Last night I was talking on the phone to an old friend, busting his chops about his favorite football team, laughing about old times, and catching up on the present.

During this conversation, I learned that my friend had been diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease about ten years ago.

According to the Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation of America, Crohn’s disease is characterized by “persistent diarrhea, crampy abdominal pain, fever, and, at times, rectal bleeding.” My friend has an additional complication: intestinal “strictures” that will on occasion cause such blockage that nothing can move through his intestines. This is not only painful but in some cases life-threatening if it is not treated promptly.

There are days when his disease prevents him from going to work. When he is out in public he has to think about where the nearest bathrooms are because the symptoms can strike at any time. He ends up in the hospital emergency room about twice a year as a result of this disease.

After we concluded our phone conversation, I began to think about those times I resented my friend for possessing qualities I felt I lacked. For one thing, during our single days he was always the best-looking guy in the bunch. It always seemed as though the girls who caught my eye were always taken with him. He’s also infuriatingly intelligent. He rarely cracked open a book during undergraduate school and yet he came away with respectable grades. He eventually went on to earn advanced degrees and is now very respected and successful in his chosen field. He is certainly more materially successful than I.

Last night was one of those cold-water-in-the-face moments. I was reminded that my friend, for all of his maddeningly good qualities (for which he should be lauded, not resented), is ultimately as human and as vulnerable as I am.

I feel badly for him, but he made it clear he does not want pity from others and does not pity himself. He has learned to live with this disease and pointed out that there are worse conditions from which to suffer. He has many blessings in his life: a beautiful wife, two lovely children, a nice home, and a wonderful career. He is a strong man in all respects: physically, mentally, and emotionally. I will not feel sorry for my friend because he does not feel sorry for himself.

I will also endeavor to remember that even the most gifted, successful people among us are ultimately as human as I am.