As someone who has grappled with long term health complications since my youth, being confronted with the coronavirus pandemic has been…interesting, to say the least. A lot of things are familiar, albeit still scary: not knowing if and when I’m going to get devastatingly sick and trying to find ways to cope with this is a big one. But another major thing that has stuck with me, and yet, goes comparatively unaddressed is the unshakable feeling of isolation and outright invalidation that comes with living with invisible illnesses during these times. 

When I say that I have invisible illnesses, I mean that from the outside one may automatically assume that I’m healthy because nothing about my physical appearance indicates that I have a disability or chronic illness. And to be honest this does afford me the benefit of not having to confront certain forms of ableism that those with visible illnesses do. But in other ways, my invisible illnesses have me encounter a lack of understanding and empathy from able-bodied associates on the grounds that they assume because my illnesses cannot be visually affirmed, they can be comfortable with casually lobbing ableist rhetoric around me because they’re under the impression that I’m ~one of them~. It hurts all the same.

Take for example, when we as a country finally started to see this whole thing as a factor to actually acknowledge and maybe take a little bit seriously. While I’m having internal freakouts about what this could do to me, and Hell, the larger population if this virus were to get out of hand, many people (whether they be classmates at school, family members, or even randoms on the internet) seemed to take on a rather lax attitude about it all.

“Only old people and people who are already really sick die from it, so it’s not that big of a deal,“ they remark, not aware of the fact that they’re in the presence of someone who falls in the latter category and finds this type of mindset disgustingly callous and apathetic.

Perhaps their tune would change if I made them aware of this? The premise of publicly humiliating someone by forcing them to confront their lack of humanity is very tempting. But the point is that I shouldn’t have to disclose my entire medical history and list of conditions to anyone in order to prove that we should all care about the wellbeing of the elderly and those with pre-existing medical conditions regardless of whether they have a personally relevant, discernible identity or not. And now we’ve gotten to the point in this pandemic anyway that, no, it doesn’t “just” claim the lives of the elderly and/or those with pre-existing medical conditions. This virus is unpredictable and should be approached with as much caution as reasonably possible. If you don’t have the emotional capacity to care about individuals you don’t have an attachment to, at least care about yourself…

Those of us with chronic illnesses and disabilities did not choose to have the conditions we have. Personally speaking for myself and myself only, they are very debilitating for me and take away the quality of my life in certain aspects, so if I had the choice I would simply opt out of this experience. Unfortunately this is not a viable option, so I must navigate life in any way I can in spite of it. What can be controlled, though, is the attitude, words, and actions of those who are able-bodied in respect to how they engage with those of us who have chronic illnesses and disabilities – visible and invisible. Even the simplest gestures of consideration can help us feel like our lives are just as valuable as anyone else’s and not statistical casualties that have to be “chalked up as a loss.”