La guérison du coeur ("Healing of the Heart")
I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis when I was 15 years old. A little young to have a chronic disease. I was going through puberty, had my first boyfriend, and all of a sudden, after losing blood and a lot of weight for several months, I'm pumped up on cortisone and immunosuppressants. I gain about 20 pounds and my face swells up like a balloon. It's hard on my self-esteem. But at least the meds are working. My tummy doesn't bleed anymore, I go to the bathroom a normal number of times a day, I can eat what I want and I digest it.
A few years later, I have no more symptoms. I was told that I was cured, and I believed it. For three years, I digested normally without any medication.
And then, in January, at the age of 20, it all falls apart again. I just finished an eight-course semester, I couldn't say no to a couple of assignments, I kept dancing, and I have a boyfriend who is much older than me. I know that after my CEGEP semester, my parents are no longer obliged to help me financially, and that I will have to compensate with the prodigiously unstable, but completely gaga, job of freelancing.
I relapse. I'm going downhill. I have bloody diarrhea fifteen times a day, I writhe in bed in pain, drinking water hurts, I can barely drag myself to the bathroom. Once again, I am pumped full of cortisone, but instead of gaining weight, I am having psychoses. Every day I have anxiety attacks. When I am most worried about money, I am forced to be on "time-out". I spend hours a day trying to take care of myself, I work out, I see a psychologist, I rest, I read books on personal growth. In short, I try to survive.
And then I come across this interview of the magazine Psychologies with Guy Corneau, the author of La guérison du coeur ("Healing of the Heart"). I learn that he too has ulcerative colitis, and that he has learned life-changing lessons from his illness. I am struck by the similarity of our symptoms: he too had bloody diarrhea twenty times a day, and he too was in remission for three years before a devastating relapse.
I read the book. And I am thrown to the ground.
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Guy Corneau first recounts how he came close to death. When he had a relapse of ulcerative colitis, he wanted to heal himself with alternative medicine, and he had the idea to fast in a specialized clinic. Which is not stupid in itself: I too have read that in some cases, fasting gives the body a little boost to fight the bugs. But ulcerative colitis is not a little bug to fight, and Guy Corneau continued to have bloody diarrhea while ingesting nothing at all. He was losing weight at a considerable rate. He said he was so weak that he could not read, that a simple television quiz would break his concentration. His mental faculties were shutting down.
And then he had a revelation. He suddenly understood, in a burst of pure happiness, that he was connected to the entire universe. That happiness was within him, and that he had always been happy, but that he had not been able to go looking for it before. That his biggest mistake had been to believe that he was alone.
A delirium of weakness? Perhaps, but a delirium that impressed on him and that he never forgot. Shortly afterwards, his father brought him out of this retreat by force:
You know, it's true that I wasn't there when you were young, but today I am and you're going to get out of the clinic even if you have to hold it against me for the rest of your life!
He was hospitalized. Gradually regaining his energy with 100 mg of cortisone per day that put him in a state of artificial excitement and with nutrients that were injected intravenously, he continued his delirium. He hallucinates characters that represent him. It is this episode that convinces him to write this book.
Without making the apology of pain, and without wanting to claim that the Universe wants to "teach" us something by making us undergo such trials, Guy Corneau is convinced (as I am) that serious illnesses give us the opportunity to refocus on ourselves, and that they point out unequivocally the parts of ourselves that have precipitated us towards the wall. When we are sick, we have no choice but to stop, to rethink our priorities, to realize that the world doesn't stop spinning without us, to drop our masks, to be vulnerable and let others take care of us.
Guy Corneau says that all the people he has met with ulcerative colitis are "anxious performers". When I repeated this to a friend, he burst out laughing. "I wouldn't take away a word to describe you, and I wouldn't add one."
I realized while reading this book that my feelings of loneliness had as much to do with my illness as my stress. I realized that being in a relationship is certainly one of the greatest trials a person like me faces in life, but that by surrendering to it, we come closer to healing. I realized that my search for well-being is not a luxury, but a matter of survival.
—
This book is not a must for everyone. It may sound like gibberish to people who have not (yet) experienced intense pain, whether physical or romantic. It may not speak as much to people who have other serious illnesses besides ulcerative colitis. But it was a good fit for me. Its teachings still linger in my mind, and make my recovery sweeter.
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La guérison du coeur ("Healing of the Heart")
Les Éditions de l’Homme
24,26 $
