I had seen an interesting post a couple of days ago (could’ve been yesterday, really…who ever friggin’ knows when you suffer cognitive function impairments on a daily basis…but I digress…) written with the frustration that every Spoonie knows well….that “no one understands”, aka, no one freakin’ gets it….mentioning that we all should start a Fight Club…something to that mention (if it was you…please message me so I can give you 1) proper credit and 2) PROPS!!)
Fight Club is without a doubt, hands down, one of my most favourite of favourite movies.
So. It stands without reason that I was very intrigued by this post and started thinking about what exactly a “Fight Club” of Spoonies would look like?
At first thought, I saw this: an entire army of individuals banding together to amalgamate their fight against the disregard and intolerance of those whose illnesses you cannot see, joining and combining efforts to make progress through not only the medical community, but the employment community and communities of their family and friends as well…
But that’s not what the movie is about! No, it stood to reason that perhaps we should start a Fight Club to take out all of our frustrations and epitomize the mantra so often thrown in our faces by the chaos of our reality…”Work through the pain…”, “If you just get up and do stuff, you’ll feel better”…with people who already “get it”…you know…blow off a little steam every now and again.
What would the rules be, then?
#1 – The first rule of Spoonie Fight Club is, you do not talk about Spoonie Fight Club.
#2 – The second rule of Spoonie Fight Club is, you DO NOT talk about Spoonie Fight Club.
#3 – If someone says stop, goes limp, taps out, they’ve just forgotten what they were in the middle of doing. Fight back.
#4 – Two guys to a fight. Pbbbbbbbbffffffffttttttttt….my bad, anyone can participate as this is an equal opportunity Spoonie-ville community.
#5 – One fight at a time…no one’s going to believe you can multitask, we’ve all got brainfog, we’re onto you.
#6 – Shirts, Shoes. We all know how long it took you to put the damned things on, we’ll give you credit for that. It’s the only credit you’ll get. Use it wisely.
#7 – Fights will go on as long as they have to, or at least until the next round of medications, whichever comes first.
#8 – If this is your first night at Spoonie Fight Club, you have to fight…you won’t be sleeping tonight anyways from your Prednisone/medicative insomniac state, right?
Ah yes…Let’s begin!
*tap spoons together three times*
I attempt to launch a couple of pills and hope with my spazoid hand (afflicted with arthritis and the joint pain that only lupus can provide) that I can at least hit the Spoonie’s head. They miss. Dagnammit.
But I’m up against a man, who’s been enduring chronic illness much longer than I, and he’s pissed by the misinformation that only women are afflicted by Lupus…he looks tough. Literally. Having to soak up medications for that many years really takes it’s toll on the body. Anyways, I should have just gone with my Metformin instead of the Omega-3 supplement and Naproxin tablets. Rookie mistake.
He counters with a cane-swat to my knee. Quick bastard! Clever, too! I was trying for the second time to close the lid on my blinged-out pill box and WHOMP! First contact! Damn. I really cannot wait for August until I can see the rheumatologist for the first time…I have GOT to get a better game plan!
What to counter with?? Ah….I know…I reach into my back pocket ever so slight of hand (*SNORT*!!!) and withdraw….oh yea, baby….a makeup remover pocket wipe. I slowly (because there’s really no other speed available to a Spoonie) wipe my cheeks and nose…I hold my breath…
SUCCESS!! He stumbles over backwards, blinded by the ferocity and intensity of the malar rash I sport across my cheeks and nose, like a butterfly…he blinks repeatedly…this butterfly does not hold an beauty…this butterfly is the equivalent of the Wuxi finger hold…I’m certain of it…Skadoosh!!
Okay, I feel a little badly about that one. I walk over to try to help him up.
MISTAKE! I make yet another rookie mistake as he launches his ENTIRE multi-day pill box at my head…
This is one clever Spoonie! What he didn’t expect, however, is that the level of pain caused by the pill box connecting with my skull was no match for the pain and burn felt throughout my body on any given day…thus, I was able to quickly shake it off and re-enter the match. (phew!)
It went on and on…counter with counter…factoid with factoid (cuz, y’know…we’re all apt to learn a few tips and tricks only if we engage and begin talking and interacting with other Spoonies)…
It ended in a draw. We hadn’t even considered that we’d have to balance the exercise with rest, so we had to go sit down after being heckled by the gaggle of other Spoonies.
Yes, it was time for the next match to start.
We didn’t see who won, though, as we’d both fallen into a deep conversation about how each of us and our families was managing and coping with the various challenges of living life as a person managing chronic illness.