Living a life of “for nows” in the context of “forever”

This past Sunday morning, I pulled out yet another command tape strip from the box at the top of my closet. When I moved into my room in January, I decided that the posters of paintings on my wall could be hung with blue tac. Over the course of the semester, they’ve slowly fallen, corner by corner, off the wall, leading to the slow replacement of blue tac by command strips. Before pulling the box out, however, I took a second to decide whether it was even worth the 5 seconds it would take me to replace it. I’m moving out of this room at the beginning of May, putting all of my things in the back of my car, and driving home, never to spend a significant amount of time between these four walls ever again. My Type-A personality overpowered me because a half falling poster on the wall is unpleasant to look at, but the hesitation was there none the less.

College, especially in a scholarship program like mine, involves a constant stream of ‘for now.’ Most evident is the constant shift in living situations. My freshman year I moved from my dorm into a hospital room, into a hotel room, back into my dorm and back to a different hospital room, and then into an Airbnb to recover from my second surgery. That summer, I went Home then (the capital is important here — “home” has taken on a new meaning), moved to New Orleans, and back Home. Sophmore year, I spent one semester at one university, had to spend a couple of weeks at Home because of shingles, and then the second semester at a different university. That summer, I went Home, then moved to a room in London, then back Home and then to a different room in London.

I’m not just great at packing, however — this constant shift in location mirrors a constant shift in friendships and extra-curricular activities. It’s a constant shift in philosophy and mindset, in habits and in what direction I need to sleepily reach out in when trying to turn off my alarm every morning. I don’t know where I’ll be in May of 2019, and, because I want to go to medical school, where I’ll be the year after that. I don’t know who my friends will be, or whose name I’ll smile at when it comes up on my phone. I don’t know what my email signature will say, or what colors will fill up the rows of my Google Calendar. Life as a young adult is a collection of temporary situations, as concurrently unnerving and exciting as they may be. What I do know, however, is that I’ll have Crohn’s Disease.

It’s strange to live in a permanent state of temporary situations with my disease as a constant. I know that in May of 2019 I’ll still be trying to sleep eight hours a night and constantly eat quality food. I know that I’ll be thinking about how my digestive system is working most hours of the day and that I’ll be trying to get regular exercise because it lowers the risk of a flare. I know that I’ll probably still be immunosuppressed and putting on facemasks whenever I go into a high infection risk environment. I’ll still be having regular blood tests, and trying to moderate my stress.

Is it odd that I find comfort in this constant? Sure, having Crohn’s Disease for the rest of my life isn’t the best card to draw. But as someone who values stability and consistency, knowing that Crohn’s and everything it implies for me will be a constant almost gives me a safe place to go when the cardboard boxes of moves overwhelm me. I won’t have all of the books on my bookshelves in each place I sleep in, but I will have my diagnosis. Most of my habits will stay the same, while the friends I look to for an understanding of them differ. If I build a living room of the constants in my life in my brain, Crohn’s Disease is a red velvet couch — it’s the centerpiece that you really can’t put much other furniture around.

As I write this sitting in a restaurant I won’t regularly visit after another year has passed, I take a sip from the glass of water next to me. ‘Hydration is important to decrease kidney stone risk’ pops up in my mind as others’ fundamental values might — it’s there, I’m aware of it, but it’s a thought that serves as more of a safety blanket than a revolution.