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A request from your chronically ill friend: what I need when we talk about my sickness.

When I meet new people, I often struggle to explain what I need. This is it.

When I was 14, I woke up with a fat face.

I was sick with a fever higher than I had ever felt. My face felt like a sumo wrestler had crammed a cantaloupe into my ear.

My mom took me to the emergency room in the closest town to our family’s remote lake house in North Carolina. Receptionists shooed me in, nurses injected butt shots, and doctors gave me doe-eyed stares. They had no idea what was wrong with me.


Photo via iStock.

This routine of waking up suddenly sick, with a fat face and a spiked fever, continued for years.

Finally, when I was 16, doctors handed me a diagnosis and a pill regimen and told me I might be sick forever.

I was young enough that my pediatric doctor called to give my mom the diagnosis over the phone. The most dramatic part happened before the diagnosis, though, when they told my mom that they had somehow lost my eight vials of blood (which had taken hours of sweat and tears and people holding me down to get). Otherwise, the phone call was short and I could hear the words through the phone my mom held up to her ear.

“I’m so sorry,” the pediatric doctor said to my mom. As if we knew anything about an autoimmune disorder called Sjögren’s syndrome, with hallmark symptoms of dry eyes and a dry mouth, and why we should possibly join the doctor in feeling sad.

Now, more than 10 years later, I’m living fairly well with this autoimmune disorder.

But still, when I meet new people, I struggle with how to explain what I need. Part of my introduction to new people has to include these words: “I’m sick.” And that’s not easy.

So hello, new friend. Here’s what I need you to try to understand when we talk about my life with a chronic illness:

1. I need you to let me have my green couch moments.

After that first day at the hospital in North Carolina, they sent me home without answers and I slept on the green couch at my family’s lake house for days. I remember feeling sad, watching my cousins jump off the diving board at the end of the dock.

Photo via iStock.

But I mostly remember feeling sad about how my family looked at me. They all had the saddest eyes, like they knew something about my future that I couldn’t comprehend at the age of 14.

For some reason, I’ve continued to have a lot of different green couches over the years in various houses and apartments. Sometimes when my sickness takes over, I have to spend days — or weeks — recovering on my green couch. I need you to let me stay there to rest and wait for Netflix to ask me, “Are you still watching 'Friends'?”

2. I need you to show up.

No one knows what tomorrow holds. But if my tomorrow puts me in the hospital, I need you to come. I need you to show up. Sure, you can bring me flowers, but I really just need you to be there at my bedside, hanging out.

In high school, when my hospital visits lasted for 12 or 14 days of sucking on lemons in the pediatric wing to trigger my salivary glands and going for walks wheeling my IV bag, I remember the friends who showed up. And I remember the friends who only came after my parents bribed them to sit with me for a couple hours so they could go home to shower.

People were afraid. I get it. I was afraid, too.

3. I need you to stop asking why doctors can’t fix me.

The autoimmune disorder that I have is chronic, meaning there isn’t a cure, just like many other people in the world with chronic illnesses. I know it’s confusing — you come down with a cough and you go to the doctor to get better.

For me, it’s not that simple. I take a couple of medications that help tackle my individual symptoms and improve my quality of life with pain management, but that’s it. That’s all doctors can do at this point.

Please stop asking why. Doctors don’t know. I don’t know.

4. I need you to try to see my invisible pain.

All those years when I woke up with a fat face were just my invisible illness trying to make a guest appearance for one episode. Mostly, my body suffers in ways that you can’t see.

Photo via iStock.

The more visible symptoms happen in cold weather when the blood rushes away from my hands and feet. This is when you watch in amazement because my white hands look like a dead person’s. I need you to know that the invisible pain hurts just as bad as the visible pain.

5. I need you to stop asking me how I feel today.

Some days, it’s a big deal to just get out of bed because my joints ache and after even 10 hours of sleep, I still feel like I have a hangover. My right foot and my back feel broken, and my dry eyes build a white film on my contacts that feels like I’m watching the world through a dirty fish bowl.

When you ask me how I feel today, the answer is complicated. The list of pain that’s both inflamed or subsided is longer than we need to hash out. And sometimes the answer to your questions makes me sad, grieving the loss of a dream of a pain-free life I think I deserve.

6. I need you to let me weep in my mom’s arms, even as a grown adult.

Next month, I turn 27. Recently, I wept in my mom’s arms in a shaking way that startled even me. It was the day I got another doctor’s bill for hundreds that I couldn’t afford, and I wasn’t sure if I could even go to my specialist appointment because it might mean I couldn’t pay rent or buy groceries for a couple of months.

