Living with IBD is a complex journey of ups and downs. Each of us patients seem to have our own set of unique challenges and personal needs to support our care. Many of us also have individual preferences, lifestyle changes that we have to adopt, and short and long-term goals that require consideration when managing a chronic illness that can be so unpredictable and impactful on day-to-day life. For this (and many other) reasons, finding good care from a good doctor is vit

***I did NOT make this decision without first talking openly and honestly with my doctor AND reviewing a plan for my next choice of treatment. When I first started Humira, a biologic medication that I injected every two weeks to manage Crohns disease, in 2014, it was magical. It took a few months to work at first, but once it did, I went from a strict liquid diet and being scheduled for surgery all the way to working again and eating a burger (my surgeon's super scientific t

A few months ago, I received a call that would stop me in my tracks: would I like to share my thoughts on what defines a quality gastroenterologist at this year's Digestive Diseases Week (#DDW2018)? I think that I said "YES!" before the question was even finished. I was so excited that I got right to work. In some ways, I knew exactly what I'd want to say, but in a lot of other ways, I struggled to find just the right words. From a patient's perspective - or at least THIS

In order to get well enough to take on the role of motherhood in the way that I wanted, I would need to take Cimzia (throughout my first pregnancy) and then Humira (started after a rough flare and shortly before my second pregnancy). I was nervous at first, but, armed with evidence-based research, I was able to make my own informed decision to exclusively breastfeed both of my children while effectively treating my Crohn's disease. I'm not one to engage in a mommy-battle of

Working while managing a disability that doesn't take a break between the typical 9 - 5pm work-day is sometimes nerve-wracking. How will my boss, coworkers, and clients handle situations that require me to put my symptoms first? Will symptoms hold me back from achieving the professional goals that I set for myself? Can I do it all; take care of my kids, the house, my marriage, and my health? These thoughts go through my head as I start applying for jobs, and it makes me s

Chronic illness can be tough and lonely. It seems that most people can appreciate that fact and they know what it generally means to be lonely. But “lonely” takes on a new definition that goes deeper and darker with the personalized, persistent, and relentless class of illnesses considered to be chronic, or lifelong. When I was diagnosed, I quickly learned this new definition for lonely. While doctors were considering a diagnosis of Crohn’s disease, and determining a cours

Visit The Mighty to view a version of this article. It was a beautiful, hazy day in August when I was formally diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. From over the phone, the doctor’s words seemed in such stark contrast to my surroundings that I had trouble digesting them. It was warm, and I was exhausted; all I could mutter was, “OK.” Appreciating the reality of being diagnosed with a lifelong, incurable chronic illness wasn’t on my mind. Instead, assigning a name to the beast taki

Recently, I wrote an email to my specialist and felt the need to say, “Sorry for rambling!” at the end. But is this really how I should be feeling after communicating with my doctor? I’ve been with this doctor for quite a few years, and yet I still feel the need to say, “I’m sorry” whenever I worry about being a burden to him or his practice. I think that it’s because I appreciate his care so much. When I realized what I was doing, I stopped to think -- I know that he woul

If you haven’t decided yet, but you’re thinking about possibly starting a medication that requires injections, reading through these tips ma

Symptoms can manifest slowly. Or, they can rear their ugly head with a shocking strength that would throw even the most steady-footed individuals into a spiral that feels unending. I remember quite vividly what I’ve dubbed as “the last morning of normalcy” (Or rather, the first day of “Chronically Jess”), when I suddenly ran to the bathroom and wouldn’t emerge unafraid for a few years. On that morning, bags were packed and the car was almost loaded. I was so happy and care