Heroes in our Midst

Yesterday I was reminded how deeply our illnesses can affect spouses, partners, or anyone who loves us and sees us daily. The people who agreed to “In sickness and in health”. The people who stand by us in sickness, while hoping for the health. The people who feel as though they aren't “allowed” to get sick, or feel like they can't tell us how they feel. I touched on this subject for Father's Day, but I think it deserves a more in-depth look.

The people who love us and want us to be well have it hard. Maybe they don't have our same illness or even any illness, but that doesn't mean they are fine. They hate to see us sick, hurting, wiped out, incapacitated, or otherwise just feeling how we feel. Our illness weighs on them, possibly even more than it weighs on us.

Let me explain that a little better. We know how we feel, we know what we can and can't do. We know when we can push ourselves, and when we're just done. Our heroes can only peer through the crack in the fence, guessing at how we're doing. They really don't know what we're feeling, even though they may want to. They want us to be better, not just feel better, but actually be better. It hurts them that they can't fix us. No, we're not broken, but I mean they want our illness to be gone; for the illness to be something we remember, or look back on, not something we live with every day. The people who love us get frustrated at what they can't do for us, and sometimes they have a hard time explaining it.

We feel the illness firsthand, even on our good days. Our heroes can only guess at what we must be going through, and I think sometimes, that might be mentally worse. What I mean is that we know exactly everything that goes on inside. Our heroes worry for us, so we don't have to expend that energy. Our heroes worry about the toll the shots are taking on us, how we deal with the pain, the numbness, the blurred vision, or the fatigue. They are so concerned with us, that sometimes they forget to take care of themselves. And they carry guilt. Enormous amounts of guilt.

If there is something wrong with them, they have a tendency to minimize it, or not address it at all. They don't want us to worry about them.

You see, while yes, we live with the illness, we rarely allow ourselves the luxury of thinking about it. By luxury, I mean we use so much energy compensating for the illness itself, that it would be a luxury to use more energy thinking about what the illness does to us and our families. Our families are the ones who dwell on the “what ifs”, allowing us to battle the disease. They think about how the medicine makes us feel, while we try to just get through it. They think about what happens if we need a wheelchair, while we just try not to need one. They think about all the stuff we can't or don't think about. And that's a heavy burden to carry.

So, for those of you who believe hero is an improper term, or too strong of a word, I pray you never need to know exactly why I call my husband my hero.

If I left anything out, please feel free to add what I've missed. You heroes know how you feel, and anything you're feeling is valid. No one can tell you to “snap out of it”, or “be thankful it's not worse”, or some of the other well-meaning (but highly annoying) cliché. You deserve more praise than I can ever give.

Thank you.