Guest Writer Harvey - Conclusions

Me, Myself and My Immune System: A brief timeline of my love affair with Crohn’s Disease.

Harvey Hancock

Part Four

Fast forward 2 years. My trip to university has been delayed, for reasons obvious to you. I now have to stay behind in 6^th form and do an extra year while all my friends leave to go on their own university adventures. I’ll still get there, eventually. But right now I am being bullied by kids two years younger than me because I just won’t leave school. School is the last place I want to be, and my attendance drops to 50%. I’m not ill, I just refuse to go in. The work is too easy and there is nobody waiting there for me – at least nobody who wants to put a smile on my face. I so want to escape the grapples of school so it’s time to don my armour and pick up my shield. I’ll shut myself off. I’ll deflect their words and jibes. I’ll do what must be done to get on with my life. I’m going to make a success of myself and nothing will stop me. Crohn’s can do one. And those snot-nosed wotsits, surrounded by jeering friends, they’re not worthy of my time or emotion. I’ll write this year off. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll just do my work and keep my head down. And look forward. The promise of university is all I have to keep me going.

Fast forward three years. I’m in the second year of university and I have an exam in an hour. I’m not going to pass it. I go to see my tutor before it and she says “you look like crap, man.” I agree, but say that, while I’m on campus, I may as well give it a go. In the exam room my friend says that perhaps I should just go to the hospital instead. I soldier on. I finish with over an hour to spare, having written under two pages of words for two whole essays. I go home, cry, and sleep. What a waste of time.

Fast forward three weeks. By all rights, I should have failed this exam. But somehow I managed to pass. Many people will be celebrating their good grades but my 49% ranks as one of the best marks I’ve ever received. Screw you, Crohn’s disease. I. Will. Not. Fail.

Fast forward a year. University is over. My friends have left, and I’m on my own. To pass

my time I write a story about what it is like to have Crohn’s disease, and it is nearing its end. Though this piece is a timeline of my illnesses I actually conclude it by realising that this section of my life, though defining, does not define me. I have been called “tubey”, “sick boy”, “skiver” and all manner of names and missed a fair chunk of my education. I struggle with energy levels on a day-to-day basis and I can’t play sport as much as I’d like. But I am funny. I am kind. I am intelligent. I’m a good singer. I’m generous. I’m loved. I’m not too hard on the eyes (at least that’s what people say). I am not dramatic. I don’t get scared easily. I am honest and thoughtful. All of these things, self-aggrandized or not, define me far more than a scarred liver or a malfunctioning bowel ever will.

I live with this every day. And it really isn’t a big deal. It’s just Crohn’s disease, you know? And that makes me fantastically lucky - to only have Crohn’s Disease is a blessing,

all things considered. By recounting some of the negative aspects of my illness all I have done is emphasised the fact that my life has been full of laughter, friendship and success. Take a look at all those gaps I fast-forwarded through: my first kiss, my first girlfriend, passing my driving test, getting into university, late-night adventures and long summer holidays. Memories of all kinds were put to one side to give an honest account of what it’s like to be “ill”. But that never was and never will be all I am. I am greater than the sum of my parts, even if some of those parts sometimes go on strike. So don’t feel sorry for me, and don’t you dare feel sorry for yourself. There’s still plenty to look forward to: a career, love, a family and many unexpected adventures, so let’s all have a bloody good laugh. It’s only IBD, after all.

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