Wimp
I am a wimp. I am not resilient or strong-willed or strong anythinged. I hate pain. For six hours, on the plane, I couldn’t breathe. I was already sick, but getting better, and then suddenly it was terrible and I couldn’t breathe. And then my ears popped. There is no word for this, really. It’s “popped” when something inside swells up and threatens to explode. And then it’s “popped” when the same thing squeaks and deflates. So they bad-popped and then they refused to good-pop back. Forever. For a night. And then a day, and then a night.
I cried out of frustration. I couldn’t hear my own voice. Here I am, in California, ruining everything.
There is nothing wrong with me. I don’t have a chronic illness, like Bear. I am young. When I go to the doctor, the doctor says, “Everything seems normal.”
But my body is wimpy. It’s too often just a little of something bad. Just enough to make me unhappy. Or outright miserable. Anemic, so that I’m constantly tired, cramps so overwhelming from my period that I once canceled a day of lessons I had to teach and curled up on the floor at work. When I get sick, I tend to get so sick I can’t get out of bed. I tend to throw up and have a fever and a sore throat and a cough and a splitting headache. It can’t just be one or two.
When I got my nose job, the pain medication made me violently nauseous. I woke up from surgery and threw up. And then I threw up all day. Actually, I threw up so much that the surgeon worried I might have undone some of his work. It’s not clear whether or not this was the case, but it’s definitely true that I don’t look like a person who got a nose job.
When 2-5% of patients experience creepy, bizarre side effects, I’m always in that group.
It’s embarrassing. I always feel like I sound like I’m faking it. Like I’m trying to get out of something. When I worked in an office, I felt ashamed, having to leave early sometimes because I felt so sick. Everyone was always very nice about it, but I thought they might be suspicious, secretly.
I want to be hearty and sturdy and be able to run long distances and move furniture easily and fly on planes without falling apart.
My mom, who is hearty and sturdy and never gets sick and thinks pain killers are for sissies and will work through anything without complaining, said wonderingly to me one day, “It’s like you were born to lie on cushions all day, like a princess.” For the record, I have never once worn those tight pink pants that say “princess” on the butt. I would tell you if I had. Really.
One of my closest friends growing up was a couple of years older than me. I wanted to be her, and she wanted to be a farmer. She was strong and tall and kickass and thought work boots were hot and wore her hair in a braid down her back. She does in fact work on a farm these days, and is just as solid and kickass as ever. While I am constantly being subtly sabotaged by my own body. While I am unable to power through anything without weeping quietly as I go.
Here I am in California, being a wimp. My ears have finally unpopped, or good-popped, or whatever, and I have stopped quietly weeping. I am trying not to resent myself too much, for ruining the first few days of our visit. I am a lot less nervous about impressing everyone, since this is my third time here, now, and Bear’s family already knows me. I have only managed to sound totally stupid five or six times. I know some of the local streets and recognize the views. I hope that they don’t realize exactly how wimpy I am. But I also hope that they know I’m not faking it. I really, really want to play racquetball with everyone else. And to one day be a farmer. Or at least a person who doesn’t have to writhe in agony as the plane dips towards San Francisco. It’s such a beautiful city. I don’t want to miss it again.
* * *
Un-roast: Today I love my lips. They are sometimes a cool shade of pink all on their own.
For my last post about visiting Bear’s family in CA, click here.
Kate on April 4th 2011 in Uncategorized
poet responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 4:21 am #
I’m the same. My body frequently sabotages what I want to do by getting sick… Hope you feel better!
znesic responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 8:26 am #
Hi, not a comment on this specific post, just wanted to say I really enjoy your writing.
“I wanted to be her, and she wanted to be a farmer.”
This is a real pearl and it’s sentences like this one that really keep me coming back. I know it’s a cliche but keep up the good work 🙂
Emmi responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 9:31 am #
Even with a diagnosis of a chronic illness, I still often feel like people think I’m faking it. Like, how sick do I need to be to prove that I am sick ENOUGH to be miserable, dammit? If I have a bad stomach day, people say, aren’t you on medication for that? You’ve been doing fine. Yes, well, bad days happen and that’s what I get for eating too much broccoli. That’s when the weird looks REALLY start.
