HEAL UC

Now UC Me…

Greetings, I’m Justin Wright, a 40-something kid-at-heart dad who lives with my wife and two actual kids in sunny Arizona. I also have Ulcerative Colitis (UC), but that’s not a big deal anymore. It used to be, though. For years, it made me feel helpless and hopeless. But then I changed my mindset. I decided to take charge of my health and happiness.

I dove deep into the endless abyss of online research, hoping to uncover the secrets to beating UC and Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD). I was determined to find a solution that didn’t involve prescriptions or scalpels, because frankly, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of a stranger messing around in my insides. I longed for the days when my toilet time wasn’t a bloodbath, and when my stomach didn’t feel like it was doing acrobatics. I wanted my old, carefree life back, and the kind of energy that only a fully operational digestive system can provide.

I scampered into every rabbit hole imaginable in search of a cure. I studied nutrition, natural healing, wellness, and even tried standing on my head and chanting for good measure (j/k, I’m not coordinated enough to stand on my head, let alone multitask). I met with enough practitioners to fill a small stadium, and let me tell you, having someone show you pictures they took inside your insides is not for the faint of heart. I saw MDs, GIs, DOs, DCs, NDs, TCMs, acupuncturists, holistic healers, fecal microbiota experts, and anyone else who claimed they had the secret to a happy gut.

They did every test under the sun on my bodily fluids, semi-solids, and tissues. I’m pretty sure they even tested the air around me at one point. I ingested so many supplements and probiotics that I could probably start my own farm. And when swallowing them wasn’t helping, I ingested them the other way. I spent more days and dollars than I care to admit in search of the holy grail of healing.

I had more theories about what caused my UC than a Russian conspiracy theorist has about the moon landing. Maybe it was bacteria. Or parasites. Or a fungus so rare that even Google had never heard of it. Perhaps my gut was as leaky as a rusty faucet. Or maybe my body was just extremely sensitive to certain foods, like a high-maintenance diva. I started to wonder if all those antibiotics I took in my younger years had turned my gut into a warzone. Or if my love for NSAIDs had finally caught up with me. Or, dare I say, if my questionable past lifestyle choices (I’m looking at you burritos) were to blame.

Pausing to go do something important. Stick around, things are about to get wilder than a jungle full of monkeys on espresso.

As we gear up for the main event, here’s a joke that’s sure to make you groan.