“Nice To Meet You…I’m the Sick Girl”
I feel as though I spend all of my time trying to get my spoonie-self heard. I wear my spoon pin to work- every day. I remind friends, family, co-workers about treatments and such. On the days when I call in sick to work or cancel a social function, I remind these people what I am dealing with. You can see their eyes glaze over the minute I start talking. In one ear, out the other. And it would be nice to not get such a shocked reaction when I call out sick. They say,”oh my gosh! YOU’RE sick?” Yes, the chronically ill girl is taking a sick day. I don’t take that many, and you really shouldn’t be so shocked. As I constantly try to remind you, I am NOT normal. There is stuff (lots of it) wrong with me. I feel like I cannot get this message out there enough. In my head, it sounds like I’m constantly screaming.
So a recent Christmas party completely threw me for a loop. Last summer, I went to a conference of patients who are like me. There I met a set of sisters. One sister is sick like me, and she lives on the west coast where the conference was held. The other sister is healthy and was there for moral support (how nice!), and she lives in my home town. I completely hit it off with both of these girls. So exciting. Finally, some girls I have stuff in common with—but not just the regular stuff (love of Bravo Real Housewives), the sick stuff too. As I like to say, they “got it”. No screaming necessary.
So we leave the conference, and I start hanging out some with the well sister. And she’s awesome. I wish her sister lived closer with us. And well sister was throwing a Christmas party. I was super psyched to go. My husband and I only knew the well sister and her husband at the party. But me being the outgoing person that I am, we began to mingle. Always good to meet new people, right? And here’s how almost every single conversation began:
party guest: “So, how do you guys know the hosts?”
me & husband: “Oh, we met Leslie at a conference this summer.”
party guest: “What kind of conference?”
me & husband: “Well, one for patients. Leslie was there with her sister, Jessica. Jessica
and I have the same thing.”
I even overheard my very shy husband off on a conversation of his own (a completely rare occurrence, by the way):
party guest: “So, do you guys know the hosts?”
husband: “My wife is sick like Leslie’s sister, they have the same thing.”
And then the conversations went something like this:
party guest: “So if you have what Jessica has, how sick are you?”; “Are you able to work?”; “You can work full time?”; “Do you have kids and deal with all of this?”; “How are you able to be at a party like this?”; “What kind of treatment do you get? When? Where? How often?”; “How long have you been sick?”; “How did you find out?” On and on it went…..
Now after so many years of glazed over eyes, lack of questions, and basically feeling like no one who knew me gave a damn? Here was an entire party full of people who genuinely seemed interested! They could have easily just said “nice to meet you” and headed for the bar. But they actively engaged us and asked thoughtful questions. It was thrilling and bizarre all at once. Here I was with people’s full attention and could spill it all. And here was the truth of it:
All night long, I was being introduced as The Sick Girl.
What a label. But, in my every day life, I practically beg to be labeled, don’t I? And it never sticks. But here at this party, I owned that label. How strange. We had a fantastic time at the party, but when I got into the car that night, I said to my husband, “wow, that was bizarre being introduced as the sick girl all night.” And he said, “well, it’s the easiest way to describe how we know them. Plus, at least people acknowledged it. Isn’t that what you’re always wanting?”
Maybe… I guess so…. Perhaps what I’m looking for in my every day life is a combination of both. I’d like my illness to be acknowledged. It doesn’t have to be the main topic of conversation. It doesn’t have to define me. But if people would accept that it’s a part of me, I think that would be nice. Maybe if I could get a little validation here and there, now and again, maybe this spoonie would stop screaming, even if only in my head.
Article written by staff writer, Kelly Clardy
Kelly lives in Atlanta with her husband and kitty. She developed PIDD in 1995, went undiagnosed until 2007, and has been receiving IVIG ever since. She also has: capillary hemangioma of the colon, chronic anemia, Hashimot’os disease, insulin resistance, and a host of other diagnosis. By day, she’s a Senior Project Coordinator and a Zebra. She can be found lurking on twitter, @collie1013 and on Facebook at Kelly Jaeckle Clardy.
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