A Letter to My Loved Ones

Thanks goes to Birdie Nelson at ChronicBabe Forum for sharing this letter.

In the spirit of informing those who wish to understand, these are the things that I would like you to understand about me before you judge me. Please understand that being sick doesn't mean I'm not still a human being. I have to spend most of my day in considerable pain and exhaustion, and if you visit or call me on the ’phone sometimes I probably don't seem like much fun. But I'm still me - stuck inside a body which doesn’t work as it should.

Please understand the difference between "happy" and "healthy". When you've got the flu, you probably feel miserable with it, but I've been sick continuously for months now. I can't be miserable all the time - In fact, I work hard at not being miserable.

So, if you're talking to me and I sound happy, it means I'm happy. That's all. It doesn't mean that I'm not in a lot of pain, or extremely tired, or that I'm getting better, or any of those things. Please don't say, "Oh, you're sounding better!" or "But you look so healthy! I am merely coping. I am sounding happy and trying to look normal.

Please understand that being able to eat normal food/sit down/walk sometimes doesn't necessarily mean that I can eat normal food/sit down/walk all the time. Just because I managed to eat normal food /sit down/walk yesterday doesn't mean that I can do the same today. With a lot of diseases you're either paralyzed, or you can move. With this one, it gets more confusing everyday. It can be like a yo-yo. I never know from day to day, how I am going to feel when I wake up. In most cases, I never know from minute to minute. That is one of the hardest and most frustrating components of chronic pain. The same thing applies to time spent having a social life. Even more so for my ability to concentrate, as my brain gets foggy.

Please understand that a chronic health condition is variable. It's quite possible (for many, it's common) that one day I am able to walk to the park and back, while the next day I'll have trouble getting to the next room. Please don't attack me when I'm ill by saying or even thinking; "But you did it before!" or Oh, come on, I know you can do this! If you want me to do something, then ask if I can. In a similar vein, I may need to cancel a previous commitment at the last minute. If this happens, please do not take it personally. If you are able, please try to always remember how very lucky you are to be physically able to do all of the things that you can do.

Please understand that "getting out and doing things" does not make me feel better, and can often make me a lot worse. You don't know what I go through or how I suffer in my own private time. Telling me that I need to exercise, or do some things to get my mind off of it may frustrate me to tears, and is not correct - if I was capable of doing some things, any or all of the time, don't you know that I would? I am working with my doctor and I am doing everything I can to manage the situation.

Another statement that hurts is, "You just need to push yourself more, try harder..." Obviously, chronic health conditions can affect the whole body, or as in my case be localized to specific areas. Sometimes participating in a single activity for a short or a long period of time can cause more damage and physical pain than you could ever imagine. Not to mention the recovery time, which can be intense and long. You can't always read it on my face or in my body language. Also, chronic health conditions may cause secondary depression (wouldn't you get depressed and down if you were hurting constantly for months or years?), but it is not created by depression.

Please understand that if I say I have to stand up/sit down/lie down/stay in bed/or take these pills now, that probably means that I do have to do it right now – it can't be put off or forgotten just because I'm somewhere, or am right in the middle of doing something. A chronic health condition does not forgive, nor does it wait for anyone.

If you want to suggest a cure to me, please don't. It's not because I don't appreciate the thought, and it's not because I don't want to get well. In all likelihood, if you've heard of it or tried it – then so have I! In some cases, I have been made sicker, not better. This can involve side effects or allergic reactions. It also includes failure, which in and of itself can make me feel even lower.

If there were something that cured, or even helped people with my form of chronic health condition, then we'd know about it. There is worldwide networking (both on and off the Internet) between people with chronic illness. If something worked, we would KNOW. It's definitely not for lack of trying.

If I seem touchy, it's probably because I am. It's not how I try to be. As a matter of fact, I try very hard to be normal. I hope you will try to understand. I have been, and am still, going through a lot. A chronic health condition is hard for you to understand unless you have had it. It wreaks havoc on the body and the mind. It is exhausting and exasperating.

Almost all the time, I know that I am doing my best to cope with this, and live my life to the best of my ability. I ask you to bear with me, and accept me as I am. I know that you cannot literally understand my situation unless you have been in my shoes, but as much as is possible, I am asking you to try to understand in general.

