George Saunders once wrote, “There comes that phase in life when, tired of losing, you decide to stop losing, then continue losing. Then you decide to really stop losing, and continue losing. The losing goes on and on so long you begin to watch with curiosity, wondering how low you can go.” This may be a huge presumption, but a lot of people dealing with IBD (and other diseases) feel that way. You go there, leave it briefly, and return. I’m there now, booted back into the spin cycle because the odometer turned over. Another year older, another new problem, and no relief in sight. Another reason to wallow and wonder what’s the point of all this? My get-me-to-remission-already journey has been disgusting, edifying, discouraging, inspiring. Now it’s, like Saunders wrote, kinda fascinating. How far off the tracks can you derail? If life is what happens while you’re making plans, what happens when you’re just trying to make it back to your life? What’s the meaning of all this, anyway? We were put here to develop Ulcerative Colitis and…?