My stomach screamed, my hopes fell, my life turned upside down. “What is happening to me?”, “Will I ever feel better?”, “Is this pain ever going to leave??”. Never had I felt such pain, and never had I hoped to. Confused looks and blurry memories overwhelmed my 9 year old mind, as I watched test after test, and appointment after appointment, run its course. I did my best everyday to have faith and stay hopeful, knowing that God would be with me, but all the recurring thoughts of how long this would last never failed to come back. I would tell myself, “Be strong through the pain, Be strong through your faith, BE STRONG!!”, although, sometimes the negativity would return. Questions, pouring over me, again and again, “Am I strong enough?”
The first two years were the longest and most painful. I spent endless nights drowning in my own tears as my stomach raged. In full blast heat and vibration, I placed heating pads on my stomach in hopes to remedy my situation the best I could. “Why do I hurt so much?” I could never answer that, for no one including me knew what was happening. Despite all this, my parents comforted me through my sadness, anger, and defeated emotions reminding me who was with me also: Jesus. I truly would have never thought that such a long road of pain would have brought me to be the person that I am today: stronger in both body, mind, and soul.
My Catholic Faith has always been the center of my life and the foundation of which I have been raised. It has always been my source of hope and security as my life has encountered its ups and downs. Fittingly, this is where my story began.
Summer break had just begun and the excitement was real! Even more, I was thrilled because that May, I had just received my First Holy Communion; a monumental moment in every Catholic’s life. As a present, my 2nd Grade teacher gave me a gift certificate to the Salem Catholic Bookstore to congratulate me on the past event. I was ecstatic between Summer Break and my favorite store; “Summer just couldn’t be more perfect!”, I thought, “I can’t wait to see all that it holds!”
A couple weeks later, my mom treated me to a day just the two of us to spend my certificate. Days like that were always my favorite; away from all the craziness of my siblings especially being the oldest of four. Walking into the store, I felt a pain in my stomach, but I had waited for this day to come—I shrugged it off. It wasn’t later until we were checking out that the pain started to get out of hand. That night my parents treated me with over-the-counter medicines to relieve me of my pain. Thankfully it passed, relief finally came.
Weeks later, I found myself rolling on the floor in searing pain: tears blinding my eyes and anguish wrapped tight around my whole body. Breathing was twice as hard and my hope was quickly fading. Nights passed like this: “Mama, my tummy hurts so bad!!! PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE!!!”, “Why is Jesus letting this happen although she didn’t know what to do. Doctors tried medicines, diets, tests, everything under the sun to help me, but nothing worked. What I thought was just some common stomach ache turned out to be the beginnings of a long, unwanted journey that would require strength from not just me, but my entire family as well.
At one doctor’s appointment, I was prescribed a gut cleanout via Sulfa Antibiotics that would be taken twice a day. This would last for about a week and would hopefully solve my problems. The ironic thing was, this was my second time doing one and it didn’t benefit me in the slightest. However, I did it, hoping and praying it could be the solution.
I had three doses of the medicine left when I started to run a scorching temperature. Not only this, but I wouldn’t eat or drink and I was constantly fatigued which caused a weakness that left me bed bound. It was then that my Mama had the instinct to check my stomach for no apparent reason to me. Sure enough a bright, webbed rash appeared that was quickly developing all over my body. Left with no choice, she rushed me to the children’s hospital as we both prayed for the best.
On the car ride there, I rolled up my long-sleeve-shirt out of curiosity and sure enough was the rash which had reached my arms in a matter of minutes. Terrified, I didn't look until the emergency room which came all too soon. Once there, the nurses and doctors had to evaluate me. The rash was so bad I closed my eyes for fear of seeing myself. Test after test went by and seven pokes in the hand was my warm hospital greeting. I was up around the clock for nose suctions, CT scans, and COVID tests. Despite all of this, the doctors couldn’t rule out what was wrong aside from the fact my body was in full blown Septic Shock. Therefore, I risked throwing blood clots in my lungs.
In a whirlwind with all this news, my parents called a priest to come and give me the anointing of the sick. A miracle in itself, that day the doctor found a potential diagnosis: DRESS Syndrome meaning I was experiencing a delayed reaction to the antibiotics and additionally, discharging paperwork from the hospital. It was over and Jesus had come through!!!!
Soon after this, I discovered my long awaited diagnosis: SIBO, the culprit gluten. This meant I had an extreme sensitivity to gluten and would need to be removed from my diet. Despite this unfortunate news, I was given a new perspective of faith in the hospital, teaching me God is bigger than anything I may ever fear.
This article was the third-place teen winner in the Exploring Identity writing contest, part of the 2025 Salem Reads: One Book, One Community program, which delved into the themes of Why Didn't You Tell Me? A Memoir by Carmen Rita Wong. The contest invited writers, in short story or personal essay form, to explore how identity has impacted them.