why the chronically ill make good friends…

I have never been great at making friends. When I was younger, part of that stemmed from self-doubt, because I didn’t have a lot of hobbies and was only mediocre at most “kid” things like drawing, playing tag, and games. In high school, one of my friends was very social and she made friends for the both of us. Same story in college. By the time I moved away for law school, I was more confident in my friend-making abilities. Sure, I was still awkward, but I could make self-deprecating jokes and knew how to work a keg, and as a 20-something, that’s really all you need to know.

But then I got sick.

Chronic illness is a ongoing test in self-confidence. We often question what we have to offer the world, and “the world” includes our friends. Sure, I’m “nice”, although really, how many assholes do you know? And if you answered more than three (and family members don’t count), you need to meet some new people. Stat. Never exceed maximum asshole capacity.

But even if I am nice, how can I possibly measure up against all of the other nice people? I’m not going to join you for a hike. I won’t be tagging along on your backpacking trip through Europe. I’m an awful wingwoman at bars, unless you’re into guys that like to watch chicks lose consciousness and vomit. I can hold your kid while you use the bathroom, but if I’m standing up, and you take a really long time to pee, I might drop the kid. You’ll have to hold my place in the bathroom line when we go see Hamilton, and I’ll probably fall asleep half-way through, anyway. I will probably forget your kids’ birthdays and your favorite food and what you do for work and your name.

But those of us with chronic illness can’t be destined to roam the planet alone, friendless, for the rest of our lives. If we’re going to make friends, we need to have confidence in what we bring to the friendship table (besides the good drugs). So, I put together a list of qualities I think we have to offer:

1.) You can discuss anything with us, and I do mean anything. I have had cameras inserted into literally every orifice, and 4 out of 5 I got to watch live on video.  At a research hospital, my hoo hoo was used for gynecological training for 4 medical students and two nurses…six people in the same room feeling my tilted uterus at the same time. Whatever embarrassing shit you’ve been through, I promise we have been through something similar. You had to get up during the middle of sex with a new boyfriend to go vomit? Who hasn’t. You accidentally wore the pants with a giant hole in the crotch on the same day you forgot to wear underwear, and had to stand up on a raised platform? Been there, done that. Next time something embarrassing happens, call your chronically ill friend. We’ll tell you about that time we accidentally farted when the doctor pushed down on our abdomen during a pelvic exam to make you feel better.

2.) Along the same lines as #1: We don’t gross out easily. I have helped my deteriorating mom collect a urine sample. The amount of vomit I have had to clean up could fill a bathtub. I have seen surgeries, crazy injuries, puss, blood, and bones protruding. I have assisted in spinal taps and biopsies and suturing. You got a little toddler vomit on your shirt? Honey, ain’t no thang. If we were only allowed to wear clothes that had never been vomited on, I’d have like three shirts. Just smear a little of the mashed banana barf on my shirt so we’ll match and let’s go get some breakfast.

3) We’re really good listeners. Talking requires entirely too much energy anyway.

4) We’re casual. Bras are pretty much always optional at my house. As is brushing your hair. So ditch the over-the-shoulder boulder holder, throw your hair up in a messy bun, and come over to my place.

5) We’ll come visit you/your kids/your dog in the hospital or accompany you to medical procedures. I hate hospitals, but at the same time, I feel very comfortable in one. And we know what it feels like to be alone in a hospital. If you get sick or have surgery, I’ll bring trashy magazines and sneak in donuts and we’ll gossip about the scary doctors and the handsome nurses and I’ll hold your hand when it starts to hurt. Besides, if you end up in the “good” hospital, we are on a first name basis with all the best nurses, and we have been meaning to stop by and get that banana bread recipe from Jen, anyway.

6) We know about medical shit. If Google gave away honorary medical degrees, we’d have like 5 of them. Want to know which painkiller goes best with chicken? Wondering what those blood results mean after your doctor suddenly went MIA? If you’re nervous about that scan tomorrow or you have a question about natural ways to increase blood pressure or you just need the name of a good rheumatologist, we’re THAT friend. Bring us along to your next doctor’s appointment – we can translate.

7) We have recommendations. We’re probably not the friend you’ll ask for recommendations about the best local mountain trails or the loudest club for dancing. But friends, if you need suggestions on what Netflix shows you should check out when you can’l sleep or the best electrolyte drink or a comfortable mattress or how to get blood off your shirt when the phlebotomist blows a vein, call us. We have the most random useless knowledge, acquired over years of trial and error. So the next time you’re wondering what color of concealer hides dark circles best, I’ll let you test mine.

8) We’re really supportive. Maybe you’ve been trying to work out more, and your other friends are like “you just walked a mile? Big woop.” Your chronically ill friends will understand that the mile may have felt like 50, and will celebrate with you. You went to work for an hour??! Dude!! Hi fives all around!! You didn’t vomit at all today?? THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

Chronically ill friends – what did I leave out??

“The language of friendship is not words but meanings.” – Henry David Thoreau

Smell ya later.
– Linds