For months now, I have been on a steady decline and that is saying something, because I was already not in very good shape. I’m not saying this to elicit sympathy or prayers, it is simply a statement of truth.
I’m going to go on a little detour from my main post topic for one second to address my last sentence there, because as soon as I wrote it I realized this has to be said. Please let people talk about their health without feeling like you HAVE to comment on how sorry you feel for them or that you will keep them in your prayers. Now, I am a Christian (see my post called “Faith in the Midst of Pain“), but there are times I feel like I can’t vent about how I feel because I know it will just be taken as a solicitation for sympathy. It’s not! Pray for me, by all means. But when a friend with invisible illness is talking to you about their symptoms, it means they trust you… a lot. Don’t break that trust, don’t make them feel like what they’re saying should be pitied. Ok, back to what I came here to say.
Is giving up, giving in? The short answer is no, but (as we all know) there is no such thing as a short answer (well maybe 2+2). My point is that, there is almost always more to the situation than just saying “Don’t give up, no matter what!”. Here’s an example…
When I got married just over 15 years ago, my husband and I were living in San Antonio, TX. We loved it there, and only moved because of job opportunities and family. If it were just for location alone, we would still be in Texas. Anyway, we honeymooned in the Hill Country and it was beautiful! Not far from where we were staying there is this huge rock, the size of a giant hill (but a rock). It’s a big thing to climb this rock, there were hundreds of people there (like all the time) walking, crawling, and climbing up this thing. Well, up until this point I still didn’t know I was sick. All I knew was that I had back problems, headaches, and that I most likely had carpel tunnel (the only explanation my doctor could give me for my wrist pain). I also knew I had asthmatic problems, but had never been diagnosed and was therefore never given an inhaler. So climbing this giant rock was NOT high on my list of things I wanted to do on my honeymoon. But my new husband really wanted to do it, and he thought it would be a romantic thing to do together. It. Was. Not. Less than half way up I started hurting. He decided to try different motivational techniques, like cheering me on and even negative reinforcement (I put a stop to that one right away). Eventually I made it to the top, but it took several hours. I was in so much pain by that time I had learned something about myself… it doesn’t matter how much someone is trying to motivate me, I can only do what I can physically do. Period. I should have given up. I should have stopped and gone back down as soon as I felt the pain searing through my body. But I didn’t, I allowed myself to be pushed and because of that I had to be (practically) carried down the rock and back to the hotel. I spent the rest of the honeymoon miserable. I don’t blame my husband! He was only doing what he thought was the right thing to do, neither of us knew about my chronic conditions. If we did, we would never have even attempted to make the climb.
So now I’m faced with another rock to climb… mobility. My legs are losing the battle and even though I can walk, if I have to walk for long periods of time, I’m laid out for at least a day (often more). I know that I will have to have a serious conversation about this with my doctor at my next appointment, but I have other people pushing back. I get everything from “You’re too young for a wheelchair!” to “I’m just going to believe that you’re going to get better!”. These are not helpful. Of course I want to “get better”, but reality dictates I look at facts. The fact is that things are going to continue to get worse. I am not just giving up! I will take my vitamins, I will do my physical therapy, I will be an advocate for my disability rights. Getting into a wheelchair is not giving up on myself. It may be giving in, but not giving up.