The Wishes of a Chronically Ill Person


I wish you didn’t have to feel like every part of your body is being torn apart — all the throbbing, stinging, burning, numbing feeling, like your body has a civilization of its own inside of you, in a war zone. 

I wish you didn’t experience sudden onset of fever. 

I wish you didn’t easily get colds.

I wish people wouldn’t tell you how you get sick every so often, like you are not taking care of your body. They don’t have the slightest idea your immune system sucks. 

I wish you didn’t get nauseated in the middle of the day, in the middle of the road, in the middle of having a really good time with friends, finding yourself rushing to look for the nearest toilet where you can vomit and still pretend to be OK when you join them back again. 

I wish you didn’t have to cancel plans and activities last minute because you are unwell. 

I wish your friends didn’t think you’re a flake for always cancelling dinners and other events because you just want to go or stay home.

I wish you didn’t have to think of how you’ll comfortably put yourself to sleep because no matter what position you try, every little part of your muscles and joints hurt. 

I wish you didn’t have to deal with the everyday pain it brings, making you consider every little thing you do because you can’t afford to consume all of the little energy you have left — for you know the consequences it could bring.

I wish you didn’t have to cry in the middle of the night because you can’t stand the pain and are tired of being sick and tired. 

I wish you didn’t have to keep on telling yourself to fight, to be brave, to embrace life no matter how depressing or frustrating it can become. 

I wish you didn’t have to go to every single diagnostic, check-up and whatever medical procedure just to know what exactly is going on with your body, and in the end, just be given pain relievers of every form, of different dosage. 

I wish you didn’t have to be diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses you have to handle and manage every single day. 

I wish you didn’t feel barbed wires wrap around your legs like a ribbon while walking. 

I wish you didn’t have to think about not having to fall every time you walk, worried of being embarrassed. 

I wish you didn’t have to scream a sudden “ouch” out of the blue.

I wish you didn’t wake up every morning feeling unrested.

I wish you didn’t have to act as if everything is OK, as if you are not hurting at all, as if everything is normal — because being in pain is already a norm, it has already been a part of your life and will forever be.

I wish you didn’t have to think through what activities to make a priority because no matter how you want to do all of it, you just can’t.

I wish you didn’t have to keep on reminding yourself the medications you have to take. 

I wish you didn’t get judged as “stupid” because you can’t find the words you want to say in the middle of a conversation.

I wish you didn’t have to make people understand what you’re dealing with and at the end, still feel all alone in the battle. 

I wish you didn’t have to select the people you want to confide with on this battle.

I wish you didn’t have to make them understand and realize that although your condition may not be fatal, you will be carrying the pain with you for as long as it permits you to live.

I wish you didn’t have to shut people off, but you can’t tolerate negativity now. Tolerance is another issue. 

I wish you didn’t have to consider which treatment you have to do first because the treatment and the medication altogether is just too expensive and the outcome is yet to be found out.

I wish you didn’t have to spend your earnings on constant medications, therapy and consultations, just so you’ll know if somehow you are still coping up with all the crap going on inside of your body.

I wish you didn’t have to think of the uncertainty all these ordeals bring.

I wish you didn’t have to experience symptoms and silently scream and cry because you don’t want to trouble people. 

I wish you could be better understood. 

I wish you didn’t get judged. 

I wish you didn’t “get” what I’m describing: the excruciating pain — mentally, emotionally and most of all, physically

I’m braving all of this because I am hopeful.

I have family and friends who support me, whose minds are not shallow.

I’m putting up a smile even if my body is torturing itself.

I’m trying to act “normal,” not for the fear of being judged, but because I still want to be normal.

I want things to be done.

I want a life.

How about you? 

Image via Thinkstock.


Find this story helpful? Share it with someone you care about.


Related to Chronic Illness

vintage typewriter with phrase: START YOUR STORY

Why You Shouldn't Judge Yourself When Writing Your Chronic Illness Story

Every person leads a story with their life. Each day a page, each month a chapter. There’s the abridged version your friends and family see, and the full version, which belongs to you alone. You can’t judge a book by it’s cover. That applies to people too. Most people in our lives only read the [...]
Closeup on a woman's feet as she is walking in the park on a sunny day

To the People Staring and Laughing at the Way I Walk

To the people who stare at me while I’m walking down the street, the people who stare at me while shopping and to the people whispering among themselves while I walk past you: I see and hear you. I can see your lips moving and hear giggles coming out of your mouth. I can feel [...]

3 Ways to Make Your Marriage Work When 'in Sickness and in Health' Is Tested

On a balmy June evening, with the sand beneath us, the waves behind us and the sun bathing us in its golden light, my husband and I committed our lives to one another. “For richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health, as long as we both shall live,” we giddily declared our love [...]
Rear view of two female friends resting in park

Why I Want My Friends to Remind Me That I'm Sick

There are two sides to this story. Originally, I was going to write an article titled “Sometimes I forget I’m sick — and I wish I didn’t.” I was driving home in the midst of possibly the worst backfire of this “forgetting.” I knew I could do so safely, but I also knew the prospect [...]