Scars
I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease at the age of
thirteen in November 2007. This was four years after a doctor branded my
regular symptoms of my health condition as ‘imaginary’ and a product of an
‘over-anxious mother’.
Since being diagnosed I have been on lots of
medication; tried various food and liquid diets; had bowel resection surgery in
July 2010; and in October 2013 had a flare-up that hospitalised me for nearly a
week, during which my potassium levels were dangerously low I could have died.
I have also made so many lifelong friends, and completed a tandem skydive for
Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation in June 2018.
One of the many lessons I have learnt living with
Crohn’s disease as well as dyspraxia, anxiety and depression, is health
conditions, both physical and mental, are very ‘hidden’. If you were to look at
me you would see a boy in his twenties. You would not see the hospital visits;
the crying in the toilets; the bullying in the school corridors; the caring
responsibilities of looking after a dad who has primary-progressive multiple
sclerosis.
As we are coming to the end of ‘Crohn’s and Colitis
Awareness Week 2018’ I wanted to share a poem with you. Scars is inspired by all the experiences mentioned above,
especially the ‘hidden’ nature of health conditions. I am thankful that there
are many people including yourself who are willing to listen to my story. Thank
you for making these ‘hidden’ aspects more visible.
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Scars
When
I look at myself I see a scared boy.
I
see him crouching over the toilet with brown
Shit
dripping down his arm, cursing as the burning
Never
stops. I see him being told by his doctor that
He
made this nightmare up; that it was ‘imaginary’.
That’s
a scar.
When
I look at myself I see a vulnerable boy.
I
see him being bullied in school for being ‘different’
As
he can’t run, can’t write, can’t read, can’t speak.
I
see him being teased for needing that little extra help
So
he doesn’t become another shadow in the corridor.
That’s
a scar.
When
I look at myself I see a lonely boy.
I
see him without his dad carrying him up high
On
his shoulders, standing over the darkness below.
I
see him alone in the hallway listening to old voices,
Old
memories from the one who slipped into the night.
That’s
a scar.
But
you don’t see this boy when you look at me.
You
don’t see the cursing in hospital.
You
don’t see the bullying at school.
You
don’t see the mourning at home.
You
see a ‘normal boy’ when you look at me.
That’s
the deepest scar of all.
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| That's the deepest scar of all...Copyright © 2018 Rakicevic Nenad. All rights reserved. |
