I love that people care enough that they want me to get better. I just wish they’d stop asking me how I’m doing.
Last fall I wrote about how difficult it is to reassure people, but yesterday brought it all crashing back harder than ever. People ask how I am and they want so badly to hear that I’m doing better. I’ve had to ask people to stop asking. I know it’s hard for them, but it’s a lot harder for me. Thankfully, they’ve all been respectful of that so far.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t work for everyone, especially my grandparents. There are two reasons why it’s especially hard with my grandparents. For one thing, their memories aren’t great these days, so they’ll ask me how I am, forgetting that we just had that same conversation the day before. I’ve asked them to back off, and they did for a while, but then they forgot. This is not their fault. But it’s still difficult.
The other problem is that their health isn’t great. I know that a big part of it is that they want to see me improve before they die, which could be soon. It used to be that they wanted to see me married while they were still around. Thankfully, they’ve adjusted their expectations of that (though I’m sure they’d still be thrilled to see me married, just like I’ll be devastated if my future spouse never meets them.) The hard part of this is that they are being so selfless. They want to help me and are frustrated that they can’t. There is nothing they can do now, but they still want to know that I will be ok in the long run. I want desperately to assure them that I’ll be fine, but I just can’t do that. I’ve thought about faking a fiance. I could probably manage that, actually. But I can’t fake my health. There is just no way I can pretend to be healthy.
So yesterday was another hard day. Again, they asked how I was doing. Again, they were disappointed that I’m not all better. Again, they talked about me going back to work and again, I had to explain that I can’t do that right now. Again, I avoided the obvious, that I may never improve. I came home wanting to cry. Just writing this I’m getting tears in my eyes, something that almost never happens. It is so hard to see the people I love hurting. I wish I could get better for them, but of course, if I knew of some miracle cure, I’d have done it already.
There’s really no choice. I will keep plodding along with the various treatment options that I’m finding. I will continue to research doctors and other medical practitioners, medications and diets and other treatments. I hope that sooner or later something will work. In the meantime, I will have to continue to tell people that I am not better. And I will have to continue to endure their sadness.