I had to use my walker chair all day today, indoors and out (usually I can handle the short stretches of standing and walking in my apartment), and I'm so glad I have it. Between my walker and help from my wife, I was able to eat, bathe, prepare myself a meal, go for a short walk, and water my patio garden.
So hooray for mobility aids! I still have moments where I feel weirdly guilty, like I'm faking it because I don't need it all the time, but I'm so glad to have it for days like today.
You know how when you were a kid the total fake cop-out when you were losing a video game was "my controller is broken," so when your controller was actually broken no one would believe you?
That's what a lot of chronic illnesses are like.
Yes, I want to exercise. I know how to do it, but sometimes my body refuses to function. Sometimes light exercise feels fine and the next day my body feels like I was hit by a car.
Yes, I know how to eat well, and I do. My appetite and stomach are still unpredictable at best.
Yes, I try to keep a regular sleep schedule. Sometimes I can't sleep from pain, or because my brain won't stop, but sleep aids give me nightmares.
I really do know how to live well, but my body is broken in a hundred invisible ways.
When someone tells you they can't do something, that something doesn't work for them, that they have a condition that you don't, the bare minimum you can do is believe them. This goes triple for healthcare workers.