In many ways I depend on you - people who are not sick. I need you to visit me when I am too sick to travel ... You are my link to the normalcy of life. You can help me to keep in touch with the parts of life that I miss although I fully intend to undertake them again, just as soon as I am able.

Thank you for listening. It really does mean a lot.

Sunday Breakfast Club: Grey’s Anatomy, S6E21, “How Insensitive”

During the two years that I was studying for my masters degree, I would meet two of my closest friends every Sunday morning at a local coffee shop. We’d spend an hour chatting, venting, gossiping, and catching up on our lives (or lack thereof) over bagels and coffee, before the conversations would inevitably tangent off onto random topics. I miss those chats – and the insights into my friends I’d gain through them.  So I thought I’d try to restart something along those lines on my blog. A chance to hear more from my readers… at first, I was trying to decide if I wanted something consistent: quotes/sayings, song lyrics, random current or pop culture events…. But I think it will be more fun, more free to mix it up. Just whatever I’m dwelling on at the moment. Hope you all have as much fun with it as I do.

Grey’s Anatomy has been a favorite guilty pleasure of mine since the show first aired, but lately I’ve been getting more and more bored with the show. So when I was told the latest episode was really worth watching, I obeyed but took the comments with a grain of salt. Turns out, my friends know me quite well.  The episode is about a bariatric patient who comes into the hospital, and they worked it around an underlying theme of patient sensitivity. There were some interesting comments made by the patient, his (thin) wife, and the doctors that are caring for him that got me thinking about perceptions…

The patient is always joking about his weight (calling himself a mountain and so on) and the implications it has for his care. Meanwhile, his wife is forever fighting by his side, insisting that he is just like everyone else. I loved the wife character - she was bold and quirky. Totally willing to put people in their place for being obviously inappropriate, rude, nosy and just plain mean: “It’s easy to make jokes about him. You didn’t know him before. You don’t know that inside all that is the man I’ve always known.”  “Joke with him. Make him feel like a person.”

How often do I try to tell people that while I might look different and no longer be able to do things I could before, I am still me somewhere inside a very sick body? I hate when people treat me like an invalid or act like I’m exaggerating how ill I am. This is me... it’s still the me that was in here before… I just don’t have the energy to show you that all the time …

An exchange between 2 doctors:

Dr. Shephard: [after saying they should send the patient a specialist center that’s set up for this type of patient] - instead of “spending our time and resources caring for someone who obviously doesn’t care for himself.”

Chief Webber: He has an illness that he can’t control… he needs help.

I mention this quote, because I think it’s a really key point that many of us have faced. People don’t always think we’re “trying” to get past our illness. They suggest that we pray more or differently, tell us about some remedy or another, or worst of all tell us to “just get past it, forget and move on already.”

Dr. Karev “[…] I’m sorry that we’ve been tiptoeing around you all day trying not to make jokes. But you’re the one that’s gotta stop. Stop calling yourself the fat guy. […] I know what it’s like to have life hand you so much crap that you just wanna sit on the couch and die. But you gotta look at what’s in front of you.  [reminds him that he has a wife that loves him and a baby on the way]”

This is the quote that I really wanted to fixate on. He tells the patient not to joke, but I don’t think moving past this stage into a healthier life should mean that he shouldn’t be able to joke around about his illnesses. Having a chronic illness isn’t an easy place to be, and sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself to get through it because there’s nothing else left to do.  That being said, I think the end of the quote made a point. There are definitely days when I think I just want to be done with it all, and that nothing is worth this… but there is always something in the future that reminds me that there are still things worth living for in this world. For me, it’s my family and the friends I rely on all over the world. And the reminder that I’m working towards a degree I’ve wanted since childhood – a central life goal. A lot has stood in my way, but I’m not going to let this illness stop me from something so near and dear to my heart.

So, readers, what think you? What keeps you going when life has you wanting to sit on the couch and die?

An Apology and a Thank You

You know, I spend a lot of time venting about the people out there who make rude comments out of ignorance (cases in point: rant 1 and rant 2). Still, it seems that the people who suffer from these experiences and my resulting mood swings are the people who support me day to day not the people who elicit the feelings in the first place.