Before my body’s warranty ran out, I had the anemia and cramps and nausea on occasion. It really IS that bad. Sure, nothing with a fancy diagnosis and specific treatment, but that doesn’t change how it makes you feel.
I think it actually may be occasionally socially worse than having an invisible disability. Because it’s easy to jump in and say, I have Crohn’s disease, or Asperger’s, or rheumatoid arthritis. A diagnosis gives you a word to cling to, to justify you, and even if people don’t really get it, it’s still something for you to say in your defense. “Generally feeling crappy” doesn’t have an ICD-9 code.
You are not a wimp, in my opinion. You are human. You are sensitive. And if that qualifies you as a wimp in your mind or anyone else’s, okay then, that’s fine. But then I wouldn’t qualify being a wimp as a bad thing, just a thing, a descriptor. I would rather be a person that is affected by things, good and bad, than the alternative. At least that’s what I keep telling myself when I feel lousy 😉
Hope you’re feeling well again soon, dear.
Tempest responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 9:31 am #
If you’re still feeling unwell by the time you head home (ANY congestion in your sinus/nose/ears), buy some “ear planes” before you go and use them (CVS, Walgreens, Long’s). I’m a pretty tough gal, but the amount of pain from my ears when I traveled with a cold was enough for me to want to smash my head in.
Ellie Di responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 10:40 am #
This got me thinking about my own wimpiness (or lack thereof), and I realized that I oscillate back and forth between being a solid, pain-ignoring machine and being a weenie. I carry around pain daily and can shake off most things; I can even lift the couch. But when I get sick, I’m on my ass, and I can’t run very far. I think having the spectrum of strong-to-wuss makes my life more interesting, even if I do wish some days that I could just be strong all the time.
zoe (and the beatles) responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 12:23 pm #
i’m sorry you’re unwell kate! i hope you feel better soon! just know you’re human and everyone reacts to and tolerates pain differently. some bodies handle it and some don’t. i don’t handle it well, either. don’t make yourself feel badly over something out of your control!
also, welcome to northern california (i suspect you’re not far from me…!). i hope you’re enjoying this beautiful weather we’re having currently 🙂 (the week before last was rain. every day.).
Yan responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 12:23 pm #
I can totally relate to this entire post. I love to travel. And I’m horrible at it because my body gets stressed and then miserable. It’s a chronic, low-grade ickiness that doctor’s can’t make out and people do not believe, so not only do you physically feel ill, you start to feel insane, too.
I am learning to listen to my body better, to catch some things before they go too far. It helps a little. But it’s hard to feel that your physical form betrays you, keeps you from being what you want to be.
Mandy responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 12:55 pm #
Fortunately, I don’t think I’ve ever had to travel when I was ill, so I feel for you. It’s bad enough being sick in your own home, when you can lay around in your bathrobe, and go back to bed if you feel like it.
Feeling that your have to pretend you’re not feeling crappy so that you don’t endanger everyone else’s good time is the exact opposite of fun.
You at least have the energy to write again, so I hope that means you’re feeling a bit better.
And, I do have a bit of practical advice: find a good accupuncturist. If I can get in to see my accupuncturist when I’m first coming down with something, whatever she does pretty much halves the strength and duration of whatever it is I have contracted.
And I start to feel better almost immediately.
And, Kate? I can practically guarantee no one around you thinks you are faking when you’re not feeling well. And listening to your body when you’re sick or hurt is not wimpy–it’s wise. Those who think otherwise have never lived in your body–you have, so you’re the expert. Don’t ever let anyone else tell you how you should be feeling, physically or othewise.
B1 responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 3:07 pm #
Kate, everyone has different tollerances to pain, so don’t think you’re a whimp, you’re not.
Since you will need to fly home, here’s a trick for you. Take a cup, put a folded up paper towel in the bottom, soak it with HOT water (like coffee hot) and seal the cup over your ear (the stewardesses should be able to help with this.) This will eliviate the pressure while flying. And it may even work on the ground. Since it sounds like both ears did this, try it with a cup on both ears and tell Bear that you’re pretending to be Princess Leah using cups as your hair since your hair is short. 🙂
Alison responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 3:27 pm #
“I have only managed to sound totally stupid five or six times.”
