Today is day 8 of National Health Blog Month from Wego Health. Today’s topic: Write a letter to your health
Disclaimer- I didn’t write this post to be all “woe is me” or to get pity and sympathy. I wrote it because I’ve never truly expressed how I feel about having lupus. I was diagnosed and then ignored it. Since then, I’ve battled the symptoms as they come, and only look at the bigger picture when it comes to piecing the symptoms together. So for the first time, my raw emotion; how I feel about lupus. And note, I will use profanity.
Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you.
A friend gave me a t-shirt once that said “F*ck Lupus, hand me a drink!” I wish it were as simple as that; to ignore you and go about living. But, unfortunately that’s not how you work.
You’re sneaky, popping up at the most inconvenient times. Some days you refuse to show your face and I relish those days, hoping they’ll never end. But, just when I think I have you all figured out, you go rear your ugly head again.
You’re painful, oh so painful. You leave me feeling as if I am carrying 100 pounds of sand. You stab me in the chest with a rusty knife, pulling it out slowly, alternating between dull and sharp pains. You break me at the knees, unable to walk, creaking and snapping like my bones are just one second from shattering into pieces. You pierce into my head, right to the center; like a laser pinpointing its target.
You’ve left me tired. Tired in the simplest sense of the word; wanting to sleep the days away. But also, tired of you. Tired of not knowing how I’ll feel when I wake up; tired of being so incredibly strict with my diet; tired of saying no to plans with friends; tired of the pills and injections; tired of the doctor’s visits and medical bills; tired of the pain and tired of you.
You’ve killed my dreams. I found a letter I wrote to myself at 17, one week before you started shooting pains down my legs. The letter listed my two dreams: swim in an NCAA Championship and work for ESPN. You prevented me from doing both.
Before you I had a chance. I was improving my times in the pool every week and was becoming stronger and even more dedicated than I already was. Trying to swim with you was like trying to pull an 18-wheeler truck. I got slower; I couldn’t keep up, returning from training trips only to be immediately admitted to the hospital. I was told my body could no longer perform at the elite level required to make it to a championship.
Instead, I focused on my other dream. A dream I never imagined would be as physically demanding. You made it difficult Lupus. With you there it was hard to continue the long hours, the heavy cameras, the running, the heat, the unpredictability of the job. Now I know it wasn’t just you who sent me packing from the world of sports reporting. But, I can’t help but place a lot of the blame on you. When you were roaring, I couldn’t perform to my best ability. I couldn’t continue on in local markets carrying my own camera. You limited my options when there are few to begin with. Slowly those options dwindled to none.
Some say dreams change and they may, but you’ve left me without new dreams. I feel as if I can’t dream anymore because you’ll interfere and demolish those ones too. As if you’ll jump out from behind a tree and say “gotcha!”
So no, I’m not going to sit there and say “there’s a reason you’re in my life” because frankly I don’t know that reason and I think whatever reason you give me is a bunch of bullshit. You’re an evil bitch who’s made life a million times harder and more painful than I ever imagined. So fuck you. You can leave anytime now.