dontlooksick

Just Normal Enough

When I was a teenager I wanted nothing more than to be normal; with my super short, curly, mousy coloured chemo hair I stuck out like a sore thumb. Luckily in high school everyone was so wrapped up in their own lives and drama that people barely gave me so much as a passing glance on their way to English class. And I grew comfortable in my invisibility.
I was never the best at anything. I barely scratched the surface of good most of the time. But I was good enough at a lot of things and that has served me well for most of my life.

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Don’t You Get Bored?

This is a question I have been asked so many times I have lost count.
Usually it is by able bodied, well meaning, friends and family members who live their typical lives full of work, chores, house buying, child bearing, and other excitement inducing activities. They don’t have a chance to be bored and can never truly understand what it is like to be stuck in bed day after day, week after week, month after month.
This question stabs me like a knife every time I hear it and awkwardly try to answer it. From the outside looking in I can understand why they would ask. They can’t really imagine what it is like to spend life childless, in bed with, in their minds, nothing to do.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how I should answer this particular question and I think I am ready to share it, in case you’re ever asked this or have asked it yourself.

No, I’m not bored. I don’t have a chance to be bored. I spend my days trying to survive. I have The Hunger Games going on inside my body 24/7, and it’s a close game.
What may seem lazy to you is a marathon for me. I’m not laying around in this bed for fun. Trust me, it’s not. And my bed isn’t even really comfortable anymore because my side is all sunk in because this is where I live.
I can’t focus enough to even watch a new TV show on Netflix. I am watching the same 4 shows over and over again. I can recite full episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. I am pretty sure I’m a resident surgeon by now.
No, I’m not bored. I use all of my energy phoning doctors throughout the week. I get exhausted from playing Tetris on my phone or petting my cat too much.
No, I’m not bored. If I was I would get out of bed and do something. Boredom subsides when you’re physically unable to do anything.
Or maybe I was bored for the first while and it’s just part of who I am now? Either way, my day is pretty much mapped out by TV shows, medicine taking, and bathroom breaks.
I know it sounds like hell for you. Guess what? It is for me, too.
No, I’m not bored. Being sick is a full time job.
If you want to come over and take a look at my fun filled days you’re more than welcome to. When you get the chance to watch me curled up in pain you might be able to answer your own question, then.

No, I’m not bored. I don’t know the alternative anymore.

 

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It Was All a Dream

If I woke up to a healthy body, would I know how to live that way?

My pain-free life seems so long ago, like it was a different person entirely.

If there was a switch to turn off these illnesses, would I flip it?

Obviously. But I will never forget the lessons the pain taught me.

If even one of my conditions was one day cured, how would that change my life?

Drastically. Each illness has its own unique set of tortuous symptoms.

What would happen if this all went away?

I have gained such a great perspective and I don’t want to lose it.

If this was all a dream, it would have been a nightmare.

A nightmare that I would wake up from if given the chance.

But I don’t know how.

 

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Thank you

Thank You

I know I’m in pain, but you might have it worse.

I can writhe and close my eyes, but you have to watch it.

You glance over helpless or turn your head away, because this is something you can’t fix.

I’m not the girl you fell in love with, I may be a wreck now but you married me healthy.

If you want to leave, you’re not letting it show.

Instead you gather my meds and bring me to the doctors.

Trying to help the only ways you know how, and it’s everything to me.

I toss and turn all night, thrashing around in pain.

I may be keeping you awake as pain steals sleep from us both.

You may have it worse. Helpless, hopeless.

Pain demeans us both, in different ways.

I don’t know how you deal with this.

Watching your loved one suffer and fade away.

I’m half the girl I used to be, and you’re twice the man I could have ever hoped for.

 

Thank You.

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The Ugly Flare Thoughts

We all have them.  It’s okay to admit that.

For me it feels like every other week is a flare. I’m not even sure how that is possible, but it is and it’s not fun.

I’ve begun jotting down some of the thoughts that go through my head when I am stuck in bed riddled with pain. Maybe you can relate?

This is it. I’m going to die. This pain has to mean I’m dying.

