How sick is "sick enough"?

This rambling is something I've been thinking about for a long time.  In fact, this "discussion" (with myself) is one of the biggest reasons I created this blog.  Through writing I'm able to get things out where I can see them and think about them.  It helps me organize my thoughts better (trust me, this *is* organized).  I'm the type of person who will write an email or a comment and then decide not to send/post it because it was really for my benefit rather than for the other person.  So here I am, venting.

Interestingly, I'm not talking about any of my illnesses today.  I'm talking about other people.  Healthy People.  People who don't live with chronic pain in their body.

I'm gonna come right out and say it: I do not instantly feel sweet and caring when my husband has a cold.  There.  I got it out.  My initial instinct is to compare the discomfort of a cold versus the ear infections I went through a few years ago that didn't respond to antibiotics and landed me in surgery to have ear tubes placed because the infection had spread to the mastoid process (the bone behind my ear).  I nearly tore someone's eyes out (not literally) because she felt queasy through her pregnancy, threw up once, and declared "I know how you feel now".  I throw up constantly all 9 months of pregnancy and find no relief whether I do or don't lose my lunch.  I would have loved to settle for "queasy" rather than in and out of the hospital for hydration and to manage early labor.

BUT...

that doesn't mean they are not in pain.

They are in real, physical pain.  So don't they deserve sympathy?  Don't they deserve a pot of chicken noodle soup?  Shouldn't they get a day in bed to moan and rest and recover while the kids are kept in another area of the house to not interrupt their rest?

In the hospital they always ask how to "rate" your pain.  There's a helpful little chart with smiley / frowny faces on it to correlate to the pain.  "0" means "no pain" and "10" means "worst pain imaginable".  Easy, right?

Let's look at it this way: You go on vacation and stay in a noisy hotel next to a busy road..  The first night it drives you crazy.  The second night you stuff earplugs in so you can get some rest.  Eventually you stop noticing the buzz, the honks, the sirens, and figure out how to sleep.  Take a healthy person and throw unmanageable pain at them all of a sudden and they're're screaming level 10 pain pretty dang fast!  But as they make adjustments and are forced to go on with life as much as possible, they learn to accommodate the pain. It becomes an obnoxious buzz in the background.  That same level of pain now can be tolerated.  In this way the pain scale has now shifted.  What used to overwhelm me can now even be considered a "good day".

Now the misery of allergies is, well, miserable.  But not as bad as the usual.  The flu is miserable also, but not worse than medication induced nausea / vomiting on top of the usual aches and pains.  Therefore, it is hard to feel a whole lot of sympathy for something that in personal experience is just a broadening of symptoms instead of a full about-face in health.

SO...
this is what I think about it all:

Being close (emotionally and/or physically) to a person with chronic pain is going to be hard.  And ya know what?  You may not get a lot of sympathy for your little health snafus.  Please try to be understanding.  Please don't throw a whole lot of drama around for a hangnail.  That's not going to get you and more sympathy for being all bent out of shape or comparing your suffering to any one else's.  Feel free to be open about how you're feeling anyway.  A simple "I've got a terrible headache today" or "What would you suggest for tight muscles in  my shoulder?" will get you further than refusing to get out of bed cause you woke up with the sniffles.  A lot of people who suffer from chronic pain have tried pretty much everything to "fix" their body.  I know I've got a half dozen ideas for pretty much any pain, infection, discomfort, or illness.  I'm happy (or maybe more than happy) to try to share what I have lived.  Since so many things don't work for me it's nice to see them work for someone else.  It shows confidence in my experiences and understanding that I have been there before.  And you know what?  The chances are good that I can actually help.  And once I'm helping I get feeling all sympathetic and wanting to see real improvement without a grudge.

Being a person in chronic pain, sometimes you've got to suck it up and let someone else bellyache without your interference.  Not everybody wants you to parade your experiences out and play doctor by telling them 10 things to try to get better.  Sometimes they just want some sympathy and a nap.  (I'm a big believer in the power of a satisfying nap).  Yes, some times it will be hard to put your own needs on the back burner for someone else's seemingly minor discomfort.  It's great to be willing to help others, but allow them to do their own thing as well.

Reading the statements above, it makes no sense does it?  I just totally contradicted myself.  But here's the trick: BOTH PARTIES are responsible for keeping relationships (whether that's friends, family, neighbor...) stable.  BOTH need to be aware of the other's situation.  It is not likely to always be easy.  My husband may feel like I "get" to be sick all the time but perhaps I cannot allow him to be sick an stay in bed just for one day.  I may feel like I have to be sick all the time and he gets to stay in bed for one day for "no reason".
If he is sick and says "I feel awful.  I know you go through this all the time.  What can I do to feel better?" then I know he's ready for some help.  If he doesn't ask for help then perhaps I could remind him "I know a few things that might help relieve your congestion if you want." then let him ask if he wants more specifics.

Long story short: LISTEN to each other and FORGIVE each other when we mess up.  Cause it's gonna happen.  I love my husband and I know how awful it is to feel sick.  Sometimes it still takes a little perspective.  Sometimes we have to step back and apologize for messing up.

Now that I've written an epistle I'm going to use this to reflect back on the next time I start begrudging someone a tummy ache.