thereâs only so much loved ones can do for you until you need professional help. I can honestly say my therapist saved my life in that first crucial year.
Itâs been better since my transplant. The memory of dialysis is slowly fading day by day, good or bad. But when youâre dealing with something negative that is never going to leave your side, how can you not let it get you down from time to time?
Iâm pretty sure I can speak for my fellow sickies and say having an illness is more than a bummer. If I stop too long to think about my disease and mortality, I can cry no sweat. Being sick isnât something I will ever get used to. No one would guess from seeing me how rotted I am inside. My health is that of a 80 year old, but on the outside I seem to be a happy-go-lucky 33. And thatâs the way I want it. I want to be like my peers or whomever I wouldâve been if I never got sick. When I meet someonenew thereâs always that tension in my head of when or if I should tell this new person what lurks inside me. Itâs something so important to me, yet you always have to wait for the right time to tell your new friend, âoh by the wayâ¦â The last thing I want is pity and attention, but I always know sooner or later Iâll have to talk about it, and I feel like the image one might have had of me will be stained. Itâs not that Iâm ashamed, but itâs complex. I donât feel like everyone else, but I try to. I want to educate people about living with an illness, but I donât want to be treated differently. Yet Iâm not like everyone else and I have to be treated differently sometimes.
From talking with other younger sick people, we are almost secretive about our illnesses mainly because we donât want to be a burden, and we donât want charity. I find myself hiding my medicines down below the table when Iâm eating a meal with friends, and I have to take them. We still want to seem strong and bulletproof, and this makes us keep our heartaches on the inside. Torturing ourselves with our self-prejudice and pain. For me, the funny and hypocritical part about it all is, since I do keep it to myself so much, sometimes when Iâm not feeling my best and do want comfort or sympathy, most people donât remember right away that Iâm sick, and Iâm left to keep dealing alone. But thatâs actually okay for me. I would rather have people forget Iâm sick than worry. This probably hasnât been the most therapeutically positive way for me to take my sickness, but itâs my own natural survival instinct I canât control.
Even after five years of living with this, I still have those feelings of despair of fear of death, and it is so hard to keep my head up when the feeling falls over me. I have small memories of what I used to be like, but I can hardly remember anymore who that was. This is me now, and itâs hard, but at the same time itâs hard not to want to keep fighting and making your time the best possible. Thereâs really no other choice. I believe that strength to survive is in all of us.
I was once young and healthy, too. It was the best. Now that I am what I am, I hate to think of what I could have done to maybe make life a little easier now. Isnât it always a case of âif I knew then what I know now?â My hopes from writing this are that maybe one person reading will really, truly hear and understand.
Some illnesses can be prevented or minimized with early detection. Most of us donât have health insurance, but sometimes something as simple as a blood test can catch a problem before you see any signs or symptoms. And it should be mandatory to learn about your familyâs health history. If you know something runs in your family, get checked for it. Instead of saving up for records or tattoos, get a physical. Splurge on your health. Not as fun, but more significant, and you only need one
Itâs been better since my transplant. The memory of dialysis is slowly fading day by day, good or bad. But when youâre dealing with something negative that is never going to leave your side, how can you not let it get you down from time to time?
Iâm pretty sure I can speak for my fellow sickies and say having an illness is more than a bummer. If I stop too long to think about my disease and mortality, I can cry no sweat. Being sick isnât something I will ever get used to. No one would guess from seeing me how rotted I am inside. My health is that of a 80 year old, but on the outside I seem to be a happy-go-lucky 33. And thatâs the way I want it. I want to be like my peers or whomever I wouldâve been if I never got sick. When I meet someonenew thereâs always that tension in my head of when or if I should tell this new person what lurks inside me. Itâs something so important to me, yet you always have to wait for the right time to tell your new friend, âoh by the wayâ¦â The last thing I want is pity and attention, but I always know sooner or later Iâll have to talk about it, and I feel like the image one might have had of me will be stained. Itâs not that Iâm ashamed, but itâs complex. I donât feel like everyone else, but I try to. I want to educate people about living with an illness, but I donât want to be treated differently. Yet Iâm not like everyone else and I have to be treated differently sometimes.
From talking with other younger sick people, we are almost secretive about our illnesses mainly because we donât want to be a burden, and we donât want charity. I find myself hiding my medicines down below the table when Iâm eating a meal with friends, and I have to take them. We still want to seem strong and bulletproof, and this makes us keep our heartaches on the inside. Torturing ourselves with our self-prejudice and pain. For me, the funny and hypocritical part about it all is, since I do keep it to myself so much, sometimes when Iâm not feeling my best and do want comfort or sympathy, most people donât remember right away that Iâm sick, and Iâm left to keep dealing alone. But thatâs actually okay for me. I would rather have people forget Iâm sick than worry. This probably hasnât been the most therapeutically positive way for me to take my sickness, but itâs my own natural survival instinct I canât control.
Even after five years of living with this, I still have those feelings of despair of fear of death, and it is so hard to keep my head up when the feeling falls over me. I have small memories of what I used to be like, but I can hardly remember anymore who that was. This is me now, and itâs hard, but at the same time itâs hard not to want to keep fighting and making your time the best possible. Thereâs really no other choice. I believe that strength to survive is in all of us.
I was once young and healthy, too. It was the best. Now that I am what I am, I hate to think of what I could have done to maybe make life a little easier now. Isnât it always a case of âif I knew then what I know now?â My hopes from writing this are that maybe one person reading will really, truly hear and understand.
Some illnesses can be prevented or minimized with early detection. Most of us donât have health insurance, but sometimes something as simple as a blood test can catch a problem before you see any signs or symptoms. And it should be mandatory to learn about your familyâs health history. If you know something runs in your family, get checked for it. Instead of saving up for records or tattoos, get a physical. Splurge on your health. Not as fun, but more significant, and you only need one
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