My health insurance doesn’t get it. They cover so little, deeming appointments and blood work as “medically unnecessary.” But truthfully, nothing about this sick life is easy to handle, even as a pretty independent adult. I need you to let me weep from the deepest places and not tell me to just shake it off.

7. I need you to stop telling me I can’t.

I told my parents I wanted to go on a mission trip to Africa. Instantly, they said, “You can’t.”

I’ve heard these words before, about studying abroad or becoming an elementary school teacher, with planes and buildings and countries with germs lurking behind every corner. Their advice comes from places of love. But I can’t have you joining in on this whole “You can’t” chant.

Until a doctor gives a definite “No, you can’t do that or go there,” then I need you to invite me to go places. I need you to challenge me and dream with me.

8. I need you to let me be stubborn.

I have a cousin who’s searching for a diagnosis for something autoimmune right now. My biggest prayer for her is that she stays stubborn, even after she knows she’s sick. She studied abroad before she got sick, before anyone tried to tell her she can’t.

The last couple of years, I moved to a new time zone, even when some told me I couldn’t. You might get to know me now and want to protect me in a plastic bubble everywhere we go. Please don’t. If you’re planning a trip somewhere exotic, invite me. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.

Photo via iStock.

Let me wrestle in the dark with my own stubbornness, just like when I was a little girl and insisted on riding my new bike with shiny tassels on the very first night, even though it was too big and pitch dark outside. I might fall down and get hurt, but I promise you I’ll learn from stubbornly ditching the training wheels in the dark.

9. I need you to tell me to stop staring at that hospital waiting in the sky.

I live in Dallas with a clear view to Baylor hospital in the skyline. Sometimes, while I’ve sat by the pool at my apartment, I’ve caught myself staring for too long at the hospital waiting in the sky for my future arrival.

You might be familiar with how we tell the “sick narrative”: sick, sicker, dying, gone. I have a higher risk of lymphoma and other complications, but this doesn’t mean that’s definitely how my story will end.

So if you catch me anxiously staring at my scripted future, stop me. I need you to remind me that the story can twist in so many directions, especially with technology and modern medicine that completely shatter traditional death sentences.

10. I need you to let me change the world today. Now.

The best (and worst) part about being sick: It moves me into action. I don’t have time to wait. I probably quit jobs sooner than you would or chase after dreams in frantic ways while you put yours on the back burner. I also don’t have time to waste.

It’s scary and exciting all wrapped into one. I need you to help me figure out how little me plays a part in this big story. Let me fight for things that matter today because tomorrow is just a gift.

11. I need you to love me like the 80-year-old grandma I am.

I’ve finally found a pill box that fits all the vitamins and medications that I need to sort out for designated times each day. My dream night is one cozied up and warm on the couch, followed by a 9:30 bedtime. Sjögren’s means I don’t produce enough tears, but if I did, I would cry while laughing at how many times I have to go to the bathroom because of all the water I have to drink to stay hydrated.

Yes, me and your 80-year-old grandma probably have more in common than you and I do. I’ve completely accepted this fact. Especially since I’ve been 80 since I was 16.

So love me like a grandma! Stop inviting me out to all-nighters and saying it’s so funny how I go to bed early and love warm socks. It’s not funny or cute. It’s who I am.

My autoimmune disorder is in no way categorized as “the worst.”

Believe me, people suffer every day with far worse, much more incurable diseases than mine. Some days, my illness feels mostly annoying, like an accessory I carry around and must remember to bring with me when I leave the house.

But I hope you will one day meet one of my best friends, a woman who has learned to love me and my sickness. She remembers little details, like how I lack the saliva required to eat dry pretzels filled with dry peanut butter. She figures out how to eat each pretzel with a huge swig of water so I won’t choke, and she does it with me, too. Together, we laugh.

She sits with me on the green couch for Netflix marathons when I’m sick. And together, we cry.

That’s what I want, what I need, and what I want you to know about me, friend: W​e all have our stuff, and this is mine.

A waiter talking with his hands.

One of the great things about America is that we have a relatively young culture, so many of the foods that we eat were brought over from other countries. That makes America a great place to try out all the different types of food from around the world.

However, we also like to put our own stamp on staples from around the globe that give the American version its own unique flair. Some foods that we claim originated overseas were actually first made right here in the U.S. of A. For example, chimichangas, which can be found in many Mexican restaurants, actually originated in the state of Arizona. Crab Rangoon, a popular “Chinese” dish, was actually invented in San Francisco, and spaghetti and meatballs were never a thing in Italy.


