Skip to main content

A Guide to Talking About Crohn's

This comes up a lot. Every time I meet someone new, there's always that point where they know that I have Crohn's, we've talked about it briefly, and they have a vague understanding of what Crohn's means. One day, we have a more in depth conversation about what Crohn's actually is and how I live with my disease. At some point during this conversation, my friend/co-worker/family member/ect. will express their fear of saying "the wrong thing."

I totally understand. It's not an easy subject and we aren't really equipped with the tools to speak about disease until we are forced to figure it out. So, don't feel like you are alone. I'm right there with you. I work everyday to figure out the most effective way of speaking about my disease. Also, don't ever worry about offending me. Now, I can't speak for everyone with a chronic illness here, but I promise you, I am just thrilled that you are expressing interest. If you say something "wrong," I'll let you know. I won't throw a fit. I certainly won't get angry at you. I'll just offer you an alternate phrasing or conceptualize your statement in a different way. Not a big deal. Actually, I almost think these moments are the most important parts of these conversations because they force both of us to define the most useful language for the discussion of disease.

So, here are a few basic guidelines to use when talking to your friend or loved one about their chronic disease:

1) Be honest. 
I know, this probably goes without saying, but it's important. And I'm not just talking about what you say. Be honest about any emotions you might have during the conversation. If something completely freaks you out, scares you, confuses you; say so. Chances are, I've been through the same emotion and I can help you identify why something frightens or confuses you and we can deal with it. Don't feel like it isn't your place to feel something about my disease. You will feel something, and it is okay to let me know when you do. People sometimes forget that while a disease may manifest in the body, it effects you emotionally as well. It's just as important to talk about the emotional toll illness takes as it is to talk about the actual disease. 
2) Sometimes, just listen. 
I know, I know. I just finished telling you how you need to talk. The thing is, you will be given a lot of new, complicated information over the course of this conversation and if you're in your head trying to make sense of it all, you'll miss what I'm trying to tell you. So, just focus on really hearing my words. I promise, it makes the entire conversation easier for both of us.
3) Remember that this is my body we're talking about. 
Okay, this one is kind of hard to explain. I think my point is that I'm sharing something deeply personal with you, and that puts me in a really vulnerable position. Just be mindful of that. Don't let it keep you from asking questions or expressing your curiosity, but at the same time, remember that disease is a way of life. My way of life. It is hard to talk about and pretty impossible to understand unless you're in the thick of it. Don't try to put yourself in my shoes, that won't work. I know this because I've lived without disease, and I've been around it my entire life. I know that there is no way to really understand chronic disease until you've had to live with it. Even then, it's not easy. This kind of leads into my next point:
4) Don't overly-sympathize.
Your first reaction when I tell you the story of how I was diagnosed, or how I have to take medication and give myself shots may be to feel very sorry for me. This is okay, but know that I don't feel sorry for me, and you don't need to either. (Okay, maybe sometimes, in my worst moments, I feel bad for myself. Guilty.) As I said, this is just my life. I'm not a hero because I have a disease. We all have things we deal with, mine is just diagnosable. 
And lastly...
5) Don't compare that one time you had the stomach flu to my disease.
Just don't. It is not the same thing. The stomach flu sucks. I know. I'm not saying it wasn't awful, I'm saying it is just a completely different thing from my disease. Apples and oranges, my friends. Apples and oranges.
I hope this was helpful. At least a little. It's not complete, but it's a start. If any of you (whether you have a disease/disability or have been on the other side of one of these conversations) have anything to add, please do in the comments. I would love to read them.

Comments

  1. Very well put. By the way, I'm a Crohn's "survivor" (was diagnosed in '97) been through all the usuals stuff CD people go through: meds that don't work, meds with horrible side effects, pain, nausea, surgeries, etc.

    My case is probably mild compared to many. I've had several long periods of remission.

    I kinda dropped out of the online Crohn's social and information scene unconsciously because I was in remission for so long. Now battling it some.

    I found your site via your Google Profile. I was thinking about creating a Crohn's Google+ circle. I think it's a good idea but I don't know. Creating a social connection where the only commonality is a shared disease seems a bit awkward.

    Anyway, I've subscribed to this blog and look forward to seeing updates. I keep starting my blog and then not following through. Life (family, work) tends to get in the way.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Overwhelming Nuance - Dancing Crohn's Disease

Below is small segment of my Dance Studies Research Project, "Cripping Dance: Radical Representations of the Disabled Dancing Body." It's the bit I wrote about my own work, Overwhelming Nuance (excerpted below), which, as you will see, was inspired by the feelings of denial that so often accompany disease.  Nearly four years after I was diagnosed with Crohn's, it flared massively. Lost in the idea that "my disease will not define my life", I ignored for months the signs of the looming crash. This breakdown forced me to come to terms with the reality of my disease. I suddenly understood that the idea that the mind might overcome the body just supported the willful denial of my disease. After this experience, determined to force an openness about disease in my own life, I claimed disability as part of my identity and choreographed my own "crip" coming out.

Chronic Overshare

Every two weeks I take my Humira shot. No big deal. But, a couple days afterward the most wonderful thing happens. I poo. I mean, I take a dump . It's awesome. The thing is, I crap constantly. All the freaking time. Just not like this. This is one of those rare, deeply satisfying, glorious dumps. And I get to look forward to it every two weeks. It's a major source of joy in my life. And what's my immediate reaction every two weeks? What is the first thing I want to do as I saunter triumphantly from the bathroom? I want to tell people. I actively seek out someone to inform of the magnificent crap I just took. I'm genuinely disappointed if no one's around. My poor roommates.

The Trouble with Pep Talks

The scene: You're sitting on a comfy couch having a conversation with a good friend or a family member. Someone you're very close to. Maybe you're having a cup of coffee/tea or a glass of wine. It's been a good night of sharing with someone you trust. The issue you're talking about doesn't necessarily have to be Crohn's, but let's say it is. You're feeling comfortable, so you are very honest about your experience. You decide it's okay, just for a moment, to let go of that tone of optimism you normally adopt when speaking about your disease. It's not that you've actually given up hope, you're just tired. After you finish your tale, your friend/family member looks at you lovingly and says something like, "you're the strongest person I know" or, my personal favorite, "it'll just make you stronger in the end." I've been trying to write this post for a while now, and I've been having a lot of troub