There are a lot of people for whom mast cell disease is
mostly a nuisance. My disease was never
like that, but I sort of behaved like it was.
I knew I would pay for it if I stayed out late or exercised too much but
for a while, I could make myself do it anyway.
I wanted to believe I could have
any life I wanted. I wanted to believe
that my body could take as much as my mind could.
But my disease isn’t just a nuisance and eventually it caught
up to me, all at once. I don’t know
about you, but mast cell disease runs my life right now. It will be at least
a voting member for as long as I live. Mast
cell disease isn’t something I gave into it.
It is something that happened to me.
To imply that by living within the lines it drew means I have less
willpower or ambition is offensive. To
say that I am weak because I have to avoid triggers as much as possible is just
naïve.
And when people say, “I don’t let my disease control me,”
all I can think is, Well, there’s still time for that, isn’t there.
I used to be so independent.
I used to do everything myself.
Now I have to have people drive me around most of the time, I have to
get help to carry things, my friends come over and do chores for me, I can’t
travel alone. Maybe my apartment is
messier than I would like, and I always have unfolded laundry piled in my
basket chair, but I can work full time, and see my friends and family, and be
safe.
I still have dreams.
I still want to do things I know I’ll never be able to do. Every once in a while, I’ll be talking to
someone about these things and get really excited. I think to myself, if I could just hold onto
this feeling, I could do this. But I
never can. This loss of possibility is
the hardest for me.
For some of us, this is as good as it’s ever going to get.
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