Tahlia Thrush

Will you support my Live Fearless Challenge?

I'm taking on the Live Fearless Challenge for the fourth year in a row.

Every year I wonder what I'll write here.

Part of me feels like I've already told my story. But then I remember there are always new people reading it, and if sharing my journey helps even one person understand Crohn's disease a little better, then it's worth sharing again.

In November 2022, my life changed overnight.

I was rushed to hospital after collapsing from severe pain and struggling to breathe. After 13 hours in ED, countless blood tests, scans, and what felt like about 900 trips between imaging rooms (okay... maybe not quite 900, but it definitely felt like it), I was sent home with kidney stones and a referral to a gastroenterologist because they'd spotted something odd in my bowel.

Turns out the kidney stones weren't the biggest problem.

A few weeks later I was diagnosed with severe Crohn's disease after they found a 10cm section of my bowel had narrowed to about the width of a pinhole. For reference... it's supposed to be about the width of your little finger.

Since then, it's been a lot.

Steroids that made my hair fall out. Immunosuppressants that told my immune system to stop attacking me. Biologic injections worth around $4,000 each (thank goodness for the PBS because I have two every month). Endless appointments, blood tests, scans, colonoscopies... the list goes on.

Unfortunately, my Crohn's likes to do its own thing.

I've learnt that Crohn's is so much more than a "stomach problem". It's pain. It's fatigue. It's cancelling plans because your body says "not today." It's wondering if food is going to be your friend or your enemy. It's looking completely fine on the outside while your body feels like it's fighting itself on the inside.

I don't share any of this because I want sympathy. I don't.

This is just my normal.

I share it because Crohn's and ulcerative colitis are still so misunderstood. They're invisible illnesses, and unless someone chooses to talk about them, most people will never know what living with IBD is actually like.

So here I am again.

Four years later.

Still figuring it out. Still hoping the next treatment is the one that sticks. Still trying to avoid surgery in my twenties. Still determined not to let Crohn's have the final say.

If my story helps someone feel a little less alone, starts a conversation, or helps raise money for research that leads to better treatments one day, then every word—and every kilometre—is worth it.

Crohn's is part of my life.

It just doesn't get to define it. 💜