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Angry Days

© Karyn Moran Holton

Here’s a good piece of advice -- Be careful of asking a lupus patient “How are you?” Even if you don’t get caught listening to someone’s life story, the answer can vary more than Madonna’s hair color!

Our days are usually pretty divisible into “Good Days” and “Bad Days”, but how’s this for a response:

“How are you?”

“I’m really, really angry.”

I don’t know about the rest of the lupies in the world, but I am angry every single day of my life. I am angry that I have lupus. I am furious at my inability to work and make a living for my family. I am annoyed at the 70-year-old lady who passes me in the aisle at the supermarket because I walk so slowly. I am irate with the Social Security System in America that is quick to give benefits to drug addicts and slow to give them to people with “invisible” disabilities.

I am livid with people who express impatience with my limitations, yet I am equally enraged by anyone “hovering” over me or treating me with pity. I am vexed with the medical community for its inattention to autoimmune diseases. I am incensed over the apparent apathy of both the pharmaceutical industry and the FDA regarding new treatments for lupus.

I get steamed by waits in long lines, which are hard on my joints. (Heaven help the poor slob who tries to cut ahead of me! Hell hath no fury...) I am annoyed by too-tight lids and caps that are there for my alleged “protection." I resent having to take a nap. And thanks to my insurance company, I now know what “apoplectic” really looks like. (My mirror didn’t crack, exactly, but it’s still a little shaky.)

So young...so angry.

I suppose it’s only natural to feel anger. It’s a reaction that has served our ancestors well, getting their adrenaline pumped, preparing them for battle and/or flight. But since it’s not nice to beat up on checkout clerks or old ladies, I have a difficult time reining in all that acrimony. Sometimes I get so angry that I literally can’t see straight. (Blame my Celtic temper...That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

I’ve noticed that people don’t like to admit to anger, especially not at intangibles. It’s easier to disperse anger when you have a target to shunt your anger at. Having somewhere to point a finger makes the cause of your anger something that you can throw a rock at, rather than something that you have to deal with. But what happens when you don’t have someone to blame, not even yourself? When the cause of your anger is nobody’s “fault," natural anger can end up getting very, very out-of-control.