This past week I had another one of my regular post-COVID blood tests. Ever since my COVID scare, I have carried some elevated numbers requiring us to check in on my kidney function every 3-4 months. I have no obvious symptoms, but we are just making sure that my new "normal" stays that way.
Every time I go in for my blood test, two feelings inevitably emerge: gratitude and empathy. Gratitude for my health and for those who had a role in my treatment and recovery, and empathy for those who suffer from chronic illness, especially for those whose afflictions are not immediate or visibly obvious.
When I was in the early stages of my long COVID recovery, after the oxygen tanks were gone and I was back out in the world, I remember people's doubtful looks. They saw me as returning to my old self, so I'm sure they found it difficult to comprehend my explanation of spoon theory and pacing in response to my fatigue. "So, you just need more naps?" accompanied by a look of "lucky you" was more frequent than you may realize. I'm certain people were not thinking I was engaging in a long con, but I also know that it required extra work to believe that I was debilitaingly sick when I looked fine to them.
What folks failed to understand is that I ONLY went out when I could present as normal and have the energy to feel like me again. They didn't see me afterward, passed out on the couch. What folks didn't see were the days when headaches prevented me from opening my eyes. What they didn't see was the fatigue that would overwhelm me without warning. People certainly didn't see the frustration that ate at my spirit when I couldn't return to the "Bruce" we all wanted me to become. And not many were privy to the heartbreaking choices I had to make because I didn't know if I WOULD ever fully recover.
Thankfully, I am, for all intents and purposes, recovered. I am different for the experience, but carry no symptoms that restrict what I can do in life.
Many, because of long COVID or other afflictions, cannot say the same.
Every time I leave the hospital lab, I breathe a few prayers...
- for those who have to interact with the hospital far more frequently, undergoing invasive procedures and constant testing,
- for those whose chronic pain and fatigue prevent them from moving through the world unencumbered by the limitations of their bodies,
- for those whose chronic illness has put a strain on their relationships, financial security, and emotional well-being,
- for those whose suffering does not manifest in outward symptoms, so they are left to suffer in silence and be looked upon with thinly veiled suspicion and doubt,
- and for those who are more than their illness but struggle to be seen as such.
Compared to what others have to go through, my quarterly blood tests are a minor inconvenience, but they are a constant reminder that I probably interact with people suffering in silence every day. My guess is there are people suffering all around you as well, but for whatever reason, they have chosen not to disclose their situation. They have probably figured out how to navigate the waves of suffering, stay as productive as possible, and look fine in public. Please remember what you do not see.
Unless someone chooses to share their situation, there isn't much we can do. But since this falls firmly in the "you never know what other people are going through" bucket, creating spaces where anyone, regardless of physical ability, is the least we can do.
Lastly, if you are the one suffering, no matter your situation, please know and believe that you are seen and loved.
Also, #healthcareforall!
Peace,
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