One thing you should know about me is that I LOVE Sex and the City. When it was on HBO, I watched it religiously. I saw both of the movies on opening weekend, of course. I own all of the DVDs. And now that the reruns are on E!, my household stops at 8pm EST week nights. Don’t call me during that hour, I am otherwise indisposed. Love it.

So recently I got to thinking that maybe I aspire to be the Carrie Bradshaw of illness. Carrie wrote about sex, I write about illness. Carrie had her Mr. Big, I have my Big Illness. Carrie wanted to promote open discussions about sex. I want to promote awareness of BYDLS.

Carrie had her very close girlfriends for support. They would meet at the coffee shop at all hours to discuss their lives. My friends, boys and girls, meet on the internet, on Facebook and Twitter, to discuss our lives. They laughed and cried together, and so do we.

Carrie and her friends were looking for their soul mates. We are looking for the infusion nurse who can get us in one stick. They commiserated about bad dates, we share infusion stories. Carrie’s girlfriends enjoyed a good cocktail, a cosmopolitan, to end their day. We enjoy a good pre-med cocktail to start our infusion day.

Carrie and her friends didn’t always see eye to eye. Samantha wanted to play the field, Charlotte wanted to settle down. Some of us insist that Sub-Q is the only way to go, others swear by their infusion centers and IVIG. Carrie and her friends had strong reactions to the men in their lives. Some of us can certainly have strong reactions to the IG in our lives. Carrie had said that men could be like a drug she was addicted to, IVIG is our drug that our bodies won’t let us live without.

Samantha was diagnosed with breast cancer. And we all saw a familiar scene as she sat in her infusion chair getting chemotherapy. We instantly recognized those burgundy recliners, but I know many of us are not regularly lucky enough to be surrounded by friends who bring us popsicles. I’m not even allowed visitors, due to HIPAA laws and all.

In the end, Carrie and her friends were on the journey to find true love. We are on the quest to find true health and a life free from infection. They wanted their happy endings, and so do we.

I’m not sure how much like Carrie Bradshaw I actually am. I do love my shoes, although cheap shoes. Carrie paid more for one pair of shoes than I do in one month for a car payment. I’m definitely not as fashion forward as Carrie. And I don’t look anything like Carrie with my straight dark brown hair. (My husband is glad; he’s in the horse-face camp, while I think she is beyond GORG.) Carrie found and married her Mr. Big. And I did as well. Carrie continues to write about love and sex, and I will continue to write about illness. Because our journeys continue. So I will keep watching, and I hope you will keep reading. I can’t wait to see how it all turns out.

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, Hashimotos, insulin resistance, and a host of other dxs. By day, she’s a Senior Project Coordinator and a Zebra. She can be found lurking on twitter, @collie1013 and Facebook, Kelly Jaeckle Clardy.