What I Have to Think About Before Going on a Date With Crohn's Disease
Dating and chronic illness — that’s an oxymoron isn’t it? It’s dating someone who prefers sweats, albeit very chic sweats but sweats nonetheless, hot tea to wine and checks out exactly where the bathroom is located in every situation especially at the date’s house and one who immediately thinks of how she can swing it so she has a reason to use the bathroom the furthest away from him… like in the basement as opposed to the lovely warm one right off the living room. Whenever I do get a date, I don’t eat the whole day — well, maybe toast… then there’s the “what to wear” question. Jeans? Dress with no waistband? Next that dreaded fear of, what if I get sick. By then I’m so exhausted and it’s only 3 in the afternoon.
First dates are typically pretty superficial so it’s easy to skate the big talk. On date number two, he suspects something is going on as you ordered the exact same thing as you did on date number one… chicken soup. By date number three, he detects a certain pattern — you order soup again. By now he’s wondering if maybe your palate is not developed, you have allergies or maybe no teeth. But she smiles so that can’t be it, he thinks to himself. He’s too polite to ask and I’m silently squirming in my seat… do I tell him or not? So many schools of thought of this very subject. Some say tell him the first date, others say wait. I get so confused! So if I tell him on date number one, of course he’ll be so sad for me and show compassion. If he is a stand-up guy, and things go well energy-wise, he’ll call again. If he doesn’t call again, you’re never sure if it’s the Crohn’s disease or he’s just not that into you. But if I wait and we really hit it off, it’s going to hurt like hell if I tell him about having Crohn’s and he ghosts me.
I was in a long-term relationship and we were pretty much engaged. I had a high-paying career, which I loved, but ended up getting so sick, I was forced to retire early. I was in and out of the hospital and at home, in bed much of the time. We got into an argument and he said something to me that still haunts me today. He said, “I don’t want to be your nurse!” Whoa… silence filled my insides and I felt like curling up and disappearing. After all those years, did he always think that way? We were best friends. I was devastated and hurt beyond repair.
I ended the relationship and moved back to my hometown to be closer to my family. That was in 2003 and today I still hear his voice. So this subject of dating is hard for me, as it is for many of us warriors. By all accounts, at 59 years old, I’ve heard I’m attractive, but I have always been petite. The last date I had, he said I was a “bag of bones” and kept asking if I gained weight. I wanted to punch him in his head! So as they say, another one bites the dust.
Here’s my thinking: next date I have, I’m telling him right off the bat. Not as in, “Hi, I’m Pamela, I have Crohn’s” but as it naturally might come up when all I order is soup. If it makes him want to cut and run, go for it and I’ll know for sure it’s his loss. But if he stays, is compassionate, wants to know about how it is for me, if his actions match his words, and especially if he gives good foot rubs, I’m in. Because what I know for sure is that because we have suffered so much ourselves, many people with chronic illness are compassion, empathic people. We know how much it hurts from the inside, so we’ll always have your back. If you could just cut us some slack when we’re hurting, we’ll make great partners.
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Thinkstock photo by kieferpix
I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease when I was 13 yrs. I was a tomboy who rocked party dresses. I was curious, loved my big Siamese cat called Shabooey and Surf, my soft shelled turtle. Curly Auburn headed, petite and topped off with enormous dark chocolatey brown eyes. The day the pain began, that little full of life girl, went dark...no one believed me. First bowel resection was in 1973...I had no idea how sick I was because back then or at least in my family, you did not speak of anything that wasn’t all shiny and bubbly. Thru the many, many years of confusion, denial and ignorance...I survived by skating on the surface of my life. Married, two beautiful children, a divorce and a successful career I loved, hit the fan and all 4 tires blew at once. In 2002 I became officially disabled. I had to stop working so I left the big city of SF and moved back to my hometown. I bought a pretty Victorian home and went from Corp executive to jeweler. After my 8th bowel resection, and blasting thru every drug on the market, tacking on more delightful diseases; sarcoidosis, primary immunodeficiency, Sjögren’s, and the list goes on I decided enough is enough, for Pete’s sake. I opened Heartandhammers.etsy.com and became a tiny business owner. And then I rescued a ginormous, sweet 110 lb dog, Greater Swiss Mountain dog who I named Ollie, a darling little sprite of a kitten, aptly named Skeeter and my older, mature Ruby. She is a calico with all the grace of a queen bee. We are happy some days, others too much pain. Bearing the weight of too many diseases takes the wit right outta me. I’m single so I do my best to balance everything but plain and simple...it’s really damn hard. I’m writing this from the hospital..I’m a little drugged up, sleep deprived and feeling lonely but...I’m a warrior now. So I’ll do what needs to be done and get home to my little family of 4 legged loves....rinse and repeat.
pamelasquires