LETTER: Thanks for letter about invisible illnesses

I am so pleased to “meet” you, Ms. Qantaqua! Hooray for your letter of Sept. 30. I also have an invisible illness, as do many of us here at Heritage Place Nursing Home.

In 1998 I was diagnosed with a neuro-muscular brain disease, one that on good days causes me to walk and talk like a drunken sailor (as the cerebellum portion of my brain atrophies and disappears) and on bad days creates any number of disabling moments which might include falling (among others).

There are people here with ostomy bags, brittle diabetics, those with varying stages of dementia or Alzheimer’s, those who have blood infections running amok and creating havoc, those with blood pressure or heart disease, as well as others, of which I am unaware.

During my 18 years of “illness” I have come to the realization that  WE ALL have something others may not see; we might have cancer, someone in our circle of acquaintances may be struggling with a death or drug addiction or another life altering issue, someone else might be chronically rude and insensitive. Maybe they learned today of a loved one’s impending death,  or they are a racist or a bigot, or they learned a significant other lost their job and see their family lose their house. Maybe they are homeless and hungry.

My point being: We RARELY are aware of the struggles of another. If you see someone slur or stumble at the store DO NOT make the assumption they are drunk at 7 in the morning. Assumptions frequently show ignorance. Isn’t it better to ask? One day while buying bread, I stumbled and in my slurring voice said “excuse me.” There was a young child who asked his mother why I spoke that way. The mother hurried her child away, saying “she’s drunk.” I spoke up, explaining my illness in terms both could understand.

Treating others with assumptions and ignorance makes you look uneducated. Instead, try acting (rather than reacting) with compassion and a little understanding — both of which go a long way with everyone involved.

To that end, Ms. Qantaqua, I apologize that people (perhaps even myself) have not looked to see you. To see myself. —Elsie Milliren, Kalispell