The Queen of Optimism

Each day is a chore, each night is a trial
I wanna be somebody else for awhile

Somebody Else for A While – Pat McCurdy

I’ve been thinking a lot about who I would be and what I would be doing if it wasn’t for my illness(es).  And, yes.  I’d like to be someone else for a while.

This most certainly was sparked by a patient blogger Duncan Cross who asked the question, “Who would you be without your illness?” He asked patient bloggers to think of this question and post their response. Anyway, this guy catches my drift.  He stated: “too much deliberate cheeriness denies us the ability to think and talk about what we’ve lost to our illnesses.” But the patients who engaged in this activity didn’t respond the way I believe he anticipated.  They still looked at only the upside – what they’ve gained from their illness.

Am I the lone patient blogger that will address this head on? I’m pissed off at what my illness(es) have taken away from my life and there’s a long list of what I would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.  (To be reported later) It’s nothing to be ashamed of and it doesn’t mean I’m less optimistic than people who report the good in their illness.  I argue that I’m more optimistic because in spite of the frustration, I keep on going.  Keep hoping for a better day.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but that’s why I declared myself – The Queen of Optimism.

Queen's Box

Pandora’s BoxYou may know the myth of Pandora.  She was given a box and told never to open it.  Curiosity got the best of her and she opened the box.  From it flew hate, anger, sickness, poverty, and every bad thing in the world. She slammed the lid down and managed to trap the final evil still in the box: hopelessness.   So today, even when the going gets tough, every human still has hope.

Queen’s Box

I took my own box and in it put my anger and sickness.   I’ve been holding the lid down tightly with great hope so that I could block out much of the physical pain.  The emotional pain.   The “what ifs”.  Though I would document many of my feelings here, I could keep my anger and sickness neatly boxed up in order to get through every day.   Hoping that if I kept the lid closed long enough, the anger and sickness may disappear.

In January 2010, it began getting harder to hold down the lid.  The box of sickness and anger was getting fuller but also my arm and hands that held the lid down were getting weaker.  I’m at a point where the box can’t stay completely closed.  I can no longer block most of the pain most of the time.  I can no longer deny the effects of my sickness on all areas of my life.  I’m in situations where I must begin telling friends, family, co-workers, a more realistic description of the degree to which I am sick.

It’s amazing what the human body and mind can do. I simply can’t keep the lid completely shut anymore.  My mind will no longer block out more than it acknowledges.  My primary care doctor says when patients reach this point, it usually means

Yeah, I accept that shoes like these will never be on my feet. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it.

they are close to diagnosis because they are more in tune with their symptoms.  We’ll see.

Oh, and if I wasn’t sick, I’d be a Fashionista – firstly, owning and wearing strappy heeled shoes.  This has more to do with my jacked up feet than spending money.  Because of my illness, my feet don’t move properly to fit in or walk in heels and other cutesy shoes.  Thank goodness for Pr!vos but they haven’t made a super dressy shoe yet (that I’m aware of).

Yeah, I’d like to be somebody else for a while.

Thanks for reading.  I do appreciate your comments and your patience with me.

-Q

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