So, when I was in the hospital in August for pneumonia among other things they sent a medical social worker out to check on me after I got home. Without going into all the sordid details of my rather complicated disabilities, suffice it to say severe chronic pain makes it difficult to take decent care of myself or generate sufficient income. And that breeds depression and anxiety, yadda, yadda, yadda. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, it’s impossible to work – hell, taking a shower and putting on clean sweats is a major undertaking. I don’t hardly ever go out of the house anymore because it’s not worth the effort it takes.
What helpful words did this social worker have for me? She looked up over her stubby little reading glasses at me and said “You are too young to be so old.”
Well, fuck me to tears. Maybe there’s been a clerical error somewhere and I’ve just lived too long.
1 comment
Haaa I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard nearly identical sentences said to me (essentially disabled since 13 and only gotten worse since) Most seem to think they’re being empathetic, even comforting, “I’m sorry you have it so rough” sort of deal. But honestly, what kind of comfort is that supposed to be?