Me: Hey Internet, guess what!
Me: I got my disabled parking spot approved the other day, hooray!
You: Congratulations…? Wait, why do you need a disabled parking spot?
Me: Oh. Well, I kinda omitted this from my blog for the past few years, but the muscles in my body are atrophying for reasons that doctors can’t pinpoint.
Me: It’s myopathy, unspecified. The genetic tests are negative for any of the known myopathies, and the muscle biopsy confirms that the muscle is deteriorating.
You: Wait, is there anything they can do about it?
Me: Well, they gave me a parking space!
You: That’s… nice?
Me: I thought so too, Alhamdulillah. 🙂
You: Why didn’t you say anything about this earlier?
Me: Well, I don’t like being negative and it’s hard to be positive about having rare, incurable and chronic muscle disease. But it could also be worse, so why complain about it? Alhamdulillah, I’ll be fine.
You: Why are you telling me now?
Me: Because I’ve only used my disabled parking three times, but each time I do I feel like the whole world is watching me and wondering why I’m behind the steering wheel instead of in a wheel chair.
You: Are you faking?
Me: Nope. My leg muscles are easily fatigued. I do stairs slowly and only as a last resort. I walk funny. I don’t lift things. Typing makes me tired. My phone is heavy.
You: To be fair, some of those Android phones are like trying to have a conversation on a reader’s digest.
Me: It’s an Iphone 5, the skinny one? I’m slowly developing T-rex arms. They’re functional, but largely ornamental. :p
You: I’m not sure what to say.
Me: Me neither, but I thought I’d say it, because denial ain’t just a river in Egypt and I may or may not have been paddling its waters in the rubber ducky of self-delusion.
You: You think you don’t have myopathy?
Me: No, I think I don’t need help. However, I am forced to reconsider my status as a superhuman when the grocery cart weighs a ton and my telekinesis abilities fail to guide it to the car accurately. I have no choice but to ask for help now, and it’s very hard for me to accept that.
You: Everyone needs help sometimes.
You: Do you need help? Is there anything I can do?
Me: Well, you can make dua. But that’s it, really. I’m not throwing a pity party, and I’m not accepting condolences.
You: Can I come and visit you?
Me: Only if you promise not to sit in awkward silence, or sigh dramatically, or cast pained, regretful glances in my direction.
You: I can do that.
Me: Good! Then we can still be friends. 🙂 Now, back to your regularly scheduled blog.
By Abez, the end.