“How are you feeling?” is such an innocent inquiry. But, yet, to a chronic sufferer it takes on a whole new power. You see, I like the fact that my friends care. I like the fact that I’ve finally shared what I’ve been going through. And they are genuinely concerned.  They want to know.  But it’s not that simple. If you have flare ups you know what I mean. They suck big time.  After 2-3 weeks or however long they last you finally get through it.  With no idea what triggers them or how to make them go away. Soooo, the innocent “How are you?” in my effed up mind now becomes a huge jinx. If I say “I’m good” I’m terrified I’m gonna get hit with another flare up. So my answers become a solemn “I’m ok” with a sad voice.  I can’t do anything to mess up my calm.  Even with my new doctor, when he asks, I look at him, we both knock on wood, and I say GOOD!  Still scared to say it though.  It’s called survival. You do whatever it takes to get through a day…even a moment. 

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