TikTok creator Gabby Donahue posted a video that’s the perfect example of how some ethnic foods get remixed once they become popular in the States. In a video with over 7 million views, her father shows a waiter in Italy a photo of chicken parmesan from Olive Garden so he can order it at the restaurant. The waiter's reaction is an excellent example of someone trying to be polite while he cannot believe what he is seeing.

“My Boston Irish father trying to order a Google image of the Olive Garden chicken parm in Italy,” Donahue wrote in the text overlay.

@gabbydonahuee

@Olive Garden ‘s biggest fan 😭😭😭😭 #italy #cultureshock #chickenparm #olivegarden


When the father showed the picture to the waiter, he seemed a bit confused about the image. “Only in the States,” he said. “It doesn’t exist in Italy.” The father couldn’t believe what he was hearing: “It doesn’t exist in Italy?”

“I don’t know what it is…on the pasta?” the waiter said, trying to make sense of the chicken breast smothered in cheese and sauce. The waiter gave his final verdict while holding his chin: “No. That’s horrible.”

“Horrible? Wow. Look at that. That doesn’t,” the father laughed. “That looks good… but,” the waiter shrugged off the father. “It does look good,” the father continued. “It tastes good. I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna mail you some. I’ll send it to you.”

“Okay? Olive Garden chicken, I’m gonna search,” the waiter said, walking away from the table.


The commenters had a field day analyzing the waiter’s body language. “‘No, that looks good’ while looking completely disgusted was the most Italian reaction ever,” one commenter wrote. “Bro remembered halfway through his disgust that he’s at work,” another added.

It’s not crazy that an American would think that chicken parmesan is an Italian dish; after all, it’s served in most Italian-American restaurants. However, according to Paesana, it was created in America by the Italian diaspora.

“In the Old World, that’s Italy prior to the Italian diaspora—the large-scale emigration of Italians from Italy to America—proteins like chicken were not widely available," according to an article on the site. "As such, the prototypical chicken parmigiana was actually made with breaded, fried slices of eggplant in place of chicken for a dish called melanzane alla Parmigiana."


Even though chicken parmesan didn’t originate in the old country, Pasquale Sciarappa, a popular Italian-born food influencer living in America, has no problem cooking the dish.

"'That’s not Italian!’ I hear this every time I share a dish like Chicken Parmigiana. And you know what? They’re right — it’s not something you’d traditionally find in Italy. But you know what else is true? It’s Italian-American. It was born in immigrant kitchens — from people who left Italy, landed in the U.S., and made do with what they had. They took inspiration from dishes like melanzane alla parmigiana and recreated comfort from memory using what was available,” he wrote.

It’s understandable that an American could go to Italy without knowing that something he’d had in Italian restaurants wasn’t actually from Italy. It’s understandable for an Italian server to balk at a photo of a dish served in an American restaurant that you’d find in a shopping mall.

But we should all agree that one of the wonderful things about American culture is that it's an amalgamation of different cultures stirred around in the same pot, and if that means we get a fresh variation on the burrito, a new way to eat Chinese crab, or a tasty piece of chicken where eggplant used to be, the more the better.

Education

Stop struggling with small talk by using the easy 'COST method'

This simple acronym will make your next social gathering a lot more enjoyable.

A man and woman chatting at a dinner party.

There are several reasons why people are hesitant to engage in small talk at a party or around the water cooler at work. Some people simply avoid it because they don’t find chatting about the weather, sports, or what they saw on television the night before very interesting.

Others are afraid that they may run out of things to say or that there will be an awkward pause that makes them want to hide their head in the sand, like an ostrich. Mary, a friendship educator with a degree in interpersonal communication, has a solution for those of us who want to be friendly and meet people but abhor small talk; she calls it the COST method.


What is the COST method for making small talk?

According to Mary, who goes by @better.social.skills on TikTok, COST stands for Compliment, Observation, Story, and Tip. These are four options you can turn to when you're in need of a conversation topic.

@better.social.skills

Remember the acronym C.O.S.T. and you’ll always have something to talk about at parties or events. C stands for compliment. Tell somebody you like their shirt or shoes, for example, and see where the conversation leads. O stands for observation. Remark on something happening around you, like if you enjoy the music or feel a certain way about the weather. A stands for story, in which you share a little anecdote about yourself. For example, maybe you were late to the party for some reason, or you’re excited to get home and watch a show you’re loving. T stands for tip, in which you give a small recommendation to someone. For example, where the shortest bathroom lines are, which food is particular particularly delicious, or point out an interesting person they might want to talk to. What do you think? Would you use these? #creatorsearchinsights #conversationstarters

1. Compliment

“Tell somebody you like their shirt or shoes, for example, and see where the conversation leads,” Mary says.

