“How Crohn’s Disease Impacted My Relationships”

I’ll never forget how lonely I felt after my Crohn’s disease diagnosis. It was right after college graduation, when my boyfriend and I were navigating a long-distance relationship while trying to find our footing in the real world. For months, he had talked about our future together and about his love for me. But when I ended up in the hospital after a weeks-long bout of excruciatingabdominal pain, high fevers, and fatigue, he was nowhere to be seen.

The good news: I finally learned what was causing my symptoms. The bad news: My college boyfriend, who “loved” me, never came to see me in the hospital. He was only an hour and a half away.

During the week that I was hospitalized, he emailed me a couple of times, and even called once or twice. Then, on the day that I was being wheeled out of the hospital, as the warm July air hit my face, he finally did it. He called to break up with me. He later told me that my health had nothing to do with his abrupt decision to call it quits, but in my heart, I didn’t believe it. I still don’t.

In that moment, I felt unlovable. I felt damaged. Even though I was only 21, I immediately thought this was how all of my romanticrelationshipswould end once a guy found out about my invisible battle. I feared that I would never become a wife or a mom. I remember walking into my parent’s bedroom and telling my mom about the breakup as I choked back tears. She looked at me and said, “Well, you aren’t perfect anymore, so he isn’t interested.” The words cut like a knife, but I knew she was doing her best to toughen me up and keep my focus on getting better. Little did I know how much that experience would set the stage for how I handled future relationships.

Navigating Crohn’s Disease and Relationships

Time went on and I held my cards close — with friends, guys, coworkers, you name it. In a matter of months, I was able to see how a chronic illness serves as a kind of truth serum: I could tell early on who wanted to be in a relationship with me because they cared and who was there just for show.

As the years went on, I made it a point to confidently and nonchalantly mention myCrohn’s diseaseearly on. If anything, I downplayed the news with a sense of humor. I would casually explain to my dates that I had Crohn’s disease, but I’d never let them know how it impacted my day-to-day life. Instead, I gave them the Cliffs Notes version. I figured that if I didn’t make my disease out to be a big deal, others wouldn’t think it was, either. Luckily, after my diagnosis, I went exactly three years without any hospitalizations or visits to the emergency room.

Then, over the Fourth of July weekend in 2008, when I was visiting family in Chicago, I was hospitalized with an abscess the size of a tennis ball in my small intestine. Once I was admitted, I called my then-boyfriend to let him know the news. His response? He couldn’t make the three-hour drive to see me because gas prices were too expensive. Oh, and then he went fishing. I thought, “Ugh. Here we go again.” As I stared out of the hospital window with my mom, watching the fireworks burst across the sky, I knew, once again, that this guy wasn’t going to cut it.

I broke up with him the next month.

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When Your Dates Don’t Believe You Have Crohn’s Disease

Several months went by, and I met a guy at a work event who asked for my number. I was very excited for our first date, but there was just one hitch: A few hours before we were supposed to meet for dinner, I ended up experiencing a bout of terrible pain that left me bent over on the toilet. Since I’d only just met him — and we’d only spoken for a few hours — I hadn’t told him about my Crohn’s disease. I’ll always remember that text: I said that I was very sick and most likely headed to the hospital. He responded with a laugh and said that he got it: I just didn’t want to meet him.

Hours later, I was hospitalized with a flare-up. Never once did he text or call to see how I was feeling. It was all a joke to him. I saw his true colors faster than you can say “first date.”

The Good Ones

During my twenties, I met a few guys who were there every step of the way. Who never made me feel different for battling an incurable, chronic illness that would often derail our plans.

It’s the good eggs who helped me regain my confidence and showed me what I deserved. And there are good eggs are out there, folks — they stand out from the rest like a diamond in the rough.

Eventually, I found my one true diamond in the rough. A month before my 30th birthday, while I was working as a morning anchor in Springfield, Illinois, I met a handsome guy on eHarmony named Bobby who lived in St. Louis. I kept the “Crohn’s disease” label off my online dating profile, though, because I felt that it was something I’d rather discuss with someone face to face.

我们的第三个华丽的da的约会是在船库y in August. Bobby and I were eating lunch, but instead of being nervous about disclosing my health situation, I felt at ease. When I told him about my Crohn’s diagnosis, he seemed evenmoreinterested in me. He asked questions. Showed interest in learning more. I immediately felt a weight lifted off my shoulders.

The true test of my relationship with Bobby happened six months into our relationship, when I had a bowel obstruction while visiting him. He was calm, cool, and collected as he raced me to the nearest hospital in St. Louis. He held my hand in the emergency room and spent five days by my side in the hospital. When I was ordered not to eat or drink anything, he took sponges dipped in water and rubbed them across my gums. When I was too weak to put my hair up, he did it for me. In the middle of the night, as my mind raced and the machines beeped, he counted down from 300 with me to calm my nerves. Years later, I still count down from 300 whenever my disease keeps me awake.

I later found out that Bobby went to his car at one point and cried in the front seat, thinking that he never wanted anyone else but him to take care of me.

Luckily, no one’s ever had to. He’s been there through each hospitalization,surgery, procedure, and injection. He even brings my pills to me each night on a paper towel to make sure I stay on top of my illness. He constantly reminds me I’m not sickly — rather, I’m a healthy person with a disease in my intestines. He gets me, and he’s witnessed firsthand what a beast inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) is. It’s those vulnerable moments in our relationship — the times when I’m too weak to stand on my own — that have brought us closer. I always say everyone in the IBD community needs a “Bobby.”