I've made some discernible progress since ulcerative colitis claimed my colon, but just because I have a normal-ish life again, doesn't mean IBD isn't still a rampaging beast.

To maintain a reputation of being nice, and to continually please other people, I’ve hidden so much of my true self. And it's making me miserable.

I've taken a lot from this country, and because this country was so willing to give, I now have the chance to contribute to it again.

Enduring difficult times doesn't automatically mean sublime days are ahead. After living through my surgical complications though, I thought they would be.

Donor fatigue is real, especially when natural disasters keep decimating the poorest parts of the planet. So I save my request for your donations to support IBD initiatives to just one time each year. Now's that time.

At 30 years old, I can divide my life up to this point into three versions. Not every version of myself has been a successful upgrade over the last, and there's much to do to improve the current one.

It's great when mainstream media outlets cover IBD stories and research findings. But when they do, they rouse a small group of wannabe experts at the ready to spread unsubstantiated misinformation.

I look back on my first year with a j-pouch as a relatively successful one, although there are still complaints and challenges and aspirations yet to be fulfilled. Here's a look at what I’ve learned after a year of living with my altered innards.

When a chronic illness makes life a daily challenge, it becomes hard to sympathize with people who complain about things that are no where near as serious as a chronic illness.