Those of us with chronic illness despise being in this category. Occasionally we are happy to help someone else with our recommendation of a good doctor or our use of “sick-speak” (yes, I just created that), but mostly we’ve gone through years of nightmare symptoms and ignorant medical professionals to get answers that end with “There’s no cure”.  

Throughout this pandemic, I’ve smiled at your memes that welcome the able-bodied to “our world” and felt the snarkiness of your “now you’re paying attention” Instagram posts. I haven’t met a spoonie yet who would wish their illness on anyone; knowing this allows me to join in the vindictive yet harmless prodding.  I too wish people would begin to recognize how hard it is to isolate, avoid germs, and change plans when someone has a sniffle.  I too hope that humans will become committed to hand washing, covering sneezes, and staying home with fevers. I too feel the anxiety of 6-feet and the relief when people stay at 10. And, I too know that isolating while waiting for a vaccine is not the same as isolating with no hope for cures. 

Still, I’ve found myself feeling grateful lately and I’m not even on good meds! I have a job. I have a job with health insurance. I have a job that is seen as useful during COVID, and therefore no one has threatened to cut my position. I’m able to help people, which reminds me I’m a good human. I work in a state recognizing that my compromised immune system makes me a good candidate for avoiding a workplace where hundreds of people will gather and live.  I have a doctor who originally laughed in my face when I asked for documentation to work from home all semester, but who continued to see me as a person, and changed their tune once it was time to send such documentation. Again, for the doctors in the back: I have a doctor who sees me as a person. 

I know, you’re REALLY sick of hearing people say, “You have so much to be grateful for”. (Did anyone else just read that in a whiney, high pitched, uneducated voice?) Well just to keep it interesting,  there are also times that I’m grateful to have these illnesses during a pandemic. Here’s why:

1. While workdays have changed significantly, many aspects are familiar and therefore comfortable.  That doesn’t mean they’re not difficult in SO many ways. It simply means familiarity is comforting.
2. Work from home? Yes please! Clothing that doesn’t hurt whatever ailment is flaring that day.  Half laying on my bed with the laptop when there are no meetings and having my sweet doggie by my side. 
3. I don’t have to “people”! (I probably didn’t make that one up, but I use it enough that I deserve the royalties.)
4. I no longer get sideways looks when opening a door with my sleeve.
5. People now understand why I yell at them to wash their hands and cover their mouths. 
6. Listening to people talk about how difficult it is to go out knowing germs are everywhere gives me a chance to practice holding in my belly laughs.
7. I use sick-speak that the able-bodies haven’t learned yet. Giving words to their levels of anxiety, fear, hopelessness, and disappointment allows me to connect at a deeper level. 
8. People now understand why immune-compromised is as important as we’ve been telling them.  Some folks even show empathy for us living like this for years and decades.
9. I don’t panic when my throat hurts. COVID? Nah, probably just a sinus infection, pneumonia, mono, asthma, strep or allergies [shrugs].
10. Did I mention less peopling? 

While none of us want to live COVID-life, we know how to do it. Heck, we’ve perfected it.  I mean, raise your hand if you’re currently sitting within arm’s reach of everything you’ll need when your pain shifts. Exactly. We know this life.

As a therapist, I invite my clients to find gratitude when they can. Since you’re not my client, let me say to you in the corner sticking your tongue out that I get it. As spoonies and pain warriors sometimes we need to hear a person’s successes. Other times that person can just shove it, am I right? Even if you’re rolling your eyes, you’re still reading. Maybe something resonated with you, maybe you’ll pass this along to a friend who needs it or maybe this was a mere a distraction from your pain. Regardless the reason, you made emotional space for my message and for that I’m grateful.

This blog was written by Gena Nelson, a Licensed Clinical Mental Health Counselor in New York.