Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there was a young girl, weak-spirited and naive, held hostage by a massive, terrifying, dragon. Scarlet scales as dark as blood lined its ginormous frame, it’s wingtips were sharp, far sharper than a saber’s deadly blade, and its eyes, those beady, black eyes were wells reaching to seemingly interminable depths, so deep the girl feared she would topple in and never surface. But what stood far out to her was the dragon’s character. It loomed over the metal-barred tower in which she was kept, growing ever more massive, ever more terrifying, with each passing moment, flashing, baring, its ivory white fangs dripping in purple blue blood or spit or poison, flicking, lashing its spiky tail closer than the girl would have liked, drawing out a blood curdling scream from the poor soul, innocent and imperfect and raw, her throat was raw, and she was sobbing, writhing, in agony. It was a spirit crueler than any she’d encountered before.
That dragon was Crohn's disease, and as for the little girl? That little girl was me. When I was just 8 years old I was one of 780,000 Americans diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, a sickness that most commonly affects your large or small intestine. Symptoms include stomach pain, weight loss, bleeding in your stool, or delays in growth. Oh, and there’s one more crucial detail that you need to know to understand me, and hundreds of other’s stories all over the world; Crohn’s is a chronic disease. It’s life long, and there is no cure. Treatments, yes, to keep the hungry dragon at bay, but no way to fully banish it. But I wouldn’t, no I couldn't let this knowledge discourage me. Armed only with positivity and hope, I started to fight. Diets, needles, surgeries, procedures, pills, needles, tests, blood, medicine, blood, repeat. The cycle never seemed to end. Finally, just last year, I started Remicade injections. And, soon, every time I smiled, that dragon shrieked in agony, every little chuckle sent it wheezing in pain, so I embraced and kissed and lived and loved and tried and failed and tried again and embraced and kissed and lived and loved and- until it faded to but a wisp.
My next infusion is coming up. And so are a whole lot more. But I know that, no matter what fire I must dodge, what hardships I must overcome, I am not giving up the fight. And neither are all of the children with Crohn's much more severe than my own. We are not giving up the fight. We are not giving up the fight.
Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there was a young girl, weak-spirited and naive, held hostage by a massive, terrifying, dragon. Every battle she fought, every bruise she got, every risk she took, every pill single she swallowed, she grew stronger. Once upon a time there was a little girl. Now there is a warrior.
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