In the summer between my Sophomore and Junior year, my dad was taken into emergency surgery to have his gallbladder removed. The surgery was a total success with no complications, however, it was just the start to a long journey. After the surgery, my dad spent months struggling with his body. It was no longer the same, and doctors could not figure out why. Finally, after massive weight loss and frustration, there was a diagnosis: my dad had Ulcerative Colitis.
Ulcerative Colitis, also known as UC, is an autoimmune disease in which the colon thinks there is something within the large intestine that it needs to attack. In reality, there is nothing there, and as a result, your body rids itself of whatever is in your large intestine. Because your body is preventing you from retaining and digesting food properly, little to no nutrients can be absorbed. As a result, there is massive weight loss and lack of energy, which can all lead to depression.
My dad went from being one the strongest people I know, both physically and emotionally, to someone who is struggling on a daily basis. The last time I remember seeing my dad really cry was when his mom passed away, in 2004. Now, 13 years later, I have seen my dad cry out of frustration and physical pain while we were on a walk. He is constantly concerned about the food served at restaurants and whether or not he will find something on the menu that he can eat. He has to plan his mornings and days, hour to hour, to ensure that he can plan out how his body responds to food. Going out to brunch as a family is no longer an option because his body cannot wait an extra hour without turning on him.
My dad tries his best to hide his symptoms and to live a normal life. My family and I try to go along with it and do our best to act as though nothing has changed. But it has. All we want is for my dad to be happy and feel as though he is in a good place. While he will never be back to his normal pre-UC self, he can get to a place where he can function day-to-day without feeling as though life sucks. Throughout this past year and a half, I have seen a negative shift in my dad’s emotions, and this has taken a huge toll on me. To carry around the feeling of helplessness and frustration for someone else is a really difficult task. I never talk about what my dad is going through out of fear that I will be seen as selfish, but the reality is, I am not selfish. I am sad, frustrated and angered just like my dad. I am constantly concerned as to whether the restaurant will be helpful with substitutions or whether or not we will have access to a bathroom. I want to protect my dad from feeling embarrassed about something that he cannot control. But I cannot do these things. I have to work out with myself that I cannot protect him. I cannot worry 24/7 about my dad; I have a life, and friends and school, all of which put a ton of weight on my shoulders. In the past year, I have had to say goodbye to my 5K running, crazy skiing, hiking, biking and laughing dad. Who I have now is not the same man who was here before UC, but I will support, love and care for him nonetheless.
There needs to be somewhere for people who feel the effects of chronic illness. While I myself do not suffer from UC, my dad’s suffering does effect me. A space in which it is safe for me to say that I am sad because my dad is sad is something that I think a lot of people would benefit from. The effects of a chronic illness obviously affect those who are diagnosed, but it also affects loved ones.