I feel like that so often. At work. In class. With my fiance’s family. With my own family. I have all these ideas in my head that I think are fascinating and illuminating (because for me, they are), and they end up coming out like confused little schools of guppies that don’t know where to go. And then I feel ashamed of myself for saying too much and vow to be quiet and good and contained and careful about the things I choose to voice. It never works for long. The stuff inside me wants out too badly.
Kate responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 4:46 pm #
@znesic
I always always always appreciate writing-related comments. Thank you!
Kate responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 4:47 pm #
@Zoe
Thanks! I forgot you were out here! So awesome. Everyone’s been talking about how much rain you guys were getting just before we arrived. Naturally, we’re taking all the credit for the sunshine.
Kate responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 4:50 pm #
@Emmi
I always appreciate your perspective. Interesting, how people react to illness in general, and how people who are sick may always need to look or act sick “enough.”
Often people say to Bear, “Oh, I have a diabetic friend, and he eats whatever he wants all the time.” As in “It’s not a big deal! Why are you not eating any cards and always checking your blood sugar?”
It’s exhausting sometimes. He handles it better than me.
Kate responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 4:53 pm #
@Tempest and B1
Thank you so much for the tips! I’ll try both suggestions. This is one of my favorite things about blogging– people like you have advice I’d never have gotten elsewhere.
Kate responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 4:54 pm #
@Alison
“confused little school of guppies”– AMAZING.
Kate responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 4:55 pm #
@Mandy
Yes! I hate not being able to write! I’m so relieved to be writing again.
@Everyone
I need to stop leaving so many comments in my own comment section. It looks a little weird after a while. But I want to talk with everyone!
Ashley responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 5:51 pm #
Hopefully you are feeling better. I know my period cramps are horrible and sometimes so bad that I call of work and cancel all things I have to do that day. I feel wimpy but when you are literally throwing up and crippled due to that incredible dull ache that feels like it is trying to sqeeze our your female organs, I think it’s necessary.
Sooz responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 7:51 pm #
well. looks like i’m in good company. for i am a wimp as well. i am always achy. i always get sick. i get tired quite easily. my husband and kids and in-laws and friends are all wicked tough and can do lots of physical things like forever and a day w/nary a wimper. but me? well. there are no words. wimpy will just have to do. 🙂
Stephanie responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 8:25 pm #
That painful ears-won’t-pop-back feeling is so awful. It’s one of the reasons I hate flying…when my ears do that, I become completely and unreasonably certain that it’s going to cause an aneurhysm (sp?). It’s SCARY. I’m sorry you had a bad first few days!
Luyi responded on 05 Apr 2011 at 9:35 am #
This post is beautiful. Your writing is certainly not wimpy, not in the tiniest bit.
Stacy responded on 05 Apr 2011 at 11:48 am #
I love the photos in this post!
Emily responded on 07 Apr 2011 at 12:30 pm #
Thanks for writing this, I can definitely relate. I have Ulcerative Colitis but even when I’m not having a flare I still get very easily tired or sick. And I know that feeling of self-blame too – people say stuff like “have you been exercising?”, “have you been eating well?”. And I just want to say, “Do REALLY think I haven’t thought of that?” And my primary care doctor keeps telling me it’s because I am depressed even though I am actually happy! Oh, and I’ve also had terrible plane experiences. Though my more recent ones were fine fortunately. One time I felt like I was about to pass out after I got up.
And I agree with another poster who said that just because something does not have a label or is not understood by science, does not mean it’s any less legitimate.
Heather M. responded on 10 Apr 2011 at 11:33 pm #
I’m seconding (thirding? fourthing? I didn’t count) the “Thank you for this.”
I’m a grade-A wimp. I get tired very easily, and too much stress makes me sick. Plus, I physically cannot power through fatigue and illness. My body gives me two choices: rest or collapse. It took a long time, but I’ve finally learned to just give in and rest.
Reading this post reminded me that my wimpiness isn’t a character flaw — just a physical trait. I need extra rest like I need to wear glasses, or stand on a stool to reach the top shelf. It’s nice to remember that, and to hear from other people whose bodies work the same way. We seem to be pretty awesome, fatigue or no fatigue. Viva la Wimp!
Eat the Damn Cake » Herpes responded on 12 Apr 2011 at 10:42 am #
[…] as I mentioned before, I’m a wimp, I never got a little blister. They were always mighty, ferocious, explosive blisters that attacked […]