Reprinted with the kind permission of Kit and “A Rainbow at Night.”
I make sure they take their medicine on time and I’ve helped them figure out what’s actually helpful so they won’t have to take any more than necessary. I’ve helped them find interesting pill cases to take off the mental stress of staring at a dozen pill bottles always by their bed, which I know they have to reach for multiple times a day.
I listen to the extensive list of doctors everyone wants them to see, and help them figure out which appointments are really important and suggest they prioritize those above the rest. I’ve called and written for them so they can get any procedure possible done from home, so they won’t have to deal with the physical exhaustion of leaving the house “just” for uncomfortable treatments, or the mental burden of being surrounded by a medical establishment that has traumatized them over the years.
I’ve helped them find clothes that were of soft fabric to help with neuropathy. I've helped strategize their budget to find money for important purchases that make their life easier, like an over-bed desk, a smartphone to stay connected to friends that only exist outside their city, and a stereo that uses bluetooth so they can listen to anything instantly using their phone as the remote.
I’ve introduced them to mindfulness and stressed how important it is to take care of their inner world, almost more so than their outer body, because they can’t always control their circumstances, their disease, or natural physical changes, but they can always decide how to think about them.
I’ve helped them make extremely difficult decisions about their treatment and supported them endlessly in whatever they had to choose, trusting that only they know what’s right for them, and that no matter what, it will be the best for them and subsequently everyone around them, including me.
I’ve shared with them any and all of my collective wisdom to help make their travels on this earth a little easier, hopefully none more difficult than they must be. And I’ve done all this and more because I love them and want their life to be the best possible. I’m already so proud of them, for things sometimes I wonder if they even realize.
I’m proud of them for getting out of bed whenever they have the option. I’m proud of them for not giving up on life after it turned out so drastically different from their plans. I’m proud of them for continuing to try new things whenever they have the capacity, and for acknowledging, accepting, and loving themselves whenever they DON’T have it.
I’m proud of them for taking care of their body even though that can be a full-time job in itself, and they’re disabled. I’m proud of them for continuing to do the things they love, even though they had to learn to participate in new ways; I think that’s so amazing.
I’m proud of them for reaching out to others even when not many reached out to them. And I’m very proud of them for letting go of the ones who never reached out to them, because I’ve seen that it left them more energy to spend on the people who truly cherish them. I’m proud of them for not settling for anything less than authenticity.
And once the time comes – because it will – for them to move forward to the next phase of their existence? Don’t be fooled by the media or even friends and family: They’re not losing any battle against disease. They’ll simply be finished here. To paraphrase Eckhart Tolle: You don’t “have” a life, you ARE life. They are Life. I am Life. You are Life Itself, and you cannot lose something that you are. And the friend I mentioned, is myself.
Kit describes herself as an optimistic realist with equal thirsts for creative expression, knowledge, and peace. Her blog ‘A Rainbow at Night’ chronicles a very special way of living with disabling chronic illness, particularly through the lens of Buddhism and acceptance. You can also connect with Kit on Twitter and Facebook.