browser life

For those needing an introduction, Ms. Crankybutt is my alter ego who appears whenever I get so fed up with something that I go on a rant. Ms. Crankybutt is more concerned with venting than with whether or not someone's feelings are hurt. And she is definitely not politically correct, although she is tactful enough to not actually name the persons who offend her.

Ahem.

I think it would be fair to admit that I am way more grumpy than usual because I feel as though someone has whacked the left side of my chest with a baseball bat, and the dressing applied to the biopsy site itches more than multiple mosquito bites. I also have a headache and a Baclofen hangover. And I'm in the worst flare in at least a year.

Nevertheless.

When I mentioned to certain nameless people that I was having a biopsy for breast cancer done, they were concerned. Extremely concerned. Actually, outright alarmed, considerably more than I was.

This might have gone unnoticed by me, except that I have been sick for 10 years, and this is my fifth body part to be biopsied. My doctors were far more concerned about the lymph node biopsy two years ago because I had all the symptoms of non-Hodgkins lympoma, and it is about 40 times more common in a Sjogren's patient than it is amongst the general population. Yet the hysteria amongst the nameless people about my breast biopsy was pretty much absent when it came to the much more invasive and potentially more serious removal of the swollen lymph node sitting next to my jugular vein.

Some of these presently hysterical people have a rather blase attitude about my chronic ailments, as if they were of minor consequence. Yes, I realize I am not at present actively dying of complications from Sjogren's or celiac disease or diabetes, but these diseases actually have the potential to be fatal occasionally, so they are not to be taken lightly. And the sum total of my illnesses are sufficient to negatively impact my quality of life.

I don't really need people to call my house daily and query as to my well-being. I'm pretty self-sufficient. But I would appreciate if the currently hysterical people had occasionally acknowledged that my life is significantly altered by my chronic ailments instead of suddenly freaking out about a common biopsy that is almost certainly negative.

Am I being unfair? Probably. But this is how I feel, fair or not: hurt that certain people are only sympathetic when I show signs of having an ailment that could happen to THEM.

Aren't rare conditions worthy of concern? Or did these people think I couldn't possibly be all that sick, that I must have been exaggerating? Or am I just ungrateful?

I will take the time to thank right now those of you who have been supportive from day one, way back 10 years ago when the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. And those of you I have met since who have believed in me as well. I am most fortunate that there are many of you because support from friends and family is one of the most crucial elements in the mental health of a person with chronic illness.

It is probably unreasonable of me to even complain, because I suppose it's better that the hysterical people are concerned instead of writing me off. And I'll probably be over the whole thing once the biopsy comes back negative.

But for right now, I'm cranky.