“Oh, I like your shoes.”

“I like your shirt.”

“You have such a soothing voice.”

2. Observation

“Remark on something happening around you,” Mary says.

“This song is amazing.”

“I really love how Jeanie decorated this room.”

“There’s a lot more people here than last night.”

3. Story

“Share a little anecdote about yourself. For example, maybe you were late to the party for some reason, or you’re excited to get home and watch a show you’re loving,” she said.

4. Tip

“Give a small recommendation to someone. For example, where the shortest bathroom lines are, which food is particularly delicious, or point out an interesting person they might want to talk to,” Mary said.

“I don’t know if you’ve tried the new Mexican place on South Street yet…”

“I’d have one of Jeanie’s margaritas now, before they are all gone.”

“Be careful if you talk to Brian. He can get a bit long-winded.”

chatting before movie, popcorn, movie theater, snacks, small talk Three people chatitng before a movie.via Canva/Photos

The great thing, if you’re a little shy about making small talk, is that studies show that you definitely don’t need to do all the heavy lifting in the conversation. In fact, a Gong.io study found that the best way to make a connection with someone is to speak 43% of the time and let your new friend talk for the other 57% of the conversation.

Further proof that the best way to make a great first impression is a study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. It found that when meeting someone for the first time, ask them a question and then be sure to ask two additional follow-ups before discussing yourself. This has been found to dramatically increase your likability.

“We identify a robust and consistent relationship between question-asking and liking,” the authors of the study write. “People who ask more questions, particularly follow-up questions, are better liked by their conversation partners.”

For those of you who have always felt that you're bad at making small talk. while others seemed to do it naturally, realize that people aren’t born great communicators; it’s a skill that can be learned just like anything else. With a few tips from the experts, you can go from dreading small talk to enjoying striking up a conversation with just about anyone.

Harvard researcher Arthur C. Brooks studies what leads to human happiness.

We live in a society that prizes ambition, celebrating goal-setting, and hustle culture as praiseworthy vehicles on the road to success. We also live in a society that associates successfully getting whatever our hearts desire with happiness. The formula we internalize from an early age is that desire + ambition + goal-setting + doing what it takes = a successful, happy life.

But as Harvard University happiness researcher Arthur C. Brooks has found, in his studies as well as his own experience, that happiness doesn't follow that formula. "It took me too long to figure this one out," Brooks told podcast host Tim Ferris, explaining why he uses a "reverse bucket list" to live a happier life.


bucket list, wants, desires, goals, detachment Many people make bucket lists of things they want in life. Giphy

Brooks shared that on his birthday, he would always make a list of his desires, ambitions, and things he wanted to accomplish—a bucket list. But when he was 50, he found his bucket list from when he was 40 and had an epiphany: "I looked at that list from when I was 40, and I'd checked everything off that list. And I was less happy at 50 than I was at 40."

As a social scientist, he recognized that he was doing something wrong and analyzed it.

"This is a neurophysiological problem and a psychological problem all rolled into one handy package," he said. "I was making the mistake of thinking that my satisfaction would come from having more. And the truth of the matter is that lasting and stable satisfaction, which doesn't wear off in a minute, comes when you understand that your satisfaction is your haves divided by your wants…You can increase your satisfaction temporarily and inefficiently by having more, or permanently and securely by wanting less."

Brooks concluded that he needed a "reverse bucket list" that would help him "consciously detach" from his worldly wants and desires by simply writing them down and crossing them off.

"I know that these things are going to occur to me as natural goals," Brooks said, citing human evolutionary psychology. "But I do not want to be owned by them. I want to manage them." He discussed moving those desires from the instinctual limbic system to the conscious pre-frontal cortex by examining each one and saying, "Maybe I get it, maybe I don't," but crossing them off as attachments. "And I'm free…it works," he said.

- YouTube www.youtube.com

"When I write them down, I acknowledge that I have the desire," he explained on X. "When I cross them out, I acknowledge that I will not be attached to this goal."

The idea that attachment itself causes unhappiness is a concept found in many spiritual traditions, but it is most closely associated with Buddhism. Mike Brooks, PhD, explains that humans need healthy attachments, such as an attachment to staying alive and attachments to loved ones, to avoid suffering. But many things to which we are attached are not necessarily healthy, either by degree (over-attachment) or by nature (being attached to things that are impermanent).

"We should strive for flexibility in our attachments because the objects of our attachment are inherently in flux," Brooks writes in Psychology Today. "In this way, we suffer unnecessarily when we don't accept their impermanent nature."

What Arthur C. Brooks suggests that we strive to detach ourselves from our wants and desires because the simplest way to solve the 'haves/wants = happiness' formula is to reduce the denominator. The reverse bucket list, in which you cross off desires before you fulfill them, can help free you from attachment and lead to a happier overall existence.

Did Julius Caesar have his armpits plucked? Probably.

Modern life may have us shaving, waxing, microblading, laser treating, Botoxing, and altering our natural appearance in all manner of ways in the name of beauty, but the idea of grooming to specific societal standards is nothing new. In cultures all around the world and throughout history, humans have found countless creative ways to make ourselves (ostensibly) look better.

Of course, what looks better is subjective and always has been. Take, for example, the ancient Romans. If you wanted to be seen as a studly man 2,000 years ago in the Roman Empire, you'd remove as much of your body hair as possible. That meant tweezing—or being tweezed by someone else, most likely an enslaved person.


armpit hair, grooming, hair removal, hairless, beauty standard Armpit hair wasn't cook in ancient Rome. Giphy

The Romans, in general, weren't big on body hair for men or women.

"You had to have the look,” Cameron Moffett, English Heritage’s curator at the Wroxeter Roman City museum in Shropshire, U.K., told The Times. “And the look was hairlessness, particularly the underarms.” A collection of 50 tweezers on display at the museum, recovered from the archeological site that was once the Roman city of Viriconium, speaks to Roman tweezing habits, but that's not the only evidence we have.

Stoic philosopher Seneca once wrote in a letter lamenting how the noise from the Roman baths was disrupting his work: "Besides those who just have loud voices, imagine the skinny armpit-hair plucker whose cries are shrill to draw people's attention and never stop except when he's doing his job and making someone else shriek for him."

When we picture the ancient Romans, "skinny armpit-hair plucker" may not be the image that comes to mind, yet here we are.


teeth brushing, toothbrush, oral hygiene, toothpaste, dental hygiene They brushed with what now? Giphy

While we fret over fluoride, the Romans brushed their teeth with pee and mouse brains.

Toothpastes of the past were made with all kinds of things—herbs, spices, salts, crushed bone, and more. For the ancient Romans, that "more" included mouse brains and human urine, according to Decisions in Dentistry. Mouse brains were believed to enhance the effectiveness of toothpaste, and urine, imported in large quantities from Portugal, was utilized for its ammonia content and whitening properties. A standard Roman toothpaste would be a mixture of herbs, mouse brains, urine, and a binder such as honey. Oddly enough, it appeared to be somewhat effective, with archeological findings showing a relatively low number of cavities and tooth decay.

@charissekenion

Sailorr has everyone talking about her sound - and her teeth. Here’s my super short history lesson on the practice of ohaguro #ohaguro #geisha #japanese #japantok #aapi #history #japan #historytok #sailorr #japanesebeauty

Meanwhile, in ancient Japan, women tried to blacken their teeth

Teeth whitening is all the rage in modern times, but in the distant past in parts of Asia, making your teeth black was considered beautiful. The practice known as ohaguro was a traditional Japanese practice that, ironically, was intended to prevent tooth decay.

According to a letter in the British Dental Journal, women in ancient Japan would paint a solution of ferric acetate (from iron filings), vinegar, and tannin from tea or vegetables. It was called kanemizuonto and made the teeth appear black. The practice has made a comeback among some rural areas of Southeast Asia, and the Vietnamese-American singer Sailorr has made waves with her blackened teeth as well.

ear picker, history, artifact, grooming, beauty An ornate ear picker.The Swedish History Museum, Stockholm/Wikimedia Commons

Ear pickers were much prettier than Q-tips. In fact, they were an accessory.

The old saying, "Don't put anything in your ear except your elbow," may not be as old as it seems, as people have been inserting objects into their ears to remove wax for a long time.

In the 16th and 17th centuries, it was common to see beautiful, ornate "ear pickers"—small metal tools with a small scoop at the end for cleaning ears as well as teeth and fingernails. According to Jamestown Rediscovery, it was fashionable to wear gold and silver toiletry tools, such as ear pickers or toothpicks, as accessories. It's hard to imagine wearing Q-tips and toothpicks around. Also, ew. But if you look up "ear pickers," you'll find ornate examples from various parts of the world.

At the very least, it's nice to know that modern humans are not the first ones to go to great—and sometimes interesting—lengths to meet an arbitrary social standard of beauty. (And three cheers for modern toothpaste. Seriously.)