Sometimes my frustration at my symptoms and the world’s treatment of me because of them leads to an outburst at someone I love. Someone who only means well, but inadvertently triggers the suppressed annoyance at a bazillion other things and people.

So today I wanted to tell them that I'm sorry that happens as often as it does and I’m truly thankful for all that they do: the supportive words … the check-ins … the meals cooked … rooms cleaned … loads of laundry done when I just couldn’t muster the energy … outbursts tolerated … and, most importantly in my mind, the time spent just being there – without needing to comfort and console.

Chronic illnesses often lead to lost friendships, but they show you who your real friends are. They are there when you need them. No matter who they are or how old they are. No matter where in the world they are. No matter whether you’ve ever actually met them.

xoxo

“ … all you can do is try to know who your friends are before you head off to the war … ” - Regina Spektor, “The Call”

In theory, it’s a nice sentiment, right? But if you’re fighting a chronic disease, it really doesn’t work that way. It seems to me that you find out who your friends are when you’re about six months into a bad flare up. This may seem counterintuitive, but bear with me for a minute. When a flare up first hits, people can often tell that you are distinctly ill. There is a significant difference between remission (or, at least, under control lupus) and the onset of a flare up… people worry. They ask after your heath, if they can help with anything, and so on and so forth everyone is very understanding and sweet. They understand that you’re ill – if you haven’t been too ill for too long, it’s not different from a bad bout of the flu or something that they can at least vaguely relate to.

But then you never seem to get any better. As the doctors mess with your medications. As you battle daily with the flare up symptoms, the side effects of the increased medications, and the frustration and depression that inevitably come hand-in-hand with such debilitation ad nauseum (from the duration not the meds!) ad infinitum. After awhile people just don’t understand anymore, try as they might. They don’t know what it’s like to suffer through that. They can try to imagine, but let’s face it – is it anything like what you would have guessed before you were diagnosed? You probably wouldn’t have even come close. Plus, as you get further into a flare up, some of the symptoms decrease a little, and you ramp up your tolerance so you can get through each day. The problem is, you’re often back into the dreaded “but you don’t look sick!!” zone. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to say that people lose interest, or that they choose to be less supportive or anything of the sort. I think they run out of things to say. They don’t know what they can do to be helpful anymore, so they back off. It doesn’t help that you have good days and bad days – how can they even tell if you’re ill or not or what the heck is going on?

Here’s the real kicker, though. It’s not just that they wander away. You tend to disappear from their lives. No longer do you have the energy or the ability to make it out dancing and partying every weekend. And with all the time you need to spend in bed and nursing your joints, etc, etc, etc, you really need all your awake time (even more, let’s face it) to get the work done that needs to get done every day. So there go the brunches, the after work drinks, the long coffee shop chats. How many times can you decline an invitation before people stop inviting you?

Well, maybe there isn’t a very good answer for that… but at the end of the day it depends on your friends. The friends that are worth keeping around haven’t disappeared when you start to transition back into the outside world. They’re the ones that checked in on you from time to time, or, at least, welcomed you back with open arms - even if you seemed to appear and then vanish again as the flare up roller-coaster-ed around. A true friend is still a friend be it 6 days or 6 months later.

As I make my own way slowly back into the real world, I’m discovering that many of my friends have kind of phased me out. Now I realize that they wouldn’t do this on purpose, but the fact remains that conversations are now awkward. And if I want to join the fun, I have to invite myself along. It’s really frustrating to finally reach a point when you have time and energy again only to discover that nobody seems to remember you exist anymore… With my family far away, my friends were all I had. Turns out that wasn’t really the case. It’s undeniably a pretty crappy situation. Not having any friends definitely does not make this disease easier. You need supportive people. So thanks to my readers, because it helps more than I can tell you to know you are out there! … but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m sitting home alone on a Friday night.

But let me clarify, the point of this entry wasn’t (entirely) to gripe about that fact, it was to point out that it’s easy to dwell on the many, many negative aspects of a chronic disease. But there is an elusive benefit that you might not realize. I certainly didn’t. There’s no better way to know who truly cares about you than to actually need them to care. A good friend won’t let your disease come between you. You may not know who your friends are going into the battle, but definitely will by the time you come back out.