Ode to Anger and Disease

Anger and disease come naturally together- packaged liked the minced meat in the grocery store. It sneaks up on you like the cavity in your mouth you've been telling yourself is a sore due to the rain dribbling outside your windows- for the last four months. A new disease is a like a new relationship. Inevitably there comes a point where you take all your old grievances from your old 'relations' out on the new. It's almost like disease rebound on the new disease. You'd think after awhile, and a certain amount of sickness, you'd stop asking the age old question, "why me?" Unfortunately for us Sickos, the questions never ceases to hover at the back of our minds. Every time some oldie comments on the beauty of our young age, we are once again reminded of the falsehood of book covers and the truth which dictates, never judge one by a cover.

There comes a time where the rage bubbles to the surface, spilling out over everything you love and it burns, it burns deep. The fuming embers of your soul spill on the ones closest by and the fire swells. It can't be helped, despite all great advancements in modern therapy. Inevitably, like gravity, one must spill over on the unknowing, the healthy. After awhile, one tires of the sorrowed glances, making you feel as if your whole body might melt at any moment. You're so fragile in their eyes, but never tough enough. Here is the conundrum of sickness. At first, the family and friends 'coo coo' you on. You're tough, you're a fighter. You'll win. May I ask what we're playing for? Oh right, that'd be life. But the days of aches, pains and moans turn into days, weeks, months and perhaps years. Eventually, those closest to you will start to ask, why aren't you stronger? 'Moan-ahh'- whining won't get you anywhere. Be tough. Stick IT out. We all have to feel shitty, once in awhile. We all have to go to the Doctor. But the main difference between We and Us, the sickos- is that for what is the Occasional We, is the daily Us. The minute by minute, never ending plague of annoyances that is sickness. And in the end, it isn't really the pain that is the pain, it's the system. The never relenting insurance squeeze, the minimum wage that doesn't pay the minimum bill. The Script that goes up because it's cousin just went OTC. The doctors that belittle, "you missed your appointment", without realizing you missed it for a different, 'emergency' appointment - at a different specialist. Doctors are much like teachers. They all expect you to make them your center, without realizing you have 10 other teachers/doctors to contend with at the same time. All giving out homework and extra credit. Unfortunately, unlike school, most homework given by doctors counter-opposes the assignment given by the very next doctor. The Catch 22. It's a double bladed sword and all those other sweet analogies.

So at the end of one very long day, when a very unaware, loved ones says, "come on, just tough it out, stop whining/pouting/complaining/being a wimp", the rage bubble ultimately bursts. And the showers of anger held in so tight, during all those times you wear your, "i'm fine face", come spewing out. You say all the things you can think of, knowing only they will make you sicker. But still, for the moment, it feels good to be honest with the world. Shit, you're sick, not 3 days a year, but 365 days out of every year. If that isn't tough, then i don't know what is. Yet, i get up everyday, even though it should be a sick day, and i put on my normal face. I smile for all you people, so you don't have to feel bad about your genuine good luck. I do the impossible all the time, without anyone noticing- which is precisely what makes it heroic. And at the end of it all, i just want to come home and put on my pout face - just once and awhile. My sour kraut pout and my I-don't-want-to-cooperate tonight supreme. And finally, the last thing I want to be told is, "to tough this one out", because damn it, Right Now - I deserve to take off everything that is fake, untrue and say, "I am in Pain". I am in Pain not for a minute, or a day, but for a Lifetime. And it doesn't have to be this way, you're right. But maybe, if this society made it a little easier for all of us to navigate, I wouldn't have to occasionally wear my long-face in the dark corner of my bedroom. No, instead, maybe i'd get that doctor's appointment or prescription i really needed for $5 instead of $50. Shit, maybe i could go see a physical therapist without a prescription and a 2-hour hassle. But no, instead, i jump hurdles for living faster than an Olympian. I quote-unquote carry my own weight. And against all odds, placed in front of me, not by my own disability, but by this very society, which tells me to be tough, i survive- day by day. And i'm proud.

but still, at the end of the day, if i want to put my sour kraut face on, then leave it be. don't tell me i'm a 'wimp', a 'whiner', or 'sore-loser'. Because i am none of those things. But what i am, is fed up and tired of wearing my normal face. So when i rip off my mask and tell you how it really is, be scared, because it is a scary truth i live- as a Sicko in Society.