Green Monkey Disease
What is it when all you do is base your life around scleroderma? I have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing someone with CREST who lives close by. The chance of meeting someone with CREST is in itself rare and I have every sympathy with this person, but I say unfortunate because the topic of conversation when we meet is never anything but, "me, me, me". I dare not ask about her health because I get an in depth medical run down of all her aches and pains from A to Z. Now, I'm sorry if I sound uncaring and I know that's how it looks but, please, I have enough problems of my own without listening to someone who finds the whole episode of being ill a pleasure. The truth is I'm not the only one who feels this way about her. No one in her company dare mention anything about their body albeit nothing to do with a complaint. She dives into a conversation and then goes off on a tangent like the old veteran reminiscing about the war. Personally I'd rather listen to stories of the war, they're far more interesting than listening to someone describe each and every spot and every surgical intervention she's ever had. I know the script! If she tells us a story once, she tells it a hundred times again and again and..... you get the picture!
I had a severe Raynaudâ€™s attack and who should be in my company but this lady. I then got a run down of how she nearly lost her entire hand and on the scale of severity, mine wasn't half as bad as hers. Ugh! How many fingers does she have -- all mine were out so how bad does it get? I walked away only to find her following me into a room wanting to compare illness. "For goodness sake woman get, a grip!" This lady lives close by my parents so it's difficult to avoid her. I cringe when I see her cross the road and I have to admit that I've hid from her in my parentsâ€™ bathroom before now. Today is coffee morning and one I must go to for my parentsâ€™ sake. She will be there, in the corner and centre stage. Here goes -- "Today I have Green Monkey Disease". I wish!