When all someone has in their house is white bread, you’d better shut up about it.
I can’t seem to focus on my stupid english project so I’m going to write about being sick and what this terrible invisible illness has done to me.
When you go to a restaurant- you have a plan. You are going to sit down at a table, look a the menu, order food, and then when it arrives from the kitchen you eat it, and maybe chat a little with the people you’re there with. You do not think about how you are going to eat the food. You are not scared, you don’t look at the menu and scan for an option for a plain bagel or a slice of white bread. The food is good, or at least alright. The restaurant is enjoyable. You’re probably doing this more out of fun than necessity. When someone says “try this!” you do, or when a commercial for a burger comes on, you don’t think much of it. Now imagine the first time you got the flu, imagine the first time you got food poisoning. Imagine that you are nauseous like that- sick when there is nothing in you, frustrated at still feeling so bad when you’ve done nothing wrong.
Now imagine that nausea in your workplace. Imagine that nausea in your car, on the sidewalk and when you’re with friends. Imagine that nausea following you every step, breath and movement of your life. You go to a doctor with what little money you have and they tell you they don’t know what’s wrong, get some rest and push water and you can check in for another 300$ later. You don’t have 300 dollars. You know there will not be a next appointment. Still- you try your best to sleep when the nausea has gone down a bit. You push water, not too much, but a good amount. You do everything you are told to do to cure this thing (which isn’t much). A week goes by and nothing changes. A month goes by and nothing changes. Several months go by and soon you start throwing up every once in awhile when you catch the scent of food on the air.
At work you have to “use the bathroom” so much your boss thinks you’re slacking, when in reality the toothbrush in your bag is to wash the granola bar you choked down to keep the hunger away. Now you don’t eat unless you need to. Hunger has become an unbearable pain even when it is soft. The way your body tells you that you need food now is a sharp pain that slices in your abdomen. You couldn’t get a kitchen knife down your temperamental esophagus if you tried, so why does it feel like there’s three inside your abdomen right now? The pain comes in waves, and you ignore the first few. You always do. But you can’t ignore them forever, and soon the pain begins to become unbearable.
When this all began you didn’t keep many snacks at home, most old candy saved from past gifts that you wouldn’t touch even if your digestive system was a normal one. The pain gets terrible in the next wave and while trying to get out of bed you almost collapse, and lower yourself to sit on the floor so you can breathe and cry through this. Later when you try to make it to the nearest vending machine you collapse again in the hall and cry into the sleeve of your shirt so you won’t alert anyone. But eating is another thing entirely. Sure, the bagel or piece of scentless, flavorless white bread is there, but how do you get it inside of you? How do you take this medicine without crying? The truth is as unfortunate as your condition: You can’t. Eating anything when you’re anything less than just a little hungry involves a full breakdown and must be done alone.
The required items- a trashcan nearby, napkins, a large bottle of water, something as flavorless and easy to swallow as possible. Sometimes you puke, most times you fall to your knees and cry on the third bite. You were so careful and ready for this, setting the timing, working up all the determination to do it, making sure you had over an hour and a puke bucket just in case. But the bread is in your mouth and your throat closes without your control. It won’t open even when you try to drink water. Before you can choke, you cough/vomit the bite of bread and what little you got down into the small trash can and cry. After ten minutes of trying you’re back at square one and have to brush your teeth again- well, once you can get off the floor.
At night it’s the worst, and when the sky darkens you feel a bittersweet terror. The beauty of the sunset compared to the pains of night contrast to say the least. Their only thing in common? You’ll see it every night for what you assume will be the rest of your life. Each time you have that thought you tear up and hold your breath, but who wouldn’t? Imagine never having your favourite food ever again, not because it isn’t available- but because you feel unspeakable terror the second you see the plate. Going out to dinner involves a hoard of deflective answers as to why you always take home (throw out) what you order, or why you look at it like eating will kill you. You don’t tell anyone that it just might.
When you were little, night meant sleep, a soft comfy bed and a lullaby, the moon and bedtime stories before strange but enjoyable dreams. Now nothing is more painful than arranging to go to sleep. Now these things are not treats, they are tasks. Living in its essence has become a task. Sleep can be pleasant, but there is only a short window in which you can access it, and once that window is gone, you wont see it again for another 24 hours. Missing that window means that trying to sleep involves laying on your bed, in the dark, with nothing to distract you from the immense pain that you feel, and the incorporeal bile that seems to have taken up permanent residence in the back of your throat.
Sometimes it works, and after a stubborn hour or two you slip into sleep. Many times it does not, leaving you with two options; slipping into a dangerous game of sleep paralysis feat. a terror that will be way more physically painful once you escape this, or your most common option- four movies while you’re doing homework that night, and tired eyes when you watch the sun rise. You’ve seen the sun rise more times in your life than most people you’ll ever meet. The next two days will be like this until you get lucky and somewhat delirious on the four day mark.
There are thoughts of a future, but they are only thoughts. It will never be full acceptance, but you know that this will continue for the rest of your life. You know it will only get worse. You do not know what the cause is, only that you must bear its curse. There are dreams- distant dreams of having a wonderful job, a life of freedom and travel and people you love. But there are far too many things that you know. And you know that one day you might throw up for the last time. You know that day might be sooner than you’d thought.
This will not be a popular post, I know that. It won’t go viral. It will sit in the recesses of a stupid vent blog and the world will go on not knowing my “secret.” Friends, family, coworkers and the lady at the front desk will continue in their oblivion. Those closer will wonder why they’ve never seen you eat anything but water. Anorexia would come to mind if you were smaller but the subject is never raised. If you do happen to be unfortunate enough to read this short account of my daily life (and I assure you, there’s a universe of details and symptoms gone unmentioned) I ask for two thing. Firstly- I would appreciate a bit of pity solely because I won’t be around long enough to see too much of it. And secondly- I ask that you treat invisible illnesses with respect, and try your best not to be cruel to the people suffering through these things. If you know someone who gets sick very often, don’t assume they’re faking it. If your classmate or coworker comes to work with dark circles and tired eyes, hold the door open for them. When all someone has in their house is white bread, you’d better shut up about it. Unless of course, you’re invited to a piece.
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