Photo by: LaShauna Bell
A thing that some college kids feels is necessary to keep up with besides beer pong tournaments and party schedules is being healthy. Some of us count calories, others carry our gallons of water from class to class. Then there are the few of us that make it a habit to go to the gym four times a week as opposed to those of us who only go once a week for a solid thirty minutes. Making a point to exercise or at least eating well-balanced meals every day is something that a good handful of us college kids consider the right thing to do. But for some of us it isn’t that cut and dry. And by us, I mean the very few of us who are diagnosed with some form of ailment that makes it extremely hard to get summer time fine.
About a year ago, to my complete dismay, I was diagnosed with Seronegative Rheumatoid Arthritis. Basically, I was told that my blood work tested negative for the rheumatoid factor and certain antibodies that essentially become a red flag for this version of arthritis. Since I tested negative, but still presented with rheumatoid arthritis symptoms such as swelling of the hand joints, the elbows, and the knees, followed by an annoying sensation of fatigue, the doctors labeled me as a 22-year-old with a disease that would follow me around for the rest of my life.
Bummer, right? My physician gave me some pills and sent me on my way. “Take three of the white ones in the morning,” she said. “And one beige pill for the days that feel super hard to get out of bed.” Her words barely made it to my ears fast enough for me to process what was happening. What was my life going to be like? I was diagnosed in the summer and back then my hands looked like potatoes. Every day it hurt to move them, but some days I couldn’t even close them. Some days I would have joint pain in my knees and wouldn’t be able to get myself out of bed or walk down a flight of stairs. I was in a nightmare that I couldn’t wake myself out of.
I got back to school at the start of my senior year and had to completely re-evaluate my life. I had to switch from eating certain foods like popcorn and french fries, to other things that were anti-inflammatory such as… (hold for disgust) kale, Brussels sprouts, the list truly goes on. But I’m not going to lie guys, I was miserable. And for weeks after my diagnosis I let my ailment take over my life. I didn’t do anything for fear of hurting myself or just didn’t feel like doing much because it hurt to move even an inch.
But eventually I got tired of feeling feeble and pitiful. I decided that whatever was wrong with me would not cause me to lay motionless in my bed everyday while I reminisced about the days I took for granted when I could move freely. I loved the gym and wanted to get back into the swing of things. I believed that it would be the catalyst for helping me get my life back, but I could only know for sure if I tried. So, eventually I went. The first five minutes were pure hell, but after about twenty minutes, the pain momentarily subsided. And after a few weeks, which later turned into months, I learned that the gym was necessary for me since I can now be in the gym lifting weights for hours and not feel pain. It was a reminder that life really is about mind over matter, and that anything is possible as long as you try.