The “Is it worth it?” analysis

June 29, 2014

I went dancing! I haven’t been dancing in ages, and I hadn’t planned on going any time soon. But there was a street party and it looked awesome and I was with friends…. so why not? And when I say “street party” I mean a serious street party. A2014-06-27 20.36.49 major road was blocked off. There were spotlights on roofs and funky colors displayed on city hall. The music ranged from club remixes to motown to disco to whatever else you can dance to. There were congo lines in the street. A beach ball was being tossed around through the crowd. And the weather was cool and pleasant and I felt decent. So why not?

Well, I’ll tell you why not. Because pain. Because fatigue. Because sick body. Yeah, that.

But it looked like so much fun! So I asked myself, “Is this worth it?” And then I continued to ask myself that question every five minutes for the next 2 hours. Sometimes I came close to going home, but then I decided it was worth staying. The question wasn’t whether or not I’d feel horrible later or the next day. I knew I would. There was no question about that. But if I never did anything that made my symptoms worse, I’d never do much of anything (including typing this right now.) Some things aren’t worth the extra pain, fatigue, nausea, etc., but some are. And this was.

The "Is It Worth It?" Graph

The “Is It Worth It?” Graph

At a certain point, I knew I was reaching that point where it wasn’t worth it anymore, so I headed home. The fallout wasn’t too bad. I felt lousy the next day, but not as horrible as I’d have expected. I’m still recovering, but it’s going well. And I have no doubt: it was totally worth it!


All rainbowed up and no place to go

June 13, 2014

One thing about chronic illness is that I miss out on a lot of events. You name it, I’ve missed it: weddings, dinners out, birthday celebrations, medical appointments, support groups, parties…. Illness doesn’t discriminate. Sure, when there’s an especially important event, I’ll try to rest up in advance, but it’s not like I always have a choice.

This weekend, I’m wondering if I’ll be attending Pride events. For those who don’t know, LGBT Pride is the biggest holiday2014-06-13 17.03.12 of the year. It’s like queer Christmas, Chanukah, and birthdays all rolled into one. It’s something I look forward to for months. As I type, my fingernails are painted in rainbow colors. My buttons and mardi gras beads are ready. And I’ve been feeling crappy all week. Because my illness doesn’t care about Pride. It just acts up whenever it wants to.

Last year there was a hurricane coming up the coast and a bunch of us went out to the Dyke March anyway in the drenching rains. We got soaked, but we were glad we went. The next day was warm and sunny and the Parade was a ton of Rainfun. As usual, I was too tired to go to any of the parties at night or on Sunday, but that was ok, because I went to my top two choices: the Dyke March and the Pride Parade.

This year it’s raining again. It’s not as bad as last year, but it’s not exactly a light rain, either. Check out the view from my window. If I was having a good day, I’d just suck it up and go. But do I really want to do that when I’m already feeling so crappy? No, not really.

Tomorrow is supposed to be cool but with a very high dew point. Which means I may not feel up to going to the Pride Parade either. Plus, just to add in another obstacle, the closest subway station is under construction so I’d have to do even more walking. Oh yeah, and there’s a 50% chance of rain. Ugh.

So maybe I’ll just go to the party on Sunday. And that would be nice. But that’s not what I really want to do. I want to go to the March tonight and to the Parade tomorrow and I don’t want to have to wait another 12 months for my next chance. Plenty of people will skip out because of the weather and that’s their choice. But it wouldn’t be mine. I’ve gone out to both the March and the Parade in the rain before, and I want to do it again. I want it to be my choice, not my body’s. And that’s why I’m feeling so pissed off right now.


Chronic illness mentoring

June 5, 2014

“My friend was just diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last week.”

She said it because she’d overheard me telling someone else about some good resources for studies that had been done, but for someone newly diagnosed, I had other advice. I told Amy that a lot of people lose their friends when they get sick and are no longer able to be as social as they had been before. I told her to make it clear to her friend that she’d be there for her, no matter what. And that she then needed to follow through. I told her that a lot of web sites indulge in fear-mongering, and that she needed to tell her friend to ignore those sites. I told her that her friend needed to talk to others with MS, but only the ones who could be realistic and encouraging, not the ones who are in denial or who will tell her that her life is over. Amy asked how her friend could find the right people while avoiding the wrong ones and I told her to do the research herself, to go on Twitter and on blogs, filter out the negative ones, and give her friend links to the better ones. I warned her that it would be scary and discouraging to see some of the writing, but that it was the best way to help her friend from hundreds of miles away. Amy said that her friend was wondering if she should leave her job and I told her to tell her friend not to give up anything before she has to; when she becomes too disabled for her current work then she can find something else, but there’s no reason to act disabled before she really is.

And then I gave her my email and phone number and told her to have her friend get in touch with me. But I doubt the friend will.

When I first started feeling sick, I felt so alone. I didn’t know anyone else with symptoms like mine. I looked in books, but I didn’t find anything. The world wide web was just coming into existence and didn’t have a lot of information. As my symptoms progressed and the internet grew, I tried again, but with no luck. Now it’s the opposite: there are too many places to turn. Someone who is newly diagnosed can easily be bombarded with information, some accurate and some not. There are scam artists and legitimate resources. There are bloggers who talk only about the worst symptoms and others who act like life will never change. There are horror stories scattered across social media like landmines. There are so-called “inspirational stories” leaving most people with unrealistic expectations of what they are expected to achieve. If you look hard enough, you just might find, hidden amongst all of that, a few people talking about the reality. They discuss the good and the bad, the easy and the difficult, and present it as fact.

What’s missing, I realized while I spoke to Amy, is a mentor. There are probably a few hanging around the web, but I haven’t met them, and I imagine they’re even harder for a newcomer to find. We see mentors in business situations all the time, but where’s the mentor for someone newly diagnosed with a chronic illness? Where’s the person to guide you when you’re scared and your family and friends don’t understand? Where’s the person to help you navigate doctors and insurance and nightmares about a scary future? I needed that when I first got sick more than 20 years ago. People need it now.

The other day it was Amy. Last month it was the woman who gave me my tetnus shot. I can’t help everyone, but I’ve decided to label myself a “chronic illness mentor” so that at least the occasional person will feel comfortable calling me. I’ll print up some free business cards and hand them out. I will make no promises. I won’t cure an illness or even make the journey easy, but I hope that I can at least make it a bit easier for people at a very difficult time.

Does this sound like a reasonable approach? How would you offer your help to people? What else do you think I should do? Please comment and let me know.


When even birthdays are overwhelming

May 16, 2014

The thing about being single is that I don’t have automatic birthday plans. When I’ve been dating someone, we’d plan a day together. Sometimes I went out with friends, but I always had that default date. But when I’m single, nothing happens for my birthday unless I plan it. Well, a couple years ago friends threw me a surprise party. But most years nothing happens unless I plan it.

I remember one year I gathered a bunch of friends from different social circles and arranged for us all to meet downtown for dim sum in Chinatown, and then to hang out for a while afterwards. That was a nice birthday. I would never plan something so high-energy now. Two years in a row I got friends together for dinners out. These days I’m not so fond of going out at night.

I thought about skipping by birthday this year. After all, I skipped New Year’s Eve, so why not skip my birthday? To be honest, I might have skipped it if it was on a weekday. With all of my friends at work, it would have been the perfect excuse. But with my birthday on a Sunday, it just seemed too depressing. I should really do something, right?

A friend is going to be visiting from out of town. I thought about doing something with just the two of us, but she has to head back home early in the day. I thought about inviting one or two other friends. And then I figured, what the hell, I’ll have a freaking party. Ok, birthday gods, you win!

Of course, I’m not up to anything high-energy. The party was going to be a bbq at my parents’ house while they’re away, but that felt like way too much effort. I wouldn’t have the energy to get the food and be the hostess and celebrate. It was overwhelming just to think about it.

So I downgraded it. Now it’s going to be an afternoon thing. We’ll just hang out. If the weather is nice, people can throw around a frisbee in the yard. If the weather is lousy (or just too warm for me) then we’ll hang out in the house and play board games, which I really love. Food will be simple and easy to prepare in advance: chips and salsa, cheese and crackers. My mother wants me to have a gluten-free cake, but I told her I don’t care about having a cake. The truth is, I’m already overwhelmed at the idea of hosting and celebrating at the same time. Picking up a cake that morning would just be too damn much. And I really don’t care enough to go to all that trouble.

I have a plan. A plan is good. It’s a start. Now I just hope I feel well enough to go through with it that day, and that’s impossible to predict.