Karissa Pentlichuk, BASc, IBD, AS, HT, OTS, BLD with GA, PsO, IAE, TMD, CM
While I do have a Bachelor of Arts and Science from the University of Lethbridge, its acronym from that institution being BASc, the other acronyms associated to my name are as follows:
IBD (Inflammatory Bowel Disease, specifically Crohn's Disease)
AS (Ankylosing Spondylitis)
HT (Hashimoto's Thyroiditis)
OTS (Otosclerosis)
BLD with GA (Basal Laminar Drusen with Geographic Atrophy)
PsO (Psoriasis)
IAE (Idiopathic Angioedema, though this diagnosis is still a question mark if it is IAE or HAEIII)
TMD (Temporomandibular Joint Disorder)
CM (Chronic Migraines)
With chronic illness it can often feel like having an unbidden stamp collection. We 'collect' diseases, medications, allergies, symptoms, procedures, scans; all of this experience and history that we never asked for.
While we often feel like we're watching from the sidelines as other people gather and collect their own accomplishments, it can feel as though we have been left behind.
The truth is, we do gain a lot of knowledge. We gain experience, however painful. We continue to work towards our goals, with detours, and we count our accomplishments differently, but they still exist. So our 'credentials'; this list of disease names and symptoms, are based off of a different kind of education.
My most recent accomplishment: going through another round of Radio-Frequency Ablation (RFA) in my SI joints and lower spine for Ankylosing Spondylitis.
This procedure is awfully painful, yet it allows me to go a full year without requiring regular use of a wheelchair or even a cane anymore. It's something I am proud of: that I can face a procedure for which I experience high levels of anxiety and pain, all because I can look past my terror to see the benefits it provides. I'll never win an award or receive any special recognition for undergoing a fairly common procedure, nor should I, but that doesn't make it any less of a personal accomplishment.
I believe that to have conflicting voices in your head arguing whether or not to cancel an appointment, to save yourself pain or grin and bear it for a purpose, and to silence the panicked voice telling you to turn the car around and run away, and still walk in with a smile (feigned or not) shows grit. Not the kind of grit that people expect (where we say "I'm fine" or lie with a smile and get on with things), but the grit that says "I am not okay, I am suffering, but I am still here fighting for the life that I want".
So for all of you chronic illness sufferers who just underwent a procedure, or who tried a medication you were terrified to try, or who braved the ER even after having more than your fair share of horrendous experiences: I see you! Your illnesses might be invisible, but you are not.
