“You don’t LOOK sick.”
Like all things your perception changes over time. When I was much younger if someone asked me for the most hurtful thing someone could say to me – it would have been something you’d be much more likely to guess.
But, years have passed and so much has changed.
Now, hands down, this is close to the top of the list.
I am reminded today of my senior year in high school. Madame Eicoff taught accelerated French. At the time it seemed like a great idea, and the irony that I took seven years of French and grew up to marry a Spanish man was never lost on me. One of the many ironies of life. But in Mme. Eicoff’s class we read “Le Petit Prince” by Antione de Saint-Exupery, and reading and understanding, and feeling that book in French… well, close to 30 years later the emotions are still fresh in my mind. But, I digress…
I don’t want to LOOK sick. I guess in some ways it could be a compliment.
Except it’s not.
Everyone who says it, or thinks it, or shouts it, or whispers it, does it with judgment.
And I guess my question is – What does SICK look like?
What qualifies as sick?
Is it constant trips to the doctor? Tests? Scans? Referrals to more specialists? Surgery after surgery? Recovery?
Is it having doctors “Google” your disease in front of you, only to have them authoritatively verbally plagiarize the first page of the search when you have analyzed every relevant article on the first ten?
Is it time after time being made to feel you are not credible, or “less than” because no one can make it better?
Is it begging and pleading for pain relief only to be accused of being an addict, when you don’t want a pill at all?
Is it constantly plotting and planning any outing so as to utilize the fewest amount of steps to minimize the often bone crushing pain and fatigue that follows tasks as simple as grocery shopping?
I will agree there is a fine line between simple reality, and self-pity. I dance across it sometimes.
And then I play the music louder and dance right back.
This is my reality. Self-pity has no real purpose. People typically don’t want to hear about it.
I am not perfect. I judge. I judge for the wrong reasons sometimes. I judge people who I know nothing about sometimes. I am a work in progress. (As a dear friend often said, “I live in an all glass house.” Nothing about this is intended to throw stones.)
I am learning every day that saying “everyone has something” and really BELIEVING it are different.
I am learning that mine is no more, and theirs is no less and that is perfectly ok.
I am learning that human suffering is a universal, and “sick” carries a stigma that should be eliminated.
Because, if you are “sick” and you “look” it, you are likely “seeking pity.” If you don’t “look” it, but you have an “acceptable” (read well known) illness, you are “brave.”
Mental illness is not visible, yet depression and anxiety plague so many in astronomical numbers. Still we are embarrassed to speak of it, and it is surrounded by shame.
Chronic pain is not visible, not even behind the gritted teeth of the (insert so many people you know here) that you see every day. Living your life with pain that never leaves in and of itself can drive you mad. Think about the last headache you had. The one where you had to close the doors and shut the lights. Now think about it forever…
Real illness is often REALLY invisible.
This is neither a contest or a competition.
This is real life.
We are all real people.
They may look just like everyone else in the room.
I’ve set goals for self-correcting my unintended judgment of others.
There are over 300 million people living with one or more of over 6,000 identified rare diseases around the world1, each supported by family, friends and a team of carers that make up the rare disease community.
Each rare disease may only affect a handful of people, scattered around the world, but taken together the number of people directly affected is equivalent to the population of the world’s third largest country.
Rare diseases currently affect 3.5% – 5.9% of the worldwide population.
72% of rare diseases are genetic whilst others are the result of infections (bacterial or viral), allergies and environmental causes, or are degenerative and proliferative.
70% of those genetic rare diseases start in childhood.
A disease defined as rare in Europe when it affects fewer than 1 in 2,000 people. (www.rarediseaseday.org)