Understanding what you cannot see

There is an old adage that says” Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Living with a chronic illness makes those words ring true. If you were to see me, your first reaction would be to think that I am the very picture of health. On a particularly bad day, I may limp when I walk. Little do people know that I limp because my artificial hips are throbbing pain down my legs probably from overuse. Some days this overuse consists of something as simple as walking across a parking lot.

The times in my life that I have been in a wheelchair, on a walker or a cane, the amount of stares that I receive is amazing. When I was younger, it would truly bother me to my inner core. Through the years, I’ve simply realized that people do not understand what they cannot see. Living with a chronic illness and not displaying any physical symptoms is very stressful for both the patient and the caregivers. We may not overtly “ look" sick, yet no one can see or for that matter feel the pain inside. Our own physicians have to rely on patient information. There are the very obvious times when my joints have been red and swollen, or when my hip has dislocated from the rest of my body. On those occasions the physical symptoms are blatantly clear, but that is not I what I am referring to. I mean the day in and day out “pain” of arthritis. The kind that will chew you up and spit you out-if you allow it. The pain felt inside your joints that makes everyday minute movements almost impossible. The type of pain I am referring to is felt but cannot be seen.

Living with a chronic illness is a state of inner dichotomy. On the one hand, I am blessed to look so healthy, but on the other, I feel desolate when others cannot understand my inability to move. I am expected to act as I appear. When my hand or leg is bandaged to protect the joint from more damage, I am constantly asked, “What happened?” Inside I feel compelled to tell a great story to explain my injury. But there is no explanation other than it is my arthritis flaring. As a child, I made up amazing stories to protect both my joints and my inner psyche. Today, I simply smile and say, “ Oh, it is my arthritis acting up.” As the words leave my lips, I notice the reaction, and realize that people simply cannot understand what they cannot see.