Blech...

Why is it that I can have all the conditions I do, and yet nothing lays me out like a simple sinus infection? Granted, there's a deviated septum and chronic rhinitis (nice name) on my chart, but it's always been this way. When Mrs. Lucky gets a cold, I always end up getting a week's worth of congestion, and all I want to do is get under the covers and speed up time.

When I was working in Cubeville, I used to be one of those people who dreaded calling in sick. I'd read all kinds of judgment into the boss's "Okay, get some rest. We'll see you when you get well." "We'll see you when you get well...at which time we'll introduce you to your replacement," I'd hear, or "Uh...huh. Oh-kay. Have fun being sick, then."

All throughout my self-employed, and now disabled, lives, I've had a sort of creeping paranoia left over from those days. Some lingering fear that by taking care of myself for a few days until I get better, I'm ignoring some major responsibility that I just don't remember.

I guess some things never leave your psyche.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed.

Never stop fighting

I get pretty exhausted dealing with chronic pain and all the other stuff, but I never stop fighting. Part of what helps is the support group I have built around me: my wife, friends, an online social network and plenty of doctors and therapists. I heard a great quote today, a line from a poem by Adrienne Rich, that I found worth sharing:

           "There must be those among whom we can sit and weep and still be counted as warriors."

What keeps you fighting the good fight? Consider those around you: do they allow you to vent and rail and scream and weep and then help push you back into battle? When was the last time you thanked them just for that?

Taking Control

When the "perfect storm" of health problems first struck, I understandably had a lot of questions. More than my doctor could answer in one visit, in any case. So I turned to the internet and began to educate myself on my conditions. I was responsible in my research, collecting facts and opinions from a variety of sources. I didn't trust everything I read. I spent a lot of time on message boards and forums, reading what others with the same afflictions were talking about.

I did all this because I realized that I had, to that point, very little idea of what was really going on in my body. The doctors could diagnose and give me the broad strokes, but I needed the facts that would calm my fears, guide my self-care and enable me to ask good questions and understand the answers.

Along the way, something remarkable happened: all this information was putting me in charge of my health care. I had become my own advocate. The questions I asked my doctor indicated that I'd done my homework, and he respected that. I was now his full partner in managing my health issues.

A decade or so later, I feel that I'm better for having been proactive in understanding my conditions and actively discussing issues with my doctors. After all, this is my only body. If I don't speak up for it, who will?