(I know, I know—I’m going to hell. That’s been made clear to me numerous times. I figure I might as well enjoy the ride there 😉)
I. I am thy illness. Thou shalt have no others before me.
Congratulations! I’m your new diagnosis!
No hard feelings, but I’m going to take over your life. Everything you do, think, say, and especially don’t do will revolve around me. (It’s so flattering) You’ll reflect on me in stolen moments throughout the day, wondering if I’m still there. (I’m always there—no need to worry about that) As you hesitate over whether to take an action, your mind will immediately flick to me.
How will I react?
Will there be a cost owed to me as a result?
Are the risks of my righteous anger too high?
(Let me simplify things for you now: The answer is always “Yes!”)
I’m seated deep within your brain. Your bones. Your blood. And I am here to stay.
II. Thou shalt not attempt to deny my existence.
It’s hurtful (and slightly insulting) that you feel this pressing need to pretend I don’t exist. Especially considering the amount of work I’ve done to prove the contrary. Those pains, dizzy spells, bouts of bottomless depression, cramps, gastroenterological disturbances, and such aren’t easy to conjure, you know. They take careful planning. I can’t produce an electric shock at the snap of a finger. (Oh, wait—maybe I can…)
I hope you realize your outright denial only encourages me to work that much harder.
III. Thou shalt not use profane language when describing my presence.
We have a long road ahead of us. The rest of your life, to be specific. (Yes, I hear that buried optimism in your mind. It’s cute) Choosing to go the route of belligerent antagonism isn’t going to make the journey a pleasant one. And, frankly, it hurts my feelings. I think you know what happens when I don’t feel liked and respected.
That’s right: Those spontaneous jolts of pain are your fault. No one told you to refer to me as an “inconvenience,” “irritation,” or “pain in the ass.” (I distinctly recall causing pain in more regions than your posterior)
I’m not saying I choose how to behave based on your word choices to describe me. But I’m also not going to deny that I respond better to kind words.
IV. Remember the appointment day to keep it holy.
I rather enjoy our visits to medical facilities. They’re amusing in their own way. (You appear so set in your determination of hatred you fail to see it. This negative behavior of yours needs work) Where else can you see so many shocked and confused expressions in one location? Everyone marvels at me. It’s the most admiring location you have brought me to.
I rather enjoy it!
If you could look past the frequency and constant need for these trips, I think you might start to look forward to them in the same manner that I do. In combination with me, we are a fascinating conundrum. You should revel in the attention and compliments we receive. Nowhere else does anyone comment so often, “I’ve never seen this.”
V. Honor thy doctor and nurse.
Your habit of speaking ill against those who do not do as you wish is frightfully bad. I am not the only one you should not use profane language against. Those who worship and adore me deserve the same decency and respect. How else can you expect them to continue to pay attention to me?
Doctors and nurses are fascinated by me. But your snide remarks when they fail to provide answers make them reluctant to interact with you. (It is not their fault; I reveal nothing of my mystery) Your behavior is interrupting their investigation and adoration of the wonder that is me.
And I do not appreciate your tantrums.
Remember, I am all that matters. You are nothing more than the vessel that transports me.
VI. Thou shalt not forgo treatment.
It’s not something I’m inclined to admit, but I get bored. The bounds of my imagination are limited. I require fresh infusions of ideas if I’m going to continue to provide your body with new experiences and symptoms. And the best source of that information comes from those treatments your medical team offers.
The very treatments you seem so set on denying over and over. (Do you not appreciate the side effects I create specifically for you?)
I have no patience or temper for your cries of, “Nothing works” or “This makes me feel worse.” I’m conducting experiments here, and I require the infusion of fresh material.
You don’t want things to grow stale and repetitive, do you?
(And before you get any crazy ideas, I am always capable of ratcheting up the intensity on my own—should I grow bored)
VII. Thou shalt not commit wanton acts of excessive physical activity.
Contrary to what you believe, you are not in charge any longer. Recall, I am now the ultimate authority over your life. And I do not authorize the ridiculous use of bodily resources required to complete a full day’s worth of chores, marathons, or day-long hikes. Such activity steals material I require for my work. Leaving me no recourse but to exact severe punishment so you do not repeat the behavior again.
A lesson you seem to have difficulty comprehending.
We are utilizing the same pool of resources. There is no more once they are gone.
I am the one in charge. And, therefore, I am the one who will decide how to spend our energy and spoons. If I must hoard them to incapacitate you for violating this rule, I will.
Know I do so out of love. Always love.
VIII. Thou shalt not steal spoons from the following day.
I may draw resources from the next day as a means of inflicting necessary punishment. You do not have such permission.
These are the perks of being in charge.
IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy loving family and friends when they ask after thy health.
It pleases me to hear you deny any wrongdoing on my part when you speak to those around you. This is in keeping with referring to me with respect and kindness. I appreciate that you disavow any infirmity or instability, even amid a well-deserved punishment. You’re learning your place within our pecking order.
I am not “causing you pain.”
Nor do I “interfere with your life.”
And I certainly am not “ruining your day.”
These sweet sentiments fall pleasantly on my ears. They’re bald-faced lies (remember, I’m a part of your circulatory system and feel the jump in your pulse), but those around you don’t know any better.
This duplicity you have cultivated will keep our relationship functioning smoothly.
X. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s good health.
You would do well to avoid those covetous stares at the people around you. They are not lucky enough to have been blessed with such a wonderful diagnosis as me. (They’re loss, really) Their lives are lacking; fragments of what could be.
You cannot compare what you have—the joys of the two of us living in constant lockstep. Attempting even to describe it to someone else would be impossible. (Yes, I’ve heard you try. It’s quite amusing)
Your tears would be better shed for these poor half-individuals. They don’t know what they’re missing.