Speaking Of Spoons…

I have been looking for spoon jewelry for a while and finally found some that I like on Etsy from The Paper Poppy Store. 

Last week, I wore the necklace and earrings to work and one of my coworkers asked what my necklace was.  I told her that it was a spoon, that I have lupus and RA, and sort of tried to summarize The Spoon Theory and the idea of spoons as they relate to chronic illness. 

I decided to email her and my two other main coworkers, including my supervisor.  I told them that I was diagnosed with Lupus and RA in 2008 and that I try to educate people wherever I can.  My supervisor already knew about my illnesses, but my other two coworkers did not. 

My email read:

Today when X stopped by the office, she asked me what was on my necklace.  It was a spoon.  My earrings today have spoons on them, too.  I told X that it's in reference to The Spoon Theory, written by a woman with lupus to try to get her friend to understand what it feels like to have lupus.  You might not know, but I've had lupus and rheumatoid arthritis since 2008.  I really try to educate people as much as I can, and since I am working so closely with you all, I figured I would share The Spoon Theory with you:

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/wpress/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/  

One of my coworkers emailed me back to say that reading The Spoon Theory made her cry and that she is so grateful to me that I use my “precious” spoons to help others.  I was so touched by her response.

Maybe part of it is the fact that we work in patient advocacy, that there is some measure of understanding.  But I don't think I have ever been in a situation where I felt so good, not only about disclosing, but also about the subsequent response that I received. 

Since I am working so closely with these people, I feel that it is important for them to understand my situation, although I hope that they will never have to see me at my worst; but if they do, I hope they are at least a little bit prepared.

I find that trying to educate people can be exhausting, but in this case, I felt like I had the perfect opening and opportunity to broach the subject. 

And that openness and honesty was returned to me in the responses that I received from them. 

I’ve also realized that it’s really important to meet people where they are.  In this case, I met them at a very basic level.  A comment about my spoon jewelry led to a very meaningful conversation about the nature of lupus and RA, and some of the issues that result from them. 

I didn’t attempt a technical conversation about the major medical complications of lupus and RA, or the treatments used to treat these illnesses.  I tried to give them a basic idea of what it feels like to be me. 

The truth is, you never truly know what is going on in another person’s life unless you ask them or talk to them and learn about them.  I’m sure that when my coworker inquired about my necklace, she didn’t anticipate the depth of the response that she received from me. 

But I’m really glad that she asked, because it opened up a line of communication that may have stayed closed. 

The Spoon Theory has spoken to me since I first got sick, and I like being able to share something so valuable with others.  And more recently, I’ve started talking about spoons a lot, because they truly do make sense to me.   

And I love my spoon jewelry.  The necklace and earrings are a constant reminder to me of what I’ve been through, and my daily battle for spoons.

Operating With A Serious Spoon Deficit

Lately I have been operating with a serious spoon deficit.

For those who don’t know, the idea of the spoon theory is that someone with a chronic illness has a limited number of spoons that they can use each day, and once those spoons are gone, they pretty much can’t do anything other than rest.

These days, I have lists of things I have to do that never all seem to get done when I want to get them done. 

People without chronic illness don’t understand, and they don’t realize that it literally means I could be out doing something and suddenly feel sick and like I have to lie down.

I’m running on fumes.  Less than fumes.  Not even on reserve.  My reserves are gone.

I can literally be stopped in my tracks.    

And it has caused me anxiety when I am not close to home but realize I am running low on spoons.  How will I get home?  Will I have to find a cab instead of the subway or bus?  Can I keep from getting sick, regardless of the mode of transportation?  Can I walk the half a block from where I get dropped off until I get into the apartment building?  

I don’t have copious amounts of energy.  I have to pick my battles wisely, and sometimes bow out of battles altogether.    

And this state of affairs bothers me a lot.  I don’t want to have limitations.  I don’t want to say no to things.  But I don’t have a choice. 

For most of us with chronic illness, our days are variable.  Some days are good – we have more energy and less pain – and some days are bad.

Some days all my spoons get me is out of a bed, a shower, and breakfast.  Some days – rarely – it’s like I am my healthy self again. 

For about the past two months, I constantly feel like I am coming down with something.  I get a cough, my throat hurts, I spike low-grade fevers, I get these weird skin rashes.  This is my immune system telling me it’s time to take a break.  But I can’t really.  So I buck my immune system, but I can’t buck my lack of spoons.

When the spoons are gone for the day, they’re gone.  And I can’t bank them from days when I don’t use that many.  It’s always a finite number of spoons. 

Say I start the day with 12 spoons.  On a day that I have school, my spoon count would look like this:

Get up – 1 spoon

Eat breakfast – 1 spoon

Get dressed – 1 spoon

Bus – 1 spoon

Subway – 1 spoon

Train – 1 spoon

Walk to class – 1 spoon

Class – 1 spoon

Eat lunch – 1 spoon

Class – 1 spoon

Class – 1 spoon

Walk to train – 1 spoon

Train – 1 spoon

Subway – 1 spoon

Bus – 1 spoon

Dinner – 1 spoon

Get ready for bed – 1 spoon

Count that.  That’s 17 spoons right there when my allotment for the day is 12.  Now wonder I am so exhausted all the time.

It’s stunning for me to realize how little my body can actually handle.  But it makes total sense…to me…at least…

It’s easy for people who aren’t chronically ill to be judgmental and use terms like lazy, aloof, or uncaring.  But those characterizations couldn’t be further from the truth.  Like I said, I would give anything to do everything I need to everyday and not have to take time off after a particularly hard or busy day. 

But that’s not the reality.

If you are not chronically ill: How much of your day would you actually get done if you only had 12 spoons and every activity costs you a spoon?