Sure, some celebrate Christmas, others celebrate Hanukah, and an increasing minority celebrate no religious holiday at all. But I’m talking more about the fact that this season reminds me of the eruption of an emotional volcano, when many adults ooze with a lava of anxiety, trepidation,… Read more →

Let’s Outdo Big Eyes with Big Mouths: Why I Won’t Stop Talking About IBD

Life is really complicated. And the older I get, the more complicated it becomes. I guess the universe evens things out by allowing me to give a few less f*$*s. Because if I was traversing the same route I was in my teenage years and early twenties, my brain would have blown a gasket by now. Funny how that works.… Read more →

I Have Been Cured of IBD

I saw the nurse leave the room for a moment, just as I knew something was wrong. “Help!” I wanted to cry out, but my voice had been taken from me. I started to bang on the chair, hopeful that one of the other patients sitting for their chemotherapy treatment would notice. Thankfully, they did. Within moments the drug being… Read more →

Surgery Number Nine Tomorrow: Am I a Cat?

Cats supposedly have nine lives. There’s also been a lot of talk about magic potions that are numbered nine, and the Ancient Greeks must have had good reason for choosing nine muses. Tomorrow, I will walk into the OR, assume a crucifix-like position, and drift off to sleep to endure surgery number nine. I’m hoping the number will serve me… Read more →

I Can’t Relate to You: An Infertility Story

  I have a daughter. She’s three and she’s perfect. Her ridiculous sense of humor makes it impossible to not have a smile plastered to your face when she’s around, and her bouncy red curls can keep my gaze immured for hours on end. She was born at 37 weeks, with scores of 9 on both Apgar’s. She was conceived… Read more →

It’s the Age of “I Don’t Give a F**k”

I’ve come to classify my life as largely phased into two halves, and I think you may be able to relate. Maybe Jesus was able to revamp our entire calendar, but all of us are able to reach a personal point of epiphany in our own lives that is perhaps even more influential than the BC/AC dichotomy- it’s what I’ve… Read more →

My Illness Defines Me (and why that makes me happier than you)

My illness defines me. But it wasn’t always that way. What I didn’t realize on April 16, 2002, the day I was diagnosed with a severe form of Inflammatory Bowel Disease, was that I was not only forced into a quite unwelcome BFF relationship with my illness, but that I would literally need to relearn every instinct, every emotion and… Read more →

Mommy’s Tinder Account

Dear Evangeline, When I was 16 years old, some old man told me, “live it up, kid. Because it’s all downhill from here.” And I have good reasons to believe he wasn’t alluding to the fact that I had no mortgage to pay, children to take care of, or taxes to tally. He was referring to the imminent downward spiral of my… Read more →

Motherhood & Doctorhood, Go Together Like a Horse & Carriage?

Dear Evangeline,   When you reach that ripe age of three and learn how to google mommy’s name, you’ll be brought to these pages. You’ll also notice there has been a four month-long gap in my writing. Well, mommy’s been going through something that we call in the world of adults, “some shit.” I didn’t feel like talking about it. I still… Read more →

I Hope You Never Have a Reason

Dear Evangeline, There are a few attributes that largely define your mother’s identity (and I am sure you will come up with a few creative ones of your own). I am impatient. I have a big heart and a short fuse. I am Italian and Irish by heritage. And I am sick. But one thing I am not is powerless. I may not… Read more →

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