What Lupus Life Is to Me
Mid-conversation, I’m often asked questions that lead to me revealing information the other person isn’t ready to hear about. It involves an unsettling, controversial word. Actually, it’s not just a simple word, but a name: lupus. And then comes an all-important question I hear time and time again.
What is lupus?
That’s a great question! However, the answer depends on how much you want to know.
The Mayo Clinic defines lupus as “a systemic autoimmune disease that occurs when your body’s immune system attacks your own tissues and organs. Inflammation caused by lupus can affect many different body systems — including your joints, skin, kidneys, blood cells, brain, heart and lungs.”
If you were to ask a doctor or nurse what the disease is, you would get a similar definition. That’s what lupus is from a medical lens, but a 38-word summary doesn’t do my disease justice. That’s not what lupus is to me.
Lupus is an ever-evolving list of medications and pills, all with strange names thought up in a lab. It’s the prick of needles for blood tests and peeing into a tiny plastic container — sadly all-too-familiar routines. It’s the sound of Velcro ripping on and off as nurses check my blood pressure. It’s sitting in the musty waiting room of the old nephrology unit surrounded by people 40 years my senior staring at me while wondering why someone so young is in their company.
Lupus is learning to accept that I have unresolvable rage. I’m not a fundamentally angry person, but there’s a part of me that probably will be forever furious about having lupus. I’ve long been accepting of the fact that I have it, and yet I can’t help begging the universe to tell me what exactly it was that I did wrong. I’m not usually one for wallowing in self-pity, but in dark moments I can’t help but ponder the question, “Why me?”
Lupus is mentally beating myself when I can’t get out of bed, which only makes me more tired. It’s a vicious cycle!
Lupus is having an overwhelming love for a body that I also sometimes struggle not to hate. It’s remembering that while parts of me are self-destructive, the majority is doing absolutely everything it can to keep me alive. It’s feeling my pulse and experiencing tear-jerking gratitude for a heart with unfaltering allegiance to me. That little engine of mine has always kept fighting; she has always beat for me and only me.
Lupus is getting ink put in my skin to remind me of exactly where I came from and where I’m heading. It’s getting up each morning to look at the tattoos on my body knowing that they may speak of struggle, but they shout perseverance and victory. It’s seeing the Venus de Milo on my right arm and remembering that beauty is perception, self-love is a much-needed gift, and that I, too, am a beautiful creation. It’s admiring the detail in the wolf on the inside of my left bicep and remembering I have overcome this disease time and time again — today is not the day to back down.
Lupus is the soul-sucking disease that has tried to ruin my life many a time. It’s the reason I get up every day, hands balled, fists up, and ready to fight. Lupus is simultaneously the worst thing that’s ever happened to me and the reason I live my best life.
Lupus is a battle I won’t ever win, but it’s still worth fighting. It’s waking up every day knowing that I already know what the most dangerous thing in my life will be. I carry it with me everywhere I go in life.
What is lupus to you? Let me know in the comments.
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Note: Lupus News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Lupus News Today, or its parent company, Bionews Services, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to lupus.
Comments
Cay Lane
I hike and climb mountains when I am healthy enough to do so. Because of that, I see Lupus as the loose boulder just above me on the slope I am climbing. That loose rock that could break loose at any moment and come rolling down and knock me down the mountain again, bruised, scraped and battered. I rise up, regain my strength and abilities, and set off on the trail again, heading up the mountain, slightly less able, and wary because I can see that there are loose boulders ahead again on the trail. Loose boulders that may well come rolling down to knock me off the climb again. But all I know is to set out on the hike, again and again. I refuse to let the boulder stop me from trying.