Stop Trying to Fix Me

  Yesterday my friend (who I know reads this-so hello!) and I were having a conversation about people who try to give their opinions on your medical matters. Offering treatment advice, trying to diagnose you…you know what I’m talking about. I told her that I’m okay with her giving me advice, only because she was in treatment with me and knows what I’m going through. But not everyone’s advice is as welcomed or appreciated. This morning I stumbled across this brilliantly written statement by MrsWelches Warriors. The truth behind it is so real, and it puts many of my thoughts and feelings into words.

You see, people always try to fix things. Broken car? Take it to a mechanic. TV stopped working? Call someone to fix it right away. Strep throat? Make a beeline for the doctor to get some medicine. We see what’s broken and our instinct is to fix it. But chronic illness is not the same as a broken car. It’s not as easy to repair as a television, nor is it cured by medication like strep throat. No, chronic illness is in a whole different category, one where the “fix it” gloves must come off. 

People with chronic illness don’t just receive a diagnosis and do nothing about it. Well, maybe some do. But most people choose to fight. They see doctors, they read books, they google treatment options. They try to see what works. Once all options have been exhausted, then they choose to accept their new way of living. So when someone says, “have you tried this?” it’s like pouring salt into a very tender, aching wound. Chances are, we’ve tried it…and if we’re still “not better,” that’s probably because it didn’t work. We don’t need the reminder that we’re incurable.

Eventually we come to a point where we choose to accept the diagnosis that is given. We adapt, we make changes, both physically and mentally. We deal with the struggle of remembering the way things used to be, while learning how to make the present situation work for us. We know that this just might be how the rest of our lives will go, but we also entertain the idea of a better future. We research, we look at possible options. We do what we can, what is comfortable and tolerable.

We don’t need people who have never been in our shoes telling us what to do, where to go, or what “magical pill” to swallow.

Before you throw a chronic illness warrior an article from the Weekly World Dum-Dum claiming to “cure” our ailments, take a minute to think. Would this really be helpful? Did they ask for my opinion? Have they already tried this treatment? Unless we’ve asked, we probably don’t want your advice on how to “cure” our incurable illness. Thank you very much.

Friends, family, strangers in the grocery store…stop trying to fix me. Just let me deal with my diagnosis in the way I know how. Stop breaking me even more by giving me your unsolicited, ridiculous opinion. I know my body, I know what treatments are available, I know what has and has not worked. Unless I’ve directly asked for your help, please keep your comments to yourself.

 

 

Shopping and The “Someday, Maybe” Pile

Today I enjoyed a lovely day out with my mom and sister. We did some shopping, some food sampling (gotta love local food samples day!), and some driving around town. I, of course, had many people ask about my leg while we were out and about. One lady said, “oh, that’s rough in the summer!” I smiled, said, “yeah,” and kept on shopping. A few minutes later, she appeared by my side again. “So, what actually happened?” After telling her, she said, “Oh, okay. I had plantar fasciitis one time and my foot was like yours so I totally understand.” Um, okay. The comments continued about how it’s a good thing it’s just the beginning of summer (I guess they assumed this was just a sprain and I’d be good to go by next week?) and more questions popped up from other strangers as I made my way through the store. I still think I should just get a t-shirt that explains everything so people don’t have to ask.

During our shopping adventures we went to Kohl’s, one of my favorite places to buy clothes. I usually manage to find at least one thing to add to my ever-growing clothing collection, and today was no exception. Only today, my purchase of jeans went to the “Someday, Maybe” pile instead of being thrown in with my normal clothes.

The “Someday, Maybe” pile is an assortment of clothing that I am unable to wear right now because of my giant foot and sensitive leg. It mostly consists of various pairs of jeans, but there are some other items thrown in as well–long dresses, sweatpants that are too bulky to roll up…things like that. Basically, everything I was able to wear before my flare except for shorts gets tossed into the pile.

I think that in a way, this random group of unworn clothing is a symbol of hope. It means that I haven’t given up yet because I am still looking forward to the day when I am well enough to broaden my wardrobe choices and be comfortable in any clothes. Looking at the pile stirs up excitement in anticipation of things to come, because someday, someday, those clothes will be back on my body, displayed proudly as a reminder of what I will have overcome.

I plan to keep my “Someday, Maybe” pile and will continue to add to it until I am given a definite reason to give up hope. While I am not oblivious to the fact that a lot of times RSD/CRPS never reaches remission, my hope is still alive that maybe, just maybe, I’ll hear that great “R” word again. After Monday’s appointment my thoughts may change, but hey, I still have 2 more days to keep the hope burning.

Speaking of Monday’s appointment, tomorrow will be spent traveling all day so I’ll be MIA for a bit. We have a lot planned for our short trip but I will be sure to give a full rundown of this pain program evaluation when I’m back!

Wishing everyone a low-pain, happy weekend 🙂