It was exactly a year ago that I first noticed something was amiss, literally it was September 2nd, I believe. So passing that date inspired me to sit down and write about my life a year later, all I endured and most importantly, all I’ve learned. Just in case you’ve missed it, here it is in a nutshell:

I was plagued by a massive Ulcerative Colitis flare (think Biblical proportions), from which I was unable to recover. Medicines didn’t work; the pain became intolerable, causing me to stop doing all the things I normally do, including eating and leaving the house. I got skinny and wasn’t able to even enjoy it (although admittedly I looked awesome in my pajamas).

After a couple months of this nonsense, I was hospitalized for 8 days where, in addition to the UC, I was diagnosed with severe malnutrition and imminent kidney failure. Don’t tell anyone because they’ll think I’m crazy, but this hospital holiday was a highlight in my journey; I was blissful in my morphine haze, someone else cleaned up all my messes, and the nightly chocolate pudding cups were a nice bonus.

I returned home to worsening UC symptoms and skinny legs that couldn’t support me. I crawled around the house and kept my to-do-list down to one item per day (as in, showering, which then required hours of napping from the stress and exhaustion). Sadly, Matthew happened to be home for winter break during this unfortunate episode and my sweet boy would bring me home cake shakes from Portillo’s to help me gain back some much-needed weight (saying those words aloud never gets old!!).

It was decided that I would undergo surgery to remove my entire colon, without the possibility of reconstruction, and wear an ileostomy pouch for the rest of my life. The surgery date changed no less than six (yes, six!!) times because I kept worsening and the doctors feared I wouldn’t be healthy enough to be at my kids’ wedding, which was quickly approaching. I had the surgery exactly six weeks before the simcha and celebrated fully (yes, this was an even bigger highlight than my hospital holiday).

I went into surgery euphoric because it was a cure for literally all my suffering, but I emerged in a state of deep mourning for the sudden loss of the life I’d had, the future I’d expected. I lost all my hair; I leaked for months; the bag felt like a deformity on my body; depression set in; I cried easily and often; I learned of residual complications that require three more surgeries (two of them major) in the next couple of years; I was forced to examine my own mortality and what longevity would look like for me.

Like I said, it’s been a year.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

All four of my kids are tough as nails and rock stars (yes, I have four now!). I already told you how Matthew brought me the coveted milkshakes that I can never normally order in my real life. In the week after surgery, Sarah came home to cook and bake for me, and we watched awesome movies, like KPop Demon Hunters. And when I complained to Jake and Kristin that I hate the way I look in their wedding pictures, with my face puffed up from Prednisone and my thinning hair, my new daughter-in-law retorted that what she sees in those pictures is a warrior. (Sigh, wipe a tear.) I have to learn to see myself differently from how I see myself.

What I am learning is how to talk to my body differently. Instead of berating her and feeling angry and betrayed by the illness that spiraled out of control and the regaining of more weight than I would’ve liked, I acknowledge and show gratitude for her strength and resilience to come back from everything that’s been thrown at her. (Not everyone’s body can boast such accomplishment.) And I’m not done, I have more surgeries to endure, and I have faith that my body will carry me through and recover again and again and again. And then let’s hope she gets a break, she certainly deserves it.

Finally, I’ve learned that I have quite the community. The women who rallied behind me, checked in regularly, supported and comforted me are really something to behold. I cannot overstate how much the texts, emails, calls, visits, comments, and messages made me feel seen and heard and less isolated during the most isolating time of my life. I spent hours reading them all, many of them making me cry, all of them making me feel loved. And the thoughtful and generous gifts of comfort - the fuzzy socks and slippers, cooling & heating stuffed animals, luxurious blankets, dinners and baked goods, pajamas, books, stunning bouquets of flowers and orchids, scented candles, body washes and lotions - oh my! I’ve learned that I’m very blessed by my tribe. I’m surrounded by the most wonderful women in the world; you know who you are and you helped carry me through to the other side.

As I read back over what I’ve written I realize that this past year didn’t only suck. Yes, that was much of it, but there were parts that were spectacular too. Thank you.

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