The Reality of Young Illness

A lifetime of worrying about health problems is something we put off until we’re old. The prospect of taking pills, worrying about the nutritional value of everything we eat, agonizing over whether or not we took enough steps during the day, and restricting activities based on health priorities are all things that we shouldn’t have to worry about until we’ve experienced everything desirable in life and more. And yet for many, including myself, this is not reality. Up until now, there were only two things that I specifically did not want to happen in my life: developing a chronic illness and being unable to eat certain foods as a result. Well, at the ripe age of 22 I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), a chronic disorder characterized by hormonal imbalances that, somehow unsurprisingly, can in part become significantly better or worse depending on diet. In other words… the only two things I wished would never happen in my life just happened. 

Although I would enjoy claiming otherwise, like many others my age or younger who have been diagnosed with a lifelong (or temporary) condition, my initial reaction to my diagnosis was a combination of sadness and anger. Hearing that something in my body doesn’t work the way it should, that as a result, my life will have to change in certain significant ways, and that consequences of inaction have dire implications is terrifying. While this type of news can be equally as devastating at any age, being diagnosed as a young adult means I will now have to manage my health with magnified attention for the next 60, 70, or 80 years. The prospect is dizzying but regardless of how I feel, the pressure is on for the rest of my life. Whether or not I withstand that pressure, or am eventually crushed under its weight, will influence just how long that life can be. 

These pressures come, of course, from so many of the things we take for granted when young: Going to parties, trying new foods, having enormous amounts of energy to stay up for 48 hours, or even taking a day to purely relax. All of these things may seem incredibly normal but they are now what I will forever have to think twice about doing because of my illness. Although I don’t often drink, if I want to do so on occasion with friends, or even try new foods, I have to factor in how it will affect my blood sugar (individuals with PCOS often experience insulin resistance). I’m also perpetually tired, another symptom that many with PCOS deal with; developing the stamina to socialize to the same degree that all of my friends do take so much more effort than it otherwise should. Even on days where I do choose to rest, lingering in bed for longer than usual, I’m still accosted with the realization that my illness requires me to maintain a consistently active lifestyle to mitigate negative symptoms. Not only is this exhausting, but realizing that so many people my age will not have to consider what I think about every day for decades to come.

Although very Gen Z of me, I have found that nothing fully encapsulates how I feel, in both humor and sadness, in dealing with a disease as a young adult better than a painfully unironic meme.

While comical, I find that this genuinely conveys the loneliness and isolation within circumstances that both myself and others may experience as a young adults with a diagnosis. There are so many experiences, wants, and dreams that we should all deserve to achieve as young adults but they’re now all daunting reminders that life has been permanently changed. As young adults especially, we often think that we’re indestructible; I didn’t think I could get hit by a bus and come out of it with no more than a scratch or anything, but simply that even if I ran into a bit of trouble or moments of hardship, everything would eventually return to the equilibrium of youthful happiness and health. Suffice it to say, this sucks. I’m not going to sugarcoat my reality; I couldn’t even if I wanted to. But I’m making a conscious decision not to wallow in it either. 

What’s happening is unchangeable, so the best thing I can do now, as well as those that may be going through the same confusing and discouraging process as me, is to accept my new normal. My diagnosis will undoubtedly change the way I am able to interact with the world in certain ways, but hyper-focusing on anything I can’t do now will only serve as stress in the long run. I certainly can’t just ignore my diagnosis, but I can choose to make sure it doesn’t consume my thoughts and actions. I am more than my diagnosis, and the fact that I can persevere through life given the hand I was dealt is something that both I and others in a similar situation are entirely capable of.