How is this amount of pain even possible?

This is it.  This is my life now.

How many heating pads can I have on how many body parts at once?

Am I maxed out of meds now? Or can I take more?

My bed and my body pillow have taken me as their own. We are now in a polygamous relationship and I’m okay with it.

I feel like my teddy bear is the only one who gets me.

I can no longer cry. My eyes are swollen and I have no more tears left.

When was the last time I showered?

I’m not going to shower today.

I don’t remember what outside looks like.

There is an outside, right?

Life is pain.

Breathing hurts.

Either I sleep all day or can’t sleep at all. There is no middle.

There is no comfortable position. There is only toss and turn and thrash and cry until you eventually pass out.

Why is my skin so uncomfortable?

When was my last good day? I had one at some point, right?

How long have I been in bed? 10 minutes or 10 days?

Come on, Netflix, I’m f***ing here! I don’t need this shit right now!

There will be another good day. There will.

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Heart Stethoscope

How to Work Effectively with Doctors/Specialists

This is such a necessary part of spoonie life, but it definitely can be one of the worst parts. I am still learning the fine art of doctor-patient relationships but I will share with you what I know so far.

How to Work Effectively with Doctors as a Patient

  1. Understand that doctors are people, too.
    Doctors are not miracle workers, usually. They are human, so remind them about your case if they forget and remember that they are (probably) doing their best.
  2. Don’t expect too much.
    All doctors want their patients to have positive outcomes. It looks good for them if they’re helping their patients so they have a real motivation to give you the best care that they can. That being said, there is very rarely a magic potion to cure your ailments. They feel frustrated and disappointed when your treatment doesn’t work also. If you go in with lowish expectations you will have a better chance of being happily surprised, as harsh as that may sound.
  3. Don’t quote things you read on the internet, unless it is a proper peer-reviewed article.
    This is a definite doctor pet peeve. It is good to research your symptoms and illnesses, but be wary of your sources. Scientific journals can be hard to understand but it is important that you find valid information before bringing it up to your doctor.
  4. Be honest about everything.
    The good, the bad, the ugly. Some of our symptoms and side effects are pretty gross. Whether they be bowel issues or other unflattering situations, it is imperative that you share these and other concerns with your physician. They can’t help problems that they don’t know exist. Even things that you don’t think are important, tell them anyway. The more information the doctor has, the better the potential outcome.
  5. Keep records of symptoms.
    Doctors enjoy this. They need to know when the symptoms started, how severe they were, how long they lasted and what seemed to help them. These records help the doctor identify if they are side effects to medications or if they are a brand new symptom or a new condition altogether. Keep track of these things!
  6. Be a patient patient.
    This is something I’m still working on, as patience is a virtue I may have not inherited. I feel like I’m constantly waiting and always phoning and leaving messages for doctors. It becomes infuriating to say the least. That being said, try to not take your frustration out on the receptionist, nurse, or physician. It may not be their fault, and they will all appreciate your patience.
  7. Kill them with kindness.
    Going along with the patience, even when it may kill you, kill them with kindness. They will likely be much easier to deal with if you are pleasant with them. Remember that you have the power to change not only your day, but theirs as well. Change it for the good. You’ll never lose by being nice.
  8. Thank them in writing.
    Writing a thank you card is always a good idea. If they helped you in a substantial way, it’s always nice to let them know you appreciated their treatment. It’s a classy move that may pay off in the future!

That’s what I have for today! Any other hints you think I should add?
Have a great day! :)

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My name is Courtney and I ruin parties.

Good Afternoon, Friends!

As usual, please check out the Song of the Week page for a rockin’ good tune!

Back to the good stuff, now.

Hi,

My name is Courtney and I ruin parties. I don’t do it intentionally. I don’t mean to draw attention to myself when I need to move because the pain shooting down my legs is unbearable. I don’t drop my cane on purpose so people feel sorry for me. Trust me, the pity is the absolute worst. I don’t leave early to be a buzz kill, and I certainly don’t avoid social gatherings because I’m a loner or a snob. My reality is just different than yours.

I don’t want to miss your wedding or baby shower, I would love to be there to celebrate these moments.
I don’t want to miss concerts or plays, these were my favourite things in the whole world.

The truth is that it kills me that I’m not able to attend places where my walker would be an inconvenience and I hate being the girl who has to call ahead to check for accessibility. The truth is that it’s embarrassing to constantly have to alter the room set-up for optimal comfort, and even then I have to leave earlier than everyone else due to pain, discomfort, or other health related reasons.

Chronic pain and illness makes me stick out like a sore thumb as I limp around and my eyes well up with tears. This does not feel like the girl I was meant to be, but it is the girl I am. I try to make the best out of every situation, but when awkward seating at a restaurant causes me to stand to finish my meal or my legs are squished during an outing with family, I am thrust back into the harsh reality of these illnesses.

I don’t want to rush people into finishing a meal they’re enjoying, or for people to feel bad as they see the discomfort on my face. This is my reality and as much as I try to hide it and make it not so, you are part of this reality also and for that I could not be more sorry.
So if I rsvp no to a future Facebook invite or a proper mailed invitation, I am not trying to be rude, I am trying to spare you and your guests from this reality. The reality of back cushions, leg lifts, mobility aids, and a rattling pill case full purse.
I wish I could be the fun loving chick I once was who could close down a bar like a whiskey shooting bad ass, but this is no longer something I am capable of. Now my resume boasts such goodies as “Netflix Aficionado,” “Pillow Setter Up Extraordinaire,” and “Snack Queen.” If you’re down with that, I’m here for you. In a couch, bed, or otherwise properly comfortable seating situation.

Thank You For Your Understanding,

Courtney

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Fibromyalgia Awareness Day!

Hello Friends, Family, Acquaintances, Awesome Readers,

Before I get into it, please check out the Song of the Week page for an awesome, fighting tune!

I am sitting here with throbbing shoulders, swollen fingers, and an aching head because what I’m about to write needs to be written.

I have fibromyalgia. It is not my only diagnosis but it is the most debated of my illnesses. I’m very lucky that I have an amazing team of doctors that believe in my pain and chronic illnesses enough to diagnose and attempt to treat said conditions. That being said, I know so many friends around the world who are not so lucky.

I have rheumatoid arthritis and because of that I already had a rheumatologist to diagnose my fibromyalgia. If I did not already have a specialist I wonder how long I would have been waiting for that diagnosis. My guess is I’d still be waiting, in agony, for someone to believe in my pain and help me. For a fibromyalgia warrior, or really any person in the world, living in chronic, debilitating pain with no answers and no treatment is not only maddening, it’s downright unbearable.

What makes it worse, is people telling you your pain isn’t real, it’s all in your head, or if you just exercise more or take this magic potion everything will be better. It is real. And there is so much evidence now to back it up that your argument is not only unwarranted, it is wrong and doing far more harm than good.

I remember the day I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia like it was yesterday. I remember what I was wearing (purple shorts and a white and purple t-shirt), I remember the doctors office and the tender point test (ouch), and where I went after and spending the rest of the day in a dumbfounded haze. What did this mean? What really is fibromyalgia?

These questions I’ve had to answer myself through experience, trial and error, and several unsuccessful treatment protocols. But I am muddling my way through it, like so many other fighters out there. And we are all in this together.

One of the things I’ve learned about fibromyalgia is how it can take one good moment and turn it into days of unrelenting pain. It can take one dedicated, hardworking person and turn them into a shadow of their former self. Everything you thought to be true completely flips upside down and you feel like you’re drowning, except nobody around you can tell. It’s absolutely isolating. But thankfully, I know I am no longer alone.

On this day, May 12th, we come together to celebrate our victories over fibromyalgia (however small they may seem to the typical person, we know they are monumental for us) and fight towards awareness, acceptance, research, and treatment. Our battle is not yet over, but united we will continue to push forward!

 

Not my photo! But So True!
Not my photo! But So True!
Not my photo! But heck yes! Fight until the end!
Not my photo! But heck yes! Fight until the end!

 

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Tally-Marks

I’ve Lost Track.

Good Morning!

I’m sorry I’m over a week late for this, but I have updated the Song of the Week page (finally!) and it’s a pretty good one, if I do say so myself!

These illnesses have taken so much from me, limiting me to the point where I feel like a prisoner in my apartment, bedroom, and body.

I have lost track of the things these illnesses have taken from me.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve cursed these conditions, this body, and God.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve said “I can’t do this anymore” and thought that I meant it.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve wanted to quit my life, and thought I would.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve prayed for the pain to end.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve prayed for my life to end.

I’ve lost track of the number of days I’ve been unable to work a job I loved.
I’ve lost track of the number of friends I’ve lost because nobody wants to deal with this.

I’ve lost track of the number of tears I’ve cried and profanities I’ve spewed.
I’ve lost track of medications I’ve taken and the side effects I’ve endured.

I’ve lost track of the plan for the life I thought I would have.
I’ve gained an appreciation for the life I have now.

I’ve lost the need to plan, because I lost the life that could be planned.
I’ve gained friends along the way who have opened my eyes.

And I’m thankful for the journey.

Love,

Courtney

 

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A Letter to People who Don’t Think my Pain is Real

Good Afternoon!

As (mostly) usual, check out the Song of the Week page for an awesome recommendation from a lovely spoonie friend!

Dear Friend, Acquaintance, Family Member, Random Person Staring at me with my Walker, or any other person who judges me without knowing anything about me and/or my condition/s and therefore should have no opinion on my medical situation,

This letter is for you.

I usually try to steer clear of you, as negativity is not permitted in my bubble of self care, but alas, you continually attempt to pop my beautiful pink bubble.

I used to think it was easy to avoid you and others like you, but as my medical conditions make it more challenging to survive without the need of mobility or accessibility aids in public and my life revolves around the illnesses more than anything else, we seem to be at an impasse.

I have several chronic, autoimmue, life-altering illnesses, whether you believe they’re real or not. And they are, just to be clear, as years of research and medical documentation support their existence (and I’m not on all of these medications for nothing).  These conditions, illnesses, horrible-things-that-have-happened-to-me are in no way fake, misleading, or caused by anything I have done. I do not choose to be ill and miss out on work, bearing children, or vacations with my husband. I do not want to use a cane or walker around the house or in public (even if they are pretty cute), because in reality, it’s all a huge inconvenience. I do not want to spend hours on the phone arguing with insurance companies, employee benefits, or disability services. I don’t want to be in agony over the sound of birds chirping, motorcycles starting, or my husband trying to hug me. This is not a fun life. But it is my life.

This is my life, and it is not yours. And just because it does not make sense to you does not make it any less legitimate. These are illnesses I didn’t even know existed until they happened to me. But now that I know they do, I am a champion for these causes and for the people’s lives they’ve affected. I do not write this letter for your benefit or mine, I write it for theirs. I write this for my friends around the globe who encounter naysayers and hurtful doubters who make their already difficult lives that much harder. Nobody chooses to live in pain, but you are actively choosing to be ignorant to it.

I’ve heard you say things like “just push through it,” or “why are you in bed still?” or “if you just keep moving,” or one of my all time favourites “if you just take this one supplement your life will be completely different” which shows me just how little you know about our illnesses. And if you know that little about them, you are in no position to comment on how we survive them. If you think that one lap around the dog park is not enough to wear us out for days, you have no idea what we’re dealing with.

I’m sorry if this is coming off harsher than I had intended, but enough is enough. If you cannot stick by us, support us, encourage us, and just generally try to understand what we’re going through, then we’re going to have to cut ties here.
Speaking for myself, I cannot push through these exchanges anymore. I am begging for compassion, and if you are unable to provide that, there is nothing left to say.

Thank you, our friends and family who have shown us unending support and love. It means more to us than we can say.

Love,

Courtney

Oh just another Monday. Last week.
Oh just another Monday. Last week.
Couldn't survive without these two.
Couldn’t survive without these two.

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