Until You Have Walked . . .

Week six and I’m still dealing with the inconveniences of Diverticulitis (which involves the formation of pouches on the outside of the intestines that become inflamed).

This morning, in the blood lab of my specialist’s office, the technician took eight (8) tubes of blood for mandatory annual tests required to monitor, yet another, chronic illness.  There is no cure but research is ongoing. Because I have a history with anxiety (depression), I am not a candidate for the new and improved treatment that could possibly help me.

I was shocked to learn that I had to pay $35.00 for a specific blood test not covered by OHIP, which I did pay, but was unable to complete a required scan because it cost eighty-five dollars (also not covered by OHIP).

On my way out while putting on my coat, I started a conversation with a nice young man who overheard my conversation regarding not being able to take the scan. He looked at me and said, “You know, you’re lucky.”

“Not really because I can’t afford the test,” I responded.

With bright eyes and a big smile, he said, “It could be worst, you could have AIDS.”

At that moment, I realized he was so right. I sat next to him and we talked for a while, he told me he was HIV positive.  He was a delightful young man and I was glad to have met him; we talked about shopping, his partner, his love of art and his passion for life.

Before leaving the lab, I reached out and shook his hand and thanked him for reminding me that we each have battles and wished him luck in his fight.

I’m not sure why the people in the room became so quiet while watching the two of us interact. Was it because two strangers were talking and laughing like old friends?

Painfully (because of an unexpected flare up of fibromyalgia) making my way down the stairs to the train station, I attempted to put my troubles behind me and tried to share my joy by making a little joke with two TTC workers in the booth. Apparently they weren’t amused with my light humour because I was wearing earphones which weren’t turned on and they, no doubt, thought I couldn’t hear them but as I walked away, I heard one say to the other, “Crazy!”

I wanted to yell out,”I’m not crazy . . . just trying to be happy,” but chose not to respond.

As I took a seat on the train, I started another friendly conversation with a very nice lady which made me forget about the negative experience with the TTC workers. She was only on the train for two stops but in that short time, Sheila (her real name) re-confirmed my belief that there are still kind people in this world.

In short . . . until you have walked in a person’s shoes . . . you do not know their journey; so be kind to one another.                         

                                      

                                                                                                     ~ gLoRiA

For more on Diverticulitis, check out my blog post on Tuesday, January 15, 2013