Christmas Blessings

Greetings, fair reader!  In a nod to the season, it's time for some good old-fashioned holiday schmaltz!  It's Christmas--a good time to take stock, count one's blessings, and consider your hopes and dreams for the coming year.

I don't really think of myself as some kind of Pollyanna, but whenever I feel a little down, I try to be really mindful of what is going right in my life.  Having a chronic illness can make me feel so "woe-is-me" that it's important to counter that with some positive thinking.  To wit....

This week, a friend of mine landed in the hospital because of her Crohn's disease.  After months of unrelenting pain, weight loss, and failed treatments, including what may have turned out to be a needless surgery, she has now spent four days (and counting) in the hospital.  She doesn't know what the future holds for her health, her job, her plans to go back to school, or even for her plans to spend the winter snowboarding.  Where's the blessing in this?  Well, I thank God (or whomever) that she is getting some help, and hopefully, finally, some relief.  I'm thankful that I know her and have personally witnessed such strength.  The phrase "tough as nails" was invented to describe this woman.  And, selfishly, I'm thankful that it isn't me in the hospital!

I've been blessed by my connections to CCFA (Crohn's & Colitis Foundation of America).  In addition to offering me one of the best experiences of my life (the Team Challenge half marathon fund-raising program), by working for CCFA as the Rocky Mountain manager of the Take Steps charity walk program, I got to meet some of THE BEST people ever, most of whom know exactly what it is to struggle with these dumb diseases every day.  I have had access to the best gastroenterologists not just in Denver, not just in Colorado, but around the country.  I have met pharmaceutical reps who really care about the patients, who have actually personally gone to bat for me when making decisions about my treatment, even when it meant dropping the medication they represent.  (yeah.  Seriously!) Thanks to CCFA, I am much more educated about inflammatory bowel diseases and their treatments and have had multiple opportunities to do something positive in response to them.  So here's my plug: if you or someone you know suffers from Crohn's or UC, please, please, please get connected with CCFA and attend a support group, or check out their archived webinars on their website, or participate in their fund-raising efforts that are bringing about real change for people with IBD.

I've also been blessed with the financial wherewithal to deal with my illness.  I have really good health insurance, but even so, my monthly share of just one of my many medications is $250.  Never as I have made decisions about my treatment options have I had to seriously factor in the cost, whether it be for medications, special protein shakes, over the counter supplements, prescription pro-biotics, acupuncture, or now, helminthic therapy.  This is so huge and something that so many people don't take into account when they consider what it is to have a lifelong disease.  Even among my friends with IBD, I think it's funny how we are so open about the intimate details of our bowel movements, but we never seem to talk about the toll IBD takes on our wallets.

Most of all, I have been blessed with a huge circle of family and friends who support and encourage me, ask after my well-being, make donations on my behalf to CCFA, and literally and figuratively "show up" every time I need them, even when I think I don't.  They know I appreciate them, in what I suspect is mostly an abstract kind of way, but I don't think they know, for instance, that I literally tear up every time I think about them, or that on my worst days, it's my gratitude for TEAM NANCY that pulls me out of my self-pity so I can just get on with it.  I try to pay it forward, by acting on the knowledge that any small kindness I show someone else might, to them, be so meaningful.  But c'mon, the truth is, I've seen so much generosity shined on me that I'll never pay it all back, or forward, or sideways, or any other way. 

As for hopes and dreams for 2011....well just like everyone else, I have the same boring old resolutions, like finally losing that extra 10 pounds or cleaning out my basement or getting my retirement picture in order.  But as I stare down that little vial of whipworm ova in early January, I'll be pinning a lot more hope on those little fellas.  The hope that I will feel "normal" for the first time in a long time.  The hope that my calendar won't revolve around where I am in my Remicade treatment cycle ("Nope.  That weekend would be a bad time to take a trip to the mountains because I will be 1 week out from my Remicade infusion and therefore won't be more than 50 steps from a bathroom at any given time.") I hope I can go back to running a little bit, which makes me feel strong, healthy, and focused.  I hope I will find a new supportive work environment that keeps me hopping mentally but doesn't stress me out so bad I get sick again.  And I hope that as it comes down to counting my blessings at this time next year, I have at least as many as this year, and possibly many more!