Today I sat around a patio table with four of my very good friends. Of the 5 of us, it just so happens that 3 of us have pretty serious health challenges.

One of my friends has Cushing’s Disease, which is likely going to require brain surgery soon. Another has a heart problem. And I have a crazy screwed up brain. When you sit down and think about it, the odds of the three of us being in the same program at the same time are practically impossibly small.

And today we three anomalies sat and talked for a while.

We talked about the reality of life with disease.

We talked about all the stupid little things we do to try to find control in our lives and how often they totally backfire.

We talked about how hard it is to get up and keep going when things seem like they cannot possibly get worse or seem like they’re never on track to be better.

We talked about how draining this life is. How exhausting it is just to live with pain, with disease.

We sat, a group of 3 people facing completely different challenges, and we shared a bond. Tears were shed, truths that had been long hidden were shared.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.

It’s hard to describe how isolating disease and pain can be. There’s the very obvious missing out on life component that’s easy to understand and to imagine. But there’s a secondary isolation. Sometimes it’s literally your absence from events that you could attend but choose not to, other times it’s more subtle. It’s physically being somewhere, but being detached. It’s the feeling of being completely alone in a room full of people.

Today’s conversation reminded me of the saying that misery loves company. But I don’t think it’s really that simple.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted other people to be miserable or sick or in pain just because I am. Frankly, I don’t wish chronic pain or disease on anyone (okay, very occasionally, in my head, I do). But on days like today where I am surrounded in my misery with others who understand it, I realize that I have missed company. That I do really love it.

I really think that essentially we’re all bearing our own burdens. Even if we can’t admit it to anyone else, we’re all fighting our own misery.

And maybe the key to winning is finding allies who share in those fights, in those experiences. Finding people who provide you company in the face of misery.

Share this on

14 Responses to “In the company of misery”