About me

I have been writing poetry and stories since I was a child, and a love of reading was instilled in me from an early age. I am passionate about writing, and hope you enjoy the books I have written. Whilst most of you sleep soundly in your beds, like many Parkinson’s patients, insomnia dictates, so during those hours that sleep eludes me, the house is tranquil and quiet, an atmosphere perfect to immerse myself in writing. My life has been a series of strange events, which have without doubt contributed to my creativity. To publish anything is to bear one’s soul to the world. It is to stand naked and let everyone see who you really are. I have poured my heart and soul out on paper and I hope to share this journey, immersing you in a story, capturing your attention and firing the imagination. Through my writing and public speaking I hope to bring greater awareness to the general public about living with chronic disease.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Invisible Chronic Illness

I've lost count of how many times people have said to me; “you don’t look disabled”. What exactly do people expect a disabled person to look like? I presume the number one criteria is being in a wheelchair – after all, if you can’t walk, then you MUST be disabled. However it is not as simple and clear cut as this, and there are many chronic patients suffering an array of diseases, where they appear like everyone else. I've said this before, but I’ll say it again: “never judge a book by its cover!” It’s not a matter of an ill person giving the false impression of being well, but the other way around, that there is a predisposed idea of what an ill person should look like. Only those diseases where visually one can see a physical disability, do people immediately acknowledge the person as being ill, since they fit neatly into their prejudiced category. But when someone for instance, looks like me, it generally confuses people’s concept of chronic disease. In their minds I shouldn't look like I do. This biased view is both irritating and frustrating, particularly when someone says to me: “but you look so well”. I wonder what I'm supposed to look like to satisfy those who do not understand. Maybe I need to wear a badge indicating how I suffer daily, am in constant discomfort, take morphine for excruciating bone pain, am tired beyond the point of exhaustion and am just about holding it together. But what really throws a spanner in the works is that I have the audacity to smile and be cheerful – this is something that most people, including doctors cannot understand.  Would you consider Asthma to be a chronic disease? Probably not, but if you take a look at a brave lady's site Invisible Chronic Illness who does not fit the mould of "looking disabled" you'll see I'm not the only one!

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