Wednesday, November 25, 2015 // The Statement
6B
I
was walking to my 9:00 a.m. lecture on a brisk
fall morning in Ann Arbor. However, I had
stopped at a bench outside of South Quad and
was unable to join the throngs of students headed
to their classes. I couldn’t walk because I was crip-
plingly nauseated. While nausea is normal for me
(particularly in the morning) this was far more
intense than my normal levels. I had already blown
through the normal remedies that get me through
these episodes — pepto bismol and nearly a sleeve
of saltine crackers — in an attempt to get to class
without throwing up.
My mind wandered to the joint in the small
pocket of my backpack.
Nothing else would fix my nausea enough to
allow me to walk. I pulled the joint out of its con-
tainer and smelled the familiar, calming smell. I lit
it and inhaled deeply, and a smile began to creep
onto my face. I was able to put down the now near-
empty sleeve of saltines and hold my head high
without fear of throwing up. The constant negative
force my stomach normally exerts onto me faded
away and I was able to get to class (on “Michigan
Time”) with a smile on my face.
***
In fifth grade I was diagnosed with Crohn’s dis-
ease. My symptoms started manifesting in the third
grade, which is when my parents began having me
tested for various diseases that cause constant nau-
sea. I was nauseated at school, while exercising,
after eating, and a lot of times in between. After
two MRIs and two colonoscopies, my gastroen-
terologist finally determined that it was Crohn’s, a
disease that affects the lining of a person’s diges-
tive tract and can cause nausea, abdominal pain,
and other symptoms.
I was given a prescription for the biggest pills I’d
ever seen and told the disease would be with me
for the rest of my life, but that symptoms could be
managed through medication, diet, and exercise.
Crohn’s is chronic, and manifests in each patient
differently. Some experience flare-ups: periods
(spanning hours to days) of intense nausea, diar-
rhea, and vomiting. My version of the disease is
less intense, with the primary symptom being con-
stant nausea.
In high school, my disease took a turn. My intes-
tine, when stressed, began blocking food from
passing through my colon at a point known as a
stricture. This caused intense radiating pain to my
back and stomach, and sent me into bouts of writh-
ing pain that could last for hours or an entire day.
I went to the emergency room too many times in
attempts to understand what was causing the pain.
During the summer after my sophomore year of
high school I had surgery to unclog three stric-
tures.
While the surgery alleviated the episodes for
about a year, they eventually returned. This time,
the pain was not caused by blocked food, but
instead from stress. My gastroenterologist told me
that my mind had associated the feeling of high
stress with the pain that I felt during those painful
episodes, and was now causing me to feel that pain
when high stress occurred. The advice I received
was to stay as stress-free as possible. Not easy, or
realistic for a high schooler applying to college. In
addition to the pills I took every day, I was put on
a bi-monthly infusion, a dialysis-like procedure in
which an anti-inflammatory drug was pumped into
my system over several hours. My current medica-
tion was re-evaluated. But not much seemed to
help the nausea or my stress. It was entirely up to
me to stay healthy and pain free.
***
Growing up in San Francisco, I saw plenty of
drugs and alcohol. Kids in my high school grew
facial hair as fast as they could to get fake IDs for
parties on the weekends. Looking back, it makes
me recall the song “Super Rich Kids” by Frank
Ocean. However, my friends and I were never
around these kids. We were always in other parts
of the city, playing video games or Ultimate Fris-
bee. As such, I hadn’t ever had drugs or alcohol
before my first semester at Michigan, living on the
backside of Markley.
Freshmen year, as I was exposed to various
mind-altering chemicals, I began finally under-
standing why people in San Francisco were so
determined to get me to try marijuana because of
my stomach. Marijuana makes my stomach dis-
appear, and makes my constant nausea dissipate,
even if it’s only for a few hours. However, I didn’t
start really using marijuana to help my stomach
until the summer after freshman year.
The summer after freshman year, my dad went
with me to get a medical marijuana card in Cali-
fornia. Above Amoeba Records in the Haight —
San Francisco’s hippie district — sits an office that
helps anyone (with a legitimate reason) obtain a
medical card. The doctor (incidentally, a graduate
of the University of Michigan Medical School) dis-
cussed my Crohn’s symptoms and told us that I was
“the quintessential patient” for medical marijuana.
Later that week, I purchased gummies from a dis-
pensary that had a high amount of Cannabidiol
(CBD), the chemical in marijuana that helps abate
migraines and other types of pain. I didn’t try them
right away. I was nervous, because my only expe-
rience with edibles had been seeing my hall mates
from Markley couch-stuck for hours on end.
On a trip to Boston that summer though, I des-
perately needed help. I awoke for a morning flight
with extreme nausea. I finished packing for the
flight, but could not even stomach a slice of toast:
the only thing I could eat was saltines. My dad
came up to me and told me to take one of the gum-
mies. I obliged. I had to do something. It tasted
horrible, still cold from the fridge, and took sev-
eral minutes to choke down. And like all edibles,
it took about forty-five minutes to kick in. I barely
made it through the Uber ride and through airport
security, and I continued to eat saltines and Pepto
Bismol just to keep myself from throwing up. I was
slouched while walking, disheveled, and clearly
in pain. Finally, we were in line to get our tickets
scanned to get onto the plane.
But then, in the middle of checking in, some-
thing incredible happened: I straightened my pos-
ture, looked up at my dad, and for the first time all
day, I smiled.
“It’s working,” I said.
He smiled back at me and I started laughing; I
couldn’t help myself. I found my seat and fell into
a contented sleep because my stomach had finally
disappeared.
***
Most people use marijuana to feel good and have
fun. It’s fun for me too, but much more important-
ly, it is the most effective drug for me in my fight
against Crohn’s. I honestly don’t know if all the
prescription drugs I take really help prevent seri-
ous Crohn’s flare-ups. But I do know that medical
marijuana lets me participate in any activity I want
without fear of my stomach preventing me from
enjoying my college experience.
Personal Statement:
Chronic
by Jake Wellins,
Senior Design Editor
ILLUSTRATION BY JAKE WELLINS