Showing posts with label Support. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Support. Show all posts

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Going it Alone



Sorry for the silence on the blog the last few weeks. May was a bit of a rough ride for me. I had a  “probably should go to the ER” day  almost every week during the month and then got hit with some kind of GI virus which I termed “barfing disease.” It’s taken me a few weeks to feel more like my regular broken self instead of unable to leave my bed or eat food. I’m still fighting nausea every day. 

But I’m getting back to my exercise routine. I’m on the upswing and have a good feeling about June.

Mainly what terrified me the last few weeks as I could feel the deconditioning setting in as I had to spend most of my time in bed was the fact that I had to get my strength back because I will have to go it alone for the first time in almost a year this weekend. Deconditioning is your worst enemy with POTS and it sets in so quickly and is so hard to climb out of. My husband is going on a trip this weekend to participate in the Tough Mudder in Tahoe. He is going to get electrocuted, get hit with tear gas, and jump in ice water over a 12 mile course, and he couldn’t be more excited about it. He’ll have a great time. Plus, he gets to escape the 100+ degree weather we’re having.

So I’ve been crawling my way back and working hard since this will be the first time I will be solo since I’ve become home-bound and dependent on my husband for help with basic necessities. The last time I was solo, he went to Minnesota for our friend’s wedding in September. I was still able to drive myself to a store then, and I even drove myself to Costco to pick up my medicine. I haven’t driven myself to a store since then. That is not my reality anymore.

When he left in September, I had just gone on medical leave and had every intention of returning to work in a week or two. I was still trying to make everyone, including myself, believe I was still capably independent and able to have a career—not fighting an invisible decline that was steadily chipping away at my independence. In those first few days of his trip, it started to dawn on me how dependent I had become, how much I was struggling to do basic things. I realized that I had been living a lie for a very long time. That realization came at just the right time. I wrote this post about authenticity during those few days and made a deliberate shift in my life and self-perception—finally embracing authenticity and honesty. It was the catalyst that finally helped me accept and appreciate my limitations. And I haven’t looked back. Life is so much better for it.

I have this fairy tale image of how it’s going to go this weekend:

I’ll get our house clean while listening to a lot of jazz, play my keyboard, read, make myself meals, exercise every day, watch all four hours of Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet and other nerdy things husband isn’t interested in, do some painting and writing, my friends will come over and we’ll drink wine, sing, play games…..

A fairy tale indeed. 

I’ll try to do some of those things but I’ll also have to be very careful not to max out all of my spoons so I can keep up with basic necessities. I can't do anything crazy like trying to drive or try to shower in the morning or get over ambitious with my exercise goals. I will take it one moment at a time, try not push myself too hard so I don't end up bedridden again and try not to panic as I wake up in the middle of the night not breathing. Slow and steady. My goal is to successfully make it through.

I want to say I was able to do it.

I am keenly aware that there are many Spoonies out there who regularly go it alone or who are single and do this alone every day. I applaud your tenacity and courage. It is no easy feat because there is very little room for error when you have to do this without help. You are true warriors. Living with chronic illness is a bit like caring for a body that is an impetuous toddler: your will is subjugated to the whims or tantrums the body will unleash at any moment. Any sense of control over your life is a thin veneer you feign to conceal what is truly fathomless chaos. Yet, we keep going and keep fighting. In the words of Elizabeth Taylor...



So all of you out there going it alone or who have access to invaluable help, you got this. We got this. Wishing you all the best 


Wednesday, April 22, 2015

9 Things to Say to Someone with Chronic Illness



I’ve read many lists describing “what not to say to someone with chronic illness,” so I wanted to offer a new spin. These lists are valuable for the chronically ill and the healthy, but the lines of communication between us can be fraught with misunderstanding. It’s important to recognize that there is a lot we can still say to each other, and these communications can be positive. This is an extension of an earlier post about how to help a loved one who has chronic illness. Of course there is much more that you can say to someone with a chronic illness, but this is a good place to start.


1.  “I believe you”

This one is especially potent. For many of us who have invisible conditions, we hear “it’s all in your head” everywhere we turn. I think there’s a cultural assumption that physical illness manifests in tangible, obvious signs: loss of hair, paralysis, loss of weight, etc. But often, there is no visible trace of debilitating diseases. You can’t “see” a broken autonomic nervous system, or an inflamed colon from IBD, or the ravages of kidney disease. With conditions like Dysautonomia, the medical establishment even struggles to identify and diagnose it because of its nebulous nature; the patient may “look normal” but they live a life that is anything but normal.

If a loved one tells you about their condition, their symptoms, and their limitations, they are showing an incredible amount of trust in you. It may be easy to interpret anyone’s response to their condition as “laziness,” but trust that they are fighting a battle every moment that requires tremendous effort. Recognize the incredible amount of strength it is taking for them to fight this battle.

Saying these words to your loved one or friend is a beautiful gift they will be eternally grateful for.


2.   “I want to understand”

As an extension to #1, I often see in the health communities I’m in people discuss the lack of support they receive from friends, family, spouses, etc. because loved ones do not understand the symptoms of the condition. Sometimes it’s difficult to wrap our brains around all the ways illness can manifest. Why would someone who looks perfectly healthy suddenly start fainting whenever they stand? How is that a thing? Yet, it really is a thing with Dysautonomia. Fact truly is stranger than fiction in the world of illness.

Often when you have a chronic illness, people come out of the woodwork with unsolicited advice and sometimes sanctimonious suggestions about how we should be managing our conditions. This is not the place to start:



A simple Google search can go a long way in understanding your loved one’s condition and symptoms.  Understanding the Spoon Theory also will give you some idea of how they live and plan their life. Asking them questions about their condition and treatment can also give you a lot of information. Your loved one is probably so informed about their condition that they can present a powerpoint at a medical conference on it, especially if they have a rarely diagnosed condition. As with #1, if you say you want to understand what they are experiencing, it shows that you value and appreciate their struggle and efforts to manage their health.


3. “How can I help?”

Learning about their condition may also give some insight about how to help them with their battles. Your loved one may need help with simple tasks, but more than likely your loved one will need your understanding and empathy as they try to live a full life despite illness. 

Asking for help sucks. We are conditioned early on to value our independence and brush off any appearance of vulnerability. I have never ever been good at it, but I have learned that it is sometimes necessary. If you take the initiative to ask your loved one how you can help them or how to be available to help, then they do not have to go through that difficult process of getting the strength up to ask for it.


4. “Can I visit, call, email, text?”

Not everyone who is managing a chronic illness is home-bound. Some of us are, and some of us manage to live full lives. No matter the level of functionality, however, you have your good days and bad days with chronic illness, and we’re in a constant battle with our bodies to force them to comply. This can make staying in contact with family and friends difficult, especially if driving or leaving the house is challenging.

Illness is isolating, devastatingly so. This was something I’ve learned to live with but I was not at all prepared for it at the beginning. I’ve been lucky that my friends and family have been understanding as I have become home-bound over the last year.

Know that your loved one would give anything to be able to have a vibrant social life and be more active, so be patient as they navigate life on their own terms. If you can reach out to your loved one, you can help get them over the bridge of the isolation and bring some joy to their life.


5. “Here’s a funny story”

As an extension of #4, if you can say something to your loved one to brighten their day, that’s usually better than handfuls of chocolate (most of the time at least).

My good friend Carrie Anne has Crohn’s Disease and we usually chat online or text throughout the day, even though she lives not far from me. We call ourselves Team Calamity and try to lift each other’s spirits each day with our affinity for the absurd. When my friends come by and we play games, we unleash the floodgates for trash talking and your mom jokes. These are moments I can try to forget about being ill and just enjoy life, and it’s pure bliss.

Your loved one may sometimes need empathy or a shoulder to cry on, but a good laugh is more powerful than almost anything else you can give them.


6.  “Let’s do something fun that’s within your limitations”

In relation to #4, your loved one may have limitations but they still want to live the fullest life possible. They may not be able to do the things they used to be able to do, but they still want to do whatever they can. If someone puts pressure on me to do something that used to be easy for me but is now difficult or impossible, I shut down. I cannot participate if expectations are impossible for me to meet. 



You can talk to your loved one to work together to find alternatives so they can participate the best they can and still have a great time.


7. “This can be hard for me too”

It’s also hard for friends, family members, or even acquaintances to watch someone suffer, often inexplicably. It’s a frustrating, disheartening, and aggravating process for them too. I think it’s ok to share your own struggles with adapting to your loved one’s illness because it shows you are on their side and invested in their success. I’ve seen this particular problem lead to serious stress or even dissolution of relationships. It’s hard to accept that your loved one has serious limitations and needs help.

Being a caregiver is a tough gig. I’ve watched my husband do it and my dad be a caregiver to my mother, and I’ve realized they have it harder than the one they are caring for. Significantly harder. My husband is the sole breadwinner in our family and carts me to appointments, pushes my wheelchair, brings me medicine/fluids/cats when I can’t leave my bed, and has to pick up the slack on my ever-increasing list of things I can no longer do. This is the case for many people who have spouses who are ill.

The acceptance train is a hard one to catch, but we all have to board it someday, the sooner the better. I don’t mind if anyone wants to say this and discuss their struggles as long as it comes from a place of compassion.


8.   “I support you/ care about you/ love you unconditionally”

This may be a no-brainer. We all need to know we are loved and valued but when you are dealing with chronic illness, this is especially true. I often feel guilt and frustration about my limitations and the efforts those around me have to make to help me get through life. Hearing these words can be a reminder to your loved one that despite the struggles you still love them and care about them unconditionally.


9.   “We got this”

I have learned that managing and living with illness requires a team effort. It’s a collective enterprise that requires the work of your loved one, family, friends, doctors. Many people live a fantasy that they are independent and don’t rely on an interdependent network of support to get through each day. Before I got ill, I did for sure. When you are chronically ill, you can no longer live that fantasy. We have to carry each other. 

We are stronger together and we can face the challenges of life as a team. 

We got this.