I Didn’t Go to Harvard, But Harvard May Keep Me Alive

You want to stick it to Harvard? Cool. Cool. I hope you never get sick.

Harvard Medical School in the Longwood Medical and Academic Area in Boston | Wikipedia

Let’s talk turds.

Most kids don’t grow up learning the alphabet through their bowel movements, but mine did. The letter S, to be precise — the gold standard of healthy stool shape, according to the Bristol Stool Chart. While other kids were learning how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly, mine were memorizing that “mushy consistency with ragged edges” was a sign to call Mom.

Over time, analyzing the shape, texture, and floatability of my children’s bowel movements became something of a witchy hobby. While most parents obsess over screen time or sugar intake, I was grilling my toddlers about their poop consistency like they were giving a TED Talk on gastrointestinal transit. “Snake or cow patty?” I’d ask. “One log or a trilogy?”

I wasn’t trying to traumatize my kids. I was trying to save them.

You see, I have both ulcerative colitis and Crohn’s disease — a full GI symphony of inflammation, bleeding, and unpredictability. And I live with the constant fear that I’ve handed this genetic booby trap to my kids.

But here’s the thing about genetic monsters: you can’t out-parent them. You need science. You need…