I had a lovely email this morning from a lady named Sarah, who wrote to tell me that she had finished reading my IBS story and wanted to let me know that she thought my "self-pity and cynicism" were "pathetic". She has "severe IBS-D" but she doesn't let it bother her, oh no, she just ignores it and gets on with her life like I should - in fact I should get out there and "experience the joy!"
Thanks for that Sarah, it's always good to hear from adoring readers. I've had a few comments like this lately, from the very special Ron who commented on one of my blog entries that I had a superiority complex (and who also believed that I was a pig in the trough of my own self-pity), to the anonymous chap who called me "stupid" because I used the word 'disability' in the same sentence as 'IBS', despite the fact that the American government doesn't classify IBS as a disability.
I live in England so as far as I know I'm not actually required to obey the classifications of the American government, so I let that comment get lost in the spam filter.
And now to Sarah, who I think was actually trying to make a positive comment about how I should not let IBS rule my life, but somehow thought that calling me pathetic was the way to inspire me. I might reply that someone who reads a 60-page story of pain and suffering and then immediately emails the author to insult them is at the very best rather unkind. Plus the young lady wasn't brave enough to leave her last name or email address, so I can't reply to her directly. So I'm replying here.
So, let's see if we can nip the Sophie-bashing in the bud, shall we? I shall now list some reasons why I am not in fact pathetic or self-pitying, and if anyone wants to argue then I expect you to stand up and be counted and at least leave your email address you scared little bunnies. Right, here goes.
1) There is a section of my IBS story which clearly addresses the fact that there may be some self-pity in the story, but that it needs to be there because it is a history of my IBS life, not a history of my whole life. IBS makes me miserable; lots of other things in my life make me happy. I don't write about them on my IBS websites, because my IBS websites are about IBS. With me so far?
2) And if you're telling me to get a life, ask yourself this - am I single? How often do I go out? What are my hobbies? What do I do at the weekends? What are my family like? Do I have a butler? And if you can't answer any of these questions, is it possible that you don't really know that much about me?
3) Do you realise that people get different degrees of IBS? Sarah believes that her IBS is severe, but how do you know my pain isn't 10 times as bad as yours is, my petal?
4) Have you read the study that found an "extraordinarily high rate" (the researchers' words) of suicidal ideation in IBS sufferers? Is that because we're all a bit feeble?
5) Do you have access to the emails that I receive every week, from people who are despairing, and literally crying as they write, telling me how they have lost their jobs and their husbands and they can't imagine how they can get through another day? You reckon these people are pathetic? I have firefighters who write to me and tell me that the pain of IBS is the worst pain that they have ever experienced, and women who say the pain is worse than labour. Are they lying?
6) Can you tell me what you have done to try to help other IBS sufferers? Do you spend hours each week answering emails and telling people about sources of support and trying to give despairing people hope? Do you help out at the IBS Self-help Group? Do you try to get publicity for IBS sufferers so that people are less embarrassed about their symptoms and feel less alone?
7) If you wrote down a whole history of your IBS, what do you think you would write about?
"I had a splendid attack of explosive diarrhea this morning, which I very much enjoyed - the feeling of randomly spasming intestines continues to be wildly erotic. In the afternoon I laughed and laughed as I attempted to pass an extraordinarily large bowel movement without shredding my melon-like hemorrhoids.
The absolute highlight of the day occurred on the way home, when I experienced a frightfully enjoyable episode of fecal incontinence just outside of Slough. You would not have believed the smell - my husband was almost retching it was so pungent. Another magical day!"
If there is anyone else out there who wants to call me names, go ahead. I happen to think I'm pretty strong.
Recent Comments