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The Apartment

It was 2007 and I had just graduated college. My symptoms were getting worse by the day, but that didn’t stop me from applying to jobs. I applied to over 100 school districts and was eager to start getting a real paycheck. I knew deep down that I was getting sick, and that the infusions to put me into remission were not working. Once I secured a job, I then moved on to the next milestone in my life. I wanted to live on my own. I figured I had a steady salary now, so why not? My best friend also wanted to move out of his parents’ house and we both decided on a small apartment in the suburbs. Here was the catch:

A change of plans

By the time we moved in, it was already October of 2007. I had already met with the colorectal surgeon to have my J-pouch surgery in the middle of December. Since I would be discharged by Christmas, I would spend about three to four weeks at home with my folks until I get back on my feet. Then, I would start living in the new apartment until my reversal surgery in March of 2008. Let’s just say that the plan did not go as it should have.

I entered the hospital for my surgery on Dec. 17th, 2017, but did not ever leave until over a year later. So what was going on with the apartment you might ask?

I never actually lived there! I did not spend a night in the apartment. My best friend stayed there and had friends over as he should. He did respect my room, never allowing people to go in. Of course, I still owed my share of the rent. For the first month, my parents made sure that they withdrew the money from my account to pay the rent. But as I was not working, money was getting short. The apartment complex held raffles every month, and they would pick names out of a jar. Whoever they picked, got a free month’s rent. They were aware of the situation and happened to pick my name for each month I was out. That was very nice of them! On top of that, they allowed my friend to opt out of the contract early with no penalty.  y father helped him move all of the furniture out of the apartment. To top it off, the apartment complex sent movers to help.

Reaching the next milestone

As I battled my Crohn’s in the hospital, fighting for my life, I kept my eye on the prize. I was going to get my job back again, and I was going to move out. I was determined. Did that help me get out of the hospital? I don’t know. They always speak of the power of positive thinking. Well, my friend kept his side of the promise, as well. He told me that once I got out of the hospital, got my Crohn’s under control, and secured a job, he would move back in with me. Finally, in 2010, I was able to move out again, after locking down a great teaching job. I knew that what didn’t kill me made me stronger.

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.


  • thedancingcrohnie moderator
    7 months ago

    Amazing that the apartment complex helped you out in such a moment of crisis. Having IBD has really opened my eyes to the good in people. So many have helped me in my many years of Crohn’s Diagnosis, and it is so heart-warming.

    Always dancing,
    Elizabeth